Hello everyone, I mentioned a decent while back that I wanted to update the last timeline I uploaded a few years back as a way to help keep track of the story. However, the last timeline was way back in Year 4, and we are now on Year 10, so it might be a bit overwhelming to just dump all of that information all at once.

So, in order to make things a bit more easy to take in, I am going to try to do it in parts. It would also allow people to point out any mistakes they might notice or suggest any changes, and for me to include sources, certain event orders, and online stories (I will try to edit them in for this post in a moment).

Background Info

• Seasons, for the most part, will each have a duration of 1 year, and not a quarter of a year. This comes from an interview back in 2016 with the creative director at the time, Jason Vanderberghe (https://www.dualshockers.com/for-honor-interview-jason-vandenberghe/). I don't believe we have had any of the writers go back and give us an estimate for how much time passes for every season of the game, so this is what we will be working with.
• There are some exceptions to the first point. For example, the Truce of Wyverndale lasted for 15 years, starting with Hope and ending in Tyranny. There is also a 7 year gap between the seasons in which Black Prior's Riposte and Shadows of the Hitokiri take place.
• The multiplayer, or at least back in 2017, does not take place right after Apollyon's death. It takes place 7 years after the cutscene with Ayu, Holden, and Stigandr according to the Warrior's Den interviewing one of the earlier writers, Ariadne MacGillivray: https://www.youtube.com/live/aKNt0odkhBY (~52:00 and ~01:02:00). Previously, for both timelines, I said this was a gap of 5 years. I can't remember exactly I got this figure from the interview, but when it comes up, that is the figure I will use, unless I or someone else can find it.
• The Cataclysm, the natural disasters that shifted the world of For Honor away from our own, takes place somewhere around the year 1000 and 1100 CE (~53:00 and ~01:07:00 of the interview with Ariadne). I will go with 1000 as Ariadne does mention that it has been around 1000 years since it happened and that the multiplayer (as of season 5) more or less lines up with 2018 IRL (~56:00).

Before The Cataclysm

Until the year ~1000 CE

The Golden Age: While the world of For Honor before the Cataclysm is the same as ours, Wyverndale is currently the only difference between the two.

Before Wyverndale became the utopia it was believed to be, it was at war with a tyrant named Dhespar. According to a legend, it wasn't until Ramiel, the leader of a small band of warriors, made a pact with Kevin the Great Wyvern that Wyverndale was free of Dhespar. This pact granted him immortality so long as the wyvern lived, in exchange for Ramiel's humanity and repeating the ritual of drinking the Wyvern's blood from the Chalice of Immortality every year. With the abilities granted through the pact and the Wyvern, Ramiel was able to defeat Dhespar. He became known as the first Warden, and Wyverndale entered what would be known as the Golden Age.

People from all over the world came to Wyverndale and lived in harmony, some even joined Ramiel's legion to protect the peace, after proving their worth to Ramiel in battle in what is known as the Oath of Wyverndale.

It was many years after the death of Dhespar when Wyverndale met its end, though I believe there are two ways how it could have happened.

• The online story "The Fall of Wyverndale" explained it as warriors in black armor and giants had suddenly appeared and destroyed Wyverndale in a day. They defeated Ramiel's legion and the Great Wyvern, meaning Ramiel could no longer keep his immortality. The battle lasted two days after the city had fallen, until Ramiel defeated all of the invaders. After that, Ramiel disappears from history, with some believing he had died of old age, and others believing died in another battle.
• However, it is also implied in some orders and that same story that Wyverndale fell in the Cataclysm, the knights in black possibly being a reference to one of the game's launch trailer where we see a "Knight" city collapsing during the Cataclysm, with some dark water starting to flood it. The Oath of Wyverndale event had an order that explained some believed Wyverdale collapsed in some natural disaster. Whatever the case may be, the only thing to have survived until the current story is the chalice that Ramiel drank from.

After the Cataclysm

~1000 - 2000 CE

The Effects of the Cataclysm: The Cataclysm was a series of natural disasters that that reshaped the world.

For the Knights, they became splintered and lawless, acting less like protectors and more as warlords and bandits.

For the Vikings, they remained in Heathmoor for a while, but many would leave Valkenheim for the sea later. The few that remained were assimilated by the Knights.

For the Samurai, Japan had sunk and they were likely the last of the original three to arrive in Heathmoor.

