Mullen seethed with activity, not that the city ever slowed down, but rarely did its streets see such abuse under the feet of the sea of travelers and shoppers brought out by an approaching party. Inside of its walls, workers, nobles, and diplomats alike made their way into the palatial grounds to either stay in the hospitality of the king or set to work preparing for the next day. The main gate of the palace, facing east, had been hit the hardest. The massive ornamental bronze gates had been pulled fully open, and handfuls of clerks and stewards worked to record the entrance of notable figures for both the crown's preparations and certainly the curiosity of the officials that paid them. Whoever was coming to the celebration would likely pass through those gates, and the proper among them would make sure to check in at them regardless. It made a wonderful place for receiving honored guests and keeping track of the unsavory ones. 

The many buildings of the palace were already alive with the hordes of gossipers and early arrivals enjoying their chosen forms of pre-party. Close to the gates, another sort of curious official watched the procession with a pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other from the comfort of a street side table. He was a tall man, brown haired and gaunt faced who would have stood out from the crowd if he hadn't been sitting alone. Subtlety was lost on him, as every now and then he would fixate on one of the new arrivals, add some notations to his book, and return to watching the crowd with a dissatisfied look. He had the look of a sickly hawk, impatiently awaiting the right kind of prey. Maybe they were already in the city, and he had missed his window, but duty required that he continued to sit at that small table and stare down the crowds until he had exhausted the supply of nameless faces.