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The cheerful music banged on through the hall even after the traveller lady had finished her dancing. There were flutes, drums, violins, all kinds of musical instruments mixing up to form a play that resembled more of a tavern song for drunkards. But then again, by now half the crowd had already fallen over drunk, face first into the table. So in a way, the scene displayed more of a tavern than a feasting hall. Even the king was enjoying himself, drinking merrily at his table with close friends of his, with the queen at his side, who seemed bored of the feast already. Never the less the conversation at the table continued merrily. [i][b]“I stabbed tha' boar, this big I tell ya'!”[/b][/i] one obviously drunk man bawked, drawing back both his arms to demonstrate just how [i]large[/i] the boar was. [i][b]“Oh, reaaaaaaaaally, Charles? When was that?”[/b][/i] another said, eyeing the other man suspiciously. The king leaned forwards to listen more closely, meanwhile taking a large gulp from his mead. [i][b]“'twas last week, not ah lie, ah tell yew!”[/b][/i] the drunk man said, somewhat angrily, but not sober enough to voice that. The other man shook his head and looked at the table, before looking up and laughing really loudly. [i][b]“Bastard! Ye really are as dumb as that boar ye' 'stabbed'! I was with you all week last week, ey?! Remember tha'? Ye was drunk on yer' arse all week! Shut it, Charles!”[/b][/i] All the other man laughed just as loud as the former, all but one anyway, as the drunkard suddenly started getting more quiet and introverted, before he yelled out again. [i][b]“OI! Look at that paintin' mates, it's got all kinda' colors!”[/b][/i] More laughing ensued, but this time not mockingly. One could wonder how people this ridiculous and stupid could get to be noblemen, and all you'd have to do for an answer was look at the amount of inbreeding per family.

Outside, rapid footsteps went across the bridge, of what sounded like one man. There were whimpers and wheezing as the man crossed, out of breath as it seemed, before the footsteps went from a wooden underfloor onto the dirt path that lead to the castle. [b]“T-the.. they're here!”[/b] he said to one of the guards, who nodded at him pretending to understand just [i]what[/i] this man was talking about, and let him past, since the man was wearing an officers uniform. The guard opened the door for the officer and, once the man was inside, shut it again. The darkness hid the fact that the officer had several bloodsplatters over his surcoat, and as such the guard didn't exactly know to stand on guard. The rapid footsteps picked up again, heading through the main hall where court was held daily, to the left into the left hallway. [b]“S-shit! Monarch's tit!”[/b] a yell said, echoing through the castle and likely causing a few gasps if anyone heard it, but thankfully nobody was in the main hall due to the feast that was currently taking place. The footsteps rapidly ran back, out of the hallway and into the right hallway. From there they'd continue down the hallway towards the feast.

At the feast, the mood was settling down as several noblemen were starting to head for their chambers, with wife in tow. Sometimes it was the other way around, much to the amusement of those around them. It was common at these feasts to take a few hours of sleep before returning, to feast once more. Either that, or the men wanted to unleash their masculinity, which amounts to essentially the same thing - ultimately, you sleep. Never the less the hall was still somewhat full, though more quiet. The queen had by now retreated to her chambers, leaving king Gregar alone with his noble friends, telling war or hunting stories, and the odd sexual story. 'twas merely good, thus, that the queen retreated to her chambers, as Gregar had the hardest laugh of all. 

Terryn, on the other hand, was hardly laughing. He looked up from Saewine, who had reacted as he'd expected - straight into the correct posture, but there was no doubt Saewine was dumb enough to fall right back on his arse on that bench. The worst part was that he was a nobleman, so the nobleman commander would insist Saewine be made captain. [i]Way to breed mutiny..[/i] [b]“You'd best get back into position, [i]soldier.[/i]”[/b] He emphasized heavily on the soldier, insisting that Saewine might be noble of blood, but he was a soldier none the less. Self pity wasn't going to solve that, it was only going to get Saewine killed. And right now, Terryn wouldn't care one bit if Saewine keeled over in the mud the next morning. [i][b]“Now..”[/b][/i] he hissed at the man.

He looked left and released Caterina, leaving her to speak to Sara, or anyone she wished to speak to. And as Terryn stepped away, he noticed a lady that he recognised from the first day of camp - but hadn't seen again ever since. [b]“Damn travellers..”[/b] he mouthed to himself, not nearly loud enough to be audible for anyone. With steady paces he walked forwards - not next to her, or past her, but straight at her, locking eyes as he did so. As he got close he grabbed her arm, not too hard, but hard enough to feel that Terryn was insisting she'd walk with him. To anyone else, however, it might've seemed hard. He practically stole her away right underneath Horath's nose, too. With several more large steps, he moved towards a corner that was less populated before letting go of her. [b]“You..”[/b] he said, eerily and perhaps a bit scary to Floure, but he'd continue swiftly enough to not allow a word to be said. [b]“I've been trying to speak to you since I saw ya' at camp. I'd almost think you were avoiding me.”[/b] His words were harshly toned, but he didn't say anything especially bad or rude. [b]“[i]Almost.[/i]”[/b]

[b]“See, most people at the camp, they prefer to see traveller people go, rather than come. Now, I spent enough time with the Servants at Coedwin to know that half of your people ain't half bad, but the other half are. Just a heads up, the others didn't spend time at Coedwin, so they think all of your people are thieves and bandits, not just half.”[/b] Little did Terryn know that he was talking to a woman who wasn't opposed to robbing a few noblemen left and right, but since he didn't know that, he couldn't judge. More over, she didn't look like a thief either. A whore, maybe, but not a thief. Perhaps it was the cute face, because the traveller clothes weren't helping. [b]“If I were you, I'd dress somewhat more appropiately.. you stand out too much for a woman. And [i]soldiers like being busy with women.[/i] Especially with no money involved.”[/b] It was pretty obvious that Terryn was saying she might get raped if she kept dressing in such a way, and that they might especially do so because many people hated travellers. Some hated them for blasphemous actions, such as pretending to know the future for cash, others hated them simply to have something to hate. Regardless, hate is hate, and hate ends up with someone getting stabbed. Maybe he could've brought the message a bit nicer, but that wouldn't get the urgency across.

