"Yes, sailing went well. But I have bad news. I need to speak to the king." said Hal. "Problems from the north."

The man bowed his head in response, studying his shoes and shuffling for a moment as he thought. When he at last looked up, he looked with a faint smile to the woman following him. 'Problems from the north' could never be anything good, rather they originated in Lachne or the heartlands, that mishmash of territories and states where one could cross his street and find himself in another country. Nobility loved to hold on to their claims so, the lords of the south had been the same before the larger countries began to spring up, and line where cartographers felt confident enough in the importance and longevity of nations to mark their borders down slid northward in the tiniest increments every decade when the new maps came up in court. He finally returned his gaze to Hal, smiling toothily at the man. "I'm afraid that the king is retired for the night, you'll understand that he has important business tomorrow. You would be better disposed if you were to leave a message with his court." He paused for a moment, contemplating with closed eyes. "My name is Wallace, one of many stewards to the king and charged with planning his coronation day. I assure you, he will be speaking to me first thing tomorrow and I would be honored to deliver your words to him."

Hal looks Wallace in the eyes. "Tell the king that the people of Lachne are preying on our lands. They've had a bad harvest and they can invade anytime." He turned to Tursgud. "I'm going to my wife. I haven't seen her for a while." He smiles at Tursgud and he walks away.

Jezin's smile widened ever so slightly as Thomas explained he'd be able to join the tournament the following day. "Excellent, maybe I'll see you on the field, Sir Thomas." There was a bit of excitement in his voice. Sophia smiled when Thomas mentioned her room. "Yes, please. If you'd be so kind." Thomas was right about the journey. They had sailed for several days before landing in a Southern port and traveling by carriage to the capitol. The voyage could've been cut in half, had they not opted to sail around the southern tip of Estovet, but the countries surrounding Keilaudrin were notorious for going to pieces at the drop of a hat, and weren't exactly safe havens for foreign royalty. Sophia gave a slight bow. "Lead on, Sir Thomas." The princess planned on getting settled in her new lodging before going out for the night. She imagined there was still a great deal to see in the capitol.

As soon as Sophia had finished speaking a trio of people strode into the throne room. The group consisted of three people: a tall, plump man with a thick beard and dark skin, a slender woman with long black hair, and a slightly shorter woman with grey hair and dark orange eyes. The large man called out to the princess as they made their way through the room. "M'lady, we've finished unloading your things." The group had several large bags distributed between them. The princess had left most of her belongings on the carriage for her servants to unload. The large man approached Jezin, handing him a very long object wrapped in red cloth as well as his shield and helmet. The bodyguard slung the shield onto his back and donned the helmet before resting the long object against his shoulder. He was glad the servants had had the foresight to wrap the weapon, as he imagined walking about a throne room with a spear would be frowned upon. Sophia turned to the group with a smile. "Thank you, we've just been given our lodging arrangements, if you'd please follow us.

Harker chortled at Leid's little musing. "Oh, haha, I'm sure many more are getting drunk and loud already in the Grand Hall..." Gareth gathered from the crowds entering the gates that a vast number of people were congregated in other areas of the palace. After all, it made no sense for a large crowd to enter and for the only populated area to be the throne room, sparsely. "Perhaps the celebration simply hasn't made its way to this room quite yet. It will be very still and quiet here until the king comes... or more people arrive, or both." He trailed off a little and found his thoughts again. The half-elf concluded that Karl formerly worked under the king or something, which would explain his social status. Idly he stood with Karl there, in silence, analyzing the status of the room again. "Hmm... I'm a little shy, but I suppose, ah, we could collect with the other group standing over there by that guard." Admittedly, Harker's conversation with Karl exhausted a lot of the topics he would cross with a stranger, and because he did not want to lose Karl's interest by being a boring conversation partner, Gareth attempted to encourage Karl and himself to join the other group, in hopes of maintaining a good impression. "Any idea of what I should speak of escapes me... maybe they have an interesting discussion for you and me."

Wallace rubbed his forehead as Hal walked away, appearing lost in thought with the man's news. "Troublesome, troublesome," he said softly, and produced a pad and paper from within his open, long, navy blue coat. After a few, quick notes were scrawled down on the pages, he replaced the pad and looked back to Tursgud. "Such a troublesome country, Lachne. First they collapse and then the dregs they left behind do nothing but get in the way of our kingdom. Perhaps an expedition is in the future, ah, but that's none of my concern." He shook his head, grinning at the thought of a party planner plotting such a thing. He cleared his throat, bringing a hand to his mouth, and met eyes with Tursgud again. "So, do you have any business that I may help you with?" In truth, he'd much rather have continued on and retired for the night himself, but one important piece of news had come out of the Bernings that night, perhaps Tursgud had more to add on Hal's revelation. Whatever was happening in Lachne was none of his concern, but passing messages along was the least he could do to help.

