Eryndral
"Alaric Eldryn. Such a fine name... befitting a handsome Lord," Kaelion said fondly.
"I am no Lord, my king," Alaric replied.
"And smart as well. Your mother raised you well."
"Thank you, my king."
The room was warm despite its sparseness, with only the three of them present. Yet it pulsed with something else—Kaelion's smile was wide, almost fatherly, as though he were laying eyes on a long-lost son. His gaze lingered with admiration, watching the boy who, despite standing before a throne, seemed to be looking far beyond it—searching.
"What is the young Lord searching for?" Kaelion asked, noticing Alaric’s wandering glances.
"Where is Asher, my king? Mother always said he was unmatched with a sword. She promised she’d bring me to meet him someday."
There was a pause. Alari
