Priest Lotoru couldn't help but overhear the conversation between Attius and Mirala. As every extravagant Kontauri, he of course interjected with a wide smile and a curious tone. Patriarch Abede however, was already dealing with his inner frustrations for the Kontauri had disrupted the schedule. Luckily he had planned for such an eventuality. 
- "Ah... Lord Ikoral's a duelling man? My my, I wouldn't have dreamed of it. Perhaps we can arrange a duel during this festival eh? I'm sure it won't be as majestic as the duel between King Andrei and the late Emperor Molari, but quite a show nonetheless!"
Behind Lotoru, Patriarch Abede continued with some final preparation before the many delegations would move to the large amphitheatre and officially welcome the guests from the Drakari Imperium.

Pacifica: Myria, Sallodesia, Stoinia • A1-0: Stoinian Star Kingdom • Aurora: Kingdom of Threnebor

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The assembled delegates each made their way to seats and looked around the amphitheater, noting the various priests and philosophers, mystics and acolytes, believers and skeptics, saints and sinners all in their own rights.

The Drakari priests stood out most of all.  Their size and mass only seemed to become all the more apparent as they took their seats, sheepishly giving their fellow attendees apologetic looks as various adjustments were made.  All except the Arch-Militant, who stood vigilantly near her fellow priests, her hand hovering protectively on the hilt of her sword, and the Caretaker who quietly glided from row to row as they studied the other visitors beneath their concealing robes.  Oddly enough, the latter's presence almost felt... warm.  Comforting, even.  Like a constant companion that would not abandon its friends.  And the High Wanderer?  It would seem not even the initial seating issues could dampen her spirits, laughing and jesting with every second breath.

The far more humanoid visitors would have greater ease in being seated.  Areyiath and her Lightbearers gracefully took their place, all smiles and blessings to passersby.  Mirala, with her charming smile and silver tongue, reclined in her seat with feline ease alongside her charges.  Ikoral, however, held his head high like the pride of his House and bloodline depended on it, humorless and nigh wrathful in his countenance.

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