A small yet well-appointed column of mounted soldiers clatter along the streets of the capital to the palace, an overdressed young peacock of a man at their head, trailing bits of silk and gaudy feathers from his clothes.
He swings down from the saddle, imperiously hands the reigns to a footman and struts into the castle, followed by a rather morose-looking old soldier clad in battle-worn leathers.
"Greetings your majesty, and many congratulations on your appointment," the young man says as he enters the throneroom, his voice cultured and softly-spoken, "I am Trubaldsome of Miring, as I am sure you know, my kingdom has long been a staunch ally of the last king, rest his soul. My father, Langsuffryn, led the armies in support of Elbreth in all its wars until his untimely death, which I most certainly had nothing to do with."
He pauses, raising a hand before his face and taking a deep sniff from a long trail of scented silk bursting from his cuff to compose himself. "Ah yes, such a pity. But anyway, I am sidetracked by my grief," he says, not appearing to be any such thing, "I wish to serve your kingship, as my forebears have long served yours. I have brought a small force of men-at-arms, we are at your service."
With that said, he sweeps his oversized, richly embroidered blue hat from his head, and bows deeply before the king.
OOC: Name: Lord Trubaldsome of Miring.
Just tell me if I did anything wrong! I didn't see anyone else laying claim to Miring when I looked...