The Vor'rossi envoys reach the capital city of Titoñn after months of crossing country. A carriage of crimson and gold baring the crest of houseEvarlar (a golden griffin on a red field). It's being pulled by six grey horses accompanied by Vor'rossi knights and squires and some servants. It bore the Crown's representatives, in person of the crown prince; Deltmire (The eldest of the Vor'rossi king's five children and an eager young man of three and twenty). By his side, Lucas Evarlar (The baron of Lockwood, a learned man in his early forties with a wisp of a mustache and curly brown hair). Their retinue arrives at the gates. "Halt!" A tall guardsman bellows, he's garbed in the standard uniform of a low ranked Titioussi Centry (A leather armour with a simple kettle helmet for protection and grey tunic and high boots). "What business have you in the capital, Vor'rossi" he says the word like filth not fit for his tongue as one of the Vor'rossi knights dismounts and walks over to him. "Was our arrival not told to these peasants, cousin?" the prince says to the baron within the carriage. "I can't be sure, my prince". "Oh, the envoys. We were expecting you almost a week ago" the tall guardsman says. "We had to take a detour, the ice lands are not safe we were told, we had to go around" the Vor'rossi knight says boldly. "I see, well, you're holding up the line. Trevor!, they're good to go" he gives a thumbs up to his colleagues dressed in identical uniform. They wave the carriage pass and only then does their attention alas falls to the greatTitoñnwalls. Monstrosities, over a hundred feet high. The wall's structure is a marvel of engineering, with towering stone blocks fitted together with precision. Watchtowers punctuated the wall's length, providing strategic vantage points for archers and guards. The wall's height and thickness makes it nearly impenetrable to invaders. The prince looks on in awe, it's his first time ever to see the imperial capital of Titoñn. They approach the gates. The city's gates are grand and heavily fortified, adorned with intricate carvings and symbols of runemagic, specifically, protective engravings that would triple the wall's and gate's density when activated. The gates are guarded day and night by heavily armed men, who scrutinized every traveler and merchant seeking to enter or leave the city. The Vor'rossi knight once again dismounts and hands a parchment baring the royal seal, the new guardsman breaks it and reads, his face expressionless. "Open the gates, let them through!". The gates open, but it's not the massive main gate that looks like a doorway fit for the gods but a smaller sized gate that is being used to let merchants and travellers in. Within the walls is the lower parts of the city of Titoñn where lowborn peasants, thieves, whores, blacksmiths of a lesser social standing sell their trade and live. This part of the city is littered with houses cramped together, made of thatch and wood. It's streets are narrow but set with cubblestone. The lowborn populous of the city are in a way, controlled. There's no fighting or riots allowed in the city, no littering either. Across sides of the roads in column of twelve, Imperial guardsmen patrolls, these are of a different order from the Centrys at the gate. They're clad in brigandine armour with the Imperial crest emblazoned on its chest (A golden sunburst behind a black castle. The sigil of House Godkin). They continue their immersion into the city, until the buildings around begins to change. They're more standard, more well-kept. "The district for the middle class" the baron says. "Yes!, you're right. It's like the whole city has changed in minutes. How did you know, have you been?" The prince asks. "Once, with my father when I was just a boy. It's changed since then but still, I can never forget those moments I spent with my old man" he sighs. The carriage stops, they've arrived at a checkpoint, actually it's another gate (TheHighgate, the people of Titoñn have named it, partially because from this point on is where the highborn of the city dwells). "We received word via ateleport from the main gates that the envoys were here, I've been sent to escort his majesty. I am ser Layman Godswift" he bows his head in respect as he addresses the prince. "Prince Deltmire, I ask you leave your retinue here and proceed to the Imperial war estate in this chariot that Lord Dorran Godbourne has provided, you may take but five men with you". "The war estate?, not the palace?" The baron asks. "The prince of Vaggot sends his regrets but is indisposed at the moment, the emperor's lord of war will be the one to address you this afternoon". Without giving them a chance to ask any further questions he walks away and mounts his horse. The gates open and they pass through. The inner city seems an entirely different place, with great stone buildings towering overhead, it's streets are orderly with wide paved roads, street lights, fountains and gardens, luxury shops, private chapels, and banquet halls with a change to it's atmosphere. On the north side of it is easily the largest building in this city. A cathedral of the faith of Eulo where the holy men of the faith preach the gospel. It's a massive construct, easily over seventy feet high and occupys over eight acres of land with an enormous statue easily twenty feet tall, it's the statue of King Oren V Godkin (Oren the Holy). Carriages and chariots designed in lavish style, each carrying the sigil of the house of the noble they carried criss-cross the roads. They arrive at the warlord's estate, it's more of a stronghold than an estate with great stone walls, sturdy steel gates and towering watch towers. Within, the expanse of it's land is vast, again it seems the city is nowhere to be seen. Guards and knights alike streak the estate marching left and right and shouting orders of drills. Ser Layman approaches the chariot "We're here lords, I'll show you to his eminence's office". "What of my men?" The prince asks, "Worry not of the rest of your retinue prince Deltmire, they're in the Olsor Barracks, there they will stay until your departure. This way". The prince and baron follows the knight, five of their own knights behind them. Within the war estate is a mansion of space and rooms with hundreds of men and a few women walking around, off to some urgent duty. They pass corridors bustling with individuals under the employ of the warlord, up flights of stairs to a floor built within the Grog tower (A 40 feet high slender tower built with rough hewn stones and connected to the main estate through a vertical stairway raised from within the building and connected almost halfway to the tower). Within, the grog tower seems larger than it looks outside, an effect of spacial sorcery. "Here" ser Layman says as they walk into a room with no doors. The room has a simple yet elegant decor. A sturdy desk and chair made from moaktree wood dominates the room, it's where a calmly young lady with dark hair and smooth skin sits reviewing documents, drafting letters, and managing the lord's schedule. "Lady Meridith" Ser Layman says softly, "M'lord!. But he's not expecting you or did he change his schedule himself?" She asks ser Layman with a cute smile on her face, ser layman's face reddens. He clears his throat "Um no, they are the envoys sent by the Vor'rossi country to meet with our lord", "oh are they?, they're a week behind their expected arrival" "I know" he glances at them. "I must inform m'lord of your arrival, please excuse me. Oh, you can take your seats right over there" she gestures to cushions on the other side of the room. After half an hour she emerges from the lord's office, they're all seating. "His eminence will see you now, uh without your knights". The prince waves his men to stay and him and the baron enters the office.
