All the servants in the castle returned the same, kind smile to Arenos as he offered to them. With the position he held, he could have easily and abusively wielded power over them. Yet, they never had any fear of him. The only fear that they had in regard to him was if he was no longer their lord. Arenos was strict, fastidiously making sure things were done right, but he was never violent. With all his features: the beauty of his physicality, his face, his countenance and his amiable manner, those who remembered his mother, the elegant beauty Rhefottuegh would state they greatly saw her influence in him.
As Arenos headed through the halls, across the rooms and up the stairs to meet with his father, he wondered for what the meeting was called. Though their relationship was not an especially loving relationship, there was still respect. He and his father disagreed on many topics, especially philosophy. Those conversations were always halted by his father’s authoritarian and final statement ‘Because, I spoke it so.’ To which Arenos interpreted as meaning ‘to be continued.’ His father was not a man to make arbitrary calls, or to display special acts of affection. But, as the son of the king, he believed it was best to respond to the calls of the parent, just as the son of any other.
King Iligenor stood looking over the first tower’s balcony of his formidable Castle Illisteriam with a weary smile of contentment blended with a restlessness being placated. The crown atop his head furrowed his brow as he looked over the lands of Dellowworh. He sighed as he thought about the various methods he used for the people to better themselves through guidelines about what should be done, and what shouldn’t be done. Crossing his arms and leaning his elbows on the cold gray stone of the castle, he gazed at his old skin, dry and thinly covering the rest of his flesh which was marked with countless scars and moles.
His skin was tanned and weatherworn. His eyes were as gray as the stone, and, even though he was old, they still blazed with the severity and intensity of a predator alerted to an intruder in its den. A slight wind blew his white hair over the gold plate of his armor. It was not a full suit, just the portions that were visible while he also wore his purple tunic and cloak. His beard was white and straggly in areas, and went the length of his torso to just above his waistline.