The last time that Richard had set his eyes on his uncle Lavern was many years ago. He was barely four years at the time and had travelled with his father Nicolas to Serpentspire on a summer holiday; and from the very first glance he had of Lavern, he knew that the latter was someone who had nothing to glory in but his boyish charms.
Thing is, unlike Nicolas and the other members of the great house of Winchmore who usually exuded seriousness in all of their dealings, Lavern rarely showed any in his. He was more content to go around with a big smile on his face like a man who had no care in the realm, break every rule breakable, and flirt with the noble ladies of the court than carry the actual responsibility that came with the name of a great house such as his; and now, even after so man
