It had been four months since their son left the castle. Rhoarin and Elena were now regarded as the Patriarch and Matriarch of the Ironfell empire. They were swamped with work and responsibilities every waking day, but it did not make them miss their only child any less.
Occasionally, they found time to spend with one another as they loved each other very much and one could not do without the other.
Rhoarin was flipping through pages of his father's memoirs in his study, a small pair of glasses hung very comfortably on his nose.
The room smelled of furniture and books, the morning light draped in through the clear windows. The man wore a silver shirt made entirely of silk and a pair of long, jet black trouser. His hair was tied neatly in a ponytail as he stroked his chin.
He was an avid reader of many things, and loved to find out more about the era before his own. Hence why he read so much of his father's writing.
