This past weekend was our last SCA event in Trimaris. It was mainly spent sitting at a table selling some things we didn't want to pack up and move with us (fabric, books, various trinkets). For me, pretty much the entire event was an exercise in patience, as I knew what was to come at the end of it.

Funny thing... after the event, I learned from Karen that someone she'd spoken to wanted to talk to me, but thought I had something against him. Oddly enough, I'd thought he had problems with me.

It was held in the church where Karen and I got married. It seemed smaller than I remembered, but I think they still had the same hymn numbers up on the board. If I had to do it all over again, I would (but there'd be some changes in who stood up with us; fortunately, I'm not above a little historical revision with Photoshop).

Finally, it was time for Court! There was a lot of genuinely funny business (such as the King intimidating the local seneschal, who'd walked into the room marked "ROYALS ONLY" and seen the Queen in her "small clothes"). Awards were given, people were thanked... and then Karen was startled to hear the herald call for Mistress Ginevra Visconti.

"You have something for us?" the King asked. Karen looked panicked for a moment — then remembered that she had asked to be released from her vow of fealty (I'd been released from mine at Crown Lyst, as at the time I didn't know Karen was planning to go to Res Domestica). "I'd forgotten about that," the King said, and then they had her place her hands on the Sword of State, which apparently vacuums fealty out of people.

The Queen explained to the populace that Ginevra was being released from her vow of fealty so that she could serve the Crown in her new kingdom without reservation — and then had the herald read out an award: for her long service to Trimaris, a Court Barony. (There's a brief video clip of her reaction here.) Hooray! [Ed. note: Karen says she thinks it happened the other way around ("Before we release you...").]

I was highly amused after Court; among the people congratulating her was the Premier of the Order of the Laurel. Though I was standing right next to Karen, she refused to look at me, and very pointedly excluded me from her comments ("I'm sorry to hear we're losing one of our number", etc.). Like school on a Sunday, as the Fat Albert gang used to observe.