Karl turned to face the other group when Gareth pointed them out to him, he had no doubt that something interesting, or at least worth butting their way into, was being discussed over on the other end of the throne room. A trio joined them, bearing what was no doubt their belongings. Decidedly martial looking equipment handed to the man, and enough bags to indicate that this entourage was indeed wealthy. They weren't from Estovet, but that was the limit of what he could surmise from where he was and that was an embarrassingly unfounded assumption made based on the fact that he hadn't seen them before. They could have just as easily been some little known band of royals from the northwest but that was just over complicating things, Karl thought. Either way, he and Gareth had a chance to approach them, they were departing, and if a Thistle knight was accompanying them it wasn't anyone they were going to follow or impose upon. He shrugged his shoulders, helpless and exasperated. "It would seem not," he said, watching them go. "They've got the right idea though. It's early in the night for this city, but tomorrow is going to be a long day. It might just be best to find some place to sleep." He tilted his head, unsure of how to make an exit, but in doing so let surprise show on his face when he saw that his accomplice from earlier had disappeared. "Apparently I'm out past curfew anyway, they did afford me a retainer but they seem to have run off."

"Will there be some kind of tournament?" asked Tursgud. He's bored and ready for some action.

Gareth gazed at them in time with Karl, who no doubt was also acknowledging the affluence of the lady by the guard. The servants catering her didn't lie; she could've been a noble or a princess. Although Leid and Gareth were eager to speak with the group by the throne, Gareth knew that trying to speak to them now would prove fruitless in their egress. He, while closely watching the leaving troupe, listened to Leid's talk, from which Harker assumed that Karl likely had to depart as well. "Ah, but... the night is quite young, sir. Does this mean you must leave here at once?" For the reserved half-elf, it would mean losing someone whom he could talk to as the night went on, who could lead him along and help him socialize, and yet despite his initial intimidation by Karl, Gareth would sooner have Leid's company than be left alone for the evening to figure out what to do with himself. It was here wherein the young Harker started planning his next move in case Leid left—'go speak to the guard, just attain the courage to do so,' and 'avoid the dining area for the time being.' He frowned, pausing for Karl's response.

Thomas smirked at Jezin's remark, "You're the first person would wish for a chance at me." Thomas said, still holding his smirk, which seemed to give off a slight aura of cockiness. There was a slight excitement in Thomas' voice as well. Most tournament Keilaudrin held were helpless affairs that included everything from hedge knights to minor lords competing, leaving Thomas to easily win the competitions, "As you wish." Thomas said, still with his smirk, as he turned to Sophia. As Thomas turned to lead them, a man in armor akin to Thomas' stepped out from the back entrance of the throne room, and approached Thomas. The guard stepped closer to Thomas, and whispered something incomprehensible into his ear. After a moment, the man pulled back, and Thomas nodded. Thomas turned back to his two new friends, with a slight frown, "I'm sorry, Princess, but Sir Bull will lead you to your chambers instead. I hope for the pleasure of speaking with you two tomorrow." Thomas spoke, as he bowed once more. Sir Bull, a knight who seemed to be well into his older ages,stepped forward as Thomas stepped aside, next to the throne. "Princess Octavia, if you'd be so kind as to follow me." The knight said with a slight bow, and then turned on his heel, to lead them to their lodging.

Karl weighed his options at the point. Nothing was expected of him tomorrow and it was a bald faced lie to say that he needed the sleep. The man could show up and do as he pleased whenever, although obviously a degree of good manners would be required if he wished to extend his stay. "Eh, I suppose not," he said, shuffling a bit on his feet. He'd been standing still for a while now and it didn't suit him. The young man had said he'd come to acquaint himself, and frankly there was nothing he loved more than to have the topic firmly set on somebody else. He looked to the throne, searching for some conversation piece that would related to an older king. The throne itself went back further that the kingdom, but the topic he was looking for happened to be standing next to it handling guests. The man from the Order of the Thistle, though he didn't remember if that was the same name they used back then, was familiar to him. "You know, I heard once that one of the guardsmen here," he nodded his head towards the throne, "is a half elf prince who comes from some continent far out west. There were a lot of things said about him but... I never did get the chance to ask him." The knight seemed to be staying, at any rate. Perhaps Gareth would get his chance to speak with at least some of the group they'd been interested in.

