Redwyne sat in the Commander's study, in a large leather chair, adorned with decorations of Thistles, opting out of his normal armor and instead wearing fairly plain clothes of beige color. In front of him was a large round table with many large leather chairs seated around it, made from some foreign wood that gleamed and shone with no light. On the table were multiple stacks of papers, seemingly strewn about without any order. The papers to all seemed to be adorned with a bright red rose decoration on each corner. Redwyne had spent the majority of the night, and morning, sitting in the room reading papers, and preparing letters to be sent out. Once in a while, Redwyne would catch himself looking up at the many portraits of former Commanders of the Order of the Thistle that adorned the wall, the primary one being Sir Hildebrand the Morningstar, the last Morningstar that commanded the Order of the Thistle, some 120 years ago. Redwyne wondered if he ever had to deal with a situation as Redwyne now had to deal with. A sudden knock awoke Redwyne from his trance, "Come in!" Redwyne called, then proceeded to reach for the pitcher that sat in front of him, pouring himself a glass, and pouring another glass from the extra one that was there. Redwyne glanced down at his apple cider drink, wondering what business came to him now.

Gareth slowly opened the door and stepped out from behind it, his quiet voice greeting the Morningstar. "Ah, good morning." He met himself with the desk where Redwyne sat, undoubtedly gandering about the room as he walked up, and introduced himself with a bow. "Gareth Harker, at your service. I've brought you a letter." His hand loosely held out the wax-sealed parchment before Sir Cole, and mentally he coached his hand not to tremble before such a stern presence as Redwyne. Nevertheless, despite his misgivings, he glued his small smile on his face as a token of respect and kindness, him still standing with the letter for Redwyne and refusing to sit down or do anything else until it was asked of him.

Redwyne smiled as Gareth introduced himself, taking the letter as he did so, "Mister Harker, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm glad you decided to become an official squire!" Redwyne spoke, with excitement laced on his voice, "It's good to see youth helping the Order." He added, laying the letter down in front of him, "Please sit, Mister Harker, have a drink." Redwyne motioned with his hand to the already poured glass of apple cider that sat on the table. "So what made you decide to accept the position offered to you?" Redwyne asked, sipping on his crisp apple cider.

The boy took his seat gracefully, sitting with his body straight and his hands clasped in his lap. "Ah, thank you, sir." He lifted the glass from the table and took a small draft of the cider, which he promptly set down afterwards while he thought about what exactly motivated him to take the job. Gareth wondered if it were due to the improvements he could make in his life or the idea of helping people, but decidedly he probably took it due to some added pressure by Walden. But beyond that, he didn't mind, and he actually thought the job fitted an aspect of his liking to aid others. "Well, I suppose... that to some extent it is to serve the King, but on another level, I relish helping others." His answer came with a little lack of confidence that was lost in his smooth flow of speech, and silently he cursed himself for it, causing him trouble whenever he found himself focused.

Redwyne smiled at Gareth's answer, while turning his attention to the letter in front of him, prying open the sealing, "You'll make a fine knight one day. If you stick true to helping others, and serving our King Bard II, you'll find yourself in very good places, with very good friends." Redwyne said, reaching into the thick brown envelope, pulling out what appeared to be a small wooden box, no bigger than a palm of a hand. Redwyne stared at it curiously, before turning back to Gareth, "The Order of the Thistle will become a better place with you helping, Mister Harker. Just never lose sight of your true self." He spoke, turning his attention to the box, attempting to find a way to open it, "I assume that Sir Walden isn't too overbearing of a personality for you, is he?" He chuckled as he spoke. Redwyne had known Walden for the longest of times, and the two had become quick friends, although the two of them had much more differences than similarity.

"Ah, no, sir." Gareth chuckled along. He remarked about how just how affable and rough-and-tumble Walden was. He shied away from Redwyne's choice of words, not truly believing the Order would change much with his inclusion and turning down the idea of him rising up in the ranks any further. Gareth wouldn't mention it at all, however, not meaning to disrespect Redwyne either, even though the knight turned up quite the relaxed demeanor in such private company. "But thank you, sir, I will do my best not to let you down." He said, trying to reassure himself that he'd perform at least decently.

