Not one guard, nor two. Not even three. Five guards now, five guards and seven servants, though the servants were a necessity. They were to help her bear her heavy load. She came not on her family's order -- in fact, she had not even told them that she was coming at all, at least not in words; she had left a missive on her brother's desk, explaining her destination and assuring him that she was properly guarded. This journey had been her own decision, the motives entirely hers. 

The carriage in which she travelled was a simple one, as she did not wish to trouble her family by depriving of them of one of their more elaborate vehicles. Not only that, but she thought an elaborate display of wealth would be in bad taste after recent events. With so many starving and poor having crashed like a tidal wave into the city, she deemed now the time to downplay her grandeur, lest the poor creatures weep for what they could never attain. Not only that, but a new fear now haunted her dreams, one she had not even thought to consider before. These strangers that had entered her family's sacred dwelling and taken what was not theirs. If they could destroy something as precious as Condos wine without a second thought, what else might they dare? What other liberties might they take? If they spotted a carriage that bore a noble seal, might they whisk away the one who rode inside? Or would they simply kill them -- kill her on sight? 

No, now was most certainly not the time for ostentation, and so she travelled in a simple vehicle of cherry, dressed in her simplest and most demure chitton of pale blue linen, fastened at the shoulders small silver butterfly clips. These she concealed beneath a dark blue cloak, again of fine material but lacking the beautiful decoration she was known for. Her dark hair was pinned into a simple but elegant braided bun, which was hidden beneath the hood of her cloak. 

Try as she might not to draw too much attention to herself, any vehicle heading in the direction of the Palati was certain to do so, as was a girl who was assisted out of said vehicle by a servant and immediately flanked by a miniature retinue of stone faced guards. As she approached the Palati gates, a royal guard approached, blocking her path. 

"Excuse me? I am afraid I must ask who you are and what your busi -- "
Ophelia dropped her hood just as the man took note of the Condos seals her own guards wore. Immediately he took a step back out of respect. 
"Lady Ophelia, I did not recognize you."
"I did not think it wise to travel as I usually do," she explained, her tone a little sharper than she had intended. Smoothing her features into a smile, she addressed the man again, this time gentling her voice. "I have not come empty handed, Sir. I bring supplies for the refugees. Clothing and blankets mostly, but there are medical supplies, books for those who can read, some food and milk. The milk will do them good, I think."
The guard stared at all of the supplies that her servants were now carefully unloading, momentarily lost for words. "Please, come inside, My Lady. I shall report this directly to the Royal Family; no doubt they will wish to thank you for your generosity towards the citizens." 

Ophelia gave a nod, then turned to her own guards. "It is quite all right, gentlemen. I will be safe inside the Palati," she assured them, indicating with one hand that they should await her directly outside. Understanding, they formed a circle around the carriage, which was now theirs to guard until their mistress returned. Her servants, however, were to follow her inside, for having brought so much she could not possibly carry it all alone, nor would it be seemingly for her to be seen doing so. 

While the guard who had promised her an audience with a member of the Royal Family departed, a servant approached her and made their obesciences. She smiled kindly at them, allowing them to lead her down the endless procession of elaborate hallways and up the winding stairway towards the solar rooms, where she set to work immediately instructing her servants to arrange the refugees' bounty in a becoming manner before her host arrived. They placed the clothes to one side -- arranging them as accurately as they could in the categories of adult, child and infant for both boy and girl -- the books in a neat pile, the ten milk bottles in two neat rows of five and the three baskets of food nearby. The blankets were folded without crease and stacked from thickest to thinnest, the baby blankets folded atop the ones meant for the elders. Once this work was complete, the servants quietly backed away into a darker corner of the room, while Ophelia moved to stand in the centre, hoping that the one who received her would not be too terribly shocked at her plain simple manner of dress. They ought not to be, she reasoned, for her hair was still neatly and elegantly styled -- though she might have found such a style sadly simple under different circumstances -- and her attire was pristine and of the best quality, but as she stood in the centre of this beautiful room she found herself terribly conscious of how plain she felt in comparison to it. She had thought it best at the time, but now she was seriously re-considering that decision. 

All she could do was pray that Theodora would not be the one receiving her. She did not think she could bear to appear in this manner before the Leventi Queen. Please, anyone but her, she silently prayed, hoping the Gods would hear and be kind. Not Theodora, not Theodora...