Jahrun went on to travel over a hundred miles towards The Capital. He rode through the Midswamps, past the Arch Mage Citadel and even through St. Qasar's Gate, the last remaining artefact of a once great clan, now a delapidated old archway.
Jahrun felt copious wonder from all he saw, appreciating the history and the characters that built, and destroyed, it. He also believed it did, in fact, repeat.
But where Jahrun should have turned he was already 30 miles past. The thought of that boring, dainty farm was a mere speck in the background.
Settlements became more and more common, growing in size as Jahrun galloped his way across the flattening landscape. He would stop for a mere few hours of sleep in between intense treks, using whatever he could as shelter, inn or not. But, what surprised Jahrun was that he was unbothered the entire journey. Not even a single bandit ambush or wolf pack. Understand, for it was not a desire to fight that made Jahrun curious, but the lack of an opportunity. He expected more from these apparently treacherous lands.

And then, there was a city. 

Jahrun had arrived at the Capital early in the night, with the Realm Meeting taking place the coming morning. The city, a walled off metropolis with one huge gate as the only entrance located on the East wing, was a sprawling scape of stone and metal, harmonised to form the heart of the Realm. Huge beacons shot into the sky - watch towers and religious spires - and Jahrun stared at them in awe as they peered over the walls of the Capital.
There he stood, at the front gate, waiting in the queue to get in.

The Capital was indeed the heart of the Realm, and therefore it was protected as such. Each coming and going of any civilians was asked about, and regulations were strict. As a result, a huge sea of bystanders was a regular sight around the Capital Gate.

"Business?" Nagged a Capital Guard, his elegant armour showing his high rank. Jahrun, his hood up to conceal his face, winced as the guard gripped his shoulder tight.

"I am the representatives for the Monkbloods. For the Realm Meeting tomorrow." He said softly and truthfully, expecting his honesty to be rewarded. But the guard only laughed.

"Right you are, boy. Away with you." He mocked, throwing Jahrun to one side with ease, and continuing to inspect people. Jahrun, more annoyed through weariness, was reluctant to give in. He quickly joined the queue once more, but was once again stopped, this time by a different guard. But all was going well until the guard from before spotted Jahrun.

"Oi!" He yelled, his armour clanking as he began to match heavily towards Jahrun "I told you before! Piss off!"

Jahrun was quick to slip away before any harm could come of him, sneaking back to his horse and sitting on his failures.

"How are you supposed to even get in this damn place..." Jahrun grumbled to his horse, who simply stared at nothing in particular "Am I supposed to wear a suit or some..." It was then that Jahrun remembered. His robes!
Jahrun quickly searched through his bags to find the robes he had been given by the Elders for his quest. And once he found them, he was quick to change, already noticing the fine silk and material it was made of. But once on, it felt tailored. Like it was made for Jahrun alone.

With a new surge of confidence, Jahrun marched his way back down to the Capital Gate, a barging his way through the crowds with less grace now. And more aggression. He was soon at the front, where the Capital guard, not recognising Jahrun in his new attire, asked his business. Jahrun, with a naive honesty, spoke.

"I am the representative of the Monkbloods. I am-" but Jahrun was quickly silence by a sudden pain in the side of his head. The Capital Guard had back handed him to his knees, and had obviously remembered him.

"That was your final warning, you shit. The Monkbloods are dead!" The guard spat as Jahrun found his footing.

"I am here to save the Realm, as the prophecy fortold!" Jahrun pleased, confused as to why he was in this situation. Why can't he just go in?

"Are you fucking simple? Do I have to spell it out? Fuck off!" 

"I can't, I need to attend the Realm Meeting!" Jahrun yelled, now sounding like a man rather than a small boy. But that only encouraged the guard to draw his sword. His peers stood back, ready for a quick bit of action.
The guard marched forward as he drew his sword.

"Then you die, lunatic." Growled the guard, throwing a mighty swing in Jahrun direction. But before he could release it, Jahrun had closed it, too close to be struck by the blade if the sword. A single fist crunched into the guards helmet, puncturing the iron and rattling the skull inside it. Jahrun swung a leg, taking two of the guard's with it, and a bony crunch boomed as the guard hit the floor. Still conscious, he looked up at Jahrun, who eyes radiated.

"I must attend the Realm Meeting. I am the Monkblood Representative. Please let me in." He said