Epsir

When the Flames Die

The slump in the man's shoulders was about as close as any observer was getting to a display of emotion, but the mix of frustration and mirth in the chuckle that followed was clear enough despite the helmet of the guard. "If Canti was here he'd be free, little miss. The Order took him, and they haven't come out of that little tower of theirs since they stormed in here. Between the strangers seen on grounds last night and the angry bastards out front today, all of the captains are content to sit around and wait for the situation to 'gain clarity.'" He smirked invisibly at the idea, he and every guard on the grounds knew the real reasoning behind their inaction. Nobody wanted to be the first against the Thistle, and nothing made enough sense to warrant action either way. "I don't imagine them offering out audiences when they were ready to kill for custody of the man last night, but they won't have long before someone else takes up the regency anyway."

Feril had elected to stay back from the group, letting them close with the guards at the door. She stood turned mostly away, as if her face was the most identifiable of her features and not the garishly colored jacket. At least the emblem upon the garment was also turned away. She overheard the conversation anyway, noting down the evidence although it meant little to her. The regent, the one they'd come all this way for, was apparently not being housed in the main palace. She supposed that made sense, assuming the Tower of the Thistle had a dungeon all its own. Perhaps a smaller one. That was a scary idea, given the accommodations she'd recently been sprung from.

When the Flames Die

Feril set to walking quickly, picking the door she remembered and leaving the great hall before their departure could draw any attention. The halls of the palace were more like its outer grounds, deserted and quiet. Only a lone guard ever passed them, heading off down the hallways at a hurried pace. The directions were already faded in her mind, although it had only been about a day ago the lack of sleep wasn't helping her concentration at all. Every now and then the girl would double back, looking for a familiar painting or urn to mark their location with what she remembered. It didn't take them long to come to the right place, however. The hallways gradually became less regal and more spartan as they entered the parts of the palace used more often by the garrison than the politicians. One heavy door stood, flanked by two guardsmen, as the centerpiece of one such hall, and upon spotting the sentries Feril stopped and looked around at the group. She'd just left the place, and while it had been the Order she wondered about the sanity of approaching ones own evaded jailors. With her voice kept down, although they stood within sight of the door, Feril spoke for the first time since leaving the great hall. "I don't know about going up myself. I guess we're just asking to see if the regent is allowed audience?" A cursory glance at the empty dungeon corridor in comparison to the packed great hall said enough about that answer, a legion of people who would have been happy to talk to the regent were standing around doing nothing.

When the Flames Die

The great hall was far removed from the desolation that pervaded the rest of the palace. Throngs of gaily glad nobles and statesmen had returned to the palace grounds nigh instantly when the defensive gates had finally been brought up and the bronze ways of Mullen Palace stood safely open again. With some of them came their personal retainers but the added manpower did not mean any further stability. The snips and scraps of conversation that rose above the din of the hall seemed mainly focused on one man, Bard Urien II, and his whereabouts. Since his knights had ushered him from the scene of Karl Leid's murder, not one word had left the castle from the lips of the king and now the talk that had turned around every party-weary noble was that his absence persisted even in the usurpation of the regent. A token detachment of the guard held the front of the room, watching over the group silently as the bickering took place.

Feril followed the group along, slowly recounting the familiar ground as they entered the great hall. Just over there, she saw, the doors that she'd had to take further into the palace. Far more captivating, however, was the sudden crowd they'd found in the middle of the palace. Already on edge, the discontent in the room set Feril to pacing on the edges of their little group while scattered thoughts came to her. She didn't want to be the one to start pushing in the wrong place and end up among the growing list of the dead when she had already dodged so much trouble. They weren't getting anywhere. The thought struck her physically, stopping the girl in her tracks with disappointment. They were safe but they'd missed something important, somewhere, somehow, she thought. Feril perked when Gareth mentioned the dungeon, turning back towards the group. "I think I know the way, they never blindfolded me or anything on the way so I looked around." She chimed in, indicating with the point of a finger the door she'd been lead through. Straightening the lapel on her jacket, she made ready to lead the group off if they elected.

When the Flames Die

I'll say go to the great hall, there isn't much speaking for where the order's at right now but it's a place where either could conceivably be.

When the Flames Die

Feril was intrigued by her first daytime view of the palace grounds following the incident. The tent city had been abandoned and what intensive cleanup had occurred had only gone the way of what the guard could ship out while the gates had been ruined. The emptiness of the palace grounds was probably the usual, she knew intuitively that such places were safer emptied of random passers-by, but it was unnerving to see it all the same. The colorless, misty morning of a coastal city gave the high stone walls the look of some spooky illustration in a children's book she only now recalled. Feril quickly made her way inside as Gareth held the door for the group, nodding her head respectfully out of habit. At his question, she looked around, first to the other members of the group in the hopes they they had an answer, and then to the castle around them. Down the hallway she could clearly see the throne room, and that alone told her the Great Hall was also connected in proximity. Both locations were landmarks within the grounds, but probably not what they were looking for. The only other location she knew her way to was the dungeon, so in the absence of where she decided to answer Gareth with the who that came to her mind. "Well, word about the regent's arrest must have filtered out with the guard shifts at some point. I... don't really think asking the Order is safe, but that might be all we have."

