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Westfenster's Great Hall has the highest vaulted ceiling you've ever experienced. Your eyes immediately lift up past the purple carpets and elegant tapestries, drawn up the long columns to the apex of the domed ceiling, shrouded in darkness at its peak. Light slips into the room through a whole host of yellow glass windows on the building's face, but they are as candles in a cavern for their ability to actually brighten the room. The Hall would be imposing enough through sheer architectural magnitude; as it is, with the trappings of decadence and richness on the floor and a canopy of shadows above, you give an involuntary shudder for all the real foreign dignitaries who make Brenton's acquaintance first through this imposing display.

"Bandochel?"

You're startled earthward to hear someone call you by name in this place. A woman of middle age approaches you, with short-cropped hair beneath an onion-shaped velvet hat. She sports breeches and a doublet, as many of the heralds of any persuasion do, but her demeanor is that of one of higher status than the average announcer of dignitaries.

"'Tis I," you respond with a nod, not inclined to cleverness in the instant.

"I anticipated you might enter this way," she says as she walks. "Wishing to see the place as an outsider might, on your first day."

"I've seen barns that could stack four abreast in this place," you say.

She affirms with her grin. "Welcome to Westfenster."

Onward