As the Kingdom Nobles and other parties begin to move into the Meeting Hall, there is a dull roar of conversation as old friends reunite and excited whispers of speculation fill the air. Guildmaster Edgewood of the Mages' Guild shuffles in, his arms full to the brim with tomes and scrolls. He nods as he passes the familiar faces but makes his way with purpose to his seat on the platform, relieving himself of his burden with a sigh before taking his seat and beginning his task of organizing the books and parchment before him.
Just outside of the Meeting House, branches of a great Oak begin to sway in spite of the absence of a strong wind. The soft creak of wood against wood sings out into the morning air as Baron Linneus Golenaire of Tuatha steps out of the trunk of the tree with the nonchalance of one who had stepped off of a stagecoach, and makes his way into the Meeting Hall. Shortly behind him, two others donned in green and white appear from the tree. One of them, an Elf, keeps pace with the Baron's long strides using an ornate white staff topped with a translucent purple gem. The other, a human with a gorgeous ipe-wood bow secured to his back, partially stumbles from the tree, looking back at it with an annoyed expression before hurrying to catch up with his fellow nobles.
As the sun reaches its apex in the sky above, the sound of thundering hoofbeats echo down the alleys and cobblestone streets of Volaire. From the direction of the palace, a carriage pulled by two massive black horses appears, being led by an armored soldier brandishing the Kingdom Flag upon a staff. On either side of the carriage are two more pairs of armored soldiers, each holding a tower shield to the side of the saddle, offsetting the broadsword hanging from their belts.
Behind the carriage, a formation of approximately forty soldiers march down the street, keeping pace with the carriage while holding pikes and spears over their shoulders.
The carriage pulls up to the Meeting Hall and comes to a stop, the horses snorting and stomping when approached by the waiting stablehands. The soldiers, in a highly honed and practiced step, take their positions along the wall of the building, their faces expressionless but their eyes alert.
The carriage door opens and a large man in black leather armor steps out. He quickly surveys the immediate area before stepping aside as King Vlastimir Daggerheart steps out. The King is wearing a long formal robe of fine red and gold cloth. The crown upon his head is elegant in its simplicity; a gold band resting upon his brow adorned with a single sapphire. His expression, a mask of solemnity, does little to hide a pained expression, his eyes sweeping the faces around him as he makes his way silently into the building.
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