2.6

With the addition of Alexander there was thankfully only a single extra seat needed at their Table.

But already they needed there to be an entirely new table.

The added length was needed for all the expected guests, along with Sir Kroak, Squire Smithson, Father, Mother and Jewel (although she only took up as much room as a single person’s place in seating, furling the rest of herself out and around to surround her family’s seats at the head of the table).

The addition of Alexander, while unexpected, did not overly burden such arrangements.

Filling the rest of the placements were the count and his wife, their three daughters, the young Thurzó heir and places for those of their party that were to be honored a seat at the table.

All told, the feasting hall had scant room to fit more than the table and seats itself.

She would not embarrass herself.

Jewel had to practice with Mother several times before she understood the subtle difference in the saying of the names of Erzsébet Czobor and Elizabeth Bathory. It all seemed nearly identical to her on the first five times Jewel had made the attempt, but Mother’s acumen in the nuance of the way of their speaking in Arva over Viznove was very great.

To be fair, Mother had to learn the speech of Viznove as a second language along with its nuance in the other counties.

Jewel tried to restrain her wings as she lounged at the feasting table with anticipation for the announcement of her long friend of letters to show himself again.

Her memory had returned to the terrible shame of when she’d finally realized that her Mother was in fact a foreign lady wed to Father from abroad.

Not even someone from within the remit of the realm of the High King!

Mother had traveled clear across a sea in her youth as an alliance hostage to the Realm. Then again when she was older across four over-ways for her wedding to Father. That had been a terribly embarrassing day. To not have realized that her own mother’s homeland was from a greater distance than Fizzbunches?!

She’d looked up what books and histories she could find on the place afterwards and found that half the reason she never found out is that the place was an island of squabbling so-called kings who often commanded less land then Rochford.

Even the memory of her foolishness was putting a tremble in Jewel’s wing shoulders and a tremble down her neck in restraint from rearing back.

A gentle hand from her mother on Jewel’s scales stilled the tension yearning to flare her wings.

“Be calm daughter, if they are friends and allies, there is nothing to worry about from this reunion.”

Jewel only nodded and took the comfort as it was meant, best to not even admit what had actually been worrying her. Of course György was a friend and there was nothing to concern her.

He’d gone to war with the countess for Just and Good reasons.

Jewel had just happened to be the vassal of the countess.

There was no reason at all for ill will between them.

György had written as much in his letters.

Finally the crier for the evening’s feast struck the stones in a smooth and practiced manner. Voice clear and sure as he read from the scroll prepared for him.

“Announcing the Esteemed Knight Captain of Arva and Mountain Slayer, Emil.”

A man entered, his dress was well sewn but clearly travel wear of a sensible and durable nature. Fit for a questing knight or the main guard for a caravan.

Jewel took careful note of his face as Mother and Father insisted. Noting the dark shoulder length hair, the nose which was, if Jewel was honest, looked simply nose-shaped (as opposed to the veritable blade that Tsulogothulan usually had) and he had some of his dark hair growing off his chin in a short beard. He looked quite a lot like Jewel remembered György but with a leaner face and less beard.

If she had to go solely by her eyes, Jewel might even mistake Emil for a son or relative of the count. But her nose was very clear; he had hardly any relation at all to the man.

He took his place at the table on Smithson’s right. Who was a bit bright eyed at the prospect of sitting next to an esteemed and titled knight (nevermind that he sat with Kraok all the time).

However Jewel’s Squire was more practiced in noble manners and the way of feasts than he once was and so did not do anything improper or embarrassing.

Still, a knowing look from the Knight and a nod of acknowledgement to Jewel’s squire was offered.

Jewel expected that once the meal was underway the two of them would be talking excitedly as usual.

“The Ladies Mária, Antonina, Ilona, Borbála, Małgorzata and Marta of Arva, Daughters of Count Thurzó”

As their names were called, a line of girls in what Jewel expected was the youngest to oldest order made their way into the room, moving to their places with all the poise and practice expected of the children of a count.

Jewel recognized Marta by nose more than sight despite her best attempts. The hair had been done entirely differently from the victory feasts at the end of the war and she was dressed in different finery.

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She also had far less of a haunted look to her. Although she was not alone in being wary of Jewel.

The third from youngest (Borbála?) had nearly tripped when she caught sight of Jewel but a hushed whisper from her elder siblings helped snap her out of it. No one among the Rochford household acknowledged the mistake. It was, despite news of Jewel’s status as heir to Viznove, still a very common reaction.

