Tarvoden bid you come with him to the mayor's office. Through the streets you passed the wretched peoples, some begged for food from you, some even stole whatever was given to others. It was a horrible sight, to see people in such despair. But again, 'twas not your plight and not your people and therefore, not your concern.
He then showed you to a stone building, obviously official in nature. Two burly guards in chain shirts, wielding halberds and the insignia of some lord or another nodded to Tarvoden and let you pass, weapons and all.
Stone steps lead up to double doors of bronzewood, polished with oil and age. Brass handles opened doors that swung on smooth hinges. A carpeted hall lay before you and to either side doorways led off to various chambers where men sat discussing what were obviously important matters, since they required the copious consumption of brandy and other fine liquours.
At the end of the hall there was a set of stairs leading up to another hall, this one on the outer perimeter of the second story, and thus windowed. Outside, the tended lawn and gardens of the mayors office could be seen and, beyond, the streets from where you just came.
Tarvoden noticed you all had stopped by the large, high windows and so spoke to you all.
"The rich are the few, the poor are the many; so it has always been... come."
He walked you to a pair of large, double doors of ornate design. Several forms of regalia, banners and flags, hung around the entrance indicating some lordships house or other, though different from the guards outside.
Before entering, Tarvoden stopped and looked back at you.
"Who we meet now is your sponsor. He shall judge whether you are worthy of his investment. This is merely a formality and I have little doubt he will pass you, but it is a protocol that we must... endure. After I have announced you, please step forward and introduce yourselves, perhaps state what skills you bring to the mission."
And with that, he led you into a large room bedecked with walls of books on every conceivable subject and other walls full of the regalia and equipment of war. A massive fireplace was set off to one side and in front of it, a dozen or so feet away, was a large oaken desk beset by hordes of paper.
In a large chair in the opposite corner, there sat a man of regal stature. His face was plain but bore the signs of age and twinkling behind the beads of two little eyes was an obviously keen mind. He not so much as looked you over as he examined every inch of all of you with those eyes as if beams of magic shot forth from them and relayed all possible information back.
In another chair, to the side, was another man. Slightly pudgy and looking decidely nervous. In front of them sat a crystal decanter of brandy on a silver tray with two glasses, all of which lay upon a small table. The nervous man poured himself a drink and swallowed it wholesale which in turn caused the other to give him a stern look of reproach.
Tarvoden stopped about ten feet before the chairs and swept down into a gracious bow before speaking in a booming voice.
"Your Noble Lordship, may I introduce to you the Phoenix Guard plus one. Bor of Perrenland, Grenier Elderich, M'faro of Tenh, Manzanita Sparrow, and Garrik of Zeif. Another wishes to join the company and shall present himself before you, he is Clete of the City of Hawks."
Tarvoden then stepped to the side and waved his hand in your direction and then turned to face you.
OOC: Manazanita, your Bardic Knowledge enlightened you to the fact that the the two guards outside the mayors office were wearing the insignia of Viscount Luther Derwent, the Lord of the Viscount of the March, of which you are now in. However, on meeting him, you could not quite recall his reputation. If you want to know anything further, ask a specific question in OOC. The other insignias belonged to Lord Veris Montaigne, though you're not sure of his station or reputation.
EDIT: Ack! It's Lord Luther DeRWent, not Dement... sheesh!