De'Arg walks through the tunnels to get to the dais he had stood upon in the previous meeting. There is so much to do and being from a line of the first king, within Narnia, he feels he has a right to the throne. He holds a title of a nobleman, but a low ranking one. His line came from a lover of The Conqueror and had become pregnant. The woman had threatened to give all away unless given sufficient title and lifestyle. This is what had happened and they had kept the title ever since. Yes, he has moved up in rank a couple of titles. It is still not much though, but he has his family line as proof. It has been made by the royal historians in secret, always kept on file.
He shakes his head, pushing these things from his mind as he needed to focus at the task at hand. Dark eyes, the color of rich chocolate, look about the simple room that looks almost to be an arena of sorts, a place to hold a large group to discuss things. Those eyes gaining a sinister gleam to them, narrowing with those thoughts of killing Caspian. There in his calloused hand is a scroll, one holding the prophecy of what will help him win this war.
The candles lit about him, allow for a a squinted read. It is not the best light, but enough to pass and keep the shadows high to hide in corners and disappear. It is a risky way to keep meetings, as someone could easily sneak in and spy on them. Though, then again that was what round the clock guards are for.
His tan skin is given a bronze look from the candle light, shadow obscuring his face to show angular planes. He is very handsome with wavy brown hair, though it does not go any longer then his ears. His face is a bit worn in appearance, with a small beard and mustache that is kept trim.
Finally with a final mental shake of his head, De'Arg opens the scroll to read the prophecy for the hundredth time. The parchment yellow and torn in some places, as it is a couple of generations old. This is the Telmarine prophecy that has been given for the rightful king to be placed on the throne, least that is what he had been told by one of his fellow up-risers. With a heavy sigh, he sets the open scroll on the table once more.
A woman found with silver claw
Here in the time of four
There to deafen the lion's roar.
The words written in elegant hand writing and it still didn't make much sense to him. He moves to lean against the table, squeezing the edge of it in long, calloused, fingers. The sign of a swordsman with much practice given to the art every day. His father had always said "That to live by the sword was to die by it." He knew that his father is right, but he didn't plan on dying until much later on in his life. He needs to speak with his "council" to see what is going on. Also, to see what they are able to find as it seems the Narnian council is moving their meeting place.
Pushing off the table with force to make it wobble on its legs, he quickly turns to steady it. He didn't need the blasted parchment to catch fire. Once more his dark eyes look about the "hall" and stops at one of the doorways. A ragged brow arches upon seeing the tall figure in the doorway, another entered without his notice. He waits a moment to notice who this person is, the corners of his lips moving upwards into a smile then.
"Flavius... So nice of you to join me..." De' Arg chuckles lightly in his deep baritone voice. He watches the man he calls mentor and council. His smile is slow and comes to be a sly grin. He is very happy to see the man, but it begins to turn into annoyance.