The group of knights carrying the flaming girl would split into two groups messily, squabbling among themselves in the stress of the moment. Only those closer to the scene or with better hearing would audibly hear it, close to the king's tent, with the knights bickering at a lower tone as to avoid causing panic with the civilians. Anybody who could hear them would hear the panicked arguments of knights wishing to preserve their status and gain favor with King Lowick in these treacherous times, with only one man not participating. To break up the arguments, he would step aside with the wounded girl and hand the backpack she was carrying over to the rest of the arguing knights.


[hider=A knight in crimson, optimism of the sun itself in his eyes]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/n0Djk8U.jpg[/img]
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The red knight would carry the barely breathing girl over to a medical tent being set up, visible frustration on his face that even in such times, many were still concerned for their titles and their own lives. He would open the flap of the medical treatment tent and disappear inside with the girl, not a single gleaming interest of gaining royal favor when the life of a comrade was at stake. Meanwhile, the other knights would rush to King Lowick's tent, backpack held, and disappear into the royal tent after displaying their identification as Magic Knights. After approval, they would enter, and many voices inside would start chattering and shouting desperately among each other before long. The Magic Knights who guarded outside, forbidding entry or even entry within ten meters of the king's tent without identifying oneself as a Magic Knight, would appear visibly perturbed and concerned by what they were hearing from inside.

After a bit of help from some rather strong and capable individuals, merchants would finally begin selling and trading. Currency might not be so important before long, so it was up to them to take initiative in a game of conspiracy and manipulation with each other. Not a single drop of blood would be spilled, but it would nonetheless be a battle just as cutthroat as any war on the planet. Some were already muttering that this was the apocalypse, and hope was dwindling with each minute that passed without reassurance that everything would be okay. If one looked upon the survivors around them, they would find that the meager population here was nowhere near what Saint Reginald proudly held as its daily residents. Upon a quick estimation, there were likely no more than two hundred people that survived the capital city's destruction.

After a while, the red knight would make his way out of the medical tent and wipe sweat from his brow, a look of relief across his face even with the grim situation. He'd look towards the royal tent for a moment with a sharpened glare, and then look away after shaking his head in disappointment. One look at him could tell he was decently ranked in the Magic Knights - at the highest ranks, one could request personal enchanted armor rather than following the regular dress code of the Magic Knights' uniform. He walked with a confident gait towards one of the many campfires being ignited, seeing that it was dying, and raised his palm out towards it from a few feet away. Concentrating. After another moment, a small puff of fire came out after some clearly strenuous effort on his part, clearly having put in work to get such a minor spark to blast out. Regardless, it was enough to ignite the flames once again, and the campfire burned the strongest of any that was set up at that moment.

The man would then sit down cross-legged next to the campfire, and follow its dancing embers. A few people gathered around as well, seemingly comforted by the presence of a Magic Knight near them rather than guarding the king. He'd pull a package of dry meat out of one of his pockets while conversing with the various citizens.

Elsewhere, one could take note of the royal tent and see that, with Magic Knights funneling out one by one and staying in formation once outside, some kind of major announcement was about to be made. His Highness, King Reginald Lowick XI, started to make his way out of the tent with his head held high. He would give the camp a few minutes to settle down, giving even the peasants their time to calm their heartbeats in the presence of such a glorious king that was also so close to them now. Being a king of good heart and stalwart leadership, he would even allow the commoners and the rabble to finish their conversations before continuing, waiting for all to be silent like the considerate ruler he was.