#!starter

     ferdinand can usually be found here in the morning --- puttering around the stables, tending to the dear horses and setting them up for the day. he’s enjoyed this sort of environment for as long as he can remember; since he learned to walk, he’s been riding horses. leading his own mare out of her stable, the noble notices a figure approaching. he gives a smile, and a little wave.

           ❝  good morning to you, ashe! how lovely it is to see you.  ❞

    Politics are not his preference; had he wanted the life of a politician, he would have followed in his mother’s steps. Perhaps, had he shown more interest in such a life, he wouldn’t have been sent away. He wouldn’t have --- but such thoughts are pointless. Those were choices long since made, by a boy long since left behind. But though he had not followed his mother into politics, he had been groomed with the manners expected of the son of royalty. He is not daunted by the palace he stands in now, is not disturbed by the finery around him as he and his entourage await the arrival of the young Queen.

    The King’s untimely demise had attracted the Order’s attention; like sharks sensing blood in the water, they had immediately extended the offer of a visit to express their condolences. It is, ostensibly, simply a gesture of goodwill, the offering of an olive branch. In a way, he almost wishes it could be the General here in his place, with all his pretty propaganda --- but Kylo recognizes that rhetoric is not always the only thing needed to secure alliances. Sometimes, a subtler approach is needed.

    He almost snorts at the thought; no doubt there are many who would laugh at the idea that he even could be subtle. He knows he is seen more as the proverbial bantha in a china shop. But then, most do not know, do not understand the full extent of his capabilities.

    He feels her approach long before he ever lays eyes on her; even so, he does not turn his head, merely awaits the announcement. When such comes, he turns, mask impassive; and he bows low, a courtly gesture, smooth and simple.

    When he straightens, he also speaks, voice distorted by the vocoder in his helmet, but measured, calm, polite.