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Alaerth stared down at the elf in front of him. So this was his adopted cousin? He looked exactly like his father, judging from Verloren's descriptions of him. Not much for listening though. He reached a hand down and caught the elf boy's cloak front, lifting him effortlessly to his feet, and set him down gently,
"I told you to rise, did I not?" He took in the elf a moment more, then backed up the steps and seated himself on a throne. Arlyth noted a smaller one next to him was vacant. The way his cousin sat in that throne told him this was a ruler who wore his crown heavily, "I am sorry that my sister is not here. We had no word of your coming. She should be here by twilight though, unless she decided to visit father." A frown creased his young but tired face.
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