When the Flames Die

Feril followed along with the group, still watching around the interior of the Crossroads until they were well out of the building. There was nothing wrong with the building, their safe exit told her that much, but now that the hurrah and the rallying was over it was time to be serious about things. She wasn't going to say anything or get people more worried about it: They were more aware than she was, seeing as they'd already been attacked, how dangerous things were getting. The city was a large place, and they'd have time to mope over what their course of action meant on the way to palace. Even as they left the crossroads, Feril could see the looming form of the Mullen palace in the distance, most notable among its features the Tower of the Thistle. The crowds in the streets assured they would be able to make their approach in relative peace, however, no one could say for sure if the gates had been repaired.

When the Flames Die

An escaped prisoner returning to the castle would likely pose severe problems. Feril wondered how official her excusal had been, seeing as it was conducted by a knight of the Order of the Thistle, the same group which had placed her under arrest in the first place. He'd been at odds with the guards, but it was unlikely her rescuer had crept his way through the castle in his marked cloak without arousing some sort of suspicion, among other details of that night. Her mind was made on the matter when Gareth stood and set his hands in about the most inspiring display she'd seen from the group. Following his example, Feril abandoned her recently found seat, rising to her feet with a broad grin. "Let's get going, I'm sure everything will work out fine as long as I keep my head down. You all have it worse, by the sound of it, but the day's still young and I'm sure they're not waiting around for us."

When the Flames Die

Feril's eyes widened and she looked side to side at them again and again in disbelief, looking for some kind of faltering or uncertainty. They were serious about staying, and it was all she really needed to justify what she wanted to do. Flimsy chances going back to the company, flimsy chances digging into whatever shenanigans were afoot in Mullen. Reluctantly, she pocketed the coin purse that she'd set on the table and simply sat in silence with the rest of the group as she thought about their situation. Sophia had been ambiguous about what exactly had attacked them, she'd almost expected that the way she herself danced around the topic. The red jacketed girl stirred in her seat, putting her hands up to the table's surface and resolving to put her professionalism to good use. "Then what are you going to do? Pull answers out of that Sir Thomas? If you stay here it'll mean hiding, or fighting, or... I'm not going anywhere either, I want to find out too." There were too many questions, but that at least told them what answers they were looking for. "But I've honestly got nothing but some money to help with. The palace is where I figure anyone who knows anything is at, but... I get the impression it's kind of a dangerous place right now."

When the Flames Die

Feril was quick to take the seat she was offered. "Thanks," she said, acknowledging the gesture with a faint smile. Her mind churned over what they'd said as she did, one detail troubled her more than the rest. "Attacked? By what, the order?" She shook her head, it wasn't important now. Well, it was, but it's not like knowing put her anywhere closer to being able to do something about it. The response that was, after becoming a courier, engrained into her behavior was simply to keep moving. There was a curiosity in her mind, a desire for answers that urged her to cross the line between delivering the news and finding it, but this was serious. Sophia was right, just as Gareth said. There were too many questions. "We need to just up and leave, this is ridiculous. I've got a horse stabled at the edge of town, and," she produced the bag of coin given to her by the knight during their escape. "This will buy another. I don't know how open the gates are but... well, they say it's always better to get caught running than waiting." It sounded desperate, even to her. Running away wasn't likely to be a solution, as far gone as things seemed to be in the capital, but it was all she felt confident in putting forward as a safe, sane action.

When the Flames Die

At the behest of the woman walking over to the problem table, most of the inn patrons found places to divert their attention. Whatever had been happening was over, and much of their speculation was directed at the boy who had come and left with only a disturbance at his destination to characterize his stay. It took some time for the morning chatter of the Crossroads to return to normal, but as things slowed down someone whose attention had been more permanently drawn to the odd trio of patrons could venture out towards their table, somewhat timidly and more than wary of the drama ensuing in the capital following her own close encounter with it. Feril Tatchet was grateful to see someone she knew around town, but misfortune had apparently found them already, and whatever joy she felt was spoiled by the worry that had her looking over her shoulder at the door continuously. It was an odd kind of relief, she didn't know them beyond an exchange of names, but that was more than she had with anyone else in the city. She slunk up to the table, glancing between the familiar faces and speaking quietly, "Gareth! Sophia! I can't believe it's you. Are you all right? What's going on? Some bell started ringing and a knight snuck me out over the wall in the night. The guards were all acting weird, the one we met the knight tried to kill. Did the Order send you off too?" She gradually slowed, arresting her rambling questions to wait anxiously for the first semblance of sense in two days.