Cera
_{They doused your soul in water but the flames raised higher}

The trio was not left in their bubble of solitude for very long. Though the vastness of the land should have made hearing their call difficult, Helovia seemed to showcase an eternal talent of making sure individuals where in the right place at the right time for such matters. Perhaps Cera should feel more nervous, but...he simply isn't. Maren is on one side and Ampere on the other, and surely he must be the odd one to find such deep, abiding joy in their presence beside him. This what the Throat stands for, he thinks with pride hot and valiant in his breast. He loves the mares so deeply in that moment that even the elephant king cannot shake or shudder the earth beneath his firmly rooted hooves. The Prince faces the reserved smile with a contrasting warmth that he cannot shake, eyes like summer grasses and frame relaxed and inviting. Exuding a calm, peacefully joyous aura that he hopes will somehow reach the stoic King. 

Cera is not without his manners, chin ducking towards his breast as title and name are both revealed, a respectful gesture. And yet he realizes belatedly, in a fit of sudden amusement, that they are rather impressive company, whether Tembovu is aware of it or not. The Forger, the Diviner, and the Chancellor. Creation, divination, and protection. They are joined shortly by a painted lass who introduces herself as another crafter, slipping from the mists as if aware Cera was preparing to speak and not wanting to miss out on the pleasantries. The Prince smiles at her, pleased that she has arrived when it is she who will fulfill his desires. Or so he hopes. 

"My name is Cera, head forger of the Dragon's Throat. Let me introduce Ampere, our Chancellor, and our Diviner Maren," lightly smiling muzzle tilts towards each mare in turn, feathers ruffling and smoothing subtly in his excitement, eyes flickering momentarily towards Anzanie. "We were hoping to strike a trade with you and yours, Tembovu. The Dragon's Throat is in need of glass windows for one of our projects, and in return for your potential cooperation, Maren and I would gladly supply our metal for whatever your herd desires," the stallion elaborated, not wanting to waste anybody's time with rambling pleasantries and struck poses that only served to peacock and show off ridiculous traits Cera had no business with. 

Instead of letting his useless loose tongue ruin things, Cera merely settled back onto his hocks and awaited Tembovu's and Anzanie's reactions, a pleasant buzz of hope and excitement itching beneath his skin.