Redwyne paused on the contraption in front of him for a moment, to smile towards Gareth, "I'm sure you won't let any of us down, Mister Harker." Redwyne said. It had been nearly 7 years since the Order of the Thistle had any kind of new membership, knight of squire, and it gladdened Redwyne to see a new member join. He had to make sure his legacy he left behind him as Commander of the Order of the Thistle wasn't one that simply made the Order weaker than what it was. The wooden box in Redwyne's hand clicked, as he began to open, no doubt mechanically operated. Redwyne let out a triumphant 'Finally' as he examined the box, as it opened slowly. Inside the box was a brown snake with yellow spots down it's length, coiled to be no bigger than half the box. In the matter of half a second, just enough time for a horrified look to begin to sprout on Redwyne's face, the snake shot forward, with lightning-like speed, snapping it's jaws on Redwyne's neck. Redwyne gripped the snake with one hand, and yanked the serpent off of his neck, the snake taking a chunk of flesh with it, and threw it across the room. Redwyne bolted up right in his chair, looking from the snake on the far end of the room, to Gareth. A small amount of blood ran down Redwyne's neck, but that's not what worried Redwyne. He had seen the snake before, in his many travels, a snake he had seen during his time in Lyok, known for a extremely venomous bite. Redwyne turned to Gareth, and opened his mouth to give the young man commands, but no words came out. In a matter of seconds, Redwyne's air pipes had closed, and even now he could feel the blood around the wound starting to coagulate from the venom, choking him even further. Redwyne fell to one knee, placing a hand on the round table, staring up at Gareth.

Gareth screamed in panic, and found himself in a predicament. At the top of his lungs, he shouted, hopefully at a volume that would be suitable to be heard throughout the tower, or beyond if loud enough, "We need help! Quickly! We need a doctor!" He slammed his glass down on the table, and ran around the desk, doing last-minute thinking under the adrenaline received in the face of such peril. He looked around himself and quickly looked for something he could use to at least stop the bleeding for a while. Harker crouched down on his knees by Redwyne, guiding the knight's head into his lap, and on the floor he spotted some cloth on a table by the wall, grabbing it swiftly and wrapping it around the wound like a bandage. The poison, he predicted, wouldn't kill him instantly, but it seemed to Gareth the knight was asphyxiating, and as much as he wanted to go run and fetch help himself, he knew that in an emergency like that he needed to stay at the older knight's side to ministrate until someone else came to his aid.

Redwyne stared up at the ceiling, trying to focus on keeping calm, and trying to regain his breathing. It would no doubt prove fruitless, however. He knew better than to hope in this situation. The venom would close his air pipes, and then it would shut down his entire nervous system, then slowly the rest of his vital organs. Redwyne gasped, silently, trying to grab any sort of air he could, but it was no use. Gareth's scream and yells for help easily filled the entire tower, but there was no sound of footsteps coming to the rescue, not even the knight who had directed Gareth to Redwyne's study. Redwyne knew he was likely to die far before the rest of the venom took effect. He was far too old to survive long with a closed air way. As Redwyne's face was beginning to turn purple, he gripped Gareth's wrist as tight as he could with his diminishing strength. As his final moments came upon him, Redwyne couldn't quite believe this was the way he was to die. He always pictured himself dying for his King in some heroic manner, or at least dying with a sword in his hand. "This is no way for a knight to die." Redwyne thought, as he could only imagine what they would say; Sir Redwyne Cole the Morningstar, participant of over a hundred battles, killed in his old age by a snake no bigger than his palm. Redwyne began to convulse slightly, and his grip on Gareth's wrist withered, as his head jerked for a moment. Then, his entire body was relaxed, entirely still and silent. Redwyne's eyes, seemingly glazed over, still stared up at the ceiling.

Gareth cried over Sir Redwyne even before he began to die, and even though the snake, unidentifiable by Gareth, was likely dead across the room, having been thrown so fiercely and such force under the last strength left in Redwyne's hands. "You shall not be forgotten, sir, but please, don't die!" He choked out wobbly, as Redwyne seized his wrist and caused them a bit of pain. The young squire winced as the Morningstar died, and he held his head to Redwyne's chest, stained with Harker's tears. He sobbed, making breathy and sad noises; he used his hand to close the dead knight's eyes for the last time. For a few minutes, he remained there and wept, undisturbed by any other presence, but when the violent grieving ceased, he said a prayer over Redwyne's body, hoping his soul would make it to a paradise in the afterlife. After the episode, the young man fled the scene, and left the building as fast as his feet could carry him. People looked his way as he ran steadfast to the great hall, small tears falling down his cheeks slowly as his tired legs rushed ceaselessly. "Sir Walden!" Gareth shouted across the room, and he looked disheveled and shaken.

