- Alfons POV -
Alfons au Vaelion had been on the island nearly an hour when House Morgain arrived. The Vaelion delegation held one of the broad sections near the eastern side of the main hall, close enough to the central routes that anyone of importance could find them without appearing to try.
White, gold and crimson marked their ground among hundreds of banners, people coming and going since they arrived.
Alfons had borne most of it without complaint. He would have found the greetings tedious once, the compliments empty and the lesser nobles beneath the effort of remembering their names, and some of that was still in him. He had simply learned that boredom was no excuse to stop paying attention.
A merchant talking to his father might name a route he had no business knowing. An envoy might hesitate before answering the wrong question. A young heir might discuss nothing at all for five minutes while working out which Vaelion stood nearest Roderic.
