Alva
*When the letters of the day were written, the fire burned low, and the eyes of King Astalios were heavy enough for sleep, there remained only one task before the beginning of the next day - an incident report that seemed connected to an encounter he'd had in the Greenheart. One orc was a coincidence - given that the orc was from Dazvaz, and not a citizen of Alynthi.

Two was concerning.

Though he'd been dispatched, there was a small investigation he needed to conduct - leaving no stone unturned was the best way to proceed, though it undoubtedly took the most effort. One man's attention could only split so many ways. Delsandra and her antics in Thyseer, the eye turned towards the border in Dazvaz, Alyus and his ilk in Gantrick, Matron Dhakashira in Lazaroth and her knowledge of his secrets, this Catalyst and Devourer... 

Anthron.

Rest was a commodity for a man that had little time in the day - and Astalios had quickly become such a man in the time since his ascension. How his father had dealt with the workload, he had never known - but he supposed he was to find out through experience. Perhaps it was because his father spared only an hour for physical practice a day. 

Regardless, as he sat exhausted at his desk, he pulled himself upright to await the next entrant, making sure that he was presentable. His armor shivered for a moment to shake off any dust or impurity, polishing itself to ensure a fresh shine. His crown re-seated itself on his head, the antlered circlet raising and lowering to reset its position. Even in front of his guard complement, there was an image to maintain, a set of duties to fulfil.

This was no different. The world did not stop because of the current goings-on, and neither did training. A squire of one of his royal guard needed cultivation like any other project of his - and though she had performed well in basic training and came with her own recommendations for the high post, he was not going to let her go untested.*

_ _
*The recent upheaval had meant a rechecking of the wards and guard complement around the castle, ensuring that they were alert and well-coordinated. For that task, he had designated some of his royal guard. The squire should first of all have known what was being checked, and secondly understand why they were checking in such places. It was a good chance to gauge her capability, and find room to grow.

Through the second sight granted by his magic he felt her coming - the set of armor she wore, the hammer at her waist. Unlike the servants, who wore simple buckles and livery, she was dressed for her station. She did not bear the full trappings of a knight yet, though. No signet or stamp. He inhaled once, exhaled once, and locked his eyes on the door, waiting for the inevitable knock...*
Dana
With each step Zenith drew toward the King's room, each breath she took was heavy, as she tried to keep herself calm, not letting any anxiety be shown through her. But to say she was struggling was an understatement. She was clenching and unclenching her fists, biting the inside of her mouth, and causing more sores to develop over time. 

If it weren't for the heavy armor she was wearing now, she might have been shaking from nervousness by now. Usually, the guard isn't like this, she was quite composed in most cases, but this was something new, something she had never felt before.

 Was it because of the authority the king held? Was it because of what he could say? She truly didn't know, it could be a thousand different things and she wouldn't have a clue.

Maybe that's a good thing though, maybe she should go into this blind, to learn head-on how to deal with this nervousness, so she could never be nervous again... That was difficult though, *Extremely* Difficult. She could practically feel her heartbeat in her ears, suddenly the armor felt suffocating, and her hammer felt too heavy. She felt all of this because she was finally going to face the king.

Before becoming a true knight, Zenith had no opinions on the king. Koa would ramble about him and say how some of the laws are so restricting, or how he never had the fun he could have like he would when he would go to Lazaroth. She only recently discovered how horrendous they could be. But after joining the military, she had to learn about the king and his ways. Not only that, to meet such a powerful man, to soon be a loyal royal guard to the man, had Zenith nervous beyond all comprehension. 

*'What if I'm too nervous? What if I'm not strong enough? What if I failed these tests?'* Zenith thought all of these to herself, her brain almost being overran by them that she nearly missed the door she was supposed to enter. She stopped right in her tracks and turned her body around, staring at the door tha

T would lead into the King's quarters. She hesitated as she raised her hand and curled her knuckles, just inches away from the door. 

