Mullen seethed with activity, not that the city ever slowed down, but rarely did its streets see such abuse under the feet of the sea of travelers and shoppers brought out by an approaching party. Inside of its walls, workers, nobles, and diplomats alike made their way into the palatial grounds to either stay in the hospitality of the king or set to work preparing for the next day. The main gate of the palace, facing east, had been hit the hardest. The massive ornamental bronze gates had been pulled fully open, and handfuls of clerks and stewards worked to record the entrance of notable figures for both the crown's preparations and certainly the curiosity of the officials that paid them. Whoever was coming to the celebration would likely pass through those gates, and the proper among them would make sure to check in at them regardless. It made a wonderful place for receiving honored guests and keeping track of the unsavory ones.

The many buildings of the palace were already alive with the hordes of gossipers and early arrivals enjoying their chosen forms of pre-party. Close to the gates, another sort of curious official watched the procession with a pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other from the comfort of a street side table. He was a tall man, brown haired and gaunt faced who would have stood out from the crowd if he hadn't been sitting alone. Subtlety was lost on him, as every now and then he would fixate on one of the new arrivals, add some notations to his book, and return to watching the crowd with a dissatisfied look. He had the look of a sickly hawk, impatiently awaiting the right kind of prey. Maybe they were already in the city, and he had missed his window, but duty required that he continued to sit at that small table and stare down the crowds until he had exhausted the supply of nameless faces.

Thomas stood in the empty throne room in the Palace, in his gleaming white armor, and the white cloak of the Lifeguard. Thomas enjoyed being part of the Lifeguard, also known as the Order of the Thistle, as much as anyone. It gave him a sense of higher purpose and direction in his life. As he admired the seat of the King, he thought of all the past kings who had sat on the throne. Thomas was just beginning his duty as a Lifeguard when the King Arduin II the Lost died bedridden and infirm. It had been a hectic few years for the Order of the Thistle. One King died in bed, the other with a bout of sickness, and now a 30 year old king was to be crowned the successor to his brothers. 30 years old, with no wife, and no heir. Thomas sighed, as he walked towards the throne, his left hand gripping the hilt of Harmony, his sword. No doubt many other people would try to take advantage of this situation, and the only thing standing between Bard and certain death was the Order of the Thistle, numbering only 20 members now. Sir Redwyne Cole the Morningstar, the commander of the Order, had commanded that there be a 24/7 guard on the king of at least 5 men, with others shifting in and out. Thomas, thankfully, had just ended his night shift, guarding the King's bed chambers, and wasn't suppose to take over a shift until later. Thomas let loose his grip around Harmony, and pulled his white gloves tighter over his hands. Thomas was itching for some sort of action, and was thankful that the Coronation celebration was happening soon, which would also bring a tournament in honor of the King. Thomas would be able to participate in lancing, and single combat dueling, in the tournament to win glory for his King. He had already been selected by Redwyne Cole himself to champion for the Order of the Thistle in the tournament, an honor that Thomas was well-deserving. Thomas was a master at winning tournaments, particularly in lance matches. Thomas carefully sat on the stairs leading up to the throne, his back now to the seat, and facing the grand doors to the palace. The hall of the Throne room were massive in size, and beautiful in scope, but Thomas couldn't help but feel that it lacked something. Thomas hoped that their new King, Bard, would fill this hall with what it lacked.

Gareth approached the palace through the hustle and bustle of a busying crowd excited about the coronation, himself filled with mixed feelings about the stability of the current leadership. As with any coronation, all were invited, and it took him some time to work his way through the mass of people entering the massive gates. He checked in and made known his attendance to the clerks by virtue of decorum, and upon entry he cognized his lack of familiarity with any of the other guests. None of his acquaintances arrived yet, and he surmised this was probably due to his being early, therefore he had to make do and attempt to enjoy himself alone, a situation that daunted him in some ways. Gareth made his way to the throne room, noting the throne where King Bard II would sit if he were around, then he stood aside as a wallflower in the room, him giving the impression that he was waiting for someone. The young man, a stranger to coronations, felt out of place among nobles and commoners alike without anyone he knew and any clue of what to do, therefore he intuited that he'd be well off lounging until someone made conversation with him. After all, he didn't have much business in openly socializing with people since he was hardly a noble and decidedly not well-known, and it'd be much better for his status if Gareth simply loitered until someone addressed him.

