From afar, the doors of the castle-palace are flung open, wrapped in yet another multicoloured glow. A column of pony soldiers march out, their expressions a mix of gravely serious and frightened for their lives. They herald the subsequent arrival of the entire group of twelve I’d seen from yesterday, along with the Princes and their honourguards. But instead of being in a group, they were surrounding and moving a large, flatbed cart, tense as a spring and ready to act at the slightest provocation.