When he was a child one of the only things Flaithriaoh wanted was to accompany his father to the great palace. Eibhear always said it was the sort of thing you enjoyed being invited to, but you did not actually want to attend. He had always assumed this was modesty on his father's part. Now that he was actually there in full inform and insignia, he had to agree with Eibhear's words. This as far too irritating to be enjoyed.
He felt out of place in the finely tailored and pressed coat. Not visually, of course, because he looked as amazing as one could hope. But the pins and medals hung over his chest identified him as a Colonel; a rank he had not earned directly. Because the Priests had been able to identify him as Lorien's Champion he automatically assumed a high rank, but not high enough to actually command those with greater experience. He could not tell Generals how to deploy or maneuver their men, but if Flaithriaoh crossed paths with an enlisted man or a lesser officer he could make demands of that man.
Not that he wanted to.
"Leironuoth," the man before him said. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
In fact it was actually the color of his military garb that told those around him who he was. An officer's coat was normally a dark hunter green; Flaithriaoh wore the same jacket in a bright emerald. There had been quite a fuss at the Royal Military's tailor; such a jacket had not been made in hundreds of years. Other than banners it was actually rare that the color be used for official matters.
So, when he saw a woman pass in a dress and cloak of a similar shade, it caught his attention. He extended his hand and shook with the man who had addressed him.
He wanted to follow the woman, yet couldn't.. But he noticed her, over the shoulder of whichever land-owning man was speaking to him at the time. Banalbus. Barnabus? What was this fool's name? Flaithriaoh (or Leironuoth, as he was continuously reminded) was too young for circumstance. He nodded politely at the Lord's words and drained yet another flute of wine. All totaled, that as probably the end of his second bottle in as many hours.
"I hear you are to be credited with the entire campaign's success.," the Lord said.
Flaithriaoh shrugged. It was difficult. Half of him wanted to be cocksure and dismiss the man entirely, the other half knew that it simply couldn't be done that way. Or could it? Strangely enough, he had positioned himself in a massive corridor that adjoined the ball area. Behind him hung a portrait of Leironuoth Balflier (or the fifth Leironuoth, one of his supposed predecessors). He glanced back at the man's face, and then replied.
"I was there, yes, but the dead men we left behind are the ones feeding the grass."
And then he walked away from Lord Barnawhoever. He grabbed two flutes of wine. The crowd parted for him. He walked to a balcony.