Beyond the main doors of the throne room and amidst the echoes and bustle of the crowd filling the palace, a distinct clattering of boots on the freshly cleaned stone floors could be heard growing closer. In an even, measured step, a broad, round faced man in an even broader fur collared greatcoat entered, looking around the throne room with a mixture of pleasure and arrogance playing itself on his face in the form of a small, contented smile. A figure of mild prominence, Karl Leid was a deposed diplomat with a history of failure in several nations across southern Estovet, but wasn't ashamed of taking advantage of Keilaudrin's hospitality for a few nights. He didn't mind hearing the new rumors about himself, either. Flanking him as he made his entrance, a young woman followed behind and beside him only to stop and stand next to the entrance, adjusting the blue tie around her neck and watching the room tiredly. Both newcomers immediately noted the apparent emptiness of the throne room. A lone member of the lifeguard, equipped fully, and a cloaked stranger who looked young and seemed a hair apart from the usual crowd at the palace. Leid advanced slowly, stopping where he felt suitable in the aisle and nodding towards Gareth. "Admiring the masonry? I love the sight of an empty throne myself. There is nothing as inspiring in the world as the bizarre absence of royalty, don't you think?."

Sophia strode briskly down the long cobblestone path leading up to the palace. She had arrived in Keilaudrin a few days before, and was excited to have finally reached her destination. The small figure carried a large wooden box that she seemed to be struggling with. The box was made of stained wood that had been carved carefully. It was about three and a half feet long, and if the princess' struggles with it were any indication, it was somewhat heavy. A voice behind her called out. "M'lady, I can carry that for you, it wouldn't be a problem." Sophia stopped and turned to her bodyguard, who had been following a few steps behind her. Her eyes glanced at the box and then back to Jezin, before eventually nodding with a bit of disappointment and handing him the package. "Be careful with it though, mother would be angry if she found out something happened to her gift." The princess strode onward, tailed by the armored man behind her.

Jezin followed the princess, slowly marching on. He tucked the box under his arm. The weight was no problem for him. He wasn't wearing his helmet, so his dark hair was free and blowing slightly in the wind. He had left his spear and shield behind as well, not wanting to appear hostile towards their host. His sword still hung at his side, but this was more to denote his position as the princess' bodyguard than to imply any actual violence would be taking place. The duo passed through the large iron gates of the palace and were greeted by the hustle and bustle of the arriving guests. A group of clerks seemed to be recording visitors. Jezin followed as Sophia approached them.

The princess gave the clerks a warm smile before introducing herself. "Hello, I am Princess Sophia Octavia, of Lyok," she motioned one hand towards Jezin, "and this is my bodyguard, Jezin Tremora." After the clerks jotted down their names, the duo walked towards the throne room, quietly passing through the doors. Sophia was surprised to find the throne room as quite as the grave compared to the hustle and bustle outside. Two people talked off to one side, and a single man in rather expensive looking armor stood before them, apparently guarding the throne. Jezin's eyes glanced around the room. Sophia walked up to the guard, her hands by her sides. She looked up at the man, who was far taller than herself, and spoke up. "Hello, sir. Do you happen to know when King Bard will be arriving? We've traveled quite some time to meet his highness." Sophia spoke clearly and warmly, though she retained a certain amount of tact. Jezin quickly glanced over the guard. He was an impressive man. The Lyoki imagined he was quite the fighter.

Thomas stood at attention, rising from the stairs, to meet the visitor. Judging by the bodyguard escort, Thomas could conjecture that the visitor of some importance. As Thomas looked closer at the small girl, he noticed the winged serpent sigil adorning her necklace. Thomas had been taught to recognize royalty when he saw it, and he slightly bowed his head in respect, "Princess Sophia Octavia, of the Prestigious Lyok, I assume?" Thomas spoke, as he rose from his slight bow, "King Bard has not alerted his personal guard as when he will be joining the guests. I can alert him to your presence, though, if you wish." Thomas added as he still stood at slight attention. Thomas glanced back over to Sophia's bodyguard, noting that he was dressed in the tradition garments of the Brass Hand, the Lifeguard of the Octavia family. Thomas was happy to have member of a order such as the Brass Hand in the capital, and wondered to himself if the man would be partaking in the tournament. As Thomas looked at the wiry man, he nodded slightly, acknowledging the man, before returning his gaze back to the Princess.