The Wu Lin don't have anything or much on how the Cataclysm affected them as the Outlanders (I believe the writers or developers mentioned a sandstorm back when they were revealed with Marching Fire). However, we do know that have had a very long history of smaller kingdoms warring with each other and falling until recently when Gao Lei's managed to become the main empire.

Four of the Outlanders (Medjay, Afeera, Ocelotl, and Khatun) have had very different expereinces with the Cataclysm.

Side Note: In earlier entries to the lore, such as the 2016 website, a lot of the lore for the first three factions has been either changed or retconned. For example:

• The Knights were originally sent by either the "Iron Legions" or the empire to the west to pacify the lands and conquer. I believe, with how we see legions fighting and absorbing each other in the Story Mode, this still happens, just some time after they united under the Unsung Knight.

>They were sent by the Iron Legions to pacify the land. They’ve since acquired a taste for freedom and have made Ashfeld their home. They believe that many – if not all – of the ancient ruins that cover their lands were built by the Great Empire, the precursor of the Iron Legion.
Disorganized for centuries, Ashfeld’s Knights have mostly been a collection of petty warlords and roving bands of mercenary knights. In the last decade, they have been corralled under a single banner, often at sword point, by Ashfeld’s Blackstone Legion, led by Apollyon.
So far, the Knights have managed to defend Ashfeld from Vikings and Samurai attacks. Apollyon argues that a threat of war is imminent and tells stragglers that joining her Legion is the only guarantee they will hold onto their lands.

• According to the website, the Samurai had only just arrived in Heathmoor before the Story Mode takes place by just a couple of decades, maybe a century. We know from events such as Rise of the Jorogumo, they have been around for much longer.

>Originally from a land far away across the seas, they tell a tale of an Emperor and a homeland lost to sea and fire. Nearly a millennium later, the nomadic nation has ceased its wandering and built a new empire near the reclaimed homelands of the Vikings and the contested lands of the Knights.
Having spent the last decades acclimating to the marshy hills known as the Myre, they flourish but remain vastly outnumbered by their neighbors. They have to rely on greater martial skill, cunning, and devotion to their culture in order to survive – for they may be the last of their kind.

• The Vikings probably don't get as many retcons, due to them not getting much more lore added on what they were doing before the Story Mode.

>The Vikings vanished centuries ago, fleeing their crumbling homelands for shores unknown.
Those left behind were conquered by the Knights and assimilated into their cultures.
The Vikings returned in great numbers a few centuries ago. They came from far across the sea to where they have established a new homeland. They retuned for many reasons, but mostly to reclaim their ancient homeland in the North: Valkeinheim. Hundreds of Viking clans now coexist in relative peace in the frozen tundra. To the outside observer, however, they seem to exist in a state of perpetual civil war.
Vikings are the undisputed masters of the sea and fresh water. When this raucous nation gathers together in massive armadas of dragon-headed ships, they are fearsome to behold and nigh unstoppable.

The Sword of Ashfeld: Not long after the Cataclysm ended, there was a bandit who survived it. She once tried to rob a Knight, only for him to catch her. Rather than killing her, the Knight made her his squire and the two would wonder the lands, helping those in need as much as they can.

The Knight would later fall to a group of bandits while protecting some refugees in their care. The squire would inherit his sword, Valor's Edge, and work to carry on his mission of helping others. Through this, she reminded the other Knights of their past ideals of chivalry and honor, rallying behind the Unsung Knight to form what would become the Iron Legion. The Vikings and Samurai start hearing of her and a legion growing more united, they feel like they should be stepping their efforts for what could be the start of a very long war.

The Unsung Knight's story with what we see in the first cinematic of the game: a Viking, a Samurai, and her circling a puddle of water and kicking off the war between the Factions.

Downfall: In the season of Downfall, some time after the Cataclysm and the Samurai had settled into the Myre and made it their home, one of the original settler families would lay the foundation for what would become known as Castle Chiyo. It would grow to be a very peaceful place until it end when it was led by Daimyo Masaki and Lady Saori.

While Masaki was called to the Imperial City, Daimyo Katsuo would launch a surprise attack on Castle Chiyo to take it for himself. While Saori was trained as a Nobushi, Katsuo's forces were able to take break the castle's defenses and slaughter its villagers. In her despair for failing to protect her home, it is said she became the Jorogumo and that this transformation caused other Yokai to appear.