She almost just decided to leave right then and there, but that was a foolish idea, so her knuckles knocked right against the door, three hearty and loud knocks that she was sure the king could hear.
Alva
*A slight pause outside. Perhaps gathering her nerves. Three sharp knocks. She was young, this one, and had not been to war. There were so few within his ranks that had not been bathed in the blood of conflict. It was both a source of comfort and of regret. The blood they had shed together in battle gave him trust and confidence - but the source of the trust could not have been more regrettable.

For every survivor that served him now, there was another dead on a craggy field, never to see the sweetheart he had left, the parents that had wished him well, the friends that shouldered their grief and tried to carry on in their own ways. The image of curling ram's horns graced his mind once again. He knew precisely why his thoughts returned to Temperance every time he thought of trainees, but it took none of the sting from the memories.*

"Enter." *The iron lock unlatched, and the door swung open of its own accord. The king's voice met the knight in a deep baritone that masked his exhaustion with strength, and piercing mud-brown eyes surveyed the guest as she entered the study. Like most rooms in Varilon Keep, it was fashioned of heavy gray granite, meant to serve first and foremost as a bastion of defense. A fireplace roared away opposite a large wooden writing desk that held an assortment of wax sticks in black and gold, a wrought-iron candle holder in the form of a stag, a golden melting stand. An inkwell, stacks of parchment paper, an eagle-feathered quill.

Behind it sat the king himself. The crown of Alynthi, a wreath of beaten gold antlers, sat nestled on waves of black hair. A strong nose and jaw, an olive complexion. Ears that were rounded at their elven points, a build that was entirely too sturdy to be completely elven. A dull gray suit of plate armor wrought in a simple style, with the breastplate transmuted to gold and iron to bear the banner of the kingdom upon the front. A poniard dagger at his waist.*

_ _
*On the battlefield, he had commanded the armies of Alynthi for years, leading them to an ultimately victorious campaign against their western neighbors. At his coronation, he had been a grieving son, wishing for his father to return. Now, it seemed that he had aged years in the time since the crown had sat upon his head. The boy was gone, lost some fourteen years prior. So too was the young man, lost when his father's passing had thrust the responsibility of the crown upon him.

This was what met the eye.*
Dana
The guard did not waste even a second when she heard the king's voice, about to open the door herself. She jolted when the door was flung open, her eyes wide from the suddenness of it. She looked over at the king, silent and still for a moment, before she immediately stood up straight, her hands behind her back. She entered the room, having to step sideways a bit because of her wings, even though they were close together and closed, it was still hard to get places.

Zenith stood a few feet away from the desk, looking at the king and holding eye contact with him. Brown eyes contrasted with her own violet eyes, her hair a similar color. She had darker skin, with blemishes and beauty marks. Her face was soft, and besides the one scar she had on her lip from being careless, it was also smooth. 

It was clear she had just only recently joined the military, not even joining a war or any battles with the lack of scars, and that still look of hopefulness in her eye, one that many men in the army don't have, from what she's seen at least. 

It was like the guard was the opposite of the man, a man who was tired and busy, and a woman who was bright and hopeful, with that light still in her eyes.

Her heartbeat was still going fast though, like it was about to beat out of her chest. She almost could have sworn the king could also hear how fast it was going - even though that wasn't possible. Her throat felt dry, and suddenly it felt like she lost the ability to talk, just staring almost dumbly at the man.

Great first impression.

After what was only a minute, which felt like hours for Zenith, she finally was able to mutter something. "Hello, Your Majesty," She mumbled, while her face was stoic, she was mentally celebrating and patting herself on the back for not stuttering. It was small, but it was a win in her book.

"It is great to finally meet you, I've been excited and also nervous since I got the news that you wanted to see me. I heard that one of the men suggested me for one of the high roles, and I'm greatly honored to even be one of those suggestions! I hope I do not disappoint you." She practically rambled all her words out, and after she finished talking, she gave an awkward smile. This was so much worse than stuttering, she wanted to just dig her head into the ground and hide in it for the rest of her days.