"Why, yes, actually. a tournament will begin some time during the celebration of the coronation, tomorrow. I consider it to be a waste of resources but I am told it is vital for morale that our knights be allowed to bash each other to pieces in the circle." He shrugged his shoulders and held his palms up. "It's out of my hands, and it does make for quite the revenue. I am told in previous years that admittance and associated sales have covered the winner's purse in its entirety. And I assure you, if you're interested, the winner's purse is quite a sum this year." His smile seemed glued to his face at this point, because it didn't leave throughout his discourse on tournaments. Tursgud definitely seemed, at least to Wallace, to be the sort of person to show up a tournament. That was fine, they needed a few fighters in the capital, didn't they?

The young half-elf was taken by this change of mind, for he could've sworn from Karl's situation that he might've been considering leaving. But the tale Leid told after, that was a treasure of conversation to behold. "Oh? But..." Gareth found this information contradictory. "A prince turned knight for another kingdom far away? Why?" An enigma wrapped in a conundrum wrapped in utter mystery. He didn't recall seeing any half-elf guards on the journey to the castle. Perhaps a person or two with similar features to a half-elf or a distant relative of a half-elf, but no one with appearances directly indicating his half-elf status beyond himself. "But I swear, I haven't seen a guard that looks like a half-elf at all, save for a faroff resemblance here and there." Harker folded his arms once more, himself intrigued by the legend. It occurred to him that he was talking a little loud, like a gossipping wench, and when he next spoke he reduced his volume to a more acceptable level. "Do you know who it is?"

Thomas turned back, and stepped down the stairs, taking a position in front of the throne, down the stairs. Once more, he pulled his stark white gloves tighter over his hands. Thomas' ears perked up when he heard words he had not heard for a while. 'Half Elf' Thomas turned his head slightly, see the duo talking farther down the hall. One man, a man Thomas had seen before, one Karl Lied if he believed to be so, seemed to be slightly looking Thomas' direction. The two of them seemed to be talking about something concerning Thomas, and hearing the word 'Half Elf' more than once confirmed Thomas' belief. Thomas opted to stand still though, like a professional Order of the Thistle knight, and simply just stood at attention.

Karl continued, oblivious to the fact that the guard in question had noticed their conversation at the far end of the hall. Assuming that a nod of the head would be enough to convey his meaning. On intuition, he lowered his voice to match Gareth's. "Good question, but like I said, rumors, and it's not like somebody like me ever got the chance to mingle with the royal guards, but ah... that one, is the one. Sir Morgan, I've heard said." He looked back and forth between Gareth and Thomas for a moment considering. The weight of what the boy had said suddenly occurred to him. He'd never heard someone speak such a confident knowledge of elven genealogy. "You sound like quite the expert," he added, stroking his chin and considering the guard at the front of the room. "Maybe you'll be able to tell, add or take a little something from the lore of this place."

"No, no, sir, I'm no expert, for I'm a half-elf myself after all," Gareth explained with a smile, denying any sort of advanced knowledge. "My mother's a pureblood elf, father's a human. I could tell one if I saw one." He thought about the guard by the throne, Sir Morgan. Yes, his being a half-elf slipped by Gareth, since he couldn't have gathered it without actually asking. Sir Morgan, a handsome specimen with a figure Gareth fancied, looked a mere few years or so older than Harker, but using his intuition Gareth understood that he was either the age he interpreted or a decade older, considering how elves aged. "Ah... I see it now, he is a half-elf, with little elf blood." The problem that presented itself to Gareth and Karl was the problem of appropriately bringing it up in conversation or approaching the knight of the Order. Harker furrowed his brow in thought. "How shall we go about approaching him?"

"Looks pretty unapproachable to me," Karl remarked, although that was perhaps the entire point of having armed guards standing at attention. A question for a philosopher of a higher caliber. He was surprised to hear that he had been speaking to a half elf all along. In his mind, sheltered from far-flung travel, he'd always figured them for a more exotic people. That was life, full of disappointments. A few moments passed, and he lent the matter a little bit of thought before he acted. "Good sir guard," he began, raising his voice to be heard as he turned and began to walk towards the man posted at the front of the room. There was little chance of him leaving his post, so the least they could do was go to him. With a slight motioning of his hand, he beckoned Gareth along. "The night drags on, could we perhaps solicit a little continued conversation before we retire tonight?" Really, that line could get him evicted from the hall, but it'd only be the second time. What was life without a little adventure, anyway?

