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[hr][hr][h2][color=SteelBlue]Karl Müller-Hohenstein[/color][/h2][hr][hr][/center]

The fresh air was a welcome relief, albeit a small one, in the scheme of things. There was still the matter of the stairs one had to traverse in order to leave the Cathedral. At least some thoughtful soul had made them several feet wide during construction, allowing him to descend them one at a time like a toddler learning to walk.

The assembled nobility of Adandion was impressive to say the least and he recognized everyone he laid eyes on from the files he had assembled in the Archives. He might not be able to swing a sword, but his mind was a sharp as it had ever been. It was actually the only thing that didn't regularly cause him pain. 

The stairs passed beneath him. Twelve stairs. Twelve [i]clicks][/i]. At least he didn't trip and eat shit, making an even greater fool of himself, if such a thing was possible. 

He paused at the bottom and leaned on his cane, enjoying the sunshine streamed down on the group. His guards, both women, and Bartholomew, waited patiently within arms reach should he require assistance. It was both annoying and reassuring all at once. 

"M'lord, Duke Torm Draufkrieg of Arbormark is behind you." Bartholomews voice was so quiet that Karl might have missed was he not expecting it.

He turned his head and regretted it immediately as his neck clicked and pain shot through his right eyeball. He forced himself not to react and instead offered a polite nod to the armour plated monolith who was making his way down the stairs. [i]"Big man who will take a lot of killing if it comes to it..."[/i]

"My lord Draufkrieg," The man was almost a spitting image of what Karl would have looked like if it were not for the cruel twist of fate. "How are you?"

The two lords shared a mutual border all the way to the Archgates and had, on more than one occasion, supported local nobility in their blood feuds and campaigns against each other. Karl was not foolish enough to think the big man used his head solely for a helmet rack and knew that any failure to communicate could easily end up with them coming to blows. [i]"Not physically of course, that man could snap in two like a tooth pick."[/i]

"I trust your journey was a pleasant one?" 

[hider=Summary]
[i]Karl spots Torm of Arbormark[/i][/hider]


[@POOHEAD189]