Alistair was allowed into the interior of Marcus' keep, his group of cloaked individuals led inside and waiting silently alongside the Lich Damien. What no one knew about any of the men below was that they were all dead - six of them were mindless zombies who were merely well-kept and engineered by the Lich and his apprentice. Damien kept close watch and ensured no one came to speak with Alistair's undead retinue. He made himself, among all of them, clear and eyed those around him very neutrally. He could already tell they were talking ill of him and the Venora, which was to be expected in Krome. Even those who appreciated the rise of Veljorn and Zvezdana could surely not cut the wife of the rebel flack, and all due to the characteristic of her family name.
He could tell, though, that at least some seemed filled with relief when they heard that the Venora may come to Veljorn's assistance. Less danger for them, after all, to have more allies on the battlefield. Or so they thought.
Upstairs, Alistair was led to discuss things privately with Lord Marcus. The thought was far from lovely, considered he seriously doubted his ability to combat the man without resorting to Necromancy, but he trusted in his ability to ensure this did not descend to that of a violent exchange of blows. If it did, well - he had a sword that he didn't know how to use, but he could at least quite rapidly melt through the man's face if he managed to stay alive long enough to get his mana flowing.
"Worry not, Lord Krome," the Venora replied, "you mustn't worry for my hospitality. The fact that I have been invited in to this place in the midst of a war is hospitality enough." He smiled faintly. In honesty, that was quite true. He didn't fully expect that they would even be allowed at all. A portion of him had even prepared for the off-chance that Veljorn's men engaged in attempting to volley down the Lord where he stood.
Of course, the most important thing here was to keep composure and say what Marcus wanted to hear. Alistair had a natural poker face due to his evident lack of emotion entirely, but that didn't always mean he was a good liar. He had been working on the words he'd offer Marcus since they left Venora eight trials prior, and even now he did not feel fully confident in them, especially if Zvezdana had spoken to others about her brother's disagreement with her political standing. He was worried, to say the least. His only fall-back if it came to aggression was that Marcus would be declaring war on Venora if he struck at Alistair. That was quite unfortunately his only shield against the man who was larger and more skilled than he was in the ways of war.
Without all that much pause, however, the man continued in his words. He would not allow Marcus to lead the conversation too much - it could create holes. Questions could be asked that he couldn't rightly answer.
"You are marching for the siege of Andaris, are you not?" he asked, though the question was evidently rhetorical. "I am to be Duke. As the Duke, I must align myself with my Duchy's interests. Coincidentally, it is within my Duchy's interests to have greater representation in politics, as can be said of any Duchy. If my sister is to be crowned Queen of Rynmere, the standing my family possesses would dramatically rise in this nation. I would speak frankly and confess that while I do not have the closest relationship to my sister, her backside on the throne would greatly bolster the power of my Duchy and its presence in political affairs." He spoke calmly and collectedly. His face remained almost entirely unchanging and stoic, but with enough emphasis and emotion to imply sincerity. The delivery of a lie was not an issue for him - it was the creation of a lie on the spot, under fire.
As a result, he felt confident in his ability to persuade Marcus of his intentions, perhaps almost with hubris as he did so. "If you march on Andaris, I would desire to attend with you. My men are already on their way to Andaris from Venora," he said truely, "and so I imagined perhaps we could battle alongside one another as future Lords of Great Houses." As he offered this, he ushered Faith into the room with Marcus, gesturing for the man to observe upon his assistant. "This is Faith," he said. "She is an excellent assistant. A slave, to be sure, but one who knows her place in the system. She can cook and clean, and I as a doctor have taught her basic principles for treating wounds. I have even begun to instruct her on midwifery for your inevitable child with the Lady Elyna. I would offer her as a gift to Lady Elyna, your wife, for your kindness in treating with me, and seek to present her as the first gift of many in the beginning of what I believe can be an excellent political relationship."