This is a private role play between myself and Phanton, meaning only we are are permitted to post here. If you happen to stumble in and like what you read feel free to read along :).

ooc: I like the title. :3 It makes the roleplay sound like a fable or something~

bic: The weather had turned quite stormy over the past week--Mother Winter's death throes, perhaps. Despite the cold, damp air, Clovis had instructed that the windows of his throne chamber remain open for he rather enjoyed storms. This caused the drapings and banners (each displaying his coat of arms--a dragon locked in combat with a lion) that lined the giant chamber to furl and billow quite noisely.

"Surely you won't impose upon your guests when they arrive, sire?" a bold knight had asked him earlier that morning, referring to the cold air that had settled upon the room. Clovis merely looked upon the man with his steady, ice blue eyes and replied, "..my 'guest' called this meeting. It is he who wishes to talk or bargain. I have not yet been given a reason to show him any hospitality, and I will keep my rooms as I will." No more was said on the matter.

Clovis had many such requests to meet. Ever since he had crushed Themius, king of the north regions (a nuisance who frequently threatened war when drunk, for he had the largest army of all the kingdoms and the largest ego, by far), neighboring kingdoms whisper of the that of conquest by Clovis. His kingdom was the mecha of blacksmithing in this realm and had weapons and firepower to spare. While the king hasn't shown the slightest interest in ruling over all the kingdoms, he certainly had the means to do so..

Clovis, himself, was a strange man. He made others uneasy with his gaze and a face that seemed perpetually expressionless. It unnerved even his allies for who could say what Clovis was really thinking?

He was tall (maybe 6'7") with the build of one experienced in using heavy swords in combat. He dressed very finely--his tunics were all dyed in bright blues and reds and his cloaks accented with gold leaf. Even his crown was sold gold, intricately carved and delicately adorned with rubies--his favorite stone. The crown seemed to spring straight out of his curled, blonde mop of hair and was flanked by two twisting black horns (said to be the prize of his first hunting trip when he was but five years of age).

He lounged in his throne,a leg casually draped over one arm of his chair as he scanned a book one of the local monks had recently brought to him. He loved the twisting, colorful pictures and the elegant text and had been reading the thing for hours while he awaited the arrival of his guests. His knights waited nearby, talking and paying games with dice on the long tables that lined the hall..