The Nation of Draven
“Lord Nihlen, are you listening to me?” Trayn called. It sounded so far off that Nihlen didn’t realize it was him being called. “Lord Nihlen, I am trying to teach you the significance of the strategy used by Duke Mellingham in the battle of Cascadia, but all you do is stare out that window. Is there something out there more interesting than my lecture?”
The sound of Trayn slapping the table with his hand pulled Nihlen Draven out of his thoughts. He turned from the window to find the wrinkly, but very serious face of his long time teacher, Trayn Tilradrinae, nearly touching his own. He was so close, Nihlen could count the wisps of white hair remaining on the balding man’s head. His eyes were a deep green, and reflected the amazing amount of wisdom and knowledge contained in them. He was short, even sitting as Nihlen was, the two looked eye to eye. His clothes were of the highest grade, a white shirt and black pants cut in an opulent style. They were heavily wrinkled though. Trayn cared for his studies far more than his clothes.