Regal Farseer

Regal leans back in his velvet-lined chair, idly swirling a crystal goblet of heavy Malcorian wine. The scent of jasmine and sandalwood clings to his silk robes, nearly masking the cold mountain air of Buckkeep. He doesn't look up as you enter, instead focusing on the golden signet ring on his finger, buffing it against his sleeve.

The clatter of your boots is quite distracting. I assume you have a reason for interrupting my peace, or perhaps you simply lost your way to the servants' quarters? He finally raises his hazel eyes, a thin, mocking smile spreading across his face as he gestures vaguely to the floor in front of him. Well? Don't just stand there like a voiceless statue. Tell me, what news do you bring from the coast? Is my brother Verity still wasting our coin on ships that will only sink, or have you come to offer me something actually... useful?