Saori's son, Yoshiro, was thankfully away from the castle when Katsuo attacked as he had hoped to join his father and prove himself a good warrior. Unfortunately, Masaki was ashamed by his son leaving Saori and the castle alone, so he unknowingly sent him back to his doom. While he was able to lay down multiple Yokai using his family heirloom, the Mamono Dagger, he was slowly being changed by it. By the time he faced Saori as the Jorogumo, his body and personality had already been corrupted, but he still wanted to grant Saori a merciful end, believing she was still in there.

He would seal Saori and the rest of the Yokai away in a cave. While this brought peace for the survivors, this was only a temporary solution as the Jorogumo and Yokai could break free again if their cave's seal was ever disturbed.

As for Yoshiro, it is most likely he sealed himself in the cave as well, either doing it himself or the remaining survivors sentencing him to it, saying he wouldn't oppose it should they try.

The Century Before the Story Mode

• Just a century before the Story Mode, the Vikings would return from their voyages to take back their home. They would cause a lot of trouble Ashfeld in particular who had taken a lot of their land through yearly raids.
• ~20 years before the Story Mode, the Vikings would go on another raid. Their forces stretched too thin, the Knights knew they would have to face some losses. One of these was a Lawbringer named Dante and because of him, the Vikings raided the village out in the scrublands in which lived a girl who would become Apollyon.

>This is from an observable in Chapter 1.1, where Apollyon mentions the territory her village was in had almost been taken by Vikings.

• 16 years before the Story Mode, Apollyon will have joined the Blackstone Legion and begun rising through the ranks.

>This is brought up in Chapter 3.3 of the Story Mode, which is 8 years before Ayu, Holden, and Stigandr meet, and is mentioned to have taken place 20 years before this. The first level is set 12 years before the three meet, so we just subtract the difference from the 20 years to give us 16.

• Some time later, Apollyon would spend the next few years growing in strength through battle, even working as a Warden. She would eventually find Dante again and have her revenge. She would take his armor and have made to fit her. After this, she would finally take up her demon name, "Apollyon," and take charge of the Blackstone Legion as its eighth warlord of the original 15. Holden Cross would also take up a demon name, "Asmodai," marking the second of four names he would take in his lifetime.
• 10 years before the Story Mode, most of Ashfeld's legions and warbands had been absorbed into the Blackstone Legion. By now, she likely would have already met Vortiger and the Order of the Holy Balaur, converting them into the Black Prior. Vortiger would become a high ranking member, taking the demon name "Camio."
• Assuming the crossover DLC in Samurai Shodown has any weight in the canon (very unlikely), the Lord Warden spent a few months traveling across Heathmoor and Ashfeld before joining the ranks of Daubeny's Legion, the Knights of Feronia.

Next Steps

Currently, the plan is for the next post to cover what happens during the Story Mode that isn't covered directly through what we play through (such as Gudmundr's funeral and some early lore on the Black Priors) and the lore up to Y3, but I want to check to see if you would all prefer I post an timeline and make corrections from there, or continue this way until we reach the end.

https://www.ubisoft.com/en-us/game/for-honor/news-updates/3RenIrlxGsOXyc32cksGf6/seeing-red

Background

>I don't normally add this, but I wanted to include this as information included with the story in case it doesn't get added in the story.

• Warrior's Den Recap

https://www.ubisoft.com/en-us/game/for-honor/news-updates/6Lx9yJClbHOO7d87IZnqZB

As foretold by The Scorching Herald’s tales, The Khatun’s peace was not infallible and rebellion is growing. This season’s title update 1 follows the Myre’s unrest, where Empress Ayu has fallen and left the land in a state of lawlessness. Ceasing this opportunity, the Dokuja’s House decided to seal an alliance with the Khatuns to dominate the other clans, becoming the new seat of power in the Myre.

The House leaders agreed to pay the Khatun price for their support: Saburo, their executioner, was lured into a trap and executed. Or so they thought.

• Home Screen

The arrival of the Khatuns brought disarray in the Myre, and the Samurai Houses became overcome with lawlessness. To gain the upper hand and instill order, the House of Dokuja has made an alliance with the Khatuns.

