Princess Estelle Ruric de Frey spits her tea across the starch white tablecloth that covered the dinning room table which she, and her βsister from another misterβ, sat at. A symphony of laughter escaped her form as sheβd bring her right hand down hard upon the wooden surface with a bang! After a few moments of struggling to collect her composure, and a few supporting snickers from other witch, the witch would finally vocalize her thoughts; βOh, how pathetic! Not only is a, supposed, βofficial documentβ from the Kingdom of Norland published by someone who isnβt King; but, someone who clearly cares more about their calligraphy than the actual strength of their document...β
The icy woman handed the paper to her sister witch, seated only an armβs reach away. Sheβd take the flier and gloss her shining blue eyes over its contents as, the formerly known, Estelle carried on. βMind you, Sister, this entire shipwreck was written up because the sorry excuse for my true-familyβs home isnβt able to keep out intruders, spare their citizens the torment of said intruders, or enforce their own law! I guess I really should thank the All-Father for this dreaded curse! He wanted to save my great-grand babies the shame and humiliation of begging tea-drinking dagger-ears for money and apologies. Sheβd roll her eyes as sheβd finish, her lips curling into a patronizing grin. The other witch raised a, well manicured, clawed hand to her lips to suppress her laughter.