(Monday, November 21st)

((I'm never going to get this done if I don't cut some corners on the opening and make it less descriptive, nonetheless, this can finally begin.))

Sir Darlion entered the room much as he had done many times before. That is, before anybody else and with a stack of letters and documents to busy himself with until the meeting began. The life of a Grandmaster was busying enough, the life of a Duke compounded that tenfold. It was obvious that Darlion was tired. Still, he carried himself with the same authority he always had, and made his way to his seat.

He had only recieved word of a few incidents that had occured in Laria, and was eager to hear reports from the lips of his knights. Which would no doubt take some time. Until said knights arrived though, he had work to do.

The Grandmaster busied himself with the stack of papers in front of him. Financial reports, orders to knights, official business he had to answer as Duke. It was a battlefield all on its own to sort through. Still, he did not complain. And for some time until the meeting began, the only sound that could be heard was Darlion calling for a messenger, to send his latest letter to its recipient.

Sir Azrael arrived in his typical way: quietly and without hurry, almost like not daring to disturb the grandmaster. Without further ado, he took his seat and started to scribble down something in a notebook, waiting for somone to start the meeting. One could however notice the anxiousness he tried to mask with indifference.

Sir Kamos entered with a few other Knights as usual holding a conversation about recent events. Upon seeing the grandmaster as usually they quieted down and took there seats to wait for others.

Sir Orlando stood in the door way of the meeting room, and quickly glanced about it. He then made his way over to a seat beside Sir Azrael, nodding to him, and then sitting down. He was interested in hearing what others had thought of recent events, and this caused him to be less enthusiastic than normal, and more so an observer.

Sir Ibram wanders blithely into the meeting, a shit-eating grin etched across his features as his eyes float across Sir Kamos; seemingly boastful and gloating. Clearly not at all interested in the meeting in general, however, he settles into a seat at random. Slumped in his chair, his arms folded across his breast, he glances up at the grandmaster impatiently - despite the fact he himself was late.

"Can we start? Things to do, people to see, I say."