[Milo L'Evienne]

The eras since Milo had last walked these halls as Conservator to the People seemed like a lifetime ago, when in reality only two had since passed. Much had happened since then and his life had changed dramatically, not the least of which was the trail of armed and uniformed keepers that dogged his every step these brightenings. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d traveled from here to there and back again alone, when even a few paces outside palace offices or apartments had at least half a dozen fellows up and in formation before he could even think to object.

He hardly looked born to the role and as a result, given the colorful and complicated regalia of his entourage, Rosemen in black, scarlet and gold, wizards and private guards alike, he often mused that he looked somewhat like the rogue sired ringleader of an uncommonly well turned out gang.

”Do you recall Barrett the last time we were in this wing we were chasing down a goose that had escaped one my mediation brightenings, it appears they’ve finally managed to get the stains out of the carpet,” he said with a wry grin while the entire string of gents rounded the corner in formation. Save Gwygwin, who was forever falling out of step with Rosemen and muddling up the process.

”Here we are Excellency,” Sir James declared when the reached the doorway that spilled into the offices of Taralon’s Thane. This would be interesting, enlightening perhaps, Milo thought, the fellow in question he’d only become familiar with just yet through the Herald and by way of correspondence. Suffice to say it had left a lasting and not necessarily favorable impression in contrast to friend and former colleague Moranor, but much indeed had changed with time and experience and he thought that perhaps a new perspective after time elapsed and temper cooled might prove advantageous.

Sir James slipped in ahead of him along with Sir Pious, the former, a human of middling eras with blonde hair and blue eyes, acting as senior member of the Knights of the Black Rose, and the latter, his second, a tall and broad half elf with dark hair and eyes. They arranged themselves aside of the doors and made their announcement before allowing Milo to stroll in, which he did shortly with Barrett to his right and Gwygwin to his left.

Dressed in dark blue trousers and a matching three quarter length frockcoat, he wore a scarlet waistcoat underneath, that buttoned up neatly over a white linen shirt and cravat sans frippery of any sort. His goatee was trimmed close and his hair neatly bound, and sported a few strands of premature silver against a field of dark brown. And his smile, though slight, crooked by way of a tenacious bloodline. A family resemblance most certainly, he thought when singling out the elf. ”Your Grace.” he said, fixing eyes on Malkaer. ”I was pleased when Mr. Tierney informed me that you were available to meet. I hope my arrival has not interupted pressing official business?”