Benedict gives a nod-bow at the approaching King. "Your Majesty, we await your pleasure."
Lilly mimics her father's physical gesture with near perfection. "Good to see you again Uncle Random."
"It's good to be visible," says Random.
"Not always," Reid suggests.
Lilly smiles in absolute agreement.
Benedict says, "Will Your Majesty be available after dinner? I wish to discuss certain matters with you."
Random replies, "I bet you do. Sure, I'll be around, but I bet some of the obvious stuff will be covered in the dinner discussion."
Benedict nods. Random looks at Reid and Lilly, perhaps seeing if they have anything to add or tell him.
Reid adds nothing further to the conversation verbally, yet his stomach rumbles in a deep, and somewhat rhythmic fashion that Random recognizes as being quite hungry, yet rather musical at the same time. Reid, upon hearing the noises his body emits merely shrugs.
[Random]
"If you can do that on demand, I know bands that would snap you up in a
second."
"Since it is obvious dinner is drawing near, I do not wish to keep you from your rounds Uncle. However, before you wander off, please know that as a newly appointed knight of this kingdom, I am at your service." It is quite clear that Lilly is utterly serious. (And there is no question in Random's mind that she is speaking of things not pertaining to the bedroom.)
"Let us hope that such service as you did us in earning your knighthood is not required again. I will be interested to hear from you all what your order needs to establish itself in Amber. Perhaps we should discuss it after Julian's wayward children return."
"I believe that would be appropriate." Lilly responds with a single nod of the head.
Random gives a brief neck bow and heads off, looking for another group to greet.
Lilly watches as he wanders off. Once he is out of range of quiet conversation she says, "If nothing else I predict his rule will be most interesting."
Benedict looks at the retreating monarch. "Father's was. I expect that Random will prosper, however he chooses to take his kingship. I will need to be away for most of the time prior to the coronation, of course, but I shall need to make an appearance, given my rather conspicuous absence from the previous one."
"It will be my first coronation as well. Amazing, living as long as we have, that these things haven't happened more often. Then again, I suppose it's because we live so long that they're hardly necessary..." Reid ponders.
"I suppose then we should try to enjoy this one, if that's at all possible. With luck it could be centuries before the occasion arises again." Lilly thinks aloud.
[Benedict]
"I hope never to see another new king crowned in Amber. They require a
preceding sequence of events that I do not desire."
Lilly nods in response. She too was not prepared for another war of any sort. In a few months maybe, but certainly not now.
Changing the subject entirely she looks to Benedict, "How long will you be remaining in Amber father?"
Reid expresses his interest in this topic as well.
"Oh, hours, certainly. We shall see if the King needs aught from me. And I will be back for the coronation and whatever spectacle the King declares for that, of course. But I have responsibilities in other places, and people who are standing watch over them awaiting my return. I can only indulge myself here for so long before I answer duty's call."
"Princess Fiona, this is my dear cousin Folly. She's an absolutely astounding musician." Ossian's fingers continue to work on the paper scrap.
Folly grins at both compliments, regarding her cousin with affection for just a moment before turning toward Fiona.
Ossian beams. No very visibly, but still.
Fiona extends her hand to Folly. "Folly," she says, rolling the name around on her tongue a little as if trying to decide whether she likes the taste of it, "it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise," Folly says, clasping Fiona's hand. "I've so enjoyed getting to know your daughter that I have been quite looking forward to meeting her mother." Folly smiles and nods a greeting to Brita, approaching with her mother's drink.
Fiona smiles at her daughter, who is approaching with Merlin, and possibly with Solange.
Ossian is quiet. On his left fore-finger a small origami cat rests.
"How adorable!" Brita says with her eyes on the origami cat as she walks up and hands off Fiona's drink. "Cousin Ossian, your talents are unbounded. Is that for Cousin Folly?"
Ossian smiles [OOC: He seems to be doing that a lot] "How could you guess?" he carefully, and somewhat playfully places the small cat on Folly's shoulder.
Folly's delight is obvious as she gently touches her nose to the nose of the little paper cat, careful not to knock it off her shoulder. "As cute as Fathom, but much better behaved," she says. "Thank you, Ossian."
Then, perhaps sensing Merlin's intent to talk to her, she turns toward him and Solange as they approach. She's smiling broadly, happy to see them both.
