He had seen the crowd gathered in the courtyard, still milling about and gossiping excitedly at the rarefied company who had just emerged from the dirigible. Handy chewed on the inside of his mouth, biting back a muttered curse. He had been hoping to not immediately push his way through a crowd of easily frightened courtiers, servants, and far too many guards than would ordinarily be warranted. He’d much rather have made his way into the castle unseen and perhaps, if not immediately, make his way to the king, then find a room to rest in until his Majesty was ready for him. Tired and exhausted, a part of him was still not even sure any of this was real. Handy crushed that part under a mountain of determination to not show any sign of wavering. Not to his exhaustion, not to his illness, and certainly not to any paranoia and delusions born of anxiety. Above all else, the one thing holding him back from marching straight into the castle was a very simple, if somewhat selfish concern.