Treachery of Men RPG

[Celuien]

The guards, not wishing to fall under Ulfang's capricious wrath, hurried to obey their lord's command. Two chairs, shabbily cushioned in fading red velvet, were brought forward from behind a screen and gently placed behind the Elves. Very carefully, for the aged chieftain was watching for carelessness as a cat stalks its prey, and the jarring sound of too quickly dropped chairs against the elm covered floor would surely disturb Ulfang's thin veneer of good humor again.

Such concerns mattered little to Ulfast. His eyes followed Ulwarth in his passage from the hall, and he glowered from his stone chair. The court waited yet again upon Uldor's ease. The lazing fool. Ulfast held him in contempt, and that distaste now spread to his father for his dependence on his eldest son. Why must we wait? Does Uldor rule here, or do you? Ulfast longed to give voice to the thought.

"Aye. You have been kept waiting on your feet too long. Please, be seated. I am sure my brother will join us shortly, if he does not sleep the morning away." Ulfast laughed, and the sound echoed merrily in the timbers as though the jest had been genuine, but there was no mirth in his eyes. Ulfang glared, and the threat of another outburst brought a palpable tension to the room. Cursing himself for his weakness, Ulfast turned from his father's gaze, and calm returned.

"Well. Since we cannot yet speak of serious matters, perhaps we can talk of other things. Tell me, Master Lachrandir, how did you find your journey?"