(Picks up after Barator and Adilar enter the courtyard of the House of Nefyil)

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“I hope my arrival has not disturbed Lord Tanil from his work.” Commented Barator, for a moment fearing he had arrived sooner than his host expected. Adilar was about to give answer when suddenly a voice, rich and gentle, spoke from a short distance: “It has, yet I assure you it is a most welcome disturbance.” Both boy and man turned towards the voice, its owner emerging from behind a large hedge of fiery dragon roses. Barator immediately perceived him to be the High Lord of Din Serenth, no introduction necessary due in part to the overwhelming impression that he was standing in the presence of a luminary figure.

It was believed that most often creations were merely reflections of their creators, and Tanil Nefyilon was no exception to this belief, for it was no small wonder he bore a talent for harvesting beauty given he himself was the epitome of male Dunyar beauty. Tall with proud, strong shoulders, hair the color of the sun and a face that, despite signs of approaching middle-age, was fair and noble as ever it had been. His features were reminiscent of the chiseled works he’d honed from shapeless stone, sharp and harmoniously proportioned as if he were a living monument of his own skill. Perhaps the most intriguing feature of his countenance was his eyes, which were cerulean like his son’s. Within them Barator could almost perceive an otherworldly light, as if Carya Argul himself was present within them. Garbed in a magnificent robe of green and gold, trimmed along the sleeves and collar with patterns of flowers and stars woven together, like  his son, he too wore a circlet of woven silver, though one differing characteristic of his diadem was a single emerald woven into the silver at the center, so that the gem rested on his brow. He wore no amulet but on his fingers he wore two rings, one on each hand, one golden in making and having the shape of a star, the other a silver band into which a moonstone of the most luminous quality was melded, reminding Barator of moonlight. Though he’d expected to be reasonably dazzled by the Dunyar and their foreign ways and looks, he’d not anticipated the demi-mortal race to be half so otherworldly as many claimed. The realization was both enchanting and slightly unnerving.

 Pushing his sudden unease aside, he remembered his manners and proceeded to bow to his host, offering a polite greeting of “My Lord Dunyar.” Tanil smiled warmly at his acknowledgment and in turn bowed his head before speaking once more. “Peace and light unto you, Lord Blaidyn…or would you prefer Lord Barator?” He greeted in return, his expression congenial enough to put even his worst foe at ease. “Whatever it pleases your highness to call me, so shall I be.” Barator replied tactfully, having been warned that the Dunyar were prideful people who were not always keen to speak of those who were not of their race with informality, nor to be spoken of in such a manner. Smiling another warm smile, Tanil stepped forward and extended his hand to his guest. “Then Lord Barator you shall be hereafter.” He declared as Barator clasped his hand in his in a customary gesture of newly forged friendship. Releasing the latter’s hand, Tanil stepped back and with a slight lift of his right arm towards his son, who had lingered silently for the last few moments, spoke again. “I trust my son did his best to welcome you to our shores?” The young princeling smiled almost shyly at his father’s query. “Indeed, my lord, he was most accommodating.” Barator responded politely, “I would expect no less of a son of the House of Nefyil.” The High Prince beamed at this compliment paid to his kin, as did the princeling. Their similar expressions led Barator to believe that the boy was almost a mirror of his father, alike in most things save for the color of their hair.