There, standing at the far edge of the balcony, was Prince Lamir. He stood with his chest high, his hands held low behind his back, and his eyes toward the scene of the capital, regarding his lands with a calculating expression. His imperial bearing suggested him as the master of all his surveyed. His light eyes glowed, his long flaxen hair undulated in the delicate breeze, and his stern countenance was kept firmly north basking in the radiance of the Lucentian morning. Here was a picture of majesty, and Kai Linaa was immobilized by it. His appearance and character seemed to different from that of Alasdair’s as to make the prince seem wholly unapproachable. He looked a god more than a mere man: his perfectly combed and tied hair, his impeccable dress, and his pristine complexion gave him a numinous aura. Kai Linaa exhaled when beholding such an object of dignity and she must confess herself unprepared and ill-equipped to speak to so transcendent a creature.
Ladrei pressed Kai Linaa’s hand and gave her a moment to recollect herself. “He usually stands on the balcony at this time in the morning. He takes great pride in watching how his people thrive knowing that it was all his doing. He might look distant and have a reputation for being bad tempered, but he is a brilliant ruler. In seventy years, he managed to turn a starving and desolate people into the richest princedom on the Two Continents, much to the disappointment of Thellis and Livanon.”