The King sat at the head of the long table in his audience chamber. Guards stood in all four corners of the room; after all, even a Scalian ambassador was not entirely to be trusted. Thiasans tended to instinctively despise Scalians, and King Aedan was not immune from this prejudice. After all, his father had broken away from them... it would be most difficult for him to convince his people that the Scalians were worthy allies, and only King Hadrian was the enemy. Even his general seemed to have difficulty accepting it.

But if he accepted marriage to the Lady Hanna Blauvelt, they would have to learn to like it. Some sort of Scalian alliance was essential to the future of the kingdom.

He hadn't even seen the woman yet, of course, but the rumors had reached him. It wasn't just his people who would have to learn to like it... he would, too. Aedan wasn't a picky man. He had enough self-control not to lust after every beautiful woman, and he knew his desires took a back seat to the governance of the state.

But really--it depended on just how ugly she really was. And on what this ambassador would be able to promise him in terms of alliance and troop support. He settled back in his chair, his crown firmly in place. Now was the time to dazzle, not to dissemble. Soon his guards would be here with Sir Alban Denton, ambassador of the Blauvelt Barony.

The door opened, and one of his guards stepped inside. "He is here, your Majesty."

King Aedan inclined his head. "Bring him in."

Nerves... Ever since reaching Thiasa Keep, he had been a bundle of nerves. He was so nervous to the point of being sick in the carriage but he caught himself. There was no need to be nervous other then the King, if he didn't like the terms, out throw him in the dungeon. The worst part would be that no one would help the Scalian. One reason was that King Aedan I is the King and no one went against the word of the king. Second reason was that he was a Scalian. Most people of Thiasa do not like the Scalian. If he ever would to get out of the dungeon, the Baron would have his head for messing up the whole ordeal. There was no pressure what so ever. Sir Alban didn't sleep that well that night. They were allowed to rest before meeting the King since they had came a long way He had been re-playing what would happen if he had messed up everything. No matter what, it didn't end well for him. For one moment, he had wished he was still in Blauvelt on his parents’ farm. For one thing, you didn't have to worry too much about messing up crops. But he had fallen asleep and dreams of an alliance of Blauvelt and Thiasa. The Baron had even offered the knight his own plot of land for his future farm if things went well. Getting up the next morning, Alban had almost forgotten that he had to play ambassador. The night they had arrived in the Keep, no one believed he was the ambassador. True, he was young but he was good at getting people to like him enough to agree to stuff.

Washing behind his ears and everywhere else, Sir Alban wanted to make sure he looked alright to be in front of the King. Appearances were everything. Shaving some of his five-o-clock shadow, well, not really shaving it. He just made it look nicer then it had been a moment or two ago. The last thing he wanted to do was look really bad in front of the King. Dressed and looking rather snazzy, Sir Alban was going to strap his sword around his waist then stopped. What kind of message did that send the King? It had to say something along the lines of "I don't trust you, you're guards, or you're bloody commoners". Then again, his teacher and father, said to never go anywhere without a weapon. With a mental shrug, he strapped the sword around his waist. If they requested him to leave it at the door, he would. He would just like to have it back when he leaves. With a knock at his door, the knight opened it to one of the guards. "The King wishes an audience with you" he said rather gruffly. He watched the guards eyes flicker to his sword but he didn’t say a word. Fallowing guard, Sir Alban looked around as they walked. He liked to look of the castle. It was nice looking. The ambassador nearly ran into the guard when he stopped in front the door. The guard turned around and smiled. "I'm sorry but we can't allow you to being your sword into the audience chamber with the King" the guard said with a smile on his face. Alban really didn't think they were going to let him into the presents of the King with a weapon anyways. Ah well, at lest his sword made it half way. Waiting patiently, he was then given the go ahead to go into the audience chamber. Opening the door, he took a quick look around until his eyes landed on the King. For some reason, he pictured the King looking a little different. A little less facial hair for one thing. Bowing, the knight said "I'm Sir Alban Denton. Ambassador for the Blauvelt Barony". He waited where he bowed for the King to either offer him a seat or let him stand. He dared not do anything without the King telling him he could or couldn't do it.

Aedan watched the man as he came into the chamber. He looked diffident, despite his solidity of his build. He was dressed his best, albeit in the fashion of the Scalians, which was a little different from Thiasan by now. How odd, that in only a generation even the clothing would diverge. Of course, Thiasa was now richer than most of Scalia, due to their abundant natural resources, and fashion had increased apace in its extravagance. But apart from the difference in dress, the man seemed respectable enough.

"Take a seat, Sir Alban." He was glad he'd remembered the name--it wasn't his strength to do so. "Tell me, what news does the Baron send from Blauvelt? Do you require any further exports of Thiasan wine or cotton?"

He didn't want to bring up the Lady Hanna just yet. He'd wait to see if the ambassador spoke first. Depending on the excuses he gave, he'd be able to see just how much he'd be able to ask in exchange for marrying the woman. He sat back, motioning for a servant to pour him a glass. "And if you'd like wine, only ask." He made a small motion toward the servantman. "I hope we can forge some sort of relationship, as I'd like to have more dealings with your Baron." Or any at all, really; thus far they'd restricted their dealings to trade and some tentative discussions of potential alliance.