For the most part, people just seemed to be pretty busy.  A few people balked at the bear the same way people had subtly listened to the bardic song, but those who weren't busy with particular tasks for the festival were getting good and drunk tonight so that they could celebrate the festival tomorrow.  Apparently being hung over was part of the tradition.<br/><br/>The old prophet took a few moments to look up to the bard, but when he spoke, the direct approach seemed to be enough to get through.  Prophets were notorious for having difficulty in their explanations, after all, at least for some types of prophecies.  "Our queen must die from a final act of bliss, granted her by her lover as a true final celebration of life."  Just as it seemed as though this prophet was an exception to that rule, he continued, "You have to understand that he doesn't want your gold.  He doesn't want power.  He doesn't want prestige.  Everyone gets one lifetime, no more, no less."<br/><br/>One of the girls, a servant in a dancer's outfit with a similar slave collar to the one Mandy wore, came up to speak to the bard and put a hand on his shoulder.  "It's best to leave him be," she said.  "The poor man has given the same prophecy for years now.  The queen even tried to uphold it the first year, in case it's one of those prophecies that brings doom in case it's not upheld, but she didn't die."<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Not long after, a shirtless muscled man ran his way up with a look of excitement in his eye.  "This the bear?" he asked, cracking his knuckles.  "I know quite a few interested in bear wrestling.  How does leaving him here tomorrow for the festival and getting one gold coin per wrestle sound to you?  I'll just have to test him out to make sure he's properly capable."<br/><br/>The bear definitely seemed to have a taste for whatever the strange dwarven brew was, and the inn was all too happy to get rid of it for some purpose.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>From the direction of the palace, a carriage was working its way through.  People cleared enough room to let it past, but paid little mind despite the obvious regal nature of the passengers.  Even the driver remained fairly quiet beyond the occasional snap of the reins.<br/><br/>Two people sat in relative comfort, surveying the forming assembly.  The man was quite aged, with enough silvery-gray to his hair and beard that he resembled a morning frost.  Lengthy wrinkles marred his face to give him the look of a worn-out leather bag, and sunken eyes stared out with a world-weary gaze.  There was only one thing that could ever make him look young, and that was the withered woman who had to be twice his age.