FetzenThe appearance of a column of Thistle Knights in the halls struck up alarm as they passed through the halls, but those in the outer segments of the palace felt little need to intervene and were quick to pass it off to themselves as the Order moving its troops around. As the column pressed further in, however, one detachment could not merely hold their ground and the twelve man group holding the junction in the hall formed a line to halt the oncoming knights. At the head of the group, a broad shouldered man whose face was obscured by the chain coif and nasal helm of the regular guard stood, resting his arms across a shield braced against the ground. "Halt, sirs!," their corporal called, turning his head and telling his own men "Down of arms!" before stepping forward from the lines. "The king's quarters are not in this direction. What is the meaning of this?" He demanded of them. The men stood idle, none among them so much as rested a hand on their sword as they were ordered. Of the original number, two had not made it into the line, and were barely visible striding down the hall away from the group.
Feril continued to wait something less than diligently in her cell. Unavoidably, the passage of time blurred to the girl and she felt the weight of confinement slowly descending on her mind. It hadn't been a day yet, she knew that much, but it was certainly dragging on. No matter how she tried, she couldn't fall asleep in the cell. Occasionally, footsteps had gone by outside the cell but it had been quiet for what felt like at least an hour. A faint ringing in the distance sounded, and she could not recognize the signal. It didn't matter what hour it was signing in, really, because it wasn't going to be the one where they let her out. At the thought, he lowered he head back down to her knees, sighing deeply in the uncomfortable, stale air. At the very least, she'd gotten some food out of them. A bitter smile crossed the girl's face, and finally, she felt herself sliding into sleep.
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The palace guard flew into a short lived frenzy in response to the alarm bell, those in transition to and from posts sprinting to take their assigned positions and wait for the call. The palace itself quickly seemed empty as men disappeared from corridors and halls to defensive positions. They were few in number, and instructed specifically to hold the walls in the event of an alarm. The Order were intended to protect the king himself and whatever inhabitants of the palace they deemed important. A source of disarray in the ranks, however, was that this was no ordinary alarm and one entirely alien to many members of the guard. His own, loyal, men were suspiciously scarce and not a single familiar face passed him on the way. Wallace took note with displeasure as he marched down hallways, heading for his own study and not the room currently usurped by the provisional court. Whatever his duties as regent were, something far more important had just taken precedence, and he decided to wait for it in the only room bearing his name. The second letter had no doubt been opened, and he wondered what the summation of his guesswork would be and, for that matter, whether or not someone was waiting for him. His study was a messy place, dominated primarily by bookshelves and shoddy wooden tables supporting legions of open books, tossed over one another and covered in loose sheets of notes.
"Thankee captain," Rarden replied in a half-mocking attempt at Louis' assumed voice. His stomach dropped when the captain declared the meal would be on him, and his mind immediately put the pieces in place as to what the rest of their afternoon would look like. He resolved not to eat anything too heavy, just in case he had to run with it still sitting in his gut. Steeling himself for battle, Rarden followed his friends into the restaurant and stood behind them at the doorway while his eyes adjusted to the far darker interior. "Watch it with the harpoon, Fitch," He muttered, as the bobbing instrument nearly struck him on the way in. How did he even plan to find a seat with that thing? Was it okay to be carrying it around? Well, he supposed they did have a right to defend themselves and a harpoon wasn't exactly excessive in that regard. "We should, perhaps, wave down an attendant," he suggested from the rear, waiting for Louis' next move. Partly, he wanted someone else to make the group's first social blunder, but he mainly just wanted a cheap laugh at Louis' expense.
Wallace felt no need to further console his point with Gareth, Sophia seemed to be content to do that for him. The tall man simply stood by and watched as he'd grown accustomed to, looking away from the group at times to check the room nervously. No matter how he looked at it, the guard inside the halls seemed too thin. For all their armament, there wasn't much they could do to stop the Order, if it came to do that. Not for any inability to fight, but simply because in the close-quarters of the palace they could not come fast enough should something happen. He grimaced, and tilted a bit on his feet before regaining his balance. Whether it was age or something else, a migraine was coming over quickly. "I should be reporting to the council," Wallace declared to the group, looking for the closest door into the palace "Seek me out if anything untoward should happen, but in the meantime please stay safe. I feel as though we are only at the beginning." He added, and departed briskly.
The blank sheet composing the second letter lay idle upon Thomas' desk. The accompanying envelope had been unaddressed and unmarked, although the officially signed letter of commendation perhaps betrayed the identity of its sender if the postmaster had not already. The paper was worn and yellowed, but unfrayed and clean for its apparent age. Seemingly unprovoked, the surface began to crackle and sizzle and in short order caught flame. Most of the paper seemed to be sparred charring and destruction under the heat, but as the flames burned down and dissipated they revealed black-edged holes in the paper printing out jagged letters across its surface. The letter now read 'THEY HAVE HER' and below it, even larger, 'THEY WANT YOU'
The blank sheet composing the second letter lay idle upon Thomas' desk. The accompanying envelope had been unaddressed and unmarked, although the officially signed letter of commendation perhaps betrayed the identity of its sender if the postmaster had not already. The paper was worn and yellowed, but unfrayed and clean for its apparent age. Seemingly unprovoked, the surface began to crackle and sizzle and in short order caught flame. Most of the paper seemed to be sparred charring and destruction under the heat, but as the flames burned down and dissipated they revealed black-edged holes in the paper printing out jagged letters across its surface. The letter now read 'THEY HAVE HER' and below it, even larger, 'THEY WANT YOU'
The streets were navigable, to be sure, but he kept a close eye on his shipmates as they roamed the streets like the awestruck tourists they were. He'd yet to spy an establishment that met his standards of cuisine but he was slowly coming to terms with the fact that the people ate differently in this corner of the world. The underbelly of the world was a constant, however, he knew that much. Unconsciously he worried of pickpockets despite knowing full well none of them were even remotely worth the trouble of robbing. "What do you make of that... Caesar?" He asked, stumbling over the new name as he final snapped and indicated a homely looking restaurant at the roadside. It was barely visible between the stalls and civility but the wooden structure held a certain humbleness that made him assume it was a place with a respect for individuals on a restricted budget. Knowing Louis, he dearly hoped the man intended to pay for his meal but knew that was betting on a particularly slow horse.
