Emillion NPCs (emillionnpcs) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-08-03 10:44:00 |
|
|||
Rare was the sight of the king to the citizens, and as such, the streets of the Civic District flooded with people hoping to catch a glimpse of their monarch. The congregation was held that morning atop the wide, marble steps leading up to the Royal Courthouse. Kingsguard lined the streets in their imposing armor, each of their cloaks emblazoned with the emblem of the Royal Dynasty, seeming well in place with the twin stone lions guarding the building. Imposing, immovable. Noble families were afforded the best vantage, with commoners and the poor in greatly larger numbers behind. Those furthest in back of this monstrous crowd had only murky secondhand descriptions and a distant view provided to them. The speech was a somber affair, as knight-commanders and elder mages stood flanking His Majesty on each side as he addressed the people, his face a stone slab of determination. Speaking of legacies, of endurance, and the adversities with which the city had once been founded--a civilized society born from the ashes of violence and barbarism, carved from a merciless wild and molded into greater things. Several members of Parliament were in attendance as well, and after His Majesty had given his speech, they too offered words to the people, speaking of plans and preparations for the times ahead. The citizens were assured that reconstruction efforts were already underway, and that those in power were determined to do what they could to ease the state of living for the people under their rule. As one might've expected as well, the Judges were also present, a distant force behind them, lining the shadowed edges of the Courthouse in their imposing suits of armor. Royse himself spoke freely to the line of newspaper reporters, those from the Emillion Daily, the Valendian Standard, talking at length on his opinions of the guilds--particularly, of course, Karras Duhl and the Fighters Guild. These opinions were, of course, what they always had been, critical and void of sympathy, picking apart the details of each recent event in an unfavorable light. Beyond these representatives in their formal regalia, down the street toward LeSait, stood Grand Inquisitor Heinlein herself, Commander of Operations in the affairs of intelligence for His Majesty and Parliament. Dressed in a no-frills suit and waistcoat, a cigarette never far from her lips, she and her fellows gazed at the event with both scrutiny and an unshakable loyalty to the crown. They were phantoms in the crowd, ever watching and listening. The citizens themselves crowded the district long after His Majesty had departed, hoping to get any further hints into the affairs of politics. Rumors and gossip were quickly spread throughout the city, and those loitering around made quick effort to shape the day's event as they saw fit. |