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A less than confident show from the king's own guard. Well, he reminded himself, they were supposed to be realists not lap dogs running about pretending that everything was perfect for the king. The man had plenty of lords to pretend for him, ten men's was a good enough portion because he certainly had enough advisers to manage. Thomas was also correct to worry that the man's life was in danger. Bard Urien was the last of his name, currently, in a family known for its trouble in producing male heirs. Add to that that he had no wife, and the royal family sat in a position that ranked among the highest of noble-held nightmares. He stood silent as the conversation turned to elf heritage, something he had absolutely no versing in. It became his turn to listen and learn, amusing to the man considering the reasons they'd approached the knight in the first place. At any rate, it had been confirmed that Thomas was of elven blood, something he hadn't seen done during his time in the castle. Maybe it was just a matter of someone actually stopping to talk to him for once. Arduin II's court had been significantly more reserved than most.
"That's a damn shame, I'd have liked to have met with him at least once after my ejection. Probably didn't even remember me, though, that's no harm done." He sighed, looking back at the court. Not only was it a disappointment it was a reminder that his generation wasn't long for the world. Bullshit, he'd come to get drunk and celebrate and that aspiration lead him to change the topic to something at least a little positive. "A Morningstar in command? I always figured that was the way it should be. Good news for Bard the second, the man's got a lot of trouble to smooth over in the world. Long may he reign." He bowed his head as he spoke, truly meaning his wellwishing for Bard. Karl Leid had never involved himself much in the affairs of the knights, but anyone in the court knew what a Morningstar was; a knight selected to stand above his peers as the example for them to live up to both in skill and character. Romanticizing the position was beyond him but he'd heard the word thrown around in meetings enough to comprehend and appreciate its weight. Part of him was relieved to see that Thomas was accepting of their company, with his warm greeting of Gareth. It made the day feel less like an imposition and more like the festival it was going to be.
"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.
"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?
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."
Well actually that's a great concept for the thread. Keilaudrin is a coastal country and Mullen itself is on the coast so there's plenty of trade going through the city. Any prominent merchant would have a reason to be in town.
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?
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."
Yeah, actually that's really perfect.
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."
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