Wallace squinted in contemplation as Gareth spoke to him in code. It was beyond oblique, for sure, the kind of wording that drew attention to it simply by being, although the fact that he himself was having trouble making heads or tails of what the boy had said was assurance that it was well obfuscated. His confusion stemmed from knowledge, and trying to bridge the gaps in what was happening versus the possible conclusions of someone with the information Gareth had access to. Slowly, he pieced together his hypothesis and settled on remaining resolute and proper with a quick nod towards Gareth. "Perhaps we should not be so quick to turn away help. I am sure the princess does not intend to take up the sword, there is much we can do to ensure her safety and accommodate a brave effort to protect Lyok's honor." Whether or not that was what they actually did, it was what experience told him to say and he counted on Gareth to sort out the rhetoric as he turned directly to Sophia and bowed. "Your zeal is commendable, your grace. I shall see to it a detachment of the guard is left to your protection, to supplement the retainers from the Order." In truth, he wanted the Lyokis to remain. Mixing Arcartus into things had been a bit drastic but drama with an off-continent empire would be extraordinarily high profile with a response time that was slow enough to be manageable. Arcartus, for all he knew, was already at the doorstep. The only card he held against them was that he knew exactly what they would be coming for.
Wallace stood by and watched the unfolding conversation idly. He knew very little about the knight accompanying Sophia, his heraldry was unfamiliar and his name eluded him but such were the consequences of ignoring the Order for so long. They were supposed to have continued acting the subservient king-loving watchdogs they were so great at being, and without the king ever being threatened he would have been able to bypass them. Instead, they seemed to be coming out of the woodwork at any turn they felt appropriate. He would have been grimacing at the armored man, if the news of Sophia's intent to stay didn't tear a smile across the entirety of his face as he heard it. He bowed his head in appreciation and acknowledgement as Sophia looked around and briefly found his eyes. Though, he could not quite place her reasoning. An attempt to clear the Lyoki name shot to the forefront of his suspicions but in all honesty the accusations against them, what little there were, were poorly founded. Benevolence was what came next, but it was such a foreign idea that he could not, himself, accept it.
He had been expecting to make it over to the table at some point, but the appearance of the much loved thistle knights stopped him and as he watched the spectacle unfold he wondered exactly whose hand had pushed them. It wasn't a very difficult to find his own answer but he had no evidence to back it up. However, standing by and saying that he was uninvolved would be fatal. Regardless of what he did, they approached him and Gareth and he nodded politely as they closed the distance, letting the door return to closed. "The pleasure is mine, princess." He shot a glance to the knight accompanying her, "I hope you are finding the hospitality of the Order to your liking," and there was little else he found himself wanting to say in the presence of the knight. She knew Gareth, of course, and he opted to let the other man handle the talking with his familiar as he continued to adjust to the changes of that day.
"I believe the court will be expecting me soon," Wallace said, instinctively glancing towards the wing housing their quarters. "Until then, we should retire to the great hall." The palace grounds were a touch empty for him, and in the wake of recent events even the guard detail upon the walls didn't make him feel all that certain about their safety. As the man in charge of them, he knew better than many of the palace regulars that the guard's purpose in times like this was more keeping suspects in than routing them out. He strode the few steps forward and pushed open one of the many exterior doors of the great hall, holding it for Gareth if he chose to accompany. A quick search over his shoulder revealed the contents of the room, the usual jumble of people. It pleased him to see that the Lyoki delegation had not departed just yet. They were involved whether they wanted to be or not after the identity of the snake had been found and Thomas' antics had caught up with them.
Four tie down points was a bit excessive for their tiny vessel, but it was professional. More-so, it was a guarantee against their ship drifting off or 'drifting off' at the hands of unscrupulous characters. With a grunt, he pulled the last mooring tight and stood away to see how the confrontation with the port authority was going. He overheard the man say that their ship was going to be inspected, but that wasn't out of the ordinary and they didn't even have the money to acquire contraband to ship. After the man had left, Louis began to call for food and Rarden agreed fully. They'd been surviving on close to nothing for quite some time, the idea of any portside meal no matter how cheap was intensely attractive to him. He stood beside the gangplank and waited for the rest of the crew to assemble so that they could head into town. "After you, captain," he said, trying to pick apart the pier district from where he stood and find a place cheap enough looking for the trio.
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