Elsa

"I hope that when all is said and done, none of us have to choose between serving the Dark Gods and surrendering to the dead."
“That's certainly true,” said Hieronymus. “Although we must remember… there is wisdom in recognising the lesser of two evils.”

He stumbled, putting out his good hand to catch himself against the wall. He stopped there for a second or two, momentarily disoriented.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, “I think my age is catching up with me.” He took off his mask and looked sheepishly at Elsa. “What was it we were talking about?”

Elsa stopped walking shortly before reaching the ballroom, looking thoughtful. "I've learned a bit about the history of the Elven loremasters. They founded the Colleges, after all, and they wanted to make sure we lowly humans remembered what we owed them. Have you heard of Caledor Dragontamer?"
“No,” said Hieronymus, “I don’t believe I have.” He cleared his throat. “It would have been before your time here, but Prince Belehir wasn’t a great one for cultural exchange.”

He took a seat at the edge of the hall, and took a cup of wine from a passing servant. With an abrupt screech, Euthymius flew down from where he’d been perching in the musicians’ gallery and settled on his shoulder again.

“I’d like to hear it, if you’re content to keep an old man company,” said Hieronymus. “I think I’m going to give these old bones a rest for a while.”

Jarla

"Giovanni is...," she tried to think how to finish that sentence. She sighed and smiled ruefully at her dance partner. "What can I say, but there is something there. But I am not a married woman Jacques, and I like you."
“You’re very to the point,” said Jacques. He had to pause as the steps of the dance drew them apart, waiting for the chance to speak again. “Is this how things are in the Empire?”

Jacques was a better dancer than Carraciolo, and not one to let conversation get in the way of showing off. It took another turn around the floor before they were back in range of quiet conversation.

“Of course, you know I hold you in the greatest esteem, m'amoiselle” he said. “You already see how my life is changed, thanks to your kindness. If this soldier wishes to keep you for himself, then, well, Jacques Langue d’Or has never shirked from a challenge.” He pronounced challenge in the Bretonnian way, flashing his white teeth in a grin.

As it all wound down and 'Taal' stood next to her at her ear Jarla made a decision. Turning to Carraciolo she kissed him on the lips, and as she drew back she smiled, running her hands along his brawny arms. "I say let's slip away somewhere quieter and have some private fun..."
Carraciolo returned the kiss with interest. “Volentieri,” he said, already steering them out of the crowd and towards the shadows that waited round the edge of the brightly-lit hall. A few eyes turned to follow them, but not too many. “Let’s go.”


Aubentag, 1st Nachexen, The Year of Our Lord Sigmar 2525

Savonne

Jarla woke up to the sound of Carraciolo pulling on his boots. He was sitting at the foot of the bed, now mostly dressed. At the sound of movement, he looked back at her and smiled.

“Buon anno,” he said. “I think it’s started well, don’t you?”

Getting up, he came over to her and bent down to give her a kiss. “Prince Sforza has me riding back to Castel d’Irena this morning,” he said. “You are welcome to visit. It gets cold in Alvarr’s castle, this time of year.” He gave her a wink. “I can use someone to keep me warm.”


Painford

The new year dawned bright and cold in Painford. The young Morrite Nastassa was saddling up her doleful-looking pony, the animal’s breath misting in the frosty air.

“Good morning, Herr Stubbs,” she said when she saw Ludo. “And a blessed new year to you. Are you still wanting to come to Manann’s Keep?”