[b]Haljon[/b]
[u]Streets of Kathar → Palace of Kathar[/u]

[i]"...the Empress has been murdered..."[/i]

The words reverberated across Haljon's mind even as his body went numb as stared slack-jawed towards the palace. It was all he could do to remain astride Grendel, his warhorse, as he trotted down the street. Haljon idly took in his surroundings: the expressions of panic, shock, and despair; the marching of the city guard; the shuttering of windows and locking of doors. Clarity took him then, along with a cold sense of certainty. This was the "special event" the letter had spoken of, he was sure of it. Haljon shook his head, objectifying his thoughts as feeling returned to his limbs. He leaned forward in his saddle, taking the reins firmly in his hands as he uttered a sharp cry to urge Grendel forwards. Grendel took off immediately, shifting into a thundering gallop which caused many a passerby to dive out of the way. Haljon took no mind of them, steering Grendel towards the palace even as his mind raced at the implications of the Empress' death. 

It was a race now, he realized. A race between his enemies—the forces moving against them mentioned in the letter—and his fellow Followers. To whomever could react decisively first would be the victor of this first battle, one of many in the war Haljon was certain was coming. And it was unlikely any but a few would know it had ever occurred at all. Haljon contemplated whether or not if he was at a disadvantage. It was apparent to him that the majority of the battles he would be fighting from now on would not be fought on the open field as he was accustomed. No, his struggles—[i]their[/i] struggles, he had allies now—would be fought in secret. 

Bells began tolling suddenly, tearing Haljon away from his thoughts. He and Grendel were nearly at the Palace now, travelling uphill through the wealthier districts. Evidence of the celebrations were strewn across manor and street alike, though the celebrators were nowhere in sight. [i]All shut inside their homes,[/i] He thought. [i]Waiting for the curfew to end.[/i] Haljon noticed a patrol of guards further up the street, and one shouted out at him and raised a crossbow to his shoulder, but his comrade pushed it back down. Haljon guessed that they had orders not to fire on anyone approaching the palace. He wondered if any of them knew the reason behind those orders. Probably not.

He slowed Grendel as they approached the palace gates, patting him affectionately on the neck and murmuring words of thanks in his ears. His steed panted in response. Haljon spotted a guardsman peering down at him from atop the gate, and so Haljon called out to him. [b]"Ho, guardsman! I was told to announce myself here, and that I would be taken to the Throne Room. My name is Haljon, mayhaps that would help you verify my story."[/b] He waited patiently for a response, but one never came. The gates opened, and a different guardsman saluted Haljon, telling him to leave his steed behind and follow him. He nodded as he dismounted, and handed off Grendel's reins before following the guard. 

[i]I hope I know what I've gotten myself into to...[/i] He thought, as they entered the palace.