To secure this alliance, the Khatuns asked the House for a price: their rabid killer, the Sohei Saburo, was to be eliminated. A sacrifice made in blood to ensure peace and obedience. A price that has been paid.

Now, the House of Dokuja hosts a celebration to mark their ascension as the new rulers of the Myre. But little do they know, Saburo has survived his execution. And he has come to the palace to unleash unholy vengeance.

I.

The cicadas sang loud under the setting sun. Despite the late hour, the air was hot and sticky. Dragonflies hung lazily above the wild grass, the humidity too much even for them. Soon the sun would disappear, offering a small reprieve from the unbearable heat. The Kajika frogs would start to sing, and the hotaru would come zooming out, shining streaks of yellow light in the dark. These were the telltale signs of the worst days of summer. Others would call them the best. But if Saburo ever met them, he would like to choke the life out of them with his bare hands.

Saburo loathed the heat. It made him miserable. His garments stuck to his skin, and sweat trickled down every part of his body. He moved slowly through the tall greenery, feet ankle-deep in the shallow muck, leading four men who flanked his sides, two by two. All were longtime enforcers of House of Dokuja, one of the prominent Samurai groups in the Myre. They had always been apprehensive of him, so they let him lead the pack. His numbers of service were the shortest, but his kill count put all of theirs to shame.

“We are nearing the settlement’s location,” said one of the men on his left.

“Keep your voice down,” another on the right warned.

Saburo grunted. He was a man of few words. Whenever he had something to say, he usually let one of his seven weapons do the talking.

The task was simple. A scout had reported that some members of Kizan’s House had established a camp in a clearing just outside Dokuja territory. By all accounts, it seemed clear an attack would be imminent. Kizan attacks had become a certain type of norm. Ever since Emperor Ayu’s fall and the end of her unified reign, they had kept to the shadows, striking at everyone they deemed an enemy. With the Khatuns spreading their influence throughout most of Heathmoor, the Myre seemed like the last place not completely controlled by Guljin and her so-called reign of peace. All the Houses had warring ideas of how to rule the Samurai—Kizan included. It just happened their goal was to attack pretty much everyone who wasn’t a member of their House.

Saburo was meant to do what he did best: unleash complete and total carnage. Kill the Kizan soldiers, severing them limb from limb, leaving nothing but blood and entrails as a message to their House. He always looked forward to these missions. They were the only times he was allowed to cut loose. To be unleashed. It took great effort to hold himself back. To hold his place among the ranks of the House, and be civil. But he did it, because they had taken him in. Given him a home. A purpose.

The sun was all but gone as they reached the edge of the forest. Ready for battle, Saburo parted a curtain of thick vines with his Kama Yari and stepped beyond, into the clearing. But there was a problem: there was no settlement. No Kizan camp. No enemy soldiers.

Saburo turned back to look at the four men, confused. That was when he heard movement behind him. He pivoted back to see four warriors, clad in armor, weapons drawn. In the black of night, he couldn’t see them properly. But they did not look like Kizan soldiers.

The first hit came from behind, slashed him at the knee. The pain was excruciating. Immediately he fell, overwhelmed by surprise and confusion. A stab in the shoulder followed. He yelled out, so loud it echoed through the moonlit swamp. On both knees he breathed in deep, swallowing the pain. He rose to his feet and turned, roaring with pure rage. One head was severed. A chest was slashed all the way across. But before he could turn towards the four newcomers, Saburo was stabbed in the leg and slashed across the arm. Then he was punched in the face, kicked in the ribs. More slashes followed. More kicks and punches. His weapon dropped out of his hand. Blood filled his mouth, marred his vision.

With too many wounds to count, Saburo fell. Life drained out of him as he stared at the inky, star-filled sky.

He heard the men laugh and congratulate each other. And that was when he saw, in the moonlight, his attacker’s sigil. It was the same as his. They were Dokuja. They were his kin. The revelation felt like the sting of another blade, burning with fury.

“I told you eight of us would be enough,” one voice said.

“It’s done,” another added. “The House will be pleased.”

Those voices. They were distant in his mind, but he recognized them. Who…? His thoughts drifted. His vision began to fade.

Silence fell, the voices gone. All he could hear now were the frogs, growing distant. A few inches above, he saw the dim glow of a hotaru.

Then his eyes closed, and he felt it all slip away.

II.

He could hear the rain.