As Gareth ran out of the Tower of the Thistle, the knight from before was gone, the sword he was apparently sharpening in it's exact same position as before, with no sign of the whetstone. When Gareth made it to the Great Hall, and called out, it was obvious that Sir Walden was absent from the Great Hall, his old seat now vacant. Several clanging footsteps approached Gareth from behind, 3 knights of the Order of the Thistle, "What are you doing? What's wrong?" One of the knights demanded, a hand on his sword, while the other two looked around the Great Hall, and all around, looking for a threat that might of sent Gareth into hysteria. All three knights looked very concerned, and worried in the current situation, and eagerly awaited Gareth's explanation for his morose state.

After a long walk, Sophia and Jezin made their way to the Great Hall. The princess was still fighting the headache that raged behind her eyes, and hoped she would overcome it after a nice, calm breakfast. What she saw upon entering the great hall, however, decimated any plans she may have had for a normal day. She saw Gareth, who seemed positively hysterical, and a trio of Order knights. She looked a bit shocked, darting towards the commotion. She slowed her paced as she approached, looking back and forth between Gareth and the trio. She wondered what had sent the young man into such a state, but said nothing, watching to see what he told the knights.

Jezin followed the princess down the hallway, silently hoping he'd get to speak to Sir Walden again. The man seemed trustworthy, a trait he had been hard pressed to find ever since they arrived. As they entered the hall, he noticed Sophia's half-elf friend shouting about something, and being met by three knight of the Order of the Thistle. The princess bolted towards the group, and he had no choice but to follow. The boy seemed quite upset, and Jezin wondered what could've caused such an uproar. He followed Sophia, stopping along with her a few steps away, and examined the faces of the three Order knights. They seemed quite concerned. 'What the hell could've happened now?' the bodyguard thought, his mind racing.

Gareth breathed out rather heavily. "Sir... Redwyne... is dead..." Sorrow weighed heavily in his voice. "S-sir Walden... gave me a package to give to him, and... and..." His eyes grew wet again. He couldn't finish uttering his story. Sophia and Jezin approached, and he kept shouting in his mind for them to go away, that he didn't want them to see him again like this. He covered his face and bawled more, the deaths over the past two days already traumatizing him severely. "I couldn't save him..." The pressure on him was intense, thus driving him to blame himself for the preventable mortality, a life that was so crucial to save that he failed to keep alive. His head was racing, he was utterly terrified and grieving, taken to hysteria about the series of events. He begged the late Morningstar to forgive him for his failure.

The three knights were absolutely stunned. The lead knight who had addressed Gareth turned back to the other, too, and began barking out orders, "You! Go to the Tower of the Thistle and find Sir Redwyne's body," Deducing quickly that the incident must of happened where Redwyne spends most of his time, "You! Go to Sir Walden's office and secure him for questioning." The other two knights left in a clanging of armor, running off to their respective places. The lead knight turned back to Gareth, looking down at the anxiety-ridden mess of a man, "Do not leave this area. Stay here." The knight commanded, in a very serious tone, as he ran off in his own direction, sword now fully drawn.

Jezin listened as Gareth spoke. His eyes widened when he heard Redwyne had been killed. Things in Keilaudrin were going sharply downhill. He felt a tinge of sorrow for the man he had grown to respect, despite their initial misgivings. A dark frown crossed the knight's face as he watched the others run away. High profile people were dropping like flies. He wondered what could've killed the Morningstar. Gareth had mentioned something about a package. Some sort of trap, perhaps. He cursed to himself. Things obviously weren't getting better any time soon. He glanced wildly around the room. Who had a motivation to kill Sir Redwyne?

Sophia froze when Gareth explained what had happened. Sir Redwyne had fallen. She looked to the ground, mulling over the information. The world continued crumbling down, and she was stuck in the middle of it. As the knights ran off to see to the situation, Sophia took a step towards Gareth. She wasn't sure what she could say to comfort the young man, especially when she herself was losing more and more hope by the second. She outstretched a hand, placing it on Gareth's shoulder. "Gareth... I'm sorry." Her head still hung low, and her hair concealed her eyes. The golden medallion around her neck bearing the insignia of the Lyoki Eternal Serpent hung down, clearly visible against her black dress.

Gareth pried Sophia's hand off his shoulder. "No, Sophia... I failed him..." He blubbered, wet lines traced into his face from his eyes. He looked away from her and released her hand, him walking slowly to a table where he sat. He folded his arms on the table and buried his face in them; he tried to make sense of it all and figure out, not just what would happen to him, but to everyone else especially. He didn't feel comfortable at all, he didn't want to eat. He wished he had stayed in bed that morning, he wished he hadn't handed Redwyne the package Gareth was so unsuspecting of. It could've been the youth, he could have opened it and died. For him, that felt preferable, for at least in his mind he was expendable. The torture cut him deep in his soul, and he felt lost and helpless to the world.

