Khehlun finished the meeting off with a mention of the High Steward, Lord Hunya, who coordinated the logistics and other managerial arrangements. After informing them that they were to follow his orders as well, within reason, he dismissed them to their posts.
Yanis watched everyone, as soon as Khehlun was gone, hurry themselves through the doorways and disperse into the corridors of the palace.
Through this, his mind lingered on Khehlun's words about the Empire and the coronation that was to come.
'Those assassins were not sent here for no reason.' The remarkably vivid memory came back to him. And he found himself feeling possessed by a foreign yet natural instinct that drove his thoughts, and his eyes held a deep, inexplicable sharpness to them that even caught the attention of some of the guards who glanced at him as he made his way. 'And they weren't just here to kill the Emperor. They wanted something.'
The mention of this conceptual, or potentially physical object or mystical thing that was the 'soul' of the Empire, was what blossomed the line of thought. Perhaps he was only speaking in metaphor, however, in a mystical world such as this, it would not be wild to imagine that there truly was some substance to the ideas behind what Khehlun said.
And, as much as it was certainly baseless, he felt it in his gut that he was on the right track. That was, at least one more thing to thank Khehlun for, besides, or course, the fact he had, relieved him somewhat of the foul stench.
'That throne room…' The vision had shown him that the final stand of Alonellónë's people happened in that very chamber. And piecing it together with what Khehlun had said, 'what they want, if it's not the emperor's head itself, it must be related to that room…' Yanis' hand raised, and he ruffled through his hair, grumbling silently. He was dissatisfied, however at the same time, he was faintly reconciled that he had gained some direction. 'This doesn't help me figure out what exactly to do though…'
"But, at least I know now," He soliloquised, "that I have a few days to figure this out."
Allowing his thoughts to wander, he headed for his assigned patrol route. Apparently, it wound through the upper eastern wing, as a circuit through well-lit passages with windows that looked out over interior courtyards that were - surprisingly - on those same upper floors and doors that led to storage rooms, administrative chambers, and he even passed by the private quarters of the butlers.
That was the only part of the long speech that he had really paid attention to other than, of course, the explanation of the sanctum.
Yanis was only vaguely familiar with the palace as it was, so he didn't quite know where he was going and just wandered in the direction he felt might be right.
Eventually, he came to one smaller interior courtyard where he met the High Steward.
Hunya, who was pleasant-faced and wizened, with a slight lean to his posture, stood with a younger servant.
The boy looked barely sixteen, holding a leather record book, and frowning at the pages.
"It is not complicated, Petran," Hunya said, reaching over to turn the record book around. "Household expenses go in the left column. Ceremonial expenses go on the right. If it is part of an official function, for example, formal dinners, court sessions, diplomatic receptions and other such formalities that you think would be tiring for helpers to have to help facilitate, it is ceremonial. Everything else, is household."
The young teen nodded, but still looked a little uncertain, and herein only from the look of Petran, Yanis supposed that he might be some kind of unfortunate assistant that was being groomed for the future.
He silently felt that if there was anything that might have helped his understanding, if anything did at all considering the confusion on his countenance, it was the description of ceremonial things as the annoying ones. It would have certainly been helpful to him.
Hunya had pulled a small copper coloured coin from his pocket and set it on the left page.
"Household." He moved it to the right page, "Ceremonial." He returned the coin to his pocket, "If you are genuinely unsure, make a note at the bottom, and I will sort it later. When I started under Lord Tarelis, I spent my first months of rise putting wine purchases under Ceremonial just because they sounded formal."
Petran smiled, relieved, "Many thanks, Lord Hunya," The young teen nerved the words out, then hurried off at Hunya's faint hum.
Thereupon, Yanis approached.
"Excuse me, sir." His voice drew Hunya's attention, and the wizened man eyed him evenly for a moment before giving way to a faint smile. And Yanis continued, "I am looking for the east wing. Which direction is it in?"
For a few moments, Hunya's face remained uneven, then it sobered, and his brows faintly raised in realisation.
"You must be one of the hired dogs of war?"
"Yes, Sir." Yanis creaked through a slight bow.
A levity lifted Hunya's voice, and his smile, more adorned with appreciation came again, "Apologies, for the signage is terrible in this area. The palace was built in three stages over many centuries, so there are a number of areas that do not quite connect logically."
"Is that so?" he asked simply.
He heard the man hum in acknowledgment, and a smile more adorned without appreciation came again as he pulled the small coin from his pocket again and played with it between his fingers.
"You will take your second door past the fountain down there, then your first left, and finally your seventh right and head straight down to the staircase that will lead you up," He gestured towards the colonnade on the northwest side of where they stood, pointing with his hand that held the coin.
"Also, if you are ever in a hurry through your patrol without the time to make it for meals, there is a servant's passage behind the tapestry in the third corridor along that straight path. It will save you twenty minutes off the route to the kitchens." He laughed faintly and concluded, "I am sure you will learn of the other shortcuts soon enough but that should be the most relevant to you for the night shift coming."
Yanis nodded faintly, and the brief curiosity on what might be eaten in an age so clearly far gone, not to mention in a mystical world. However, the thought did not stick. Whatever appetite that he might have had or could have had, was moulded away by that meeting room.
Herein, as he briefly wondered to himself, Hunya was already beginning his stride to leave, and so only to maintain appearances, he said, "Thank you, I will remember that."
"Have a good evening." Hunya said without glancing back to him.
Yanis half turned his figure to the man as he walked back the direction that he had come, not immediately leaving. He watched him cross the courtyard for few seconds, unable to fully articulate what he was feeling. But he certainly knew one thing, and his nose itched again.
'He smelled good.'
Then he turned on his heel, heading for the fountain.
It didn't take him too long to find his area, so he began his rounds.
Thoughts about his scenario distracted him quite wholly, so he hardly noticed he had completed three rounds. Or was it four? He couldn't quite remember.
By now, he went through an interior upper floor courtyard that connected the eastern and central wings.
The daylight, at this time, came in at a low angle, stretching the shadows of the pillars across the courtyard stone.
Unlike his rounds before, now Khehlun was there, and so was Quintin.
They were standing near a weapons rack against the far wall, with practice blades on the stone bench beside them.
Quintin held one loosely, and his posture suggested they'd been at it for a while.
His sleeves were pushed up, and there was a redness across his knuckles, with licks of sweat over his countenance.
Yanis immediately recognised the visage. His gaze sharpened into cold focus, and thankfully, neither of them saw him, or if they did, neither acknowledged him. Otherwise, he worried in hindsight worried that his attention might cause an issue. Khehlun seemed far too particular to let him off if he were to catch him looking at him wrongly, or if he were to seem insolent and audacious.
He slowed his pace through the colonnade along the courtyard's edge, maintaining distance.
Khehlun did not hold a blade. He stood beside Quintin with his arms crossed, and he was gesturing toward his leading foot in correction. Then he touched his elbow, adjusting the angle, and there wasn't any resistance from the young Emperor as he suffered the adjustments.