Pursing her lips, Aravae nodded to him sagely. She knew exactly who he meant. And looking out the large balcony window he’d have seen the horses racing toward Elymhil.<span style="color: #BA55D3">“Father has sent his best Generals toward the impending assemblage. Hopefully a diplomatic resolution can be had of course, but you know my father, he is wise far beyond his years, and is no stranger to the possibilities of war. So they are prepared for a fight. He has also sent some of our eldest, most skilled magic users should the need for them arise. Not all of them of course. But a handful.” </span><br/><br/>She smiled at Feron again and squeezed his hand lightly in hers before stepping away for the time being to walk to her vanity. On the surface of the pure white polished wood, sat a delicately made box of pure Mithril, which held inside of it her mother’s diadem. This too was made of the purest Mithril, a large stone in the center that matched her mother’s eyes, eyes that Aravae incidentally had herself. She ran her fingers over the metal that was akin to very polished silver, only a lot stronger, around a thousand times stronger in fact and then she lifted it from its velveteen throne before fitting it onto her head.<br/><br/>She rarely wore this. Only when she needed to remind everyone of her mother’s strength and perseverance did she place this on her head, more often than not choosing to dress down from her station to better relate to her people. Her father understood this. Others of noble blood however, did not, finding it tawdry at best and disgraceful at worst, neither of which they’d ever dare say in either her presence or the presence of her father. She was after all, the next in line of succession.<br/><br/><span style="color: #BA55D3">“Father will want to see us both soon,“</span>she said to Feron as she turned round to face him once more, her long white dress flowing freely at her feet while the rest of it hugged tightly to her slender frame. Stepping back over to him she took his hand in hers this time, lifting it to kiss his fingertips delicately with her soft lips before gently pulling him and leading him to her father’s throne room where he was likely waiting and pondering by himself in his own mind while the counsel of different villages and noble decent rabbled together to gossip and suggest and assume the worst.