*The Admire's lavish banquet hall is stuffed full of guests chatting away, the clink of wine glasses and hearty laughter reverberating through the concourse and giving a lively air to the floor. Despite that, Helm stands idly off to a corner with a dour expression. The tip of her saber scraped against the ground as she drew small circles with it, going over the lines of her speech in her head. When she makes eyecontact with you there's a wave of recognition in her eyes and she flashes you a genu...