The parties all rose from the table and weapons were given back to their original owners. Then they proceeded to leave the room, the Maruban Jarl leading the way along with two guards, the Archon, her life guard and the Láseman. Lord Virion, suddenly much happier, having his bow restored to his back, treaded by Ara’s side with light steps. After them came the councilmen, and the remaining guards present. Bogdán was carrying the documents and records from the meeting and talking quietly in rayiti to his scribe.
When the group emerged from the tunnel in which the spiral staircase was carved, they were blinded by a dazzling sunlight, which had been mostly obscured in the dim chamber they’d spent their morning in. Valdemar steered them straight onwards from here, leading them westwards and towards the grand stairs down to the dining hall. As they moved past the long row of windows adorning the wall to their right, they could see more clearly the bright day which lay outside. A meek wind made the pins of the gargantuan pine tree in the gardens rustle gently, marking the still day the townsfolk were experiencing, who had no knowledge of what had been discussed mere hours prior.
At the end of the corridor, they came to the stairwell, which they descended, to indeed find themselves in the dining hall. All was empty now, save the pair of guards on the opposite end of the long hall, who stood by the doors leading out into the shady inner yard.
It did take them a good while, but eventually they once again found themselves standing at the lower gates of Fehérvár, where the very same carriages in which they had arrived there had pulled up. They looked more magnificent this time around, the heavens appearing to have dried up for a good while now. As the pines rustled above, their greenery serving as a harsh contrast to the rock wall behind, the light flickered on the golden details and making the embedded phrase shine a light crimson shade. “Hope is last indeed!” Valdemar thought, as he took a seat with the other heads of state and the keelish bodyguard.
It wasn’t only the weather that displayed Svetla’s pleasure on this particular day; their journey throughout the city was undisturbed, save the occasional bypassing pedestrian. Nothing of importance was said in the lead carriage until they approached the Dunír crossing. Then, Valdemar looked out the window and, seeing where they were, addressed the archon. “The keelish soldiers from the Battle of the Neck who are to accompany you home should still be by the training facilities, ma’am. We are soon at a crossroad, and we could go either way, so it falls to you really. Do you wish to visit them there and give them something of a morale increment before heading home, or would you rather await them by the landing site?”