Nittel Royal City was not particularly large. The two men had ridden along its main street for barely half an hour before the palace gates came into view.
Four royal guards in Full Plate stood on either side of the cast-iron gates, carrying swords and shields. Behind their visors, their eyes swept warily over the two men.
Even though Novak was a veteran Kingdom Knight with long years of service, and Renato was his only companion, the guards still did not let them straight through.
The guard captain stepped forward with one hand resting on his sword. Politely but firmly, he asked them to wait in the garden outside the palace while he sent someone inside to announce their arrival.
Renato dismounted and handed his reins to the groom who came to meet him, surveying his surroundings without drawing attention.
The guards at the garden entrance stood ramrod straight, their eyes fixed on the visitors without the slightest lapse in vigilance.
Whatever the situation might have been in actual history, in this distorted space, the recently crowned king, Pure White, had clearly secured the complete loyalty of the royal army.
Not only the royal guards, but ordinary city guards, barefoot peasants, Kingdom Knights... people from every stratum of the Royal City seemed full of praise for this mage king, while having quite a few complaints about the old king.
From what Renato had learned, Pure White's brother, the old king Nittel III, had officially lost his crown only a year ago.
Power had inertia. People habitually romanticized past rulers. Even in the extraordinarily liberal Southern Principalities of today, for instance, quite a few noble factions still plotted to restore their former sovereigns, hoping to crown a king and rebuild a kingdom to put an end to what they saw as