Merlin glances at Folly, but looks at the Queen. Fiona, perhaps taking pity on him, says, "Your Majesty, may I present my nephew Merlin, son of Corwin."
Vialle, whose attention has also been caught by the arrival of the newcomers, replies to her and to Merlin, "It's always a pleasure to meet one of my husband's kinsmen. Have you found your chambers yet?"
Merlin says, "I have, Your Majesty, and they are very fine, thank you. In fact, I was coming to speak to Folly about them." He adds, for the edification of the others, "I believe I have found the 'cat-pee' of which you spoke earlier, Cousin Folly. Fortunately, it is possible to sorcerously remove the scent."
As Merlin speaks, Folly's expression goes rapidly from sympathetic to deeply apologetic to... intrigued.
A cloud crosses Merlin's sunny countenance. "You did not wish me to save it for you, did you?"
Solange had been fine up until that last question, but that's just too much for her. She produces a fine, lace-edged specimen of pocket handkerchief, in which she attempts to stifle a sudden, nasty cough -- one that leaves her eyes looking suspiciously mirthful.
Folly's cheeks flush with suppressed laughter; she only manages not to lose her composure by biting very hard on the inside of her lower lip. "No, thank you, cousin," she says, as if his query were the most natural one in the world. "If I ever need more, I know where to find it."
A moment later, the intrigued expression crosses Folly's face again, and she continues, "Y'know, as long as the door still has a cat-sized opening in it, Fathom will probably continue to sneak in and mess up your quarters. Is a hole in a door something you could remove... sorcerously, as well?"
"Perhaps Cousin Merlin could sorcerously move the hole to your door, Cousin Folly, in case Fathom needs it?" Brita pipes up.
Merlin thinks about the possibilities. "I believe it would be possible for me to remove the hole, but I am not sure that it would be a good idea. The warping of spacetime might damage the rest of the castle." He looks at Fiona for confirmation.
"Merlin, Folly wants you to fill in the hole, not remove it," the redhead says, a trifle amused.
"But ..." says Merlin, trails off, and reparses the sentence. He frowns.
Folly nods to herself as she makes a mental note to be more careful of her phrasing around Merlin. Or perhaps to try communicating through music.
Vialle intervenes, saying firmly, "Merlin, I will ask the steward to replace your door. Do not concern yourself with it."
Merlin nods, "Of course, Your Majesty." He looks at Folly, Ossian, Solange, and Brita in turn, as if hoping one of them will offer an easier--or at least more comprehensible--topic of conversation.
Jerod looks over the crowd for a moment, noting the various groups. Vialle and company is tempting but the sheer size of that group pretty much ensure that dinner will called ten seconds after Jerod arrives. Benedict's crew looks interesting, but then Jerod notices Uncle Bleys all by his lonesome...and a redhead alone is a redhead scheming...best to put a stop to that...or least divert his attention for a bit...:)
So Jerod heads over to Uncle Bleys.
Bleys does not wait for an introduction. "Ah, Jerod, good to see you, lad! I've heard so much about your work during the Regency." He does not seem to consider that there might be other people in the room or that his voice might not fit the setting. To Bleys, it seems, the setting should fit itself to him.
{And people claim that dad had a big ego} Jerod wonders.
"Why thank you Uncle." Jerod replies with a polite smile. "And I've heard so much about you and your activities...prior to the Regency. I've always wanted to ask you how you managed to keep so many fingers in so many pies."
Bleys is positively sparkling. You hear what is almost certainly training for the stage in his voice as he says in perfectly round tones, "Clean Living, my dear boy. Clean. Living."
{Yep...dirigible sized ego...Zeppelin at least. No shadow of Bleys here} Jerod confirms.
"Mmmm...is that what they call it?" Jerod asks. "I must remember to keep that in mind. A pity about Uncle Brand. He must not have figured out that part about the clean living."
"Perhaps he skipped his lessons that day. He never was interested in scholarship for scholarship's sake." Bleys looks in the direction of Jerod's sister. "If I am not available and you need immediate and practical advice on the subject of clean living, you should consult your sister. She has always exhibited a passion for scholarly pursuits." Bleys nods, just as Cambina, across the room, catches his eye.
