[Centre][h2][colour=7a33aa]Astloveran Hjoren Kilstaf[/colour][/h2][/centre]
[right][sup][color=7a33aa]Interaction(s):[/color] [i]Everyone[/i] [color=7a33aa]Location:[/color] [i]Olenta's Throne Room[/i][/sup][/right][hr]
Astlo offered a curt nod in return to the steward, his acknowledgment tempered by his age and a tendency to forego the flourish younger men might employ. Respect was given, though not with the elaborate gestures that so often accompanied courtly displays. After decades in service, Astlo had earned the privilege of brevity.

He inhaled deeply, the air filling his lungs before escaping in a slow, deliberate sigh. The idea of a royal heir being found was, on its surface, a hopeful proposition, one that could alter the course of a faltering kingdom. Yet Astlo’s seasoned mind, sharpened by years of intrigue and deception, found it difficult to embrace such hope without skepticism. It was far more plausible that the story was born of idle tongues—some mountain charlatan seeking favor or fame, perhaps to impress a lover or secure a fleeting moment of grandeur. Such tales had a way of inflating with each telling.

Despite his doubts, Astlo could not dismiss the matter outright. The summons to investigate had come directly, and with it, a clear mandate: to ascertain the truth and to curb the overzealous actions of those desperate to prove themselves. For all his cynicism, a faint ember of hope remained within him. If the rumors held even a shred of truth, the discovery of an heir might restore not just the royal line, but the stability of a fractured realm. And should such a day come, Astlo fancied he might play a part in shaping this heir—not merely in matters of ceremony and etiquette, but in the deeper arts of governance and wisdom.

He stepped forward, his boots striking the polished stone floor with a deliberate rhythm. Clearing his throat, Astlo addressed the steward, his voice measured and calm.

[color=#7A33AA]"My Lord Steward,"[/color] he began, his tone imbued with a practiced steadiness born of countless councils, [color=#7A33AA]"I must admit that the likelihood of these rumors being anything more than mere fabrication seems exceedingly slim."[/color] There was no arrogance in his words, nor a lack of deference—only the tempered perspective of a man who had seen far too many false hopes raised.

Pausing, he stroked the length of his beard, as if the action might tease further insight from his thoughts. [color=#7A33AA]"That said, I will attend to this matter as requested. Any course of action that merits your attention deserves to be pursued with diligence, regardless of my reservations."[/color]

His gaze met the steward’s, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Astlo’s doubts were clear, but so too was his commitment to the task at hand. Whatever the outcome, he would approach it with the care and gravity it deserved.