Role

Chapter 1

Inglor stood patiently awaiting with his reknown kinsman, the king, the
famed Feanon Arelenar. Highly aware of the honor audience was for such a minor member of
member of the household, royal kin or no, he felt a keen sense of anxious nervousness...exactly
like his first meeting, so many centuries ago now...

Inglor blinked, amazed at how quickly he had fallen back into his old ways, and stood
taller. Had he not achieved great things? Quite so!
Beckoned finally to approach, he took a knee before the true elven high king, and spoke
the ritualised words of fealty and service. His king regarded him a moment, his
characteristic grey Arelenar eyes seeming to weigh and judge him...and Inglor, was
suddenly that nervous boy again, cursing himself. Feanon nodded, signalling recognition
and that he should rise, and as last time, got immediately to business.
"What are you doing, boy?" Feanon said, his voice commanding, then continued before
Inglor could reply, "The lands are still rife with lawlessness, are you trying to shame the
house?"
Inglor blinked, taken aback, he was the Provost damnation, and as a little of his confidence
returned, he opened his mouth, to reply in his defence...Only to be curtly cut off again.
"Return to you duty, boy, see the work through, finish what you have started." The king
gave a gesture of dismissal, and Inglor blinking again, yet too full of Arelenar discipline
to anything else, saluted, before making his exit. Feanon watching Inglor leave, allowed
himself a rare smile of amusement.