"My sister and I consult whenever possible." Jerod replies. "She and I agree that scholarly pursuit is important, though we disagree as to the amount it should hold in one's life. There is a need for balance in all things. Too much focus is a bad thing...it blinds oneself to the dangers that the focus creates."
"Ha!, a pattern I am not unacquainted with regarding my own sister. However, I would say that balance is overrated. Aim instead for versatility and the wherewithal to surprise your enemy. My dear brother Benedict teaches, for instance, that it takes little skill to win when one has superior numbers, training, supply, etc. Swords are forged by force and heat, nephew."
"And just as easily broken by that same force and heat. One kind of a focus Uncle, but not always the only useful one." Jerod replies. "My father's first lesson to me was always about dealing with a situation without the advantage of strength, speed, or talent. Anyone can win when bestowed with overwhelming odds - it is hardly a victory but rather a foregone conclusion. I can do little more than laugh at the hollowness of such a victory should it be boasted upon."
"Exactly. Of course, there is no such thing as glory, except as a tool. In the grand game, all that matters is accomplishing one's aims."
"I'm curious though Uncle. When did you come upon the Land of Peace?"
"You know how some shadows are more easy to arrive at than others? The Land of Peace used to not be that kind of shadow. When one is working with difficult shadows, one settles for what one finds. I take it you found it to be a diverting place?"
"It was vaguely amusing. Though the incessant scheming of the place reminded me of home with too much amateur hour thrown in." Jerod says. "They were useful as a resource point to give us supplies and ships. Despite the risk their crews might have posed, I was reasonably confident that any treachery they might attempt would be put down. And under those circumstances, we'd have 50 more ships for our people to crew and use. Your man Chi-Lin was most useful in regards to information about the people though."
"I wouldn't worry about any immediate moves by them.. They're not as stupid as they seem. Nor is Chi-Lin, for that matter, even if he does fail to be audacious enough."
Lucas will head over to wherever booze is to be found, fill up a drink, and watch for someone interesting to become disengaged from conversation.
There's a sidebar, from which Merlin, Brita, and Solange just retreated. Lucas can fetch himself a drink there.
Having observed Random's circuit, Lucas should suspect that once he's done with the sailing contingent, dinner is imminent.
Woo. He'll evesdrop as best he can for a few minutes, and then make sure he looks good for dinner before heading off.
Looking back to his conversation partners, Brennan says, "Llewella, Corwin, it's been a pleasure, but I believe that Martin is trying to get my attention."
When he reaches Martin, "So that was my name I heard being taken in vain," he quips.
"Not too vain," says Martin. "We were speculating about the likelihood that you'd be interested in our occasional poker game, and the prospects of getting one in before we scatter to the four winds after the coronation. It's a ... family affair."
"Poker?" he says, innocently. "Is that a kind of a card game?" Butter would not melt in his mouth.
"We also play hazard," says Martin brightly, and equally disingenuously. "That's with dice."
"I think I've heard of that.... Perhaps I can bring Liar's Dice to the gaming table, as well."
More seriously: "It's apparently an old family custom. Gerard says our uncles used to do it before the war. You'll have quite a few family customs to get used to now, I suppose. It was quite an adjustment for those of us raised abroad. How are you finding things here?"
"No one's brought up the elephant in the living room, yet, if that's what you mean." As luck would have it, Brennan happens to be facing in the general direction of Ossian and the crowd of which he's a part, entirely unaware of the deep dramatic foreshadowing. "It's neither how he described it, nor quite what I imagined, either. Which is rather to be expected."
He pauses, surveys the room for a moment, then, "I think a lot of people are waiting for the Shoes of Damocles to drop. I can think of half a dozen things need to get settled, prepared for, or investigated, just from the Courts end, and every swirl of conversation says there's at least that many on this end."
Martin nods in rueful agreement with that last sentiment.
Brennan surveys the room again, probably putting people into tentative categories. What those categories might be is anyone's guess.
"How's the King doing? How's the Prince-Heir doing, for that matter?"
Martin shrugs. "You've probably seen more of Dad than I have this afternoon, actually. After I came in, I had to get Merle settled. He's not from this end of the universe, so he has more to get used to than anybody else, and I'm one of the only people he knows." Martin pushes his shaggy blond locks back from his forehead.
[Brennan]
"I spoke to him a bit, earlier. I think he'll adjust. Eventually."