The footsteps approached the feasting hall quickly, the man breathing heavier with each step, before he finally got to the doors. He dragged them open loudly, with large force, before running inside. He ran halfway into the hall, stumbled over and managed to barely catch himself, before running further to the king. [b]“Lord, lord! They're here!”[/b] Several people inside the room would turn around and walk closer to the man, including Terryn as well as Jeremiah Bluewall, the Servants knight that sat with Erica. [b]“What are you talking about, lad? Who's here?”[/b] the king said, standing up straight and, doing so, pushing his bench back a fair bit. The officer that had ran inside was leaning on his knees now, breathing in and out heavily before finally standing straight again. [b]“The Cherwin-UGK!”[/b] In an instant, three bowmen had appeared in the doorway, loosing several arrows inside. One of them hit the officer in the back, the arrow protruding all the way through the body, another hit a noblewoman in the head. The third arrow flew over the crowd and landed against the wall, cracking in half before even hitting the ground. A mix of battle cries from the noblemen, knights, and several guards, and screams of fear from those less battle inclined, and those of the fairer sex, erupted in an eardeafening explosion of sound. Shortly after the bowmen appeared, seven footmen rushed inside, with three halberd carriers right behind them. They were prepared, and before anyone inside had even drawn their swords, another volley of three arrows was loosed, hitting a young knight in the head, instantly killing him, with the other two shots dissapearing into the crowd, no doubt wounding someone.

Terryn had reacted quickly, but not nearly as quick as he could've reacted in his younger years. His feet ran over to his right, past the benches and tables, evading the many people that were now rushing for the servants entrance to make an escape, since the main entrance was blocked off by, what looked like, Cherwinian soldiers. Terryn pushed past, and met with Saewine, Sara and Caterina in the confusion. [b]“Saewine, guide princess Caterina and Sara to the kitchen, [i]now![/i]”[/b] This didn't look like a full scale invasion, because the border was quite a long way from the Hoffburgt. Perhaps it was a dare-devil attempt at killing the king right before invading. Whatever the case, their jobs was to protect Dorran, and with that the entire royal family. And well, Saewine was not exactly the most fit to fight against these soldiers. From what Terryn had seen, they were trained and had a strategy. [b]“Go!”[/b] he said to Saewine once more to spurt him into action. 

Princess Caterina looked onto the scene of battle with a horror reflecting in her eyes, but she didn't yell or scream as one might expect from a princess like herself. Rather, she seemed intrigued, but wasn't dumb enough to stand around waiting for her death. She wanted to run, but bumped into Terryn as she did so, who then explained that Saewine would be taking her to the kitchen, likely to hide there or wait for reinforcements. There was no way these Cherwinians would survive for too long within the Hoffburgt, not with the Black Shields camping right outside. But there was a chance of killing the king. [b]“Saewine, Sara!”[/b] Caterina yelled, pulling at his arm. She didn't even know if Saewine knew where the kitchen was, so she'd attempt to guide him by pointing at a door in the corner, close by. The door was open, because servants had attempted to escape as well, obviously. But Caterina wasn't strong, and her pulling at Saewine's arm didn't mean he had to come. As such she'd be forced to wait with Sara for Saewine to spring into action, lest Sara wished to try her luck and run for herself.

Meanwhile lord Jeremiah Bluewall, the Servant knight that was seated with the princess, drew his blade, all the while yelling out. [b]“For the King!”[/b] he yelled and as he did so, a number of servants, including Bjorn, rallied behind Jeremiah. They charged forwards, towards the entrance, in order to protect those that were trying to flee, and to slay the invaders of this castle. [b]“Death to Cherwin!”[/b] they cried before clashing with the footmen, engaging in a hefty melee. Terryn meanwhile directed Warren, yelling at him a bit more clearly now that the room was half-cleared of others and the sounds of melee and yells of battle were the only thing audible. [b]“Warren, get that one!”[/b] he yelled, pointing at an archer that stood with his two archer companions. If Warren hurried he could get by the benches on the left, passing the footmen and engaging the first archer with ease. Terryn had no doubt that Warren would kill the first, but after that the challenge was to kill the remaining two archers. Atleast he'd divert attention away from them.

Once his Black Shields were given their orders, Terryn would retreat to the royal table, standing by the king, who had by now drawn his sword as well, but stood at the back, not willing to risk his life quite yet. Understandable, for a king. Terryn drew his greatsword from his back, producing a sound of metal rasping out of it's sheath. Once it was out, it immediately met the ground as Terryn turned it in his hand and placed the tip of the blade into the wooden boards below him. There was no way he was engaging in battle - it'd only complicate the battle against the footmen. And he also couldn't help Warren - it was easy for 1 man to slip by quickly, but send two and they might withdraw footmen to help the archers. And helping Saewine.. well, Terryn didn't want to, but besides that, he had to ensure the safety of the king and Dorran first and foremost - being in the kitchen did not help with that endeavour. And so he was left here, standing by the king, overseeing the battle and ready to direct those who needed directions to where they should go.