
Once again, the kingdom is quick to respond to a presence at their borders.
Soliel’s little girl comes first. Having not met her, he only knows who she belongs to by the resemblance to her mother. There’s that same bright curiosity in her luminous gaze. Unlike Soliel, though, her silver eyes are unclouded by loss and the attempt to retrieve her memories. But he notices the way she holds back, even as she approaches the older pair. He smiles, encouragingly, but still she positions herself just out of the conversation. At first, he attributes it to a shy, solitary nature. There is nothing wrong with such a personality; he’s only surprised that she possesses it with the white woman for a dam. But then he wonders. Children are so in tune, connected to the world in ways the adults have lost along the way. Could she be sensing something he is not?
Elysteria and Weir come at the same time he is asking the grey male’s intentions. Ramiel notices the way that the older woman inserts herself between the potential threat and the child. Once again, he is so grateful for his almost-aunt’s continued presence in the Dale. Even after losing her daughter to a political scheme, she chose to remain behind. This fact and her ability to read and respond to delicate situations continue to make her invaluable. He nods nearly imperceptibly after she greets the towering grey. He’d noticed the way her smile hadn’t quite creased her face like it normally did. And while she is normally one of their warmest, most steadfast greeters, he doesn’t have to wonder why she hadn’t been such with this man. Surely, she senses something amiss.
For his part, Weir hides nothing. A wary curiosity reigns on his features; he even lifts a brow as if chastising the man for hiding something that is plain for Weir to see. Ramiel is neither empathetic nor able to control magic like his two kingdom-mates, but he doesn’t need either ability to trust their judgements. Something is off about the man. He flicks his tail, a nervous habit that is less to do with his safety and more to do with the entire Dale (and especially the dark girl at their heels). An unknown magician at their border is no small cause for concern, after all.
But he quickly refutes that idea. He says he’s from the Deserts, and though Ramiel can detect no trace of sagebrush or salty, ocean air, he could believe the stranger. It’s common enough for horses to run the gamut of kingdoms on various duties for their own – perhaps he’s on his way back to the sandy place even now. But the grey warrior doesn’t give his name, doesn’t even mention his queen’s name. Maybe it is common enough knowledge to assume he means Camrynn (that black woman who seemed to know more of Ramiel as a colt then anyone when she visited years ago) but surely one would give their own moniker when delivering such devastating news. He waits until the stallion is done speaking, not interrupting even when he wants to. There’s tension in the way he holds himself, etched in the lines of his face as he passively regards the nameless warrior.
When he finishes, Ramiel lets a long moment pass before he addresses the news. “We are not allies at all,” is the first bullet he lets loose, poking a hole in the man’s story. And there is no denying it – doing so would only further discredit the grey. “But it is very charitable of Queen Camrynn to warn an unattached, free kingdom of impending doom.” The corners of his lips quirk slightly in a humorless grin. If only he could speak to Elysteria and Weir before going down a path he hopes he’s right to walk. If their senses were wrong, he risks spurning advice from a rather powerful kingdom… But he’d sooner place his trust in them and worry about potential fallout later. His golden eyes find each of theirs once more before turning back to the grey. “Is your queen so confident in these ‘troubling times’ that she’d send out one of her better warriors rather than a diplomat?” There’s a kernel of doubt that lodges in his brain, though. If it had been any other kingdom mentioned…but no, it is the Valley that apparently has a target on their backs. Ramiel’s own pulse begins to quicken at the thought of all they will need to do to be ready. “Consider it raised, then.” He means against Weed as much as anything, but let the man think what he will. “But do not consider the Dale unprepared.”
Ramiel
ghost king of the dale