Perhaps unlike the princess, the Lord Ranel was dressed a lot less elegantly. Rather, he was a rugged man; dressed in dark breeches, worn leather boots and a faded navy shirt. He wore a dark cloak around his broad shoulders and a leather belt, heavy with his gear and blade, hung from his waist. Ranel had a pair of steely grey eyes and dark hair that was sleek, chopped short and pulled back into a pony tail with a few stray strands framing his chiseled face. There was a hard look to him; a sort of look that only a man who had seen much in his lifetime would have. He had sent word to the royals of the Arathian Empire days before requesting an audience. It had been a pretty blind stab in the dark, if he did say so himself, but a necessary step.
Anyway, the messenger had been sent days ago and now, Ranel and a few other men were riding to the enclosed kingdom. Ranel hadn’t brought a very big entourage with him; just a few of his most trusted men upon their best horses. They were nomadic people and didn’t really care much for grand entrances - save, of course, for when they were running into war.
When they rode into the kingdom, they received a fair welcome. Their horses were taken to the stables to rest and they were led into a banquet hall. Before entering, Ranel turned to look at the men on either side of him before nodding for the herald to go. The man pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside, bowing to address the royal family before declaring their arrival with a loud, clear voice:
“Introducing Lord Ranel, Son of Ranan, leader of the Iere Clan and his commanders, Dradar, son of Dell and Sifen, Son of Shyr.”