Thomas flinched at being called 'guard'. While it was common for those of lesser knowledge of the finer details of the martial side of things to refer to anyone with a sword and a post as a guard, it hurt on some other level for Thomas. He was a knight, not a common guard. Nonetheless, Thomas took on a smile, and a friendly guise, "Karl Leid." Thomas said, with a quick and curt bow of his head, "Haven't seen you since Arduin II sat on the throne." Thomas added, as he readjusted his position to be more relaxed. As he looked closer at Karl's conversation partner, he noticed the Elven-like features on man. Thomas smiled, to himself, at this. He hadn't seen many like himself, but it was evident that this man had far more Elven blood in him than Thomas did, "You talk just as much as you did back then." Thomas added, switching his gaze back to Karl, still possessing a soft smile.

Composing himself and putting on a smile, Gareth followed Leid to the throne, and he stood adjacent to Karl and slightly behind while Karl initiated. The boy figured that the knight and Karl Leid had some sort of history together, confirming his earlier assumptions about Karl. He stayed quiet as he knew the position the third partner took in a chat between two former acquaintances—the one who waited to be introduced. Harker glanced between the two slowly in a pendular motion, noting the history behind them - they both served the now-interred older brother of King Bard II in his kingship. The nature of their former relationship, to Gareth at least, continued to be undisclosed, and perhaps would stay that way if the past was itself lost. Many thoughts ran about his head while his mouth remained shut—interest, admiration, intrigue, questioning. The two before him certainly had many years under their belts, experience with Mullen's and Keilaudrin's affairs that ran deeper and more abundant than his own, and the half-elf inwardly reminded himself that he did in fact want to learn more about Mullen and its people, that this was another opportunity for him to learn and become acquainted.

"Maybe that's why you haven't seen me since old Ardy left the throne, Sir Morgan. I imagine this room's been a bit quieter since then... Me being gone, and the assassination attempts slowing down I guess." He affected a frown and shrugged looking around. That was something he hadn't really thought about in the interim. It had been two kings since he'd been in this court, given that their reigns had been cut tragically short. At the foot of the throne he stopped, a comfortable conversational distance from Thomas. He returned the knight's smile, pleased with himself that things had gone so well so far. "So... how is the Keilaud life treating you these days? Is Sir Arnulf still running things around here? I remember he was among the most graceful about throwing me out. That's all water under the bridge, especially when the crown seems intent on putting wine in my cup, if only for a few days." It was an unexpectedly emotional reunion. He felt his speech slowing as he went and drifted further into reminiscence.

Thomas frowned slightly at the mention of Arduin II, but didn't let it bother him for long, "No, Sir Guy Arnulf passed away not too long ago. Sir Redwyne Cole the Morningstar is in command now." Thomas replied, as his smile took place on his face, again, "With Sir Redwyne commanding us, things have been going fairly smoothly. I guess that is a given, though, when a Morningstar is commanding the Order of the Thistle." Thomas added, with a slightly chuckle. Thomas then arched his head, to look at the other person, hanging away from the conversation, "Hello, sir. I haven't quite had the pleasure of knowing your name, yet. I'm Sir Thomas of the Morgan's, knight of the Order of the Thistle." Thomas spoke, softly, and smiled, as he walked forward, outreaching his hand to shake the young man's hand. Thomas was particularly interested in the young man, considering his features. While talking to a member of the old Royal court was interesting, Karl always rubbed Thomas the wrong way. Maybe it was the man's slimy and deceiving air he gave off, but he'd much rather talk to someone that shared a common blood.

Gareth shook Thomas's hand. "Ah, my name is Gareth Harker." He bore no titles, and perhaps it was slightly embarrassing, but titles and such were trivial manners and the true merits for him were accolades in goodwill. "And my... they train you knights quite well in chivalry." Truth be told, the members of the Order were characterized by their willingness to treat others well for glory of the king, and no doubt Thomas was a paragon of this trait, which Gareth found charming in others. "The pleasure is mine, Sir Thomas." Harker felt comfortable speaking to another of his kind and gained some confidence being with Karl who was lesser in virtue but higher in status. One thing that stuck out to Gareth, however, was the mention of assassination attempts which struck his anxiety about the day, that had already taken quite a few hits earlier. He caught Thomas's frown, and assumed that Arduin II's life ended in such away, that the kings were unpopular with some in the country. These facts he took disconcertingly, but his smile did not falter in this time of civil unrest.