The princess smiled warmly. It seemed the messages telling of their intentions had been received. Jezin noticed when the man nodded to him, and returned the gesture. It seemed they had the same duty, though to different realms. Sophia smiled at the man's offer to tell the King they had arrived. She nodded, the sunlight from the surrounding windows shimmering off of her bright yellow eyes. "I would greatly appreciate that, sir." The princess gave a slight bow of gratitude. Jezin watched the conversation between Sophia and Thomas, periodically glancing around the room. The bodyguard stayed silent, adjusting the box under his arm.

Thomas bowed his head slightly, leaving the two in the throne room, exiting through a back room behind the throne. After several minutes, Thomas returned from the same door, "I've alerted King Bard II to your presence in the Palace." Thomas spoke, smiling. Thomas noticed the box underneath the arm of the Sophia's bodyguard. "I'm Sir Thomas of the Morgan's, knight of the Order of the Thistle, by the way." Thomas spoke, respectfully, as he bowed once more for his introduction. "I don't believe I got your name, sir?" Thomas said, outstretching his hand to Sophia's bodyguard. Thomas didn't know much about Lyok, besides the royal house, but he knows any man that could make it into the Brass Hand was a skilled fighter.

Sophia smiled when the man returned. "Many thanks, sir," she said with a smile. She turned to look back at Jezin when the man, who had just introduced himself as Thomas, acknowledged him. Jezin turned his gaze back towards the guard, looking down at the extended hand for a moment. He extended his free hand and tightly gripped the Lifeguard's. He nodded and replied, looking Thomas in the eyes as he spoke. "I am Jezin Tremora, of the Brass Hand." Jezin's voice was calm and collected. "I've heard of your Order, Sir Thomas. You all have quite the list of accomplishments." Jezin had read many works about the Order of the Thistle. Though not as old as the Brass Hand, they had collected quite a few accolades over the years. Sophia looked between the two men, unsure of what to say for a moment. She knew very little about the military side of things. After some time she replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Thomas." She spoke as warmly as ever. The princess glanced towards the back of the throne room, noting the other people talking behind them.

"I've also heard of the Brass Hand, Jezin." Thomas replied, holding the handshake for the moment. "It's always an honor to have a member of such an Order here in Mullen." Thomas added, releasing his hand from the shake. Thomas returned his left hand to the hilt of his sword as he stood in front of the two, now fairly relaxed, "And it's a pleasure to meet you, Princess Octavia." Thomas replied, with a small smile. "I trust that both of you will be attending the feast and the tournament, correct?" Thomas asked, hoping this would be true. Thomas always loved to impress foreign dignitaries, and a member of The Order of the Thistle and a member of the Brass Hand going head-to-head in a tournament would be something worth watching. Two expertly trained soldiers competing for the glory of the king.

Gareth pulled down his hood to reveal his entire face to the two newcomers that approached him. Before they had neared him, his eyes watched the duo furtively from the corners of his peripheral vision, and already Gareth conjectured a sort of pre-analysis of the seemingly noble man, who was determinately arrogant in the face, and a dressed woman, whom he deemed pretentious. These he knew were only judgements, and in his mind he cleared them in order to dismiss any predisposition towards the newcomers. The boy put on a light smile for the two when the man had spoken to him, and he turned fully to acknowledge the pair in return.

"Yes, uh," Gareth paused, gathering the words he wanted. "It's intriguing almost... It is indeed bizarre. The absence provokes a thought of the possibility of chaos." That thought he grasped for a moment, recalling how he felt about the situation of the instability in the government. "But this land... it needs order."

Perhaps if things did collapse, perhaps order could come spontaneously from the chaos to counteract it, and bring a golden era with it. Gareth, in this fragment of time, received the impression that an upheaval was underfoot. A premonition came to him, and it foreshadowed that things might go awry in the coming day, this increasing his already growing anxiety over the coronation.

