The pair walked down a rather sparsely populated area of the castle, eventually coming to a colonnade bridge that arched over one of the exterior quadrangles of the castle towards the library tower. The king had yet to speak a word, and Handy dared not say anything at that point. The snow was falling gently, the landscape of the city below pristine, nestled astride the river and nested between the twin mountains, marred only by the innumerable columns of smoke arising from thousands of chimneys and fireplaces, even during midday. The king slowed as they crossed the bridge.