[past] The truth is

Extending the hand of friendship was one way to ensure that Frankie kept his Kingdom running smoothly. There was nothing worse than a dip in the economy to have the Crow’s and Merchant Princes fueling ideas of rebellion and the dwarves offered a steady supply of goods and craftsmanship that many relied upon, even in their dire state. Bhelen had been a character, one the Antivan King had warmed to. There was something about the stout, gruff folk that he found endearing, even if he did cause some of their more traditional citizens to groan and grumble under their breath.

Ordinarily he’d have discussed things with Garryn via messenger, but fortune would have it that the King was in the area. Attending the wedding of his daughter, he made a point of sending the younger King word of his whereabouts, arranging for the two to meet despite the King’s condition.

He was incredibly hungover. And atop a beast that he had great reservations about.

His stomach lurched dangerously as he and his bodyguards rode their way into the estate's courtyard. Body pitching forward, Frankie would swear luridly in Antivan, hair askew and attire somewhat ruffled as if he’d been roused from his bed and dressed hurriedly. With some trepidation, he’d guide his uncooperative stead in Garryn’s direction.

[color=#c14700]“You know, I did remember we were doing this, but in the haze of a good red wine, I admit it slipped my mind. Much grumbling was had. How dare they let me drink, knowing I was to come see you today.” [/color]