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It takes no small amount of effort on Aymeric's part to stop smoothing non-existent wrinkles on his blouse. Hidden away behind the curtain of a window seat in the large mansion of the Fortempt Manor, he escaped the critical eyes of the other nobility who milled about, socializing while attempting not to overindulge in drink (to varying levels of success).
And all eyes were on him. Already (allegedly) on track to take over the role of Lord Commander, interest was piqued but it only had gotten worse due to the recent passing of his adoptive parents.
Already elderly when adopting him as a small child, they had both made it into their nineties, his father following his mother soon after into Halone's great halls. Aymeric was now officially Viscount de Borel, head of the minor noble household. But first a foremost, still a twice orphaned bastard at the end of of the day.
A bastard of King Thordan VII. Or so the rumors say.
'Rumors'.
There were only two men who knew the truth. Perhaps two and a half if you counted technicalities. (You can heavily imply to your best friend, but there's only so far you can go without stating it outright. Even still Aymeric wasn't sure if Estinien knew and kept quiet or if it had yet to register.)
He takes a final deep breath before leaving his hiding spot, charming smile back on his face. Most of the time it was a show. When in his position you had to navigate a treacherous mountain of social cues, gossip, and deeply ingrained prejudice. One misstep and you would never be able to live it down, having to claw your way back up after.
So the first thing Aymeric did was try and make a beeline to the table full of glasses of wines, plucking a generously poured red. It wasn't the best to use as a minor crutch, but this was a… unique situation.
Aymeric couldn't even get a sip in before he was practically pounced on.
"Lady Gaudet, what a pleasant surprise," He lowered his glass, quickly examining the older Elezen woman. She was minor nobility like himself, but she held more sway than her simple yet expensive clothes would let on. Like many she had fingers in everything, but was known best for her eidetic memory, even as she slowly crawled toward the end of her life.
"Viscount Aymeric, your sentiment is mine as well. I was unsure if I would see you here, it's still so soon," Half a moon, to be exact. Aymeric still wore the customary black instead of the azure he so favored. It didn't sound quite backhanded, more probing than anything else. "You have my condolences once again. You organized a lovely funeral, it was fitting for you parents."
A funeral that had been performed by King Thordan himself. Ironic. Frustrating.
"Thank you my lady, tis a great compliment to hear that from you. I am eternally grateful that King Thordan was able to help lay my parents to rest," Finally did he take a sip from his wine, careful not to drink too much. Every movement counted. "It helped bring me much peace."
"Well glad I am to hear that. His Holiness truly is a kind soul, is he not?" Her admiration was true, but the sentence held more weight.
Kind enough to perform such a ceremony for nobles of little significance. That he only agreed because of Aymeric, his bastard son. Admit it. Tell her. Admit it.
"He truly is. All of Ishgard is lucky to have him as our leader," Smile, ignore the implications. It wasn't the first nor last time he would be prodded about it tonight, that he was sure of. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise. "How have you been since the funeral? I heard that your daughter recently got engaged?"
A daughter she had tried to set up with Aymeric himself only months prior, respectfully turned down of course. It seemed that another noble family was happy to set it up in his stead, happy to make a stronger bond with a powerful family.
Aymeric had no plans to marry anytime soon.
There was no time to. He had so many goals he had yet to accomplish, and marriage could prove a threat to his currently perceived 'neutrality'. Nor did he wish to marry into the nobility.
He only had one person in mind, but he was unlikely to agree to it. He was never one to be tied down. Estinien never wanted nor deserved to be subjected to the hell of the upper echelons of Ishgardian society.
"She did!" She clasped her hands together and Aymeric took a larger sip of his wine. "Lord Rivoire asked for her hand just the other day. 'Twas only a matter of time, of course, with him soon being sent to the Western Highlands," Right, it was the time of year many new and returning members of the knights were sent elsewhere. Aymeric himself was given bereavement leave, though his position would likely remain closeby. The current Lord Commander favored him so, having picked him to serve under him for the time being.
"Congratulations! He deserves such happiness before his assignment. The Western Highlands can be difficult on some, but I have heard he is quite the steadfast man," Not quite uncommon as a trait, but such assignments can test even the strongest.
"That he is, that he is," She seemed to have no doubts about her soon to be son-in-law, something that had to be relieving for all involved. "Are you to remain in Ishgard yourself?"
Are you still being given leave? Are you still cozying up to the Lord Commander? Will he pick you when his soon approaching retirement is announced?
"I have been lucky enough to receive one more week of leave before I continue my service in the Congregation of our Knights Most Heavenly," In which he constantly (politely as possible) butted heads with Ser Zephirin, the preferred candidate for the Lord Commander by many. "Which I am most excited to return to, I find that I am not one for idle time."
Hm. Maybe not quite the right thing to say. It could be interpreted as not being devastated by the loss of his parents. But one cannot take back words already said. Mayhap it was time for him to make an exit from this specific conversation.
"My lady, I must apologize but I find myself quite peckish, would it be amendable if we returned to this conversation later this evening?" Please.
"Ah! I would not wish to keep you from enjoying what Lord Fortemps has so graciously prepare for us tonight. We shall speak again soon, then," A polite smile from her and a slight bow from Aymeric, he quickly made his leave. At least he had actually been hungry.
It took mere seconds to be pulled into conversation again, the single tart on his small plate sitting abandoned.