P A L A C E E N T R A N C E
S O U T H E R N J E W E L
K R O N - N E S I S
"We were fighting in a state of realism, sir, without our proper equipment. It is rather difficult to not get hit when you have armor as heavy as mine on your shoulders." The Dark Knight already knew Illyarion wouldn't take this as an excuse, but at least wanted to try get her point across anyway. His armor wasn't nearly as heavy as hers, and while he surely would still be quite mobile even with her armor, it wouldn't be enough to stop the former mercenary completely. "That isn't to say I won't master how to not get hurt one day, it's just I need more practice."
Maryvale made sure to silence herself as the princess began reading the note, as attentive as ever. Unlike her mentor, she actually listened to the apothecary, though she knew it wouldn't take long for Sir Myriavin's patience to go out the window. Azymn shot a disapproving glance at Illyarion and sighed, before attempting to remedy the situation. "Please don't try to roughhouse my future doctor too much. I'm sure the Grand Marshal will explain. We shouldn't keep him waiting any longer, so let us make haste, yes?"
It was only a short walk to the armory, with it being by the entrance of the palace itself. Inside, a variety of chests, stands, and lockers filled the room, some displaying weapons and armor, some with labels and the contents within. One such locker, titled "Retainer Maryvale", housed the suit of armor the Dark Knight had become accustomed to, as well as her personal blade. Azymn had already collected her own battle dress, and as such, was in need of only her blade: Consaire.
The two went into a private room to help Maryvale get the armor on, leaving the rest to do as they would for about ten minutes. As they emerged, the two looked like they were ready for combat, capable, and prepared.
"The Grand Marshal will likely be waiting in the War Room nearby." Azymn spoke with clarity and conviction, as though a general giving orders. She certainly could pull it off, if need be. "If not there, then likely the Marble View above. I take it everyone is prepared?"
Nods all around.
"Very well. Then let us be off."
The group of individuals who followed the princess were now quite large indeed, from Illyarion's band of Ravenguard to those who protected the palace personally, Maryvale included. All followed after their guide without question, and all would eventually answer to the Grand Marshal, Azymn herself included.
The Grand Marshal, as Illyarion and Maryvale both knew him, was a wise man with a gifted sense for battle tactics. To those he saw potential in, he gave chances, and in return they would give loyalty to him first, the kingdom second. Many under his command didn't necessarily respect Kron-Nesis nor its royalty, but would live and die by the words of the Grand Marshal. He, unlike many other commanders, was kind, hence his eventual (and some would call inevitable) rise in rank. Though some would consider this a weakness, his gifted sense of tactics has always lead to an outcome of very few casualties, even if it would mean a lesser victory.
Under his guidance, Kron-Nesis' army has grown the largest it has been in decades, with formidable warriors filling each and every rank. Though not entirely due to him alone, it is in no small part that the Grand Marshal's influence has been a contributing factor in this growth.
And now, Azymn and her company were right outside the War Room, where such a man would be waiting.
The swift knock came not from Azymn, but from Maryvale, her covered glove making a rather audible rap. She added: "Father? If you are in there, it is I, Maryvale. We have come at your request, and include company."
... There was silence.
"You may come in."
Maryvale gave a nod to those present, and the doors swung open...
Before them stood the Grand Marshal, the one man who oversaw every military action Kron-Nesis would make. He stood overlooking a map of the entire continent, pins and figures set about to symbolize what one could only assume were real units. He seemed to be looking over the map, and began shifting pieces, apparently deep in thought.
He looked up for a moment, then back down at the map.
"I see you're not alone, Maryvale. Good."
He looked over the map some more, gently rubbing his head, as though he had a headache. Finally he looked up to address the group, picking out faces of particular interest. "Illyarion, how have you been doing, friend? I hope the winds have been keeping you alive and well, as well as your Ravenguard. It is good to have you." His attention turned to Pox. "And the renowned apothecary. Pox, I believe?"
There was a pause.
"There's no need to hold him hostage. He has been vouched for."