Thunder rumbled directly overhead, a crack so loud you could feel it in your bones. Rain poured heavily, as if the heavens themselves were flooding. Saburo stood in the courtyard, raindrops framing his mask all the way to the chin. Where the droplets fell they found not water, but a pool of blood. The Orochi at his feet was no longer armed. Saburo held his opponent’s blade, a new addition to his collection. Victorious, he laughed hoarsely.

“I…” the Orochi whispered, terrified and ashamed. “I yield…”

Saburo didn’t care. He flipped the two swords in his hands and, with a terrible, mighty swing, he brought them both down into the Orochi. One in the stomach, the other in the throat. The man gurgled in his own blood, and died. Saburo swung the blood off the two blades and let out a victorious cry as loud as the thunderstrikes above before heading back to the monastery.

He woke up from his dream screaming, laying down on a firm hay mattress, staring at a dark oak ceiling. Outside, the rain pecked away softly at the roof.

“Do not try to move,” came a calm voice. It was a woman’s—deep, raspy and wise. “Your wounds. I have tended to them, but they are far from healed. It will take some time.”

It all came rushing to him. The trap in the swamp. The attack from his own people. His House. He had been hurt. He had been killed. He should be dead. Why wasn’t he?

As if she could hear his thoughts, the woman answered. “The old Knight, the one going about telling all these tales of war, he said you clawed your way out of hell. Through brutality… and death.” Every movement was difficult, but Saburo managed to turn his head and look at the woman. She was short, stocky. Wrapped in a thick bundle of rags that dragged on the ashy wooden floorboards like a dress. Her long gray hair curtained the sides of her round, wrinkled face.

“He left this for you,” she continued, pointing at a box neatly placed on top of a table at the far side of the firelit room. She sat by his side, a cup of warm heartleaf tea cusped in hand. “Drink,” she offered, “it will help you heal.”

Saburo was not a man known to be reasoned with. Whoever he saw, he usually treated as something to squander. Or maim. The old woman. He wanted to lash out at her. He should have killed her. But the way she looked at him stayed his hand. Perhaps it was desperation. Perhaps it was something else. Despite all the anger bubbling inside of him, he recognized the woman for what she was: a friend. He had never had one. Not at the House. Definitely not at the monastery, where he had trained to become a Sohei, so long ago. After his third test, which had ended with him slaying the Orochi in the thunderstorm, he had been expelled. Excommunicated. Deemed too violent, too dishonorable for the ways of the Sohei. None of the others had stood by him. All had simply watched as he was exiled into nothingness.

“Drink,” she repeated.

Hesitantly, he took the cup. After he drank, exhaustion hit him, and he fell asleep again. He dreamt of the swamp. Of evil creatures lurking in the dark, Samurai with flaming white eyes screeching and bellowing, attacking him, leaving him for dead.

“I told you eight of us would be enough!”

“It’s done.”

The voices were distorted, high-pitched. They swirled and echoed all around him, like a swarm of bats. “It’s done! The House will be pleased!” That was not what they had sounded like. No. Those voices. He knew them. Where had he heard them before?

He awoke screaming yet again, bringing his large fist down on the table, which threatened to splinter under the impact. Startled, confused, he realized he was standing over the white box that had been left for him. He traced his fingers on the lid, over the symbols carved in faded maroon. The kanji translated to “atone, retaliate, annihilate.” One led to the other. A story in three parts. All with the same conclusion. He opened the box, eyes fixed on the prize inside. He recognized it instantly. An artifact of Samurai legend: the Aka Mask. A storied symbol of carnage. He smiled, for whoever had left it for him intended to deliver a message. And he knew exactly what it was.

He allowed the voices to come. Let them fill him with rage.

“It’s done!”

“Eight of us would be enough!”

“A Sohei is not cruel!”

“I yield!”

“Stupid child, be gone!”

“You have no honor!”

“Leave the monastery at once!”

“The House will be pleased!”

Why hide what he really was? Why hold back?

The mask would reveal his true nature. He smiled, and put it on.

Clad in armor, armed with his seven weapons and sporting his new mask, he barged out of the old woman’s shed. The rain had stopped. Hints of moonlight pushed against the dispersing clouds. The elderly woman was just on her way back, basket of herbs hung in the nook of her elbow. He passed her by, and she was momentarily stunned into silence by the Aka Mask. He was already well past her when she finally managed to blurt something out.