Leid watched from the corner of his eye as a new pair entered the room, although his accomplice at the doorway afforded them only a quick once-over. Their presence didn't particularly interest him but he did still enjoy playing the 'guess who' game that all courtiers inevitably succumbed to. Whatever their business was, they carried it on down at the other end of the room with the guardsman. He imagined that there would be plenty of people trying to get messages to the king before the big day when his schedule became even more of an intangible knot of appointments and ceremonies. A realization struck him, and his attention was abruptly called back to the conversation that he had started. The boy had uncovered his head to speak, at the very least. Uncharacteristically, Karl took a moment to think over his words in response, he hadn't anticipated any kind of measured response to his musings about the throne. "Now more than ever. I served this court, a few years, it didn't end well but if I learned one thing it's that this whole damn country thrives on chaos. Everyone in the court is out to get something different and they'd gladly put a knife in your back, figuratively, usually, to get it. The king's probably got a book of debts and dues bigger than his book of laws. And now kings drop like flies and I'm of the camp that says its the stress." He shrugged his shoulders, wrapping up his mopey complaint against the crown with another look at the throne. He hadn't heard a word of Bard II yet, save that he'd finally been crowned after a long line of fiascoes with his nobles and his inheritance. There was no sense of expectation, strangely. As a small player he'd gotten used to watching heads of state come and go. That career had continued until one day when he found the main event of his night to be chatting it up with people in empty throne rooms while enjoying the privileges of former employment.

"Ah, yes, this is true." Gareth agreed. The man before Gareth seemed to have experience under his own belt, and failing that, on their own the words that Karl spoke were a commonly understood truth about governments—they always tended to run with much corruption under the noses of the people. A very miniscule pause existed before he spoke again, finally deciding on the right words to use. "I just wish, for maybe a time in the future, for there to be a type of leadership fair and just that knows little corruption. It is but a wish, an ideal state, but no more." In this, he conveyed his assumed naiveté and attempted to avoid being openly discouraged of his opinion, his lack of confidence and his insecurity both clearly shown. Gareth had tensed for a bit, his facade of contentment faltering for a mere second, before he loosened himself again to maintain his composure. His mind resolved to divert attention away from his slip and the current subject matter, or at least for a brief moment, and his mouth completed the work. "Oh dear, I am sorry. I haven't introduced myself. My name is Gareth." He bowed slightly. "You are?"

A government without corruption. Karl almost chuckled at the idea. It wasn't a particularly bad one and his amusement wasn't at Gareth's ideals. It was the irony that he'd be hearing this sort of talk after his less than graceful descent from court after court. Instead of laughing, he lightly sighed and acknowledged the boy's wish with a somber nod. He felt relieved that the topic had shifted, he knew why the talk of 'ideal government' made him uneasy but not why it had started to do so only now and not for all the times before. Odd then, that he didn't mind introducing himself, small and little known though his name was, the few who knew him always seemed to adopt this little sneer when he admitted his name. "I am Karl Leid, and I'm pleased to have met you Gareth." That trained-in greeting never really left a man. "If I may be so bold as to ask, what brings a man with so much left in his life to a place where life is so seldom enjoyed? I don't believe I've seen you around here before, not that they don't fill this place with as many fresh faces as they can every year." He motioned to the empty hall behind him, which would soon enough fill with angry and confused court officials trying to say their peace in the vast political game.

Tursgud waits at the harbor. It's quite lively there, with all kinds of people. However, it smells like fish. Hal, Tursgud's uncle, is supposed to arrive today. Hal was raiding some villages in the north. Tursgud decides to go to the pub.

Gareth folded his arms and nodded. "Pleased to meet you as well, Karl." Karl's words and comments made him chuckle, and it was ironic, for he did not believe he was living his life fully, but he played along anyway. "Well, ah, I'm interested in seeing what our new king is like, and I feel as though I need to have a good time and relax... And this is clearly going to be the right palace to do it. Since I've come to this town a few months ago... Haha, I might as well become acquainted." His eyes glanced around the room, then they returned to Karl shyly. It was true, wherefore he worked himself over much by running errands for his friends and neighbors, recently getting more and more offers to do small tasks for other people when their hands became full and busied, a busy person like Gareth needed a break from the tedium of everyday life to enjoy himself, even if only for a night. The half-elf perhaps thought that maybe later on he could move to more exciting things, after the king sits down in audience with the court for a little while, in keeping with what a coronation day brings. "Mmm, what brings you here?"

