RoH: An Evening Meeting

The walls around the palace were old and worn, with gates of heavy wooden timbers at the top of the short causeway. The whole thing was set near the old center of the city, and a pair of bored-looking City Guards were standing outside. Gone were the days when the King's Own had held the duty; Alich al'Mera itself had been lucky in avoiding the worst of the war, but a great deal of its territory had been devastated, most of its army annihilated, and its resources were entirely turned towards supporting the survivors and rebuilding a nation for them to live in. 

The guards straightened as Remant approached and dismounted. "You've made a wrong turn, friend."

Remant frowned. "Is this not still the palace?"

"It is," said that same guard, "which is why you need to move along."

Remant sighed, feeling suddenly tired. Tired, and tempted to do something horrible. He bit down hard on the urge, as he always did. "Does Captain Tillard still command the Guard?"

The guard on the left frowned, but this time the guard on the right spoke up. "Did. Retired about two years ago."

Well, so much for that approach... Remant considered alternatives for a long moment, before deciding that he'd rather be admitted properly. "Could you send for your Watch Leader?"

The guard on the left shrugged and pulled on a rope. Overhead, a bell sounded -- muffled behind stone, but audible through the arrow-slits that were once meant to help defend this place.

A half-dozen guards spilled into the courtyard behind the gate, pulling on buff coats or coats of brigandine, juggling halberds as they did. They wore wands at their belts as well; the King's Magus, whoever held the position now, had been busy.  It was nearing dinner-time; likely they'd been eating, or preparing to. The Watch Leader was easy to spot: he was the one with ink on his hands.

"Stranger to speak with you, Lieutenant," said the guard on the left. 

The woman studied Remant just as intently as he studied her. "State your business, stranger," she said after a moment. 

"I seek entry, stabling, and an audience with the King."

She laughed, but it was more surprised than scornful. "Are you mad, or do you have some grounds for this?"

"Arguably both," Remant admitted, then unclipped a pouch on his belt and reached slowly inside, coming out with an amulet he'd been given many years ago. "I'm going to toss this to you," he said. 

She nodded, and he did. 

She caught it easily, studied it, frowned, studied it harder. Then she looked up at him. "Who are you?"

Remant sighed. "It's probably best if you don't know."