Attending the meeting was one whose face had never been seen among Lookshy's troops. He was a tall man, six foot four at the least, with death-pale skin and sharp, aristocratic features. He wore a shirt of black silk and pants of the same, a hooded cloak made of equally black wool, and a massive black and white powerbow and matching quiver slung on his back. His eyes, a startling green, his hair bleached blonde.<br/><br/>For now, this man is standing in shadow, near the edge of sunlight from the windows. He does not hide, does not flinch from those that see him. He simply is. And he listens.