[h3]Ancient Yharnam, ancient Pthumeru[/h3]
And so the four Hunters began to truly venture into ancient Yharnam, traveling past the relatively lightly populated outskirts and into the denser regions, heading east toward the heart of the city: the palace. The three of them that could be noticed – since everyone they met were bidden by the empowered Truth Rune to ignore Ophelia – each drew stares from the crowd for different reasons. With Farren, attention was divided between the remarkable arsenal of weapons he was carrying with him, and his inhuman arms. With Gerlinde there seemed to be some outrage with her choice of attire, and though some seemed appreciative of the display, many also seemed amused with the obvious difficulty she had with carrying her threaded cane, Blessing Blade and new falchion all at the same time. Torquil, unusually, was the one who attracted the most positive attention. With his new body his size was almost comparable to that of true Pthumerians, and he was ruggedly handsome in a way that was refreshingly different from the otherworldly beauty innate to them. It also helped that he was carrying a suitable set of armaments – an axe on his hip, a glaive in his right hand and a shield in his left – that gave off the (rather inaccurate) impression that he was the only out of the three of them that knew what he was doing.
But for as many glances that were thrown at them, no one seemed to object to their presence. The streets were filled with Pthumerians and regular humans alike, clad in garb from different lands near and far. Travelers were here from across great Pthumeru and beyond to celebrate the impending birth of their new prince. Thus the Hunters, despite how distinctive they were, soon barely stood out as the crowds grew thicker and more diverse.
Soon they entered streets where the air was filled with music from countless instruments and the sound of innumerable voices. People chatting casually; people peddling their goods from storefronts or stalls; people laughing and gasping at performing artists of all kinds; people singing and slurring drunkenly as they partook in alcohol or blood. Under the full moon the city was vibrant with life, with everything brimming with movement, noise and color.

The densely populated streets only made traversing ancient Yharnam all the slower, which meant that traveling any distance was a time-consuming affair... and the distances to travel in a city this immense were not small. Every now and then they would be able to catch glimpses of the spires of the palace past the looming structures that lined every street, which told them that even fifteen minutes later that they had only gotten about one third of the way there.

But at that time, something happened.

They all felt it; a strange, brief pulse of some kind like a single resonant tone too deep to hear, but powerful enough to make all of their hearts skip a beat and their bones ache. Irrespective of their interpretation of that phenomenon, all of them felt as though their blood turned to ice, and they were all gripped by a fierce, primal sense of dread even before the voice spoke in their minds.
“[I]The queen's protection just vanished,[/I]” it told them.
Someone nearby screamed in agony. Then multiple someones. And soon, the streets of ancient Yharnam filled with the cries of countless thousands of souls as the moon above seemed to grow bigger, come closer... and turned blood red.
It all happened in but a handful of seconds, and before anyone had any chance to understand what was happening, the violence began. Everywhere they looked, the people who had been celebrating happily moments earlier were now brutally murdering each other with whatever they had available... even their hands and teeth if necessary.

And they, having traveled among the crowd, found themselves completely enveloped in the surge of murder.