<i>Farkeep </i>only seemed intimidating to the naked eye by design alone. Located in the far north, it belonged to the kingdom now known as Meridan, and had only just carved its way back into existence after too many years lost. The keep itself was an ancient fortress, half carved from the mountains that guarded it so that appeared to loom higher than it actually did. Spires jutted from the crude rock of the natural earth of the castle’s walls, a beautiful contrast in comparison to the archaic nature of the rest of it. From a distance, it looked to be floating within the low hanging clouds found this far up in the mountainous countryside, and the rays of sunlight that hit the highest tower only reiterated the fairy tale schematic it gave off. The Dawn tower defined what this kingdom even represented, and it was the observatory itself that had Locke Tyrven campaigning for the renovation of the lost kingdom, now ten years gone, and how he had become the reluctant ruler of this landscape of lost technologies. It was only recently that his advisors tore him away from the never ending stream of work needed to renovate and grow. At first he had laughed when the oldest of them, a man by the name of Arlas Domedres, suggested that he seek out an alliance through marriage. It was customary to secure a seat of power this way, and with the kingdom growing as it was, best to do it now rather than later.<br/><br/>Locke had agreed with the same reluctance that he had in accepting his position of power, but acquiesced none the less. He took no part in choosing his bride to be, and instead left it up to the counsel that acted like the spine attached to he as the head. He trusted their judgement, as these were the men that acted as his support system. In the end, he knew her name, her affiliation, and he knew that she was the cousin to the lord Marion Kavnoak, the one man who opposed this new ruler in the north. It was an alliance that was intelligent rather than romantic. And it wasn’t until the day that she was due to arrive that he gave the Lady Guillevic a second thought.<br/><br/>It was not the Lord Tyrven himself that greeted the young woman when she arrived, however, but his cousin Ser Alun Trynal. Alun had rode up to greet the pair of guards that escorted the dark haired young woman through the crowds that had gathered to greet her. In their gowns of pastel and rich doublets, the minor lords and ladies looked on inquisitively at the new change that was occurring on this day. Since they had settled in this new land and mingled with the wild tribes on the outskirts of their civilization, these were folk who were not acquainted to the traditions of higher courts.<br/><br/>The man on horseback dismounted immediately after he cried his greeting and bowed low before he strode forward, arms extended. With a grin, he swept her hand in both of his and raised it to his face to touch his lips against her knuckles. “My lady, welcome to Farkeep. My name is Ser Alun Trynal, and I am here to escort you to wherever you wish to go. Gentlemen—“<br/><br/>His dark eyes sparkled at her and he released her hand to gesture the two guards away before turning his attention back to her. Leather creaked as he extended his arm for her to take. “Lord Tyrven, your betrothed, is otherwise occupied until meal time tonight, my lady. I have been instructed to be your escort until that time. If you will tolerate me,” he finished with another grin and winked playfully in her direction.<br/><br/>The knight was a young man – less than thirty years if appearances had anything to say. He wore his brown hair long and despite being pulled back at the nape of his neck, it was still tussled boyishly from the day, but was not unkempt. Three days growth of beard on his face left a rugged cast, but the indentions in his cheeks when he smiled softened his features and made him handsome.<br/><br/>“Would you like me to show you around now, Lady, or should I show you to your rooms so that you can get settled?”