"As for me, I'm ready to eat, get through whatever briefing Dad's running afterwards, and sack out for about three days, even though I suspect I'm going to have to settle for closer to three hours. There's too much to do, and some of it will be hard for me to pass on to others, and still more of it is stuff that the king's only son probably needs to be a little less personally involved in."
Brennan's stomach grumbles in sympathy with Martin's appetite. "Well, after a very brief chat, Vere appears to be nothing less than a lean, mean optimizing machine. Once we're all spun up on the details, we can start figuring out who's going to do what."
Martin grimaces as a thought occurs to him. "Christ, I'm gonna end up with people, aren't I?"
He pushes his hair back again, even though it has not fallen that far forward again that Brennan can tell.
Something about Brennan's body language is grinning, just a little bit, even if it hasn't reached his face. "Why yes, Your Highness. I believe you shall, Your Highness."
Martin glances in the direction of his father with an expression that's hard for Brennan to read.
A sudden thought strikes Brennan. "Hey, did you know Dara?"
That question gets Martin's attention. He scans the room, his gaze resting on Merlin for a longer moment than any of the others, before answering. "Better than anyone else here, I believe. Why?"
Brennan takes the opportunity to try to get a read on whether Martin regards he as a friend, an enemy, or a dangerously unstable acquaintance, before saying neutrally and quietly, "We ran into her at Oberon's funeral. There was an incident."
"So Merlin told me." Martin frowns. "Dara's loyalties were always personal rather than political. She'd have been doubtful at best with Grandfather gone; with her father dead and Merle off the rez, the Unicorn knows what she'll do next. I wish Corwin hadn't killed Borel. That was one more complication we didn't need."
"I don't know from 'Borel,' but the lady seemed downright hostile, to make an understatement. Not to mention rude. If she's in mourning for someone, maybe she'll settle down." Brennan, being a realist, does not look enthusiastically hopeful about these prospects.
"If you need details or an unbiased account, say the word."
Martin glances off to one side, where Bleys and Jerod are chatting, and says, "If you don't know from Borel, someone has neglected your genealogy lessons."
Brennan's annoyance registers clearly in his eyes as he says, Who exactly did you think would be teaching me genealogy, all these years? Strangely, the words come out, "You are not the first person to say that, today."
Martin collects his thoughts for a moment. "Dara will continue to be hostile unless we give Merlin back; she'll probably hold Corwin against us all too. It shouldn't have been like this. She was supposed to stay on our side."
The annoyed expression remains, but the target has changed. Brennan doesn't think much of giving Merlin back. He doesn't think much of "giving" Merlin back, either, with all the difference in nuance that the scare-quotes imply.
"Grandfather knew he wasn't going to make it, so he wanted to attach Dara's loyalty to Corwin. I don't know all the details, but the shape of the plan was clear: Corwin was supposed to be king, and Dara would have been his queen. So he set Corwin and Dara up, and she had Merle."
He adds, "Don't get me wrong; Grandfather meddled with the best of intentions. He always did. But he couldn't have anticipated that Corwin would kill Dara's father."
Martin stops, then, in case he wasn't clear enough: "Borel. He was Dara's father."
"Yeah, got that. Message received. A number of very small questions and suspicions are thus resolved."
Changing the subject, then, Martin says, "So what did Dara do at Grandfather's funeral?
Brennan gathers a breath, then lets it out in a slow puff, thinking where to start, and how long to make the story.
"Let's start with the overview: When she and Merlin saw each other, it was clear to everyone watching that he felt threatened. His rapid retreat out of the funeral area was a major clue. Given that he'd been with Bleys and Fiona, and took Aisling with him, it was also pretty clear that he was part of the Effort to Vacate the Premises.
"So there was an impromptu effort to politely keep Dara the hell away from Merlin for long enough that he could lose himself and start whatever he was going to start." He pauses again, thinking about how many of the gory details will interest Martin.
"Condensing a long, epic saga into a few stanzas, she became, as I said, rude, and the thing ended up as a quick tug-of-war which ended in her having a conniption fit and cheating by shapeshifting and oozing out of my grasp. Next round, I'm not playing by Queensbury rules.
"She followed his path with what seemed an obvious intent to do mayhem, but evidently she was stalled long enough, as we're all here. What else went down after that, I'm not entirely sure. I was otherwise engaged."
