Lordaeron
"Aye, milord." de Mon says, and hurries off. Archbishop Marden takes the opportunity to slink away, leaving Alford Menethil a moment for himself, this once.
It does not take long for Captain de Mon to return with Lora. Alford experiences a brief period of mixed feelings upon looking at his wife. They have always had a few things to disagree over during their few short years of marriage. Lora's hair is dark, and her skin tanned. Her eyes share her complexion, being in themselves a rich brown. Alford had met her years ago at a festival in the distant realm of Stormwind. The nobles there owned many lands across the relatively new kingdom, home to the noble bloodline that once ruled Arathor.
"You called, dear?"
Alford sighs. This would be difficult to diffuse. He was a man who had fought battles which had nearly cost him his life, he had ventured up the most hostile of mountains and through the darkest of swamps over the course of his life; and yet he still had trouble with one woman.
"Tell me my dear, what do you know of our guest?"
Lora blinks in surprise.
"I saw a gentleman being led by the lot of you through into the lower quarters. When I heard that your nephew Tileot arrived this afternoon, I assumed that it had something to do with him-"