[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=F2541F]Atkin Bowman[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[/center][hr][center][color=F2541F][b]Location:[/b][/color] Wizard Palace 21st Floor[/center][hr]
	Atkin could see the riots from the top of the Wizard Tower quite easily, the flames were rather difficult to miss as they burned throughout the night. Today really had been an absolutely atrocious day. Probably the worst day in Castle history for at least a few centuries. Certainly ranked up there for worst days of his life. He couldn't even get to sleep, any time he tried he'd think about Bryon or Pa trying to maintain order out there, or Shay getting caught up in the midst of all, or worst of all: his own home being broken into and ransacked. However, as liable as he was to mouth off, disobey orders or just go out the learn something himself, he wasn't so big of a knobhead that he'd go out into the streets during a riot. Only a body with a death wish would do something like that. For the fifth time that day all he could do was stand back and watch as bad shit happened.

	By the time morning came, his eyes were sore, but he didn't feel tired. At least not any more. He didn't really feel hungry either. Or really doing too much of anything other than pacing around the tower, trying to keep himself occupied on anything other than the chaos the Castle had sunk into over the last 24 hours. The Queste and its associated bullshit were chump change. He wasn't too concerned about that. Worst came to worst, only he'd have to bite the bullet. The apparent fragility of the Royal family had far more severe ramifications for the country, and the immediate break in good will between the people and the crown would be difficult to mend, at best.

	But then there was a noise at the door. It was rather muffled, so he couldn't quite make it out at first. Meowing? Atkin stopped where he was and turned around to the door. He checked the peephole. He didn't see anyone there, but the sound was still there, and growing louder. So he opened the door a wee bit. And then suddenly it was flung open as he was assaulted with a tidal wave of fur. It took him a few seconds to realize that there were cats all rubbing against him, purring, and trying to muscle their way in to get to him. And they were all so cute. He couldn't stop himself from kneeling down and trying to pet them. He'd get a calico under the chin, follow it up by scratching a black cat on the butt, before diverting his attention to a particularly portly Persian. There were just so many kitties, he couldn't handle them all.

	By the time Rowland or Arya went up to check on the apprentice, they'd find the door still wide open and Atkin sitting on his bed surrounded by cats, petting a relatively beefy tabby that sat in his lap. They were everywhere: on the floors, the tables, in the dresser, everywhere. Miraculously, not a single book or pen had been knocked over. He turned to face his teacher and grandmaster, still smiling, although a less so now that his attention had been drawn away from all the cats and back to the present situation.

	[color=F2541F]"I couldn't stop them."[/color]