Peter had felt powerful as he dressed that evening. He'd felt like the King he'd been born to be. Dressed in the colour of his house and attending an event of a people that were soon to be his first conquest. It had felt good to conquer them too. To conquer a people that had never been conquered before and do it so quickly. Who would not feel powerful in such a situation?

Peter had worn an arrogant and self-assured smile as he'd joined his subordinates and they'd sailed across the river. There had been but a lone Eastern guard at the docks. He hadn't noticed them until the Wendolan party were more than halfway across the river, too focused on the sounds of the event behind him.

Peter knew they were late, but he hadn't expected such lax security. If he'd known, he might have taken the opportunity to just conquer them properly now. He was even half tempted to turned to boat around and rouse his soldiers.

They'd climbed onto the docks unimpeded, but the guard's hard stare had been hostile, not welcoming.

He hadn't spoken until they were all on shore.

"I recommend you get back in your boat and go across the river. You will not be welcomed here," said the guard in a low tone.

Peter had smirked and held the invitation from Saorise aloft, "We were invited".

He discarded the invitation at the guard’s feet then moved forward, shoving the guard out of the way. The guard didn't seem flustered however, he simply spoke again.

"Please leave your weapons in your boat," he'd said.

The Wendolans had all but laughed at him.

The closer Peter had gotten to the event, the more unsure he'd become. The sound of the drums and the flute and the many other instruments that accompanied them was almost spiritual. He seemed to feel it in the very earth beneath his feet. Then his eyes took in the swirling colours of autumn across a vast field. Thousands of people dancing as one, great smiles of joy and wonder and a great celebration of a people the likes of which he had never seen. The initial shock of it was something even Peter felt in his bones. He felt an instinctual pull to join in. A pull he tamped down as soon as his eyes fell upon Saorise Caramort.

She was dressed in red. A colour that to him had always symbolised death. Yet now, as he watched her dance, her dress and the various streams of fabric attached flowing around and above her, he couldn't help but realise how alive the colour was. How powerful it was.

But as soon as her eyes fell on him, it was clear she did not feel the same way. She could not see his royalty. Nor his pride. Nor his power. All she saw, all any of them saw as the music faded into a tension filled silence, was an arrogant man who had impeded on a sacred law.

"You are not in Wendolan, here, at this Festival, you are as much a King as I am a man".

Her words had been cutting. They had ridiculed him to his core and he had realised just how grave of a mistake he had made. Where was that man that had asked Madame Helena for information on the East to be sure his plans of attack would work? Where was the man that had pretended to be an arrogant, incompetent whore instead of a King-to-be for the last twenty years? It seemed, that his arrogance had gotten the best of him here. And she had known it would too. Saorise had warned him, knowing that that warning would likely fall on deaf ears. She had tested him hoping that she was wrong, but the amount of disappointment that filled her gaze as she and a few others sorted out clothing for him and his subordinates let Peter know that he had failed spectacularly by taking the expected path.

Peter gazed at his men as they all took the clothes with cautious gazes, surrendering their weapons without a fight. He frowned.

"Your people are wearing red as well, yet there are no red clothes that you offer us," Peter said. As soon as he said it though, he realised how stupid he was to point it out.

"Well, red in your culture is worn for death. It is our festival, so we will wear it if we desire to, but we will not force guests with different beliefs to do the same. We only asked that you did not taint a festival of Life with the colour, or instruments of death," Saorise replied, "Your arrogance has cost you the respect of every Easterner on this night. Perhaps you may earn back an unsteady understanding through changing, but they all know you were warned beforehand".

Peter hesitated before he spoke, "Will you still negotiate?"

Saorise scoffed, "We haven't much of a choice. Though I imagine that most of the eight women who were ready to present themselves as potential consorts will now withdraw".

Peter spun to look at Saorise, "I thought you said there would be none".

Saorise looked back at him, "Well it appears that there are women in the East who are willing to sacrifice their bodies and their freedom for their people. They were to be presented to you tonight as you were to be presented to them. You have fucked that up rather spectacularly".

Peter closed his eyes. Stupid. He'd been stupid.

"So, I suppose point seven will need some renegotiation," Peter stated.

Another woman stepped forward, the young one in yellow that Peter had seen calm Saorise's rage earlier. She did not have the same powerful aura as Saorise, and her looks were much plainer and softer, yet she was still pretty. Her eyes conveyed the same insight though. The same wisdom and spirit. She held out a brown coat to Peter as she spoke, "If you can redeem yourself, perhaps there won't need to be".

Peter frowned, glancing at Saorise who only seemed to agree before she spoke.

"Careful with that frown, she's one of the women you're supposed to be redeeming yourself to," Saorise sighed before she turned to leave. The woman in yellow gave a mocking curtsey.

"Eloise Ridgelam, your majesty, one of those considering your offer. I suppose we'll leave you to change now," she said.

Then she turned and followed Saorise out.

Peter gritted his teeth as he clenched the clothing in his hands. Saorise was right. He had fucked up spectacularly.