Navy eyes follow the dipping head of the Golden Prince, his own great skull mimicking in to al lesser degree as the massive, ebony horn sliced through the misted air. Though his gaze is torn from the fiercely proud face to find the angry squawk that pierced from the trees above Ampere. The King’s gaze did not find the small conure, but it did find the sadness quickly swallowed by composure on the blue-bay’s striking face.

He blinked once, finding no electric anger or flying insults. Either decorum gentled the woman’s temper or something more had changed her. Regardless, the Elephant shifted his thick forelimb, freeing his young companion as no obvious danger sparked from the dark pegasus. Mbwene greeted this freedom with a gleeful, brassy squeak— after swatting Tembovu’s leg with her trunk for good measure.

The King, aside from failing to suppress a grin at his companion’s antics, ignored her as he looked to the splashed Anzanie halting beside him. He smiled warmly in greeting and nodded to affirm her request for a later audience with himself, and she saved him from needing to introduce her as she does so with ettiequte reminiscent of her royal past.

He looked to Cera, who apparently was spearheading the Dragon’s Throat party. Though his face remained trained to the gilded stallion, his eyes landed on Ampere and Maren as they were introduced. Cobalt eyes rested on Maren’s bright gold ones as she spoke a simple greeting— though nothing more came from her pale lips; it was Cera who continued so speak.

Mbwene, seizing her freedom, met the tiger cub’s greeting and pounce halfway. Being an infant, herself, she was too young to fully understand the waves of ‘importance’ and ‘seriousness’ that were rolling through her bond. She saw only oversized paws and fluffy tiger fur that required inspection by her inquisitive trunk. Indeed, the long and unwieldy appendage was seeking the soft fuzz that poked out beneath his ears (and hopefully not pulling it too hard win her curiosity).

Tembovu’s attention, however, remained on the man speaking of trade. The giant was glad that Anzanie so opportunely stood beside him, her slender frame warm beside his thick hide. A smile crosses his broad jaw, head dipping once in agreement with the terms. Not only would this trade benefit both herds (for metal was useful), but also the King recognized the opportunity for laying the foundations of goodwill with the Throat. “The Edge is honored by such a prominent party and the offer for trade. We gladly accept, though I will have to discuss with my fellow leader before deciding upon what we will obtain in return for the windows,” he pauses, turning his attention briefly to his Glazier, “Anzanie, I will watch after your daughter while you craft in the Throat, if you do not wish for her to make the journey.”

“The Elephant King, right?” Gaze sliced to the carefully curious questions (and non-questions) of Ampere. A lopsided grin burgeoned on his thick lips as he glanced down towards the small elephant that was now pestering the tiger cub. “I go by that,” his low voice rumbled with amusement in his answer, though it faded as he continued, “Torliek no longer resides in this herd, nor does he find favor with the Moon. Mauja, however, does still call the Edge his home. But it is Elsa the Icebound who rules alongside me.” The deep roll of his words paused, eyes studying the voltaic woman as he moved the chess pieces on the board of politics. He often had watched others do so, watched the puppeteering so that he might destroy an empire. But doing so, himself, was new to the King.

“Give my and Elsa’s greetings to Gaucho and Megaera,” he smiled. “If there is nothing else you wish of the Edge?” he paused, waiting, “I wish you a safe journey back to the Throat.” Mbwene’s ears flapped in irritation, she was not yet ready to bid the tiger-cub adieu.