Charlaine stepped into the great hall with Marlena by her side, dressed in their finest armour and bedecked in long ceremonial surcoats hanging to the floor, a far cry from the more serviceable type, cut just below the waist.
Marlena struggled in hers, almost tripping as she passed by the servants at the entrance. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this. Remind me again why we’re being so formal?”
“It’s the king’s birthday,” replied Charlaine, “and we want to make a good impression. Things have been quiet for the last month, and I’d like it to stay that way.”
Sir Hugo waved at them from across the room.
“It appears we’re being beckoned,” said Marlena.
The king’s birthday was a grand celebration, with people coming from far and wide to bid the monarch the happiest of days on such a jo
