[center]Kenten Cragmore[/center]

"It's a shame, if you ask me. Damn shame, boy-king and all " Lord Kenten gruffly muttered, barely aware that no one [i]had[/i] asked him. He had been traveling for three days, and was nearing the city of Skyhaven. He traveled with a small entourage, all on horseback, while he rode a diregoat. Not [i]his[/i] diregoat, but [i]a[/i] diregoat. Cragmores of the past had bonded with theirs since infancy, minding to train them from a young age. Not having been permitted ownership of one in his youth as a bastard, Kenten's goat was unnamed and untrained, occasionally trying to buck or veer to the side. Each time he would try, Kenten would dig his heels into his side, and each time he would dig in his heels, the goat would let out a loud bleat. Needless to say, the journey was far from silent.

In the front of the entourage, there was Kenten. He felt it only appropriate that the Head of House lead, and wanted his face to be the first the Skyhaven peasants would see. He wore his finest clothes, which had been slowly tarnished by the three-day travel through Stormgully and the mountains above. He wore a leather tunic, stained by splashes of grease and wine, and wrapped himself in a long goat's pelt cape that dragged behind him while he rode. Most everything he wore had been chewed on by moths, furthering his tawdry appearance, while his beard had been trimmed but was still full enough to hide most of his yellowed teeth and receding gums from sight when he spoke. His hair, usually oily and matted, had been combed and pulled back. He wore a silver circlet around his slowly heightened hairline -- He usually wore gold, but he was not so foolish as to wear a crown to the meeting of the sort. Finally, every piece of jewelry, every necklace, bracelet, and ring available at Stonereach, he wore. To say that his appearance was genuine to himself was true, but it was not a compliment, as he had managed to be gaudily overdressed and ill-prepared, all at the same time.

The rest of his entourage, while not as needlessly bawdy, was just as weather-beaten. Three men rode behind him, one carrying the Cragmore banner, two carrying maces. They hadn't run into bandits along the way, nor did they originally plan to, although Kenten's insistence on dressing as loudly as possible brought their concern to the matter, and so they had been on-edge and prepared for an ambush for the trip's entirety. They wore simple brown leather armor, riding simple brown horses, and carried simple provisions.To an observer, they would've appeared more in-tune to what a proper Westerner should've looked like -- Simple.

With Lord Kenten being occupied with talking, they reached the city in no time at all. Judging by the crowds, he was late, [i]but not last[/i]. As he and his entourage trotted through the city to Phoenix Palace, there was a distinct difference in his arrival to the others, and it was their welcomed applause. Some clapped for their arrival, a few even cheered. The rest, even the majority, did not. While most chose to respond with indifference, there were a select few who jeered at the Cragmore's arrival.
"There he is, the Bandit King!" One boy shouted. "Make way, for the Lord of Whores! Make way, for the Lord of Smugglers!"

Kenten held his anger, and held his silence. "They are fools," He thought to himself. "Jealous farmers and merchants."
The taunts gradually subsided the closer he was to the gate of The Phoenix Palace, and by the time he had entered, they were gone altogether. As a stablehand gawked at his diregoat, Kenten dismounted. "See to it that he's kept alone." He patted one of the large horns, causing the goat to bleat once more. "Wouldn't want any of those fancy Eastern horses getting gored in the stables." He chuckled darkly to himself, advancing towards the main chamber doors. "Tell my men to wait in the goat's stable too, actually. It's my only one. Don't want him catching cold." With another bout of spittle-flecking laughter, he nodded briskly to the servants opening the chamber doors, and stepped inside.