Calf was lost in thought till the moment they got to the palace grounds. A single wide corridor led from the edge of the palace grounds to the large doors that marked the entrance to the King's hall. The whole delegation continued down that corridor and now that their destination was in sight, the silence only added to the suspense. Calf was now so tense he could feel his calves tightening their way to a cramp but despite this, he walked on with even steps. The passage was long and narrow, and the only decorations were the pillars and statues of the previous kings of Taurreland. The statues were each made of different types and combinations of stone, with only one of the statues in gold. Unsurprisingly that 'honor' was not for the current king, given how their society had been built on the force of arms. It instead belonged to the Gilded King, The Chiseled First, whose likeness was fully molded in Gold. The body was flanked by 2 red pillars to its left and right which were a head shorter than his figure. It wielded a huge silver axe and not a single scar could be seen on its muscular form.

To the masses, he was a mythic king who ruled by force, thrived in battle, and despite all the battles he'd participated in, remained unscathed till the time of his departure. To the ruling class, however, his true story was made known to them as a precautionary tale and they were sworn to secrecy to preserve his public image. Only they were privileged enough to know the legend for what it truly was, just an ideal for their class to aim for. The Gilded King in truth had ruled for a very short term, his bloodthirsty nature the cause of many conflicts the Taurs were still embroiled in till today. Taur lands had indeed grown exponentially under his rule but continual mistreatment of the vassal nations whose fealty he'd suborned by the threat of extermination had led to The Unification, vassals under one banner to remove the insatiable tyrant.

As his dying wish, the king had requested to be immortalized in gold, the result the statue that now stood in the corridor of kings. Beyond the statue's proportions, it stood out from the rest in its positioning. Unlike the other statues that lined the corridor walls, facing another statue on the opposite wall, the Gilded King had no peer. He stood in the center of the corridor and greeted all who did the Walk of Reverence, face to face. Only the red pillars occupied the positions to the left and the right of him, and these pillars extended far enough to veil the rest of the figures from view. This was done to ensure all would pay respects to the Gilded King before seeing to any other. To aid with this, the floors were inscribed with light dampening runes to force everyone close enough to the king's likeness they wished to pay their respects to.

Other less flamboyant but still rather gaudy statues decked the halls to the hall entrance. Calf ignored them as he broke from his escorts, heading straight for the one closest to the door. This was the King's statue. Like a ritual, he repeated the actions he'd gotten used to over the years, kneeling in front of the statue before looking up in reverence. It was a mash of contrasts split into halves by a golden vertical band. Each half's front matched the back of its counterpart. The delicate balancing acts on either side were meant to represent the consistent growth Taurreland had experienced under his rule, as well as the King's fairness. All the materials constituting this work of art were inexpensive relative to the other gaudy statues, which the King's detractors often latched onto and maliciously interpreted as 'cheap' or 'of less qualification'. Calf thought this represented practicality instead, but even if he'd shared his views, no one would have cared to listen.

He'd been mulling over this the last time he had encountered LongHorn as well. They hadn't crossed paths per se but had been around the same location at the same time. At that time LongHorn had been getting an orientation tour and they had gotten to the Walk of Reverence. New members of all capital corps were required to walk the King's corridor, paying their respects to and learning about the history of their Kings. Since old times, historians had been discouraged from voicing any of their views on rankings of past and present kings as this usually opened the floor to criticism on the current king, weakening his rule. However, the current King wasn't big on the tradition of suppression and had relaxed the grip on the throats of those who would voice their views, be they negative to his leadership. Though most still adhered to the old Law or met the King's sincerity with their own, there was never a shortage of those who would still peddle malicious views whenever the chance arose. Giving the tour that day was one such, a zealot who worshiped strength above all else and thus wasn't a fan of their measured king.

"Though his reign is indisputably the longest and most prosperous, it is also the most peaceful, resulting in the low ranking we see illustrated in this corridor. Our nation has thrived on conquest since the beginning so though he has enriched us, some may feel his... reluctance for battle a shortcoming", the zealot had lectured.

The corridors were shaped to funnel out from the main hall. This meant sound traveled towards the main hall being amplified by the different materials lining the corridors. The amplification, coupled with the zealot's enthusiastic pitch had helped deliver his ramblings in clear volume to a ruminating Calf just inside the hall, who listened in with little effort. The king had been on a trip to Griffinhold so the zealot had felt no anxiety in delivering this diatribe. Given it was the king's own words that had removed the threat of an immediate and violent response to such, no guard listening would reprimand him.

Calf had listened on until he could take no more. Seething, he'd gotten up to approach the entryway, seeking to commit the offender's visage to memory. He'd heard multiple variations of this pompous scholar's sentiments over the years and mentally classified the sources into different categories. He would then pay special attention to those who he deemed both malicious and well-stationed. He'd rather know where the snake hid its head lest it strikes the king unseen. The ignorant and parroting followers were of no consequence. He calmed himself before approaching the double doors, using the calm to mask his emotions lest the offender senses him before he'd ever seen him. He lined his left eye with the gap between the doors and got a good look at the historian and his charges for the tour.