Krag's flinty gaze passed coolly over the peacock princeling to examine his entourage with much more interest. His companions had their eyes on the Prince, and he'd learned through hard experience to be wary of distracting displays. He also didn't need Reshad's signal to remind him to remain calm—not at the moment, at least. None of this lot had done anything to earn his ire, yet.

At the end of the last war, most folk dealt with their grief, rebuilt, and a fair number believed that a lasting peace with the Drow might be possible with the Abyssal Altar destroyed. Krag was both the type to hold a grudge, and a true believer in vigilance. He busied himself with keeping as close an eye as he could on the Drow, trying to gauge if and when they may threaten the surface once again—whether through a remade Abyssal Altar, or by their natural subterfuge and the force of arms that they still possessed in dangerous quantity.