All of their dresses were cut and sewn in matching colors of white and blue. Although Jewel’s eyes caught on the four youngest how there were tucks of fabric with looser threads ready to be undone so that the dresses could spread and hang longer as they aged.

When Marta had settled herself, with an empty seat between her and Tsugotholan and the other girls were able to muster the will to quiet whispers of awe and fear about Jewel that everyone present politely ignored, the Crier continued.

“The Heir of the barony of Gladeshore, Husband of Marta Thurzó, Einar”

A man that Jewel could only barely acknowledge was not a boy (he looked younger than Smithson in the face) strode in, like the Esteemed Knight his clothing was fine, but practical for travel and action if battle was needed.

He had pale blond hair to him and strikingly dark eyes with a paleness to his face that reminded Jewel a bit of what skin Tsugotholan tended to have.

It all around made him look a bit like cloth that had been left to bleach in the sun.

Like the younger daughter of Thurzó, he also had a hitch in his step when his eyes fully took in Jewel. Skimming along her coils, wings, horns and finally fixing on her eyes.

Which Jewel answered with a twitch of one brow that at least helped get him moving quickly to his seat next to Marta.

Although apparently he was so distracted by Jewel that he failed to realize that he was acting as the honorary barrier between his wife and the inhumanity that was Tsugotholan, Weird of the Uloghai Bog.

He was still caught in an impromptu staring contest with the sizable violet eye of Jewel’s wizardly friend when the next name was announced.

“Announcing the Heir of House Thurzó and the County of Arva, Imre Thurzó of Arva.”

Jewel felt her throat stuck a little bit when the shy five year old barely managed to peek his way into the room before flinching back behind the door.

She had been looking forward to what was arguably the very light of her friend’s world. Almost every other letter she received from György contained some proud words for his first born son and heir.

The soft whispered encouragement in the familiar gentle voice of Imre’s father was clear to Jewel’s ears though she knew no one else in the dining hall could hear them.

“Imre, my little Imre, do not fear. She is very large but that is Jewel of Rochford, I’ve told you about her. She’s a very nice dragon.”

The heir of the county of Arva whimpered back to his parents.

“No! She’s a big big Dragon snake! Snake Dragons eat little boys! Argwenna said so and-”

The voice of whom Jewel presumed was his Mother cut in sharp and intensely.

“Argwenna?! These are mummary and lies Imre, We will have words with what that governess is telling you. But please Don’t worry Jewel is not going to eat you; she is a very good and honorable Wyrm. She has written letters with your Father for years and we came all this way so you could meet her.”

The crier was looking over his shoulder then back at Jewel and Father.

She could smell fury and agitation and shame rising from some of György’s numerous daughters.

Although the one (Ilona maybe?) who had stopped and faltered at the sight of Jewel was glancing between the door and Jewel with quite a bit of fear building up.

The pleading of his parents was not making much headway with little Imre. Who was seemingly convinced that no matter what his parents said that Jewel was going to devour him because he had somehow failed in something and he was on the verge of tears by the sound and smell of it trying to beg forgiveness from his parents to not send him in to be eaten by the Tyrant Wyrm.

Jewel leaned her head over, whispering to her parents.

“The young heir is utterly distraught and too shaken to brave on his own... Can we?”

Father nodded and made three gestures to the slowly panicking crier who had started to fidget the scroll in his fingers. But on seeing Father’s gesture nodded sharply and rushed into further announcements.

“A-Announcing the Countess Erzsébet Czobor-”

Father made another gesture with his hand and the Crier quickly shifted his words before he stumbled further.

“The Count György Thurzó-”

One more loop of Father’s wrist which led the crier to widen his eyes and nod hard.

“And their son and heir Imre Thurzó of Arva.”

All three of them now announced (if a bit improperly) it was enough to at least get the fearful boy to accept being carried into the dining room by his Father, on the solemn promise that he would protect him from the Tyrant Lady Wyrm.

And at last her friend and his numerous family had been welcomed and were shortly after seated at her family’s table.

Jewel put on her gentlest and softest smile and made sure to speak as delicately as possible.

The way she did when tending to the kinder during the boar festivals or when seeing them for her visits to Valasect.

It hurt to find her friend’s son so utterly terrified of her. But Jewel had learned that there was nothing she could do for it but to be gentle and extra demure when dealing with especially frightful children.

“It is good to see you again, Count Thurzó of Arva”

György offered an apologetic smile. His son had turned away from Jewel at the mere utterance from her. Hiding in his father’s coat.

“It is good to see you again as well, Shining Wyrm of Viznove.”

And with that the feast could begin.

Poor Imre hardly ate anything.