A pair of heavy boots, completely covered in black steel, clinked on stone tiles. An exquisite cape from a thick fabric, darker than the night, bushed behind them. Several chains and strips of leather, as black as everything else on his armour, let out a silent sound every time he moved, and as he walked into the hall, he was followed by clinking of metal.
His armour, much more noble and precious than his ordinary clothes, covered almost all of him, except for his face, and the thick plates of iron would be too heavy to move in freely for anyone but a knight. He retained his elven grace and elegance nonetheless, even though he was moving only slowly, still feeling the misfortune of last battle and Maigrod's unsuccessful flight on his body.
Several other knights were already in the hall, waiting for their council to begin. Athran walked to the closest chair and dropped onto it with loud clinking of the metal plates and chains. His right hand grabbed the finely crafted hilt of his sword, hanging by his side, but kept it in its sheath.
A few bright fires were burning in the hall, their smoke turning under the high ceiling and escaping through the windows. There were countless trophies from hunts and fights, mounted on the walls, of which he many recognized - not one was from a beast slain by his own hands. It was always a relief to see that memories of past battles weren't altogether forgotten, and there was a reminder of the threats, faced in the past. Even though it was covered in several years old dust.
He stretched his legs underneath the table and took the winged helmet off his head, allowing his long hair to slip onto his shoulders. It has grown much since he was here last time, when it hardly reached his shoulders, but now wisps of it hung onto his back and chest.
Oh gods. How long it was since he last stood here... He remembered first entering this great hall, still in his youth, hardly an adult. His young self surely wouldn't be ashamed of the three centuries older Athran, now among the most well-known and skilled knights. He'd never say he'd fight a dragon and tame him only a few years later, too, though...
A long sigh escaped from his chest with a leaving breath. All that was so long ago.
Now, his eyes were sliding from one knight to another, young next to old, tall standing by short. He remembered many of them from the times when they were still just students. Maybe a bit too many. He felt like an antiquity next to those mortals.