All that is said in a fairly quiet voice, to salvage Merlin's dignity. Someone would really have to be trying to eavesdrop to overhear.
Martin nods, and his voice, which wasn't loud to start with, drops even further to match Brennan's in volume. "Corwin ran her off somehow. As for Merle: if your mother was trying to eat you to increase her personal power, you'd feel threatened too."
Brennan just gives Martin a mild stare until he realizes what he just said....
Then he reparses that sentence, considers who he's talking to, makes a sort of disgruntled face, and shrugs apologetically, as if to say _ we all have parent issues_.
...Then, that settled, [Brennan] nods.
It's not that apologetic. Martin is, after all, the guy whose own father ignored him until after Brennan's father gutted him over the Pattern on the hill.
"Settled" in the sense of, "Understood what he said," is sufficient, and all Brennan read into it.
"Given the parentage, though, she might-- just might-- find that more difficult than she expects. Or then again, not."
"Dara will have to spend some time reconstituting her realm, getting her affines in order, that kind of thing. If she'd been able to draw on Merle to do that, she'd have had a much easier time. Not to mention that it would make him more--pliable--to aim against us later. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, much less my friend and kinsman. I can't speak for anyone else, but Dara gets Merle back over my dead body."
"I'm not real inclined to let that happen, either, just on general principles. He should be relatively safe here in Amber, though."
Martin shakes his head. "Merlin's not really safe until he's taken the Pattern. He's certainly not safe here. Do you know how many people go in and out of this castle on a regular basis? We caught Aisling, but there may have been others. We haven't had a sorcerer until now to check for more like her."
There's a very unpleasant thought lurking in the back of Brennan's mind, making itself known in the narrowing of his eyes. But he isn't giving voice to it, yet.
He stares off into space for a moment, as if lost in thought. "And even though Merle's good with sorcery, Dara's better. She's one hell of a swordswoman and she's an amazing shapeshifter, too. She has her weaknesses, sure, but she's dangerous. Really dangerous. I hope Dad can see that."
"If not, he'll have to be convinced. But Dara's not the only one out there nursing a grudge."
"No," says Martin, "she's not. There's my grandmother. Not to mention yours."
"More than that, even." Brennan looks as though he's about to elucidate, but...
Across the room, Random whistles loudly.
Paige sets her glass on a convenient sideboard and asks, "I wonder what we'll be treated to this evening. Migas are normally a breakfast food, so I've heard. Has anyone looked over the menu?"
"A mixture of traditional and shadow I'm sure." Conner smiles.
Vere nods. "That seems likely. Also, the selection of food and the manner of its presentation might provide an interesting look at the dynamics of the Royal Marriage."
"The great thing about being King is that it's my job to walk into the middle of conversations like this. Evening all, are we working up an appetite or a frenzy?"
Vere smiles. "Experiment successful," he announces, before turning to Random. "I am happy to report, Your Majesty, that whatever metaphysical alterations Amber may have undergone, certain basic laws of reality remain constant. For example, the only sure way to summon the immediate presence of Authority remains gossiping privately about It."
Conner smiles widely. "And in answer to your question, we seem to be hungry for gossip as much as food."
"I'm just wondering if we're talking of a feeding frenzy, who's been blooded tonight to get the sharks circling?" Paige leans over to Conner with a conspiratorial grin, "What gossip have we missed?"
[Random]
"'Them', Vere, not 'It.' Us royalty is plural. And as I was determined to
talk to everyone, I'm not sure correlation implies causation. Conner, I
suggest that you not get between Reid and the buffet table, he seemed much
less interested in gossip. Perhaps I should have conjured him a canape..."
In response to Paige's comment, he just wears his wistful half-smirk.
Vere inclines his head. "I stand corrected before your wisdom, Your Majesty."
"Yes, I certainly am full of it." Random turns to Gerard. "How are you doing? Anything I can get for you?"
"I'm well-supplied, thank you," says Gerard, holding up his his glass to prove the point, "and I suspect I can hold out longer than most of these pups for whatever's coming out of the galley. When is dinner, by the way?"
"When would you like it to be?" asks Random.
"Oh, now would be good," suggests Gerard.
Random looks around to see if there is anyone he has missed in his circuit of the room.
Vere says, very quietly, "We will all no doubt need a good dinner, to give us strength for all the things that must be discussed tonight. So much needs to be done to ensure that all Your Majesty's loyal supporters stand firmly at your side in the coming days."
