The Fall of a Kingdom {Game Thread}

After the death of Basil Darkbranch Sir Nikolas Stoneclaw had become suspicious of both his fellow council members and strangers that would show up in Cloudgate, so when several citizens had noticed a small group of more or less strangers enter Stoneclaw's mansion they couldn't help but wonder what was going on. Upon hearing from one of the guards stationed at the entrance that the strangers had been invited to a 'welcome dinner' the citizens couldn't help but wonder if they leader was planning something. 

"I must sincerely apologize for calling you all here on such short notice, things have been rather chaotic as of late and I doubt that it'll be calming down any time soon. That being said, I hope you didn't run into to much trouble on the way here but if you did..." There was a momentary pause as Sir Stoneclaw glanced down at the glass in his right hand and took a breath, "then I will reimburse you any gold that may have been stolen or assist in replacing any items or weapons that may have been destroyed, stolen or lost along the way." As he finished speaking he placed two bottles of wine down on the table before taking a seat. After a couple seconds two servants entered the room, one had freshly baked rolls while the other was carrying a tray with bowls of soup with noodles, a few types of vegetables and what looked to be meat in it.

"I hope that the food is to your likings, it's been years since I've hosted a dinner party." Nikolas said with a soft chuckle before shifting in his seat ever so slightly. He forced a small smile to his face as he looked around the table at his guests before hesitantly reaching for his glass. As he picked it up he looked it over for a couple of seconds before pouring some wine into it. "I have something I'd like to discuss with you all but I'm sure that you'd probably like to eat first... correct?"

{Please, introduce and describe your characters}

Sevrin arrives without announcement, not late but just after the others have settled. As he moves, his attention drifts across the room: the spacing between chairs, the servants who avoid eye contact, the guards at the door standing a fraction too rigid, watching the guests instead of the entrances. He chooses a seat that keeps both within view.

His features are pale and composed, his hair kept neatly in place by a simple dark band. Nothing about him is ostentatious, but nothing is careless either. His clothing is understated, tailored just enough to suggest status but not flaunting it. He does not reach for the food immediately. Instead, his gaze settles briefly on Sir Nikolas and the manner in which he presents himself, the pause before the apology, the glance at the glass, the chuckle offering more of an explanation than polite acknowledgment.

Sevrin folds his hands loosely in front of him. “Generous,” he says, not loud but enough to carry. A slight tilt of his head follows, almost thoughtful. He lets the word linger, allowing the silence to do its work. His eyes pass once around the table, measuring reactions rather than faces, before returning to Nikolas. “I arrived without incident.” A shorter pause this time. “But I suspect the journey may not be the actual concern.”

He doesn’t offer any additional insight. Sevrin doesn’t reach for the wine. He simply waits to see who may fill the silence, and who doesn’t.