A low, surprised sound came from somewhere on Ashlynn's side of the hall; half a laugh, quickly bitten back, but it was followed by several lighter giggles as everyone, from Charlotte Otker to Baroness Mairwen, took a moment to 'admire' the intricately decorated, bluish-black steel bulge, covered in golden filigree inlays that protruded from Owain's waist.
"It's armor, Wife," Owain said tightly. "Real armor, made by men who know their craft. The seam between the fauld and the inner thigh is…" he started before biting back his words and glaring at her as he saw the mirth in her eyes and heard the laughter from the crowd.
"Of course, it's 'real armor'," Ashlynn teased. "Protecting your most vital treasures, isn't it? But the knights who taught me said that it was important for armor to be properly fitted to provide real protection. Having a bunch of empty space to rattle around in can't be doing your precious jewels any good, can it?"
