Should We Meet Again

Chapter Seven

If there was one thing Talon could appreciate about Demacia, it was its people's taste for aesthetics. Everything from the outer walls to the Hall of Valor was crafted from immaculate white marble. The entire kingdom radiated order and steadfast devotion to duty. If there were truly such things as absolute good and evil, it was clear Demacia wanted to appear to be the good. Demacia City was the embodiment of this architectural philosophy. The Demacian people had moved mountains to create the grand palaces and temples Demacia City boasted. Enemy or not, the majesty of the Demacian capitol city was nothing to scoff at, even for someone as generally disinterested in such things as Talon. Maybe somewhere in numerous forced conversations with Demacia's nobility during his previous stays here, he had actually come to believe all of the false veneration that came out of his mouth. Whatever the case, architectural perfectionism had afforded his stagecoach a smooth ride into the city without a single bump in the road, and in the end, that was all that really mattered.

"Lord Bertrand," called his stage driver as he slowed the vehicle to a stop, "we've arrived at the Citadel of Dawn. There appears to be an escort waiting for you by the front gate."

"Thank you," he said as he dismounted the stagecoach. "Wait, how do I look?" Talon turned to the stage driver and held out his hands as if to present himself. He was wearing a dark gray justacorps coat accented by a red cravat and accompanied by a black undershirt and a pair of slacks that matched the coat. The outfit in general was rather outdated, but Talon felt it suited him well. Ultimately, the only justification he needed when questioned by his sisters was 'if that insufferable hemomancer can wear them, so can I".

The elderly man piloting the stagecoach closely examined him for a few seconds before coming up with an answer. "Re-tie your hair; it seems to have gotten a bit messy during the ride over here. Other than that, you are presentable."

"Thank you for your services," Talon said as he pulled the band out of his brown hair. Normally, he would let his hair down and simply tie a small portion of it into a tail in the back, but that hardly made for a formal appearance. That being the case, on less casual occasions such as meeting the Demacian king (which happened to be exactly what he was doing), he would simply tie the whole of his hair back into a single low ponytail. He deftly redid the ponytail and departed the stagecoach, approaching the main entrance of the Citadel of Dawn.

"Ambassador Raschallion, I presume?" asked one of the guards. "I'll need your missive of invitation if I'm to let you in."

Talon reached into his coat and pulled out a scroll that was loosely tied by a ribbon, handing it over to the guardsman. He had received this missive at the inner gates of Demacia City. Apparently, the guard staff had been given the missive with instructions to deliver it to him as soon as the king had heard of Talon's plans to serve in Demacia again. Evaine had told him he left a good impression on King Jarvan III, but this was beyond his expectations.

The guardsman unrolled the parchment, reading only the first two lines of the missive and skipping straight to the wax seal at the bottom. "Very good sir, you may pass. I would take this time to remind the ambassador that punishments for uncouth behavior or actions in the Citadel of Light are far graver than they otherwise would be. Do mind yourself while inside."

"Of course." Talon walked through the massive double doors that were opened before him, stepping into the massive interior of Demacia's royal palace. A few dozen aristocrats dotted the throne room, conversing among themselves and drinking to their hearts' delight. Under normal circumstances, Talon would have tried to nonchalantly blend in with the crowd, observing the crowd and getting a general feel for the room and its occupants, but the opening of impossibly heavy doors tends to draw the attention of people nearby. Consequently, nearly everyone in the room shot him a glance, even if only for a moment, to see who had entered, the king included. The man was getting on in his years, but his eyesight was apparently still good enough to identify Talon from quite a distance. He quickly raised a hand to silence the noble he was previously conversing with.