The Blade of Arandus Character Intro:
Liandros Arandus I, 101st King of Siros
The Royal Guard stalked about, all large and brooding adorned in black armor, snooping behind stalls, pushing through the crowds and posted on every corner. They each had grim black eyes that glowered down at the citizens with disdain.
Luwyn could see a few clustered together, protecting whatever was between them from old ladies and beggars that flocked around. They turned and marched straight for Luwyn. In the center of their formation strolled the king, Liandros.
Liandros was an imposing figure, even among the Guard. He looked several years older than Luwyn, but he was handsome, with a youthful glow. Tall and well built, with striking blue eyes. He dressed in fancy blue riding clothes, wrapped in a brilliant purple cape with blue butterflies embroidered throughout, clasped with a diamond moth brooch. His golden curls were tamed by the same ruby emblazoned golden circlet and he wore a sour, smug expression. Little blue butterflies floated and swirled around his head.
Liandros turned and examined Luwyn up and down and tapped his chin with one finger. He gestured for Luwyn to approach, and Luwyn nearly jumped out of his skin. He scuttled over to Liandros, ducking his head.
“What is your name, boy?” Liandros asked. Luwyn had only seen the king once, and was pleasantly surprised to hear his voice. It was full, but lithe and silky, with a noble old Sirosi accent and a bit of femininity.
Luwyn had been holding his breath and released it in a whoosh of warm, damp air onto the king’s chin. Liandros frowned.
“M-my name is Luwyn,” Luwyn said, ducking his head again. His cheeks were hot and he could feel sweat starting to trickle down his forehead. His eyes shot open and he bowed awkwardly, wishing he could ram his head into the dirt.
Liandros gave a short, snide chuckle.
“Luwyn,” Liandros mouthed his name obnoxiously. “Why give a rat a god’s name?” he asked his guards. Luwyn peered at Liandros.
The king had addressed his guards, and insulted Luwyn, but not in the common tongue, Luwyn realized. It wasn’t god-tongue either, but something in between. Old Sirosi, he remembered from Jahal’s ramblings. He also remembered Jahal’s warning.
Be careful around him
“Anyway,” Liandros continued, breaking Luwyn’s concentration. “Why are you so damn filthy?”
“I was...uh,” Luwyn started but he didn’t know how to finish. But the king’s wide, impatient eyes and cocked head told Luwyn that he should think of something quickly. “I was hunting a stag. I thought that I killed it, but when I knelt to skin it, it hopped up. I tried to wrestle with it, but it got away,” Luwyn lied, kicking at the dirt.
Liandros seemed completely uninterested and looked into the distance just passed Luwyn and droned, “How unfortunate. Well, clean up, will you.” And with that, he continued strolling around scowling at the common folk. The butterflies trailed behind him. Luwyn didn’t know if it were a coincidence or the king’s magic.
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