"I can. That guy's a damn loon," A voice piped up across the table from Gareth and Sophia. The strawberry haired girl in the red coat, Feril Tatchet, finally found it fit to speak now that court had closed. The remaining guests in the room seemed to share her sentiment, as for what few there were there was apparently heated discussion going on around the room. "War footing means they're gonna close the ports soon and I'm gonna lose my job. Half of these people are going to be stuck here for weeks." It didn't seem to bother her, venting to absolute strangers. That said, she hadn't slept a wink and the constant stream of provisions left in the main hall, a fair quantity of which were alcoholic, were doing little to help her state. There were few guards left in the room after Wallace's declaration, the majority of them had cleared out to spread the word through the rest of the capital guard. It was easy to say 'war footing' but it meant exponentially more work and paper for the actual soldiers.