The man bowed his head in response, studying his shoes and shuffling for a moment as he thought. When he at last looked up, he looked with a faint smile to the woman following him. 'Problems from the north' could never be anything good, rather they originated in Lachne or the heartlands, that mishmash of territories and states where one could cross his street and find himself in another country. Nobility loved to hold on to their claims so, the lords of the south had been the same before the larger countries began to spring up, and line where cartographers felt confident enough in the importance and longevity of nations to mark their borders down slid northward in the tiniest increments every decade when the new maps came up in court. He finally returned his gaze to Hal, smiling toothily at the man. "I'm afraid that the king is retired for the night, you'll understand that he has important business tomorrow. You would be better disposed if you were to leave a message with his court." He paused for a moment, contemplating with closed eyes. "My name is Wallace, one of many stewards to the king and charged with planning his coronation day. I assure you, he will be speaking to me first thing tomorrow and I would be honored to deliver your words to him."