The thundering hoof beats and paced marching echoed outside the chiseled walls of the city capital. The celestial Oria, brightening the night’s travel was finally resting at the long stretch of the Tron Mountains. Her husband, Torion, now making the break of morning from the east. The worn and hard travelled warriors enter Skalah under the brine colors of royal blue and green. The fighting men from the Chrav Alliance, protectors of Chustern were slowly making their way to the barracks. And although their bustling armor may have awoken too early the working citizens of Cheron, but by the illuminated glass windows up the palace walls, looming shadowed eyes dreaded their arrival. The head of the parade, his life’s bane.

Arlou’s muscles tensed at the approach of his uncle, his minted hands barely controlling their jittering. The High Adjunct was early -too early. Above the main chambers of the royal family, up there he could slightly see the dark figures being escorted by the house steward and his rocky lamp. Dunder was perhaps tussled in his bed like the rest of the palace staffs. Momentarily, other passages downstairs were being lit to receive perhaps the guests that were brought within. Indignant, Arlou left for his sister’s room, making sure she was still asleep.

Coasting the edges of his stuffed seat, Feudore made a face to his cup of tea, bushy beard covering most of his jaw. His entrance to the city had surprised him. Skalah had now a peaked castle, stuck within the jutting mountain Tron while many of the buildings were polished cheron. Some expanse hardly the Liege Lord could have expected from the former mining town. But what was more the Goddess disturbed him so was the High Adjunct pouring him the refreshment and chocolate biscuits.

“-Cander,” said Alcvin shortly, taking Dare’s attention back.

“Pardon my lord?” replied Dare.

“The cocoa is from Cander, Dare. Then to Solven.” The use of his second name made his skin crawl. Feudore had less sickly brand if the ambassador was not normally smiling at their conversation. “I cannot thank you enough for returning with us to the capital. My brother would be pleased to see you.”

“As well I.” Dare was gathering enough courage to face Alcvin in his very homey attire. The higher noble was efficient in destroying the grafters with his eth-hagama spells. Manipulating razor sharp arcane force to silently slit their leaders’ throats while Feudore and his men shouted with blades to cut through dozens of the other illegal travelers. Their screams of pain still humming in his ears as their blood soaked Lake Chairon. Feudore hated and feared the use of eth in the realm, regardless of its helpful properties.

Their strain conversation however was fortunately short lived when he noticed two small green eyes staring back at him. Curiously beside his coach, its owner’s head had very curly hair. Feudore did not know that the Satehk were now easily lounging in Cheron, the Fae Folk were always there to help Gruf Estate. He smiled at the little fae.

“By Shazak’s void! How did you get in and without your clothes?” The High Adjunct was appalled but immediately stood up from his seat across Feudore to claim the intruder.

Feudore could only gape.

“Uncle, you're home!” the child shrieked in glee as she responded with the tight grip over the High Adjunct’s carry.

Feudore was terrorized.

Long black hair blanketed over fierce and bony porcelain skin as the little girl’s uncle fuddled over bare lengths, seeking any sort of clothing to endow her with. Their maid who had served them was ordered to and came back with a cloak. Face with bewilderment as well, Feudore and the maid stood over to watch the laughing niece and the amused uncle.

“Urda told me to come help you when I was told you had arrived. I had a bad dream where there was a snake and -,” she scoffed and returned to hug her uncle tightly, trembling.

“Dear, it was just a dream, no need to trouble over it. Besides I am here now, there is nothing to fear.” Somehow noticing the crowd questioning before him, Alcvin reverted back to Dare, the higher lord's smile more controlled.

“Forgive the princess’ mannerisms, she is quietly fond of me and I with her,” he said as he lay down the little girl back to the floor. “You may now introduce yourself to the Liege Lord Feudore, Novredin.”

The little girl looked at Feudore then to her uncle before trying to reassemble herself with minimal nobility the cloak could offer her. Frozen at his feet, Feudore watched as the child took a deep bow down to her waist and said, “Greetings from the court of Cheron, I am lady -ugh... I meant, Princess Alvedaima Novredin Chonerin of Cheron!” she straightened before grinning at him again. "But you can call me Alve."

The High Adjunct had laughed calmly before her effort and Feudore was awestruck. When they heard the knock on the door, the High Adjunct asked, “who is it?”

“The prince my lord,” replied the guard by the door.

“Enter.”

By then, the guards had led in a courtly little boy whom promptly announced, “My lords, the King is ready to receive you.”

“Big brother!” squealed the princess as she ran up to her sibling with intense embrace, barely jostling the boy's steady demeanor. The princess was outwardly shorter than her supposed age in comparison to the prince, Feudore noticed. But the High Adjunct was now inferring Feudore to follow him outside before he could deliver his own introduction, leaving the estrange siblings alone in the pomp room, the early morning Torion in the window, shining down upon them.