 He could not place how this gathering made him feel - there was a great deal to process, a great many faces that were all strange to him. Of course, courtly gatherings were nothing knew; he’d grown up attending them, needing to learn from his father how to be a lord. Those meetings of policy or planning were always bearable enough. Occasionally they were dull, and the unicorn had no great interest in leadership, but it was far better than being on the sparring field. Nobody could beat him, at least. Hearing his name from the sovereign’s lips brought Charlemagne’s gaze back, and he forced himself to hold steady his gaze, only shifting his green eyes away to glance at Nimue. The mare was very pretty, but seemed less than interested in the unicorn colt; certainly, she barely acknowledged him at all. It was not an encouraging welcome. The thought was only reinforced when the mare in question spoke and then dismissed herself, not even sending a glance Charlemagne’s way. He was, quite frankly, taken aback, and watched her go with surprise rounding his leaf-green eyes. He couldn’t help but huff a breath, tossing his golden-horned head, and might have left himself, had not another stranger stepped forward to address the king. Here was a man quite self-assured. The chestnut listened with interest, eyeing the bold stallion as he turned and swept his gaze across them all. He did not seem to be terribly impressed, and spoke highly of his own knowledge. Charlemagne flicked an ear, caught between curiosity and surprise. Surely none in his home country would speak so boldly to their sovereign, lest they be challenged to a trial of combat. But this was not the home he knew. That was the main takeaway, as Charlemagne excused himself from the gathering that had not done terribly much to settle his reservations about his new home. Indeed, he almost felt…disappointed. It was a bitter change from the hopefulness that had led him to run away and seek to join the Delumine sages. |
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