Ashlynn smiled openly as she listened to the Hanrahan pipers and the Soft Paw drummers playing merrily as they marched. In the distance, she could still hear laughter and excitement pushing up against the grim sense of dread that had settled over the city after Rastlan's clash with Isabell at the gates.
It would take time for the opposing sides of the Lothian's endless wars to come together. Time, and a long series of deliberate efforts to bridge the gaps. At the moment, Dirar's delegation from the Southern Steppe had gathered on one side of the bailey while the local lords all but pressed themselves into the stone walls on the other.
Several people worked hard to avoid the gazes of their 'neighbors' across the way, but once Ashlynn had introduced the barons of the march to Dirar, Rastlan's gaze had never once left Tybal Aleese's face.
