Felip spends the 4th of Sarenith in the streets with his personal guard, wishing he had brought a full pike square. They wouldn't really have fit, except in the city's widest streets, and they're likely doing good back in Fraga. But he's relying on his silver tongue more than force of arms, which always puts him a bit on edge.

They only manage to find a few zombies, but he hopes they at least inspired the good people of Westcrown. He returns to their rented manor by dinnertime, changing from his battle silks into his dinner silks, but what he had hoped would be a lovely dinner with his wife, children, and potential in-laws is instead a tense and dangerous affair. One of the invited guests was murdered the previous night, and not raised in time for dinner, even if he had wanted to attend after such a traumatic experience.

Something has to be done. That evening, he and Isidonia put together a very different sort of guest list for next night's dinner.

It is now the 5th of Sarenith, and Felip toasts his guests.

"Friends of Cheliax! I wish I had brought us together in happier times, for a happier purpose. But the peace and stability of the realm are at stake, on which so many lives rest. I think none of us wish a repeat of what the convention has wrought so far, and I shudder to think of it spreading to cities without archmages ready to douse the flames and calm the crowds. But ours is not merely to wish, but to write our will on reality. How will we secure the realm and Her Majesty's peace?"