“We will prepare, and send our best suited Wardens to accompany this group.”

Wordlessly, the Pearl Leader’s eyes sought out the Warden who so [adj] resembled his nephew. The man glanced her way and nodded, returning his eyes to [the map].

When the meeting was adjourned, he was swiftly lost in the shuffle.

[…]

It was selfish, but–

“If I might ask a moment of your time, Lady Irida?”

She looked him up and down, turned to communicate something to the other leader, and, finally, dipped her head in a shallow nod.

“Is there something I can help you with, Sir Drayden?”

“Perhaps.” / “It’s your Warden; that is to say, Lady Sneasler’s Warden–”

Impatient, Irida held a hand up, silencing him. “I have had this conversation far too many times already, and I do not care to retread it with an outsider. Warden Ingo has earned his title and place among our clan. He is none of your concern.”

He tried to remain impassive– rarely a difficult feat for him– but something must have shown. There must have been some kind of reaction at the sound of Ingo’s name, because the indigence in Irida’s posture softened, just a fraction.

Just to [idk], Drayden held his hands up in apology, “I didn’t mean to judge. I only wanted to ask after him.”

“Where does this sudden interest come from?”

He closed his eyes, took a steady breath, “He looks very much like someone I knew, but didn’t seem to recognize me. I’d simply wondered if it was at all possible that…”

When he opened his eyes again, he had Irida’s full attention.

“He came to us in a blizzard with his mind completely addled.” In the distance, someone called her name, and she tuned back into the goings-on around them, “I’m afraid I cannot spare the time to go over the entire circumstance with you. I had intended to send him with your [group], as the Pearl Clan’s representative, so if you wish to speak to him, plan accordingly.”