It was raining – a cold, thick rain that hadn't stopped since afternoon. Eron was in his room preparing for dinner. He hated wearing those silk clothes and hated even more the need to eat with a crown on his head, but even an informal reception for the King of Atheayurid required a certain formality. The conversation with him earlier had been brief and punctual; the foreign king asked about Handar and talked a little about how his kingdom has remained relatively neutral about the war against Seliria in recent years. There was no alliance or agreement between Cronan and Rhestan, but the rapid advance of the Selirian army at the border in recent times indicated that it would soon be necessary to close an alliance with one side. Thinking of everything and nothing at the same time, Eron looked