"It'll be much more interesting than that, Vere. I'll need my loyal supporters to stand firmly away from my side for bit. More on that later. Dinner will be followed by a quick threat assessment and immediate needs, then we'll see what we've got on the plate after that."
"Hopefully dessert," Paige chuckles with a smile. "Holding it off might be the only way to keep some of us at the table."
"Gerard, if you've banned after dinner drinks and smokes in favor of dessert then even I won't be able to protect you from Caine's wrath."
Caine chuckles and says "Fear not, brother. That would be an innovation that wouldn't last a fortnight with Corwin in residence."
Random continues to look around the room, seeing if anyone attempts to catch his eye.
Conner looks very curious at Random's statements but does nothing but sip his drink in response.
"OK, it's all up to me, then..." Random bends over and makes a show of sucking in a lungfull of air. He puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles. It is extremely loud and long.
[Ossian]
"Merlin, do you play any sort of instrument? If you do, you might want to
join one of our jam sessions."
Merlin says, "I have been taught the lyre, but I am afraid I know little of ensemble play. Martin meant to teach me a better instrument, but we never had time."
"I very much look forward to hearing you play, Merlin," Folly says. This topic interests her at least as much as did the discussion of sorcery, and her enthusiasm is obvious. "And if you're still interested in learning a different instrument, we'll teach you. This family is blessed with an abundance of talented musicians, for which I'm very grateful."
She's conspicuously -- to the very sensitive, at least -- not looking at Vialle.
"Folly forgot to mention she is very possibly the most talented." Ossian says smiling fondly at Folly. "And ensemble play isn't that hard. It's a bit like painting; of course you have to make your decisions faster."
"Perhaps I will have to learn an appropriate instrument, then," says Merlin. "What instruments do our kinsmen and kinswomen play?"
"I play bass guitar," Solange says. "The parts aren't too complicated, and it gives me a good reason to be in on the jam sessions. You should hear Vere on bagpipes, though."
"No kidding," Folly says with a big grin. "He's really good. But he also plays harp and piano, for pieces that call for more subtlety."
She glances around the room as if she didn't have a roster of available musical talent well-delineated in her head at all times, and continues, "Cambina also plays lyre, so you wouldn't be alone in that if you wanted to start out on an instrument you already know. Ossian here plays the flute and lute. "Reid -- the guy over there next to... Benedict? -- plays flute, mostly, but he's also pretty good on any number of stringed instruments. Conner, over there next to Vere, plays pennywhistle. Paige, as you probably know, plays lute as well as piano, and Martin is a guitarist, although he occasionally also plays piano and bass. Jerod plays violin, but not very often. And Robin, who isn't here, plays ocarina. I mostly sing, but I'll play just about any instrument I can get my hands on.
"As for our aunts and uncles -- well, most of them I don't really know yet, of course. I've heard Gerard sing, but I don't think he plays an instrument. Just this evening I learned that your father plays lute quite beautifully. And rumor has it that the King is an excellent drummer." Just as she says the last, she notices Random glancing around the room and meets his gaze with a "yes, I'm talking about you" half-smile.
He doesn't seem to notice, though. Folly pauses a moment, thinking through something, before turning back to the group with a bright smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "What about you, Aunt Fiona?" she asks. "Do you play?"
Fiona's eyes had settled on the group of which Benedict was a member, but Folly's question brings her attention back to the conversation to hand. "I am acquainted with a number of instruments, yes," says Fiona. "As is Bleys. You might convince him to take the saxophone up again if you ask him nicely."
Fiona looks at her daughter, whose musical preferences didn't seem to be mentioned in Folly's list.
Brita has been sipping her drink and studiously avoiding looking in the King's direction. When her mother glances at her, Brita arches a brow and then shrugs.
"I'll keep that in mind," Folly says, already considering which songs she knows cry out for a saxophone. "Your daughter is a great appreciator of music," she adds, noticing Fiona's look, "but we haven't yet enticed her to play with us."
"Master Reid despaired of ever finding any true musician within this student." Brita notes with a slight bow to Folly.
"And what instrument does Your Majesty play? Or do you, like my daughter, prefer to remain in the audience?" asks Fiona.
Across the room, Random whistles loudly.