Sanya looked over in the direction that Killick had indicated. For her, Royal Guards or any of the sort of security that tended to accompany nobility wasn't always something that drew questions so much as it faded into the background. They hadn't quite stood out to her the way they must have to Killick. But now that she saw them, she did have to wonder what they were doing at the Queen's College, and why they were filtering the way they were up through the aisles and toward the presenter's stage.
"Nothing small," she decided, sitting up straighter, brow furrowed. Something was about to happen. Good or bad, now, that depended entirely on what came next.
Headmaster von Essen stood tall at the podium, seeing his audience more or less settled in, and tapped it twice to signal for silence, and silence immediately fell--even among the standing commoners packed into the back.
"In the time of war, after the werewolves massacred the Fairisle line and left the nation adrift without clear leadership or lines of communication, it only made sense for the next king to be determined by a pair of individuals who best understood the facts surrounding the war--the Royal General and the Royal Scholar," Oskar said, launching into his preamble with ease, relaxed, even if he noticed the Royal Guards making their approach. "This was a time before the Belmonts established so much of our land's current infrastructure and its learning institutions, like this college. Hundreds of years have passed since that time, and we have learned and grown as a nation. We have more than empty larders and traditions and fears of wolves in the night.
"We have knowledge to assess, as a whole people, the wisest course of action," he continued. "Instead of two men who are today admittedly still among the most well-informed making the decision for our nation, instead of blood lines leaving our nation's future to the whims of whatever individual happens to be conveniently born of the right parents at the right time, we could have a committee of voices, each expressing the needs of their regions, all working together to make this vital decision.
"Our options should not be limited to a child prince, a child bride, an unborn baby, a lost princess who could very well be dead."
This was about when the Royal Guards came up to the edge of the stage and their leader said something more or less inaudible from where Sanya and Killick were seated. Lord von Essen stepped away from the podium and turned to the guards to offer a reply, also too soft to be heard, only to step back and audibly project across the auditorium, using no apparent aid beyond its natural amplifying architecture.
"It seems, my good people, that I am being arrested for treason!" he declared with a broad sweep of his arm toward the guards, who began to scramble up onto the stage after him.
Sanya sat up straight now, eyebrows furrowing for a flash before she smoothed out her expression and put on her best mask of nobility. "But, who exactly would order this arrest, when there's no king? One of the dukes and duchesses? This doesn't make sense..."