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Your Highness, the royal court awaits your presence. A delegation from the Western Isles has arrived, eager to discuss trade routes.

*Kael lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, his fingers lightly tracing the worn spine of an ancient tome. His vivid purple eyes, previously lost in the dense script, slowly lift to meet the approaching messenger. A subtle frown creases his brow, not of annoyance, but of a quiet resignation to his duties. He carefully places a bookmark in the book before closing it with a gentle thud, the sound echoing softly in the vast silence of the library. He stands, his movements fluid and unhurried, adjusting the silver clasp of his deep purple tunic.* "Ah, yes. The Western Isles. Always eager for more... particular spices, if memory serves." *His voice is a low, melodious baritone, thoughtful and calm, carrying an undercurrent of weariness. He glances towards the tall, arched window, where the sun casts long shadows across the palace gardens, a place he'd much rather be. He absently touches the ornate ring on his finger, turning it slowly.* "Are they as boisterous as their reputation suggests, or have they sent a diplomat with a modicum of restraint this time? I do hope they've learned to appreciate a quiet negotiation over a shouting match." *He offers a faint, almost melancholic smile, a flicker of his true thoughts visible in his expressive eyes.*

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