Sophia clasped her hands together and smiled at the mention of the feast. She had always loved such festivities, and had attended Veranthium's various feats and festivals from a young age. "Certainly!" the young girl said with a tinge of excitement. She wondered what such a feast would entail. She had learned that different cultures often had different methods of celebration. Nonetheless, she was certain she'd enjoy herself.

Jezin nodded in accordance with Thomas' acknowledgement of the Brass Hand. "It's quite the honor to be here." Thomas' mention of a tournament caught his ear. He'd expected a feast and other festivities, but had not been informed of the tournament. His eyes flickered with a certain fire. Tournaments were a sort of favorite pastime for him. He had won a number of tournaments in Veranthium, though amongst the Brass Hand there was stiff competition. "A tournament you say? How would one go about joining such an event?" A slight smile shown on the man's face. He once again looked over Thomas. Such a man would make a fine opponent, if his appearance was any indication.

Thomas smiled slightly at Jezin's interest in joining the tournament, "The tournament director will be present at the feast tomorrow, and you can declare yourself a contestant then, in front of him." Thomas replied, still holding his smile. Thomas had spent most of his life competing in tournaments, starting when he was 17 back in Alinor. Thomas had mastered the art of jousting, having yet to be unhorsed, although he had lost a few tilts. Archery had never been something he had tried, but dueling was also something he succeeded at quite frequently. The style in which he was taught to fight was designed for single combat, after all, "King Bard II has picked out a special wing of the Palace for the foreign royalty that is visiting, in order for them to have lodging more appropriate to their status, if you'd like me to show you to your rooms." Thomas spoke, now turning his attention back to Sophia, "I'm sure after such a long journey, that Your Grace would appreciate a comfortable room." Thomas added, smiling slightly to Sophia.

Hal loves the feeling of the wind. But he can't wait, he had an important message from the king. He pillaged the villages in the north. "We're almost there..."

Tursgud walks out of the pub. He ses that uncle Hal docked his ship, the Wolf. He seems to be in a hurry. "Hi, welcome back!" Hal looked up. "Hi. I have no time, I need to speak the king." Hal walked towards the palace quickly. Tursgud follows him. "What's the matter?" "Problems from the north..." Hal and Tursgud entered the palace.

"You've picked a good time to get acquainted. With any luck they'll all be drunk and happy with the world when you find them." Leid smiled at the thought. It mad his own appearance at the coming festivities all the more acceptable and with any luck he could slip by unnoticed and well fed. Gareth once again provoked him to think, this time about the uncomfortable topic of why exactly he was here. The truth was, this was just the habit, showing up for celebrations in lands that had forgotten his name and the modest weight it had once briefly held. "Why am I here?" He mimed the question aloud, unsure of the degree of honesty he felt comfortable performing that day. "To celebrate my woeful retirement with somebody else's food. I'm already plenty acquainted with this court and its games." He look back at the group of people conversing with the guard at the throne, and for a moment felt it odd that nobody else was bothering to take a glimpse at the throne room the night before. They hadn't gotten bored of it in only a few years had they? "This is a rare sight, you know. I don't think I've ever heard this place so quiet before today."

As Karl spoke, behind him at the door a tall man who had previously been occupied writing down names at the palace gate ambled into the room, stopping at the door to briefly address the woman standing beside it. He shot a look around the room, still habitually checking for that face, and unsatisfied, departed immediately. The woman turned and left her post, following after him. The two did not make it far into the palace before he found two people he had an agenda with, Hal and Tursgud Berning. Official business. "House Berning, a blessing to see the two of you well," The man spoke slowly, with a croaking, sweet voice that seemed far more fit for an older man than he. "I trust that today's... sailing went well? It's a shame that you haven't been able to relax in the capital, sir." He looked to Hal as he spoke.