Of the Scipii Family/Sextus Severus/Well I assume he's an Ambassador ...

Well I assume he's an Ambassador ...

“Well I assume he’s acting as Ambassador or some sort…” Sextus mused to himself as he searched for his Ducal cloak, having washed and changed from the dirtied clothes he’d been wearing in the field.

A trio of servants stood by, looking as uncomfortable with his mutterings as they always did.

“…. been a while since …. The last big speech” he said, frowning in puzzlement as he stopped for a moment, having forgotten what he was doing.

“Your Cloak, Your Grace” prompted one of the servants after a few moments, being all too accustomed to this regularity.

Sextus froze for a moment, before looking round and frowning at the presence of the servants “Yes … quite …” he said slowly in confusion, as he tried to recall whether he remembered if they had actually been there before or not.

Quickly taking up the black cloak from its hook he folded it over one arm and made to his desk, skirting around the large model of the Stronghold in the middle of the room, pausing for a moment as he considered something.

“Inform The Grand Duke that the Main Hall is readily awaiting his presence and that of Prince .(?). Glaumring” instructed Sextus to the room, one of the servants taking up the task and leaving

“And please accompany the Prince to said Hall” he commanded the second servant “with my compliments and warm welcome”

That man too, bowed and left.

“Oh and … we’ll hold a festival or something … in honour of our visitor?” Sextus asked casually to the remaining servant, who took a few moments to before looking side-ways at the Arch Duke, surprised with the off-hand manner his superior was talking to him.

“A Festival, Your Grace?”

Sextus winced slightly at the address, ‘Arch …- … Duke .. Its Arch Duke …’ he muttered to himself in his head. “A festival? … Yes a festival … excellent” he announced as if the idea had only just come to him. He quickly strode to the window and gazed down on Valkyrja, envisaging it already “Lots of banners … and … festival things” he muttered mistily … “Prepare some carts” he ordered suddenly to the remaining servant, turning to face him sharply “and have the garrison troops assist in the preparations”

“Right away, Your Grace” said the servant with a bow and exiting the room, still unsure exactly what preparations were meant to be made. The presence of carts suggested forebodingly yet more rhetoric was to be dished out to the populace in another of the Duke’s speeches, something the servant hoped he was on kitchen duty for.

After scowling again at being what he considered, incorrectly titled, Sextus swung the heavy cloak over his shoulders and fastened it, took up his gloves and sword, and made his way out to greet their Thulsoman guest who had travelled so far to speak with them, seemingly with a view to strengthening relations.

~ Then again … he might just be an Assassin … ~