Konigstag, 1st Ulriczeit

Jarla had found no welcome party waiting for her in the keep. The soldiers had plenty of work to do seeing their arms and war machines properly stored, and the Prince and his wife had retired to their private rooms. Finding her way unnoticed to the room Irene had given her, she had slipped quickly into an exhausted sleep.

She woke to a cold draught from the window, the first sliver of sunrise tinging the roofs of the town below with gold. Smoke was already rising from chimneys and cooking fires as the streets of Savonne began to stir. After the desolation of the Dead Hills, it was a welcome change.

Making her way down to the kitchens, she found herself some breakfast - despite the conditions in the city outside, the larders of the keep seemed extremely well-stocked. Chewing on a dried pear, she wandered back up an echoing hallway, and stopped when she heard a familiar voice coming from the great hall.

Irene was giving rapid-fire Tilean to Mouna, the wizened head of the castle’s servants, who was listening and nodding with an impression of utmost attention. The Princess’ two handmaidens trailed behind her as she walked down the length of the hall, indicating with expressive gestures how she wished things to be arranged.

“Ah! Jarla,” she said, catching sight of her though the door stood only slightly ajar. “You’re back! Muzio said you had ridden with the army - why didn’t you come to see me?” Her tone was one of playful reproach. “I hear Holt’s monster is dead, thank the gods. Maybe we’ll finally hear the end of her lectures.”

Beckoning Jarla over, she gestured around them at the cavernous hall. “Muzio agrees that a ball is a splendid idea, to celebrate his victory. We were thinking next Konigstag,” she said, “to give people from the backwaters time to arrive. Mouna here has been helping me plan.” There was a beat, and then she looked at Mouna as if the elderly servant had overstayed her welcome by several thousand years. “You can leave now, Mouna.”

Mouna scuttled off, and Irene fixed Jarla with a very direct look. “So,” she said, “what’s this I hear about you wanting to get married?”