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The Herald wears a dove mask, blushed with carnelian. You restrain a groan. His master's lands share a border with Serault. You are not enemies, exactly, but you certainly aren't friends. The Dowager's smile is impeccable, but immobile as a portrait. Is that a flicker of apology in her eyes? The herald clears his throat. 'Allow me to tell you of my master's recent visit to the imperial court, where he was welcomed as a prince and showered with the most lavish of benefactions...' his voice drones like bees in the hive.
Your rival's herald drones about their visit to the imperial court, a tedious string of boasts and gossip. And here's a gift, just to rub it in! A chest of bright silks and sweet perfumes.
The exchange of gifts is a delicate matter of etiquette. How will you reciprocate?
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