As Charls rose from his bow, another very great figure was coming towards him, and Charls had the impression initial impression only of kingship: flowing Akielon robes, power, laurel-crowned.
‘Damianos of Akielos,’ said Laurent.
Charls looked up—and up, and up—at the familiar face, warmly handsome, at the smile and the eyes that he knew so well.
‘Lamen,’ said Charls, in a shocked voice. ‘Why are you dressed up like the King?’