A thin smile spreads over his disinterested face. "I didn't build it. I quite hate it, in fact."
Your face remains impassive. "I never praised it, m'lord."
Lord Moren laughs to himself. The man on his right lets out a forced chuckle, more for his lord's sake than for his own.
Moren's age is difficult to pin down. His hair is graying and receding, and the flesh on his skull seems to be pulled almost too tight, giving his face an almost skeletal appearance. Disinterested boredom peers from his pale-brown eyes.
He says, "So you say… so you say…" He clears his throat. "It is the will of the people that you are. And I am nothing if not a servant of the people." He chuckles again.
Darin narrows his eyes at the lord but remains silent.
Lord Moren continues. "I never would have let you into the jungle with those few thousand men behind you. But everyone vouched for you. My soldiers, my people…" He pauses. "You're very fortunate that they did. You have a shocking amount of influence, Marshal Arthur Hornraven."
He turns his attention to Darin. "And you, Captain. The soldiers spoke highly of you, as well. They wanted to give the two of you a 'hero's welcome.' They wanted to greet their old comrades once again."
"I's flattered," Darin replies evenly.
The lord chuckles again. "Ah, if only Tomos was here. You know, he spoke highly of you, Marshal Arthur Hornraven. Quite highly. But I am not Tomos, I never fought with you. Perhaps you would prefer if he was here instead of me, aye?"
He pauses, expecting a response.