Archibald wore more practical clothing without the 'fashion' sense behind it compared to the clothing his beautiful wife wore. Despite the Armor he wore, the setting of the sun brought a chill to his aging bones and he pulled from his saddle bag a Maroon Red cloak that draped over his shoulders. The family crest was emblazoned on the back of it, right in the center, as if one would have trouble discerning whom he was - his size and mannerisms always revealed him.<br/><br/>He was used to long days in the saddle and as the sun set he was still as fresh and sprite as if he had just mounted onto his warhorse. His warhorse itself looked like it was out for a leisurely stroll, barely looking like it even knew it was being ridden by an armor-clad man. He caste his eyes to the side as his wife nudged her horse closer to his. At least on this journey he would have some one to warm the bed beside him.<br/><br/>Mirevia was ever sharp, no matter how little sleep she seemed to get. He envied her for that skill and the ability to read the court like it was a book. He often trusted her judgement and advise on matters, especially those he was unfamiliar with or uncomfortable dealing with directly. He chewed over her words for a few seconds before responding. "Well, if we wish to create a war with a Kingdom, all we'd need to do is send Lenally to their court on a Diplomatic mission." He chuckles softly. "I am afraid we will have to pay more attention to her and her antics then those of the Theiri." His tone changes to one of that more serious in nature. "Perhaps her brother can keep her in check - we all know that she won't be able to restrain herself for the entirety of this trip."