Jahrun was escorted roughly through the Capital and to a "secure location". Once the young monk had flipped a Royal Captain onto his back like he was a small girl, the rest of the guards came to an agreement: Jahrun [i]would[/i] enter the Capital, either by escort or arrest, but he would do so with full cooperation, lest he feel the King's wrath himself. Jahrun, unfortunately, was just one, and therefore obliged. And as his horse's hooves trotted behind him as another guard led it, he looked at every escape route he saw, and analysed every opportunity that arose. And yet, he took advantage of none, for he knew that would mean a one-way ticket back to Montsyaf.
Surprisingly, the Capital at night was a fairly peaceful place. Though the narrow streets continued to be littered with civilians going about what looked like, at times, to be very important business - despite the hour - the city did not inherit the general 'feel' it had during the day. For one, Jahrun could hear no voices in the distance.
Three guards escorted Jahrun to a small terraced house that stood out in no way, shape or form. And once inside, it did not stray from the first impression. It was as poor as it seemed to be. His horse was tethered outside, and Jahrun was led in. He looked back at the guards after scanning the 'front room'.

"You stay here tonight, monk. You're not allowed to leave. We will call you in the morning and escort you to Capital hall. Until then," the guard creaked the door to, so that only his head peeked through the crack "sweet dreams." 
The door closed and Jahrun creased his face with a mixture of confusion and cringe. He scanned the room again quickly, noticing nothing of important but a ladder leading to an upstairs loft. He quickly jumped up and saw what he had longed for since leaving.

A bed.