Davide did not like or particulary want to like the Countess' villagers, which was made evident by the fact that he ignored their very presence on his way to the village's only inn. He paused to stamp the ice and snow from his boots before stepping into the welcome heat of the common area, shutting the door behind him politely and whipped off his gloves as he approached the woman he had traveled down from the castle for.

"Judith." He said, more sharply than he intended, as he took a seat near her, glaring at her drinking companion before turning his full attenion to the the woman. "You need to get me the fuck out of here."

The dark-haired tallfolk who was rather morosely trying to keep up with Judith's drink consumption looked Davide over before remarking, "You have acquired another tallfolk."

"No I ain't. This one's Aquitaine's." She straightened up and looked Davide over as well. "Well! You look like someone who has spent way too much time at Court. Had enough?"

Davide gave her a sour look. "I give up." He said, simply. "Are you letting him drink the red beer?" He asked, his glare turning to sympathy. "Hope you've got someone to nursemaid him."

She looked over her drinking partner in amusement. "'Letting' isn't the word I'd use," she replied, swapping back to Aquitanean. She scooted over. "Come on, sit down, man. You're in luck. As soon as this wedding bullshit's over I'm bound for Melusine."

Davide sat on that one for a moment, leaning back in his chair. "I fear you are mistaken, as you just recited the words you, lucky and Melusine in the same breath." He said, switching to Aquitanean. "We switch one court for another. Delightful. I cannot wait." He drew his brows in. "Dare I ask what business we have there?"

"Something's become of one of the imperial princes," she said. "Word's getting around that the fairies did it. I'd like to get there before the little bugger lets out a fart and dies. The Empress is probably the best patron I have, and I'd like to stay in good with her. Plus we have the regular mercantile business in the Capital, but this seems as good an excuse as any."

Davide groaned, but put up his hands. "I'd go live with the dwarves if it was a ride out of here. Melusine it is." He rolled his eyes. "Anyone regaled you with the entire drama of this wedding? There have been disappearences, reappearences, grevious injuries, hunger strikes and other exciting events. I'm supposedly reporting it all to the Queen." He said dry as a desert. "If that's what you want to call feeding my reports to a rabbit. Be glad, Judith, you are recieving an especially humble gentleman officer."

"I'm doing you a goddamn favour," Judith replied, with a slight twang of her old accent as her voice sharpened. "Her Majesty eats this fairy stuff like a fat kid eats pie. Anyone who's actually been here holds her interests for at least six months. Use it. And no," she added, "I haven't even been up to the castle yet."

Davide looked her over with a snort. "That's rich. I'm doing you a favor, being Navy, Aquitanean, and well bred enough to hold the interests of the Queen." He frowned. "Let's just say that we should be glad they are getting married." Then he tapped the table. "This is about Honore and the switch the hob pulled with Renaud? He's sick with the wasting disease, not faerie stuff."

Judith abruptly stopped drinking. She set down her beer. Her fingertips began to tap a pattern on the tabletop. "This is about Prince Jean-Honore," she said slowly.

Her dark companion snorted and reached for his hat. "Well, time for me to sneak into the castle--"

He stood halfway up before Judith, laughing, grabbed him by the belt and yanked him down again. "Oh, no," she told him, "you'll kick yourself if you miss this. I'm sure it's going to be good. Isn't it?" She raised her eyes to Davide.