-Start-
Those of you who decide to attend the Art Sale cannot help but be slightly impressed at what you see-at least, that is the effect the hostess was trying to get. It's not very hard to get in, actually-no one seems to be checking invitations, and you can even make out a few commoner merchants who are not being chased away.
It seems to have been taken up by several royal gazebos and a large open air tent made of fine green silk. Almost everywhere you look, help runs to and fro-valets, servers and what you assume are about a dozen of the Alanis House Guard, dressed in thick green sashes standing silently at all corners. They seem not to be openy carrying any weapons or armor, but they have an aura of silent menace all the same.
As you step inside the tent-which is fairly cool and comfortable-you are momentarily a bit dizzy. It's almost like you stepped into a spice market-exotic scents assail your senses from every angle, not only from the food but small incense burners and aromatic flower arrangements. It seems the tent is well ventilated, in any case. The effect is amazingly...relaxing. Everyone seems to be having a good time!
A small band-unseen-is playing Ligorian music to the party, but nothing formal-it's more quick, invogorating tunes that farmers and soldiers enjoy. Which is to say, common music, to a noble audience. Interesting, yes?
You notice there are long lines of tables with food and drinks on either side, and all of it is a little bit...foreign. Little fish or meat, less filling and more heavily spiced than most locals would prefer-the drinks, a multitude of exotic ales lined behind a makeshift bar that inhabits one corner of the tent-if you choose to take a whiff, you'll find your senses perk pleasantly. It's clear this stuff can get you drunk amazingly quickly, and indeed a small polite sign nearby warns you...
'Imported Galam Orange Honeyed Ale-Imbibe Sparingly!"
Galam is a known as a battle ready, rowdy country to the Northwest-a far cry from civilized Ligoria, but, It is tradition for nobles to enjoy the wonders of different cultures, isn't it? If only to remind themselves how obviously superior their own culture is.
At the front, a small stage has been set up, and the grandest artworks displayed therein-and here is where you can find Tala Alanis herself-bedecked in an long emerald dyed dress that is fairly immodest, but she doesn't seem to mind. It seems wherever you look, the young nobless is never by herself, flitting from group to group almost ghostlike, person to person, listening to everything, but not saying much. Occasionally, she'll touch someone on the shoulder, or nod her head, and for that moment she will have their attention. Then you blink, and she'll be gone again.