The halls in Grand Duke's palace were nothing to scoff about; though old as they were, where they choose to meet in the Collection Hall, was one of the many claims to fame of the wealth, power and beauty of Connlaoth's dominant ruling family. Though power often changed hands, as was the Connlaothian way (for blood was power, the Grand Duke's seat was largely comprised of royal blood being voted in, rather than birthed)- but a strong enough leader could carry on his family line if he did remarkably well.
Calent Allarrick was still too new on the throne, his family line not one here on permanence, but out of the appointed rights from all of fellow blood mates whom ruled the duchies, or less powerful land claims. Though he was here for over a decade by now, he had easily made his mark. The Collection Hall would be proof to that. Each ruler had his own sculpted figure and placard describing his reign. The newest, Grand Duke Allarrick's, was made, for the first time, not only out of the well polished marble like the rest, but it had been artistically crafted in his likeness in color as well. From the brilliant green of his eyes and accented decore, to the rich, leather crafted boots of his feet- It was almost as if the Grand Duke himself were standing there in the room. Though his placard left much to be desired, his reign was still enduring, and normally more was added after the ruler was sent in his grave.
In the center of this rounded, meeting-hall chamber was a map of the whole of Connlaoth, made out of millions of small, polished stones, cut and fit perfectly together to make it the single, grandest map in all of the known world. (After all, there were real diamonds, rubies, sapphires even, among the marble and obsidian used to craft the peace); and each time the country changed, the floor itself was cut out and reset to reflect the changes- after all, it was only respectful to those in powers to praise the current shape of the duchies, rather than keep preserved the structure as it may have been in rulings past. No, to see the map and it's chronological changes, one could simply visit the many maps in the Palace's library; a library of which grew significantly during Calent's reign (for he was known more for his quiet, scholarly ways, over any personal war victories). It is probably for this reason some still scoff at the idea Calent has done so well with his war efforts, but those are only whispers and no tongues would ever make claim to having said.
The Collection Hall also held the ashes of famous war heroes of times past, set against the burning lanterns that kept the hall lit. Though it was mid day, and the light from the ceiling tall windows kept the place bright, they were none the less well maintained and dancing. The Hall also was connected by several hallways that came into it as if it were some center pointed star, and only one such hallway was left barracaded by an equally massive door of heavy wood and proud, sculpted paint.
The war hounds, war houses and Ansgar himself were etched into it- a frightful figure done in the style several centuries old by now, but still grand and beautiful in detail. Though curious as it might be, there was a woman figure near the bottom, half hidden in floral detail, that has since become obscured with the ages, and whose identity was never truly known. But the image was pushed aside as the door cut open, creaking like the mighty jaws of a sleeping beast. Darkness lay behind it, allowing the bright light from the Collection Hall to shine in- first on his eyes, a piercing blue, like the winter sky, then glinted off the thick cut of his sculpted armor and sharp whiteness of his hair. Though blonde like the woman before him, his hair was so pale it rivaled the high clouds of the sky, and as he stormed forward, those ice blue eyes never once leaved her form.
And his war boots echoed throughout the chamber as his arm rested on the hilt of his sheathed blade, and a long cape fluttered behind him, dragging along plush carpet that contrasted the dark blue colors that accented him.
"Major Kilandre," came his voice as he halted but paces before her, and rigidly, he bowed; but was quick to come off of it. "Your journey had been well?" His voice echoed in the chamber as the pair stood, two figures of war in a room that honored two of such well birth and distinction. "I know the roads to Connlaoth are not well." It was embarrassing to admit any revolts still existed so near to the capital, but the last month proved to surprise even him- and irritate him more than anything else. It was more than evident in his demeanor, his tone.
