Epsir

When the Flames Die

As they entered the great hall, Wallace did his customary once-over of the room, picking out a few of the more important faces to remember where they sat. The hall had cleared out significantly even since the morning, it came as no surprise that most of the guests had no interest in sticking around in the wake of the 'festivities.' He sighed, mulling over the new information as he turned back to Noah. "The king is enjoying his early thirties, although he has the look and the mind of a younger man. He still demands to do things his way. I cannot say I blame him, given the months of legal wrangling that has lead to his coronation. The man deserves a rest," he said. It was a rest he was more than happy to provide. Wallace turned and motioned broadly to the great hall and the lavish leftovers of the celebration. "Make yourself at home, your grace. Keilaudrin is honored to accommodate you if you do not mind waiting for our king. The guardsmen answer to me for the moment, spare the Order of the Thistle, and if you choose to make your lodgings here they will show you to them. I should explain to you, there is a misconduct investigation underway, and the palace is on war footing. The people are tired and tense. You've already seen it at the gate, but try not to mind them."

When the Flames Die

Wallace watched the entourage leave with raised eyebrows. He'd grown so used to certain overprotective details that watching them simply leave a crown royal for a 'night in the tavern' was equal parts refreshing and surprising. It wasn't as if the boy prince was in harm's way in Mullen castle, however. Wallace motioned for Noah to follow him with a gentle wave, and began to trod off towards the Great Hall's large exterior doors, talking as he went. "King Bard is tucked safely away somewhere with his knights, he will make himself available when he finds it suitable to do so. Or rather, when his guards see fit." He grinned to himself, recalling the fervor with which the Thistle Knights kept their liege in safety. They'd come out when they were ready, whenever that was. It gave him more than enough time. "For the moment, there is only me, but I would like to believe that you will be able to deliver your regards personally before too long."

When the Flames Die

Wallace stood and watched the boy give his introduction, searching his mind briefly for the relevance of the emblem the boy carried. Cressen, that put him a long way from home. He wondered how many weeks the road had been for them, but for what it was worth they didn't seem particularly travel weary. He had to remind himself that no matter the age, any boy who had weathered the harsh north was plenty man enough for whatever politics they had sent him to do. No matter the case, he wasn't the first young noble to show their face at the palace. Canti stuck out his left hand to shake with the boy, figuring it was merely his custom. "Welcome to the palace, your grace. I am Wallace Canti, regent and servant of the peace. It does me great honor to welcome you to what's left of our celebration." His expression sobered as he finished his speech and looked away for a moment over the remains of the tent city, spying the various work crews along the walls. "There has been some terrible goings on, but you have thankfully arrived just as things are safe again. Shall we retire to the great hall?" The regent nodded towards the palace proper, standing alone in the deconstruction.

When the Flames Die

The guards at the gate had little desire to let an armed party within palace grounds, not to mention the scarcity of ways in and out of the palace at the moment. The backup wooden door beside the main gate had been sealed by the guard even with the gates broken the way they were, guests had been leaving through the handful of checkpoints they had established through the night at other points in the wall. The guardsman left to speak with Noah's captain had been in the process of explaining this when Wallace Canti strode into view within the gateway. Apparently the court's proceedings had gone quickly if he was already making his rounds of the wall. "Mister Brefford," he called the attention of the guardsman, "I am certain the situation is stable enough to allow a respectable foreign dignitary to visit the palace grounds. Open the door, and get back to doing something about this gate," He said, standing back and watching with slight amusement. In short order, the handful of guards had popped open the secondary door for the other party to enter through, although its size meant they'd be doing so single file.

When the Flames Die

Accepted.

When the Flames Die

Feril followed behind Thomas with a completely refreshed demeanor, fighting to keep her head held up high and not bothering to question whether her bravado was from the long nights or the drinks. Her eyes, light blue-touched green, searched around the hallway, idly and automatically taking stock of what halls lead where. Before her mind could turn to anything else, they were upon the stockade. It was certainly a prison, far removed from the few holding rooms she'd seen in her life and it was clearly built for detainment. She looked past Thomas as he ushered her into the cell, and after walking into the room immediately turned a quick half circle to take stock of her surroundings. What a dingy place, she felt looking at the hay and its accompanying raggedy cloth. It was a scornful appraisal, coming from someone who had ridden a horse three days full tilt before arriving at the castle. It was going to be home, for at least a few hours. She took off her jacket, and laid it upon the floor before sitting down on it. The blue shirt underneath was warm enough for the palace interior, and maybe wouldn't mark her as a courier in the future. The courier pulled her knees up to her chest to rest her head and close her eyes, and started the waiting.

When the Flames Die

She looked back and forth between Thomas and Gareth again, knowing beforehand that they were going to be split apart didn't make it any more comfortable. Although she didn't have much to base her feelings on, she had hoped to go with Gareth who, while still a stranger, did not have any scandal known to her hanging over his head. She fidgeted, even as they walked, playing with the buttoned cuffs of her jacket. Her head snapped up with Thomas addressed her, she figured there was no one else that statement could have been referring to. "Feril Tatchet," She said, brittle voiced and locking eyes with Thomas to answer. This wasn't so terrible, it didn't have to be anything bad, and it was something any true messenger had to be prepared for. She listened as Sophia accepted their situation in the same stride, and looked over to her in time to catch her departing glance. The courier nodded her head in reply, saying goodbye with just a faint smile. The nervousness had begun to subside. This was the job. She'd collect her proof of detainment and return with it as a badge of honor, she knew plenty of older employees who found morbid entertainment in handling controversial parcels.

When the Flames Die

The courier grimaced as Thomas looked over at her, and felt a weight in her stomach drop when she was asked to come along with Thomas. Wasn't he just accused of misconduct during an interrogation? Well, she hoped, surely they weren't about to interrogate some unlucky messenger girl, she wasn't planning on keeping any secrets from the law when they had her like this. Besides, she knew only what was publicly available to begin with, that was part of the job. Slowly, the weary Feril stood up and moved away from the table, coming around to join the knights. "I'm ready to go," She said, after standing around collecting her thoughts and preparing her lines for whatever came next. Just a holding cell, that was manageable, she'd been quarantined as a messenger before and that hadn't been too miserable. Whatever she was promised wasn't what worried her, the truth did. With things they way they were, there wouldn't be anyone so much as batting at eye no matter what they did so long as it was in the name of order. She'd watched it before, always as a passing-by observer without the time or the care to truly think about it.

When the Flames Die

Okie dokie no problem I'll tell Sightles to go ahead then.

EDIT: Okay nevermind

When the Flames Die

Hey Rae are you posting or waiting for more to happen at the table before going on?