"Your Majesties are kind to ride with me," young Roger of Conte says, looking first to his uncle at his right and his aunt on his left.
King Roald rests one gloved hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Nonsense, Roger. You're home from the City of The Gods - to spend time with family."
Court is a vibrant place, a welcome break from studying in the Mithran cloisters. And his uncle still seems determined to dote on him.
"The Masters suggest I may enroll at the university in Carthak," he says, and Lianne beams proudly, almost as if he was her son.