Gent was met with indifference – were he not on his best behavior, and the dragon might behave like something else entirely. The small trio was here on the Queen’s errand (and with her favored scout in tow, no less). This was meant to improve relationships between Round Stone Crest and the wolves of Hearthwood River – a bond he’d strained, however inadvertently. A previous discussion with the leading lady had made it clear that Kjors was to do his best to amend this situation, and if that meant behaving like a proper wolf instead of a monster (dragon, lycanthrope, or otherwise), then so be it. He would behave himself, for now.
So he simply eyed the master of the house, doling out the charm, and could hope that the pair of women he accompanied could read right through whatever mask the Crest King chose to wear on this particular day. That he did not greet them at all was met with a small quirk of his brow, but he fought the urge to curl up his lip, instead looking past the man as he made his summons. At first, Kjors thought it to be the lady they sought – the enigmatic Minka, the deceased Tokino’s mate (and the proper monarch, in his opinion). When she didn’t arrive, he began to brace himself for the worst, assuming immediately that the man was calling for reinforcements. That he was paranoid at the best of times did not cross his mind, especially not without the princess and her calming presence. Shifting his weight worriedly, he moved to Kisla’s flank, tail out straight as he drew himself to his full height. That he did not raise his hackles was a true victory, head raised and pivoting like a periscope as he watched the horizon warily.
To his great surprise (and relieved delight), an entire hoard of wolves did not appear at all. Instead, it was but one individual – a yearling, still growing into his paws. Perhaps even more shocking, he knew this wolf. Head raising up all the higher, his golden eye widened a fraction as his tail went down, giving one, single wave of acknowledgement. Their previous encounter had been neutral (if not mildly amiable), and he met Kova with more curiosity than he did hostility. Perhaps if they were dealing with the prince, perhaps things would go more smoothly than he originally imagined.
“Kova,” he greeted the lad, pleased to see at least one of the Crest males still had his manners. “Good t’ see y’again.” The male fell silent as Kisla spoke back up, only dipping his head in acknowledgement to her words. He would tell what he knew, he’d promised this. While he had little interest in sharing with Gent, he couldn’t do anything about the alpha’s presence, and focused on Kova instead. “Mhm. Thought we could share, