Chapter 666: The road forward(2)
Alpheo reclined into the broad, cushioned chair that served more as a throne than simple seating. One leg draped lazily over the other, his elbow rested on the carved wooden arm, chin nestled in his palm, gaze fixed with mild curiosity on the boy standing before him.
Fifteen, maybe sixteen? he mused silently, brow arching. Should I be offering him milk instead of wine?
He hid his amusement behind a neutral expression, but the thought lingered. The boy was slight of frame, far too young to wear the weight of a city on his shoulders, and yet here he was—alone, outside the gates of a dying stronghold, surrounded by men who would gut him without pause if ordered.
What in the world is Cretio thinking? he wondered. Sending this... boy... as an envoy? Did they really run out of men? Are the walls held by babies?
If the city meant to surrender, any old officer or even a frightened clerk would’ve sufficed
Alpheo’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying him now with more intent.
The boy, Thalien, he’d heard the name mentioned among the reports, a younger son of the old prince, third in line and supposedly more suited to taverns than thrones.
He stood with surprising composure, straight-backed and smiling faintly. If he was nervous, he wore the mask of courtly manners well.
The prince was quite surprised by how calm he appeared, as he knew very well the sort of fame that surrounded his name.
Brave little bastard, Alpheo thought. Or stupid. Possibly both.
Thalien gave a small, formal bow.
"I thank you for receiving me, Your Grace," he said, voice smooth and just soft enough to perk years. "My name is Thalien, son of His Grace Lechlian, Prince of Herculia, Lord of Casionanum, and bearer of more titles than I care to waste your time listing."