"Then you posit those responsible for our appearance here made some mistake?" Ashelia tilts her head to the side in thought. "Not impossible, I suppose. With what little direction the moogles seem to have been given, it might indicate just that."

Ashelia begins to pace, tapping her chin in thought. "It may be too soon to judge, and it may be a ploy, but this festival does not indicate a culture of war..." She doesn't want to believe it. Her anger - both at being displaced and her feelings of vulnerability because of it - demands retribution. A slow, measured approach, Ashe.

"...short of storming the palace ourselves, it seems as though we must wait for answers." The queen doesn't even bother to try and mask her disdain. "We've little choice in the manner. I've already sent an emissary; I intend to take the high road, for as long as I'm able."