Sophia held her hand in mid-air for a moment, frowning before lowering it to her side. As Gareth walked away, she made a move to follow him to the table, but a strong hand caught her on the shoulder. She looked back to see Jezin shaking his head. She nodded. The boy needed time alone. Interfering further probably wouldn't help. She remained silent and walked towards the doors of the great hall, snagging a peach from a nearby table as she walked. Jezin followed her, having no idea where she intended to go. She walked out the doors and around towards the back of the palace, the area where so much commotion had happened the night before. The princess strode silently across the cobblestone, past the courtyard and out to the cliff side, where she took a seat, her feet dangling over the edge. She placed the peach by her side and pulled the flute from her belt. A soft, melancholy melody echoed out across the ocean as she began playing.

Jezin took a seat a few feet behind her, listening as the princess played her song. It seemed a fitting song for the time, full of sadness. He sighed, looking up into the clouds and trying to rationalize what had just happened. The Morningstar had been killed, people were plotting against the king's life, and Thomas was now likely in a cell. Their current situation was a far cry from the joyous celebration they had hoped for. He looked across the sea, missing his home. They belonged in Lyok, not in the middle of a foreign bloodbath. He bowed his head, listening to the lilting melody float across the courtyard.

He shook his head, holding the bridge of his nose as he roamed the halls. Wallace Canti was gravitating slowly towards the great hall, holding a sheaf of paper in one hand and his omnipresent notebook. Bothersome little things popping up all over, and all now for whatever reason. Two years of smooth sailing down the drain because of what? Karl Leid? The thought made him laugh aloud as he shambled towards the great hall. Preparations were already being made, he had painfully little to do in the wake of the regular guard. Wherever the king and his Thistle Knights were, they weren't serving a purpose right now and he had the fortune of being acting regent. A misfortune right now, because he had a tribunal to attend when he needed to be burying a corpse. Two corpses, if the news from his guardsmen was correct. Redwyne didn't deserve that, at least, it hadn't come from his offices. The great hall was still moderately occupied, that was fine he supposed because tribunals were open audience. Especially ones where the charges were about to be dropped, something he'd get away with what with the only man pressing them having recently expired. That was too convenient, and it made him uneasy as he took his seat as Regent at the table at the head of the great hall. As if by clockwork, the palace trumpet sounded, signalling the knights to fetch Thomas and bring him before the court. The other court members would arrive shortly, in fact a few of them got up from the tables to take their seats at the front of the room just then.

Outside of Thomas' cell, two soldiers of the guard appeared at the trumpet's sounding. "Your trial is starting, Sir Thomas, if you'll come with us" The lead man announced gruffly, gently slipping the dungeon key to the man's cell home in the lock. They went about their duty with grim faces, knowing full well the aptitude of the man they would be handling and wondering where the Order of the Thistle was at for something like this. His reputation was considerable, but confinement but a particular fight in men. They opened his cell, and made to bring the man out, gently lifting him from his place against the wall and allowing him a moment to gather his legs. Unfortunately for him, they were leaving his manacles on until he was before the court. With Thomas in hand, they made haste for the great hall.

Thomas allowed the guards to lift him, and guide him to the Great Hall, finally somewhat happy that he was able to walk around a little bit. Thomas knew that holding a trial this soon, and this abruptly could only mean a few things, none of them particularly good. Thomas knew the King wouldn't be presiding in the tribunal, as the Order of the Thistle probably hadn't declared the situation safe enough for the King to leave his quarters. Thomas looked down at his clothes, grime now covering various bits of his clothing from the dirt of the cell, along with the dried blood of Lexine Tristan stilling caking his hands and spots on his clothing. He smiled to himself as the guards continued to push him along. What a fine show he must look like. Eventually, the guards and Thomas made it to the Great Hall, which Thomas was less than surprised to find it lacking any guests. Thomas' visage turned to that of a more serious look as he was being brought forward.

Choking out a gasp, Gareth only caught a brief glimpse of Thomas when he had broken his train of thought to take note of the goings-on around him. Boy, he sure wished then that he had not. After the sight he saw, his current despondent state seemed as if it wouldn't cease anytime soon to the boy, and he quickly turned his eyes away from the guards entering the area. Sophia and Jezin, he also noted for the brief time he broke his depressed trance, had since left the great hall. To where they went he knew not, but it seems they felt the need to leave him to his emotions for some time. Actually, the half-elf felt a little bad, pushing Sophia away as he did, for now he willed to have someone at his side during what he could only describe as more gut-wrenching to add to his turmoil. Harker bit his lip as his crying continued and did what he little he could to condition himself for what lie ahead.