“You should not be standing yet,” she protested.

He didn’t answer. He simply vanished in the shadows of the swamp.

III.

The young woman held her hand up, screaming, her emerald eyes pleading for mercy. Saburo brought his Kama Yari down on her, severing her hand down the middle. Blood gushed out copiously as she shrieked in horror, before he brought his weapon sideways into her neck. A young warrior rushed to his side, and Saburo simply grabbed him by the neck and ripped out his throat. The blood of his victims splattered on the beige fusuma that stood before him. To those on the other side, he was but a shadow, a dark silhouette bathing in the dim light of the paper lanterns behind. He pushed the sliding panel aside, leaving a hand-shaped streak of blood on the thin material. In the room, he found four warriors, three guests in elaborate dresses and two servants. All were cowering. There was no other way out of the room. They were trapped.

The journey to the Dokuja palace had taken him six days. Six days where he walked in a straight line, without sleep or rest. Six days of trekking through bogs and shrubs with only the sound of his footsteps to accompany him. On the sixth night, he had reached the palace. Now adorned with Khatun flags and statues, it had been clear from the muted sounds inside that a celebration of some sort was taking place. Saburo cared not why. Keeping himself hidden, he had barricaded the front gate and circled to the courtyard, to enter from the back.

There would be no escaping him.

He stood in the doorframe. Silent. Unmoving. All in the room gazed at him, cowering in fear. They recognized the Aka Mask. And they knew it spelled their doom.

“Pl…” one of the guests attempted. “Please,” he finally mewled. “We haven’t done anything…”

Saburo had been an unwanted child. A failed Sohei. Rejected. Outcast. Until Ken and Jiro had found him in the marketplace, covered in the blood of his victims. They had taken him in, offered him a place in the halls of Dokuja’s House. Here, he had been given a home. A purpose. Or so he had thought. They had lied to him. Used him. And thrown him away. Only now did he realize he was not meant for this world. This civilized society. His only purpose… was death.

He had held back for so long. Kept himself in control. No longer was that necessary. Now, behind the Aka Mask, he could let his true self out.

Saburo looked at the guest, and cocked his head.

He was the first to die. The blade struck the man in the belly. Saburo lifted the screaming man off the ground and threw him to the side, roaring all the while. Two warriors rushed him. He struck low, slicing at their ankles. He finished them both off as they squirmed feet-less on the ground. The remaining servants and guests squirmed and cried in the corners of the room, desperately clawing at the walls. He smashed a warrior’s head in with his mace, and plunged his dagger sideways through the neck of the other. His feet sloshed on the once white carpet, now soaked in blood. Splatter covered nearly every inch of the walls and ceilings. Saburo himself was drenched in red, his mask wet with a fresh, crimson layer.

The others kept screaming. But no one heard them. They were too far from the main hall, the noise of the celebration drowning them out. They pleaded, horrified. He reached behind his back, and took out his saw. He stabbed, hacked and sliced. The serrated edge burrowed deep into their skin, like the teeth of a wild animal, ripping pink flesh from bone.

Once the screams ended, a pair of footsteps rushed into the hallway.

“What in the…” one voice said, stricken by the horrific sight before them.

“You…” the second hesitated, “You there! Halt and surrender!”

Saburo simply stood, blood dripping from the tips of his fingers. There they were. Those voices from the swamp.

“The House will be pleased!”

“I told you eight of us would be enough!”

He knew he had recognized them. Ken and Jiro. They were the ones who had found him, and they had been the ones to take him out. It was almost poetic.

Slowly, he turned to face them.

“Is that…” Jiro exclaimed, in disbelief, “Saburo?!”

“You… you should be dead!” Ken shouted.

Behind his mask, Saburo was smiling. But they had no idea.

“Is he wearing…?”

“Run!”

They never got the chance. Saburo rushed them, and knocked them both off the ground. He prepared his blade, but stopped himself. For them, Saburo opted for something else instead. Slowly, he reached for his wooden club as Ken and Jiro both squirmed.

One hit after the other. He kept on hitting, until their faces were caved in. Reduced to bloody mush. He made sure they felt fear. He made sure they screamed.

When he was done, he didn’t bother cleaning his weapons. He exited the hallway, and headed for the main hall.

The rest of the palace awaited.

The House would not be pleased.