Sylvester looked at the elven man with care as the man appeared not a day older than eighteen. Heck, the man looked younger than him. But then again, Avanss was a complete, and according to his ancestry, royal-blooded elf. Years pass differently for elves, likely.
"Prince of Elves?" Sylvester muttered. "How old are you?"
Avanss seemed astonished by Sylvester's nonchalant reaction. Throughout the years, whenever someone had seen him, they had appeared shocked. Even the dwarves were taken aback by his presence.
"May I know what year of Solis this is?"
"The twenty-fifth year of the second century," Sylvester replied.
"Then I'm one hundred and sixty-nine years old. But you do not seem surprised by my status, friend," Avanss said in a surprised tone. "Most people at least show wide eyes."
