As Kathlin ran for all she was worth, it seemed as if she had successfully evaded the two chevaliers too concerned with the ferocity of one particularly ill-intentioned and violent owl. But as she ran through the narrow corridors of the mansion, a boot suddenly stepped out behind the doorframe ahead of her.

Appearing at the end of the corridor was another White Hand chevalier. But this one made no attempt to call for aid or signal their position. Wearing his mask as most of his comrades and their hallmark white cloaks, the only peculiar thing about him was his chestplate which had a deep bulk protruding back into his stomach area as if someone had launched an axe into his plate. But it did not seem to bother the man in the slightest.

In his mailed fist, he held tightly a longsword at the ready. The chevalier's attention had immediately fallen on Kathlin who was before him, and a small gust of wind sounded from his helmet. Although it sounded less as breathing, and more as simply a breeze traveling through a hollow tree that emanated from his mask. Gazing at Kathlin with the blackened and empty visors of his mask, the chevalier moved both his gauntlets around the hilt of his sword as he raised it up into the air.

In complete silence, he moved one boot in front of the other as he walked out of the doorway to meet Kathlin; bearing his sword against the girl!

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At the gate of the castle, the two guards were standing watch outside the heavy wooden and metal fortified doors to the royal keep. Their armor was polished to the point it gleamed in the little light there was beneath the grey sky, reflecting its clouds. They each wore deep blue, royal cloaks typical of the soldiers tasked to guard the king's keep, and each of them held a tall halberd where the axe blade rested high above their helmets.

When they were approached by the group of Blood Elves lead by Rae'liel, the guards passed a look between each other, before giving the elves a long stare.

"Do you have an official audience with the king?" He asked in a nasal voice, seemingly looking rather bored where he stood; casually leaning on his halberd.

"I'm afraid we can't let you enter without a royal contact." The other guard said, looking over the elves.

"Yup. No scheduled audience, no visit to the king."

"We can however put you on the royal wait-list, if you would like that, m'lady."

"Indeed. There are only about 234 visitors before you if you sign up today."

"Absolutely. The king should be able to receive you within the next three months."

"Aye. If you absolutely need to see his majesty right away, he will be attending a sermon commemorating the war veterans of the Northrend war and the raising of a war memorial in the Cathedral of Light next week."

"I hear it will be a great feast afterwards."

"Indeed, Thomas. The king has requisitioned the finest ale from Ironforge."

"Yup. It's a shame I'm on duty that day. It is a terrible thing to miss out on."

"But when you're a Royal Guardsman, you can hardly complain, can you?"

"A man can never have enough."

"True words!"

"And... " The first guard suddenly paused, looking back at Rae'liel and her escort as if he had almost forgotten about them.
"Oh yes, we have a lot of Inns in Stormwind. You look like a knight, and the Golden Goose in the Cathedral District is a favorite among politicians, nobles and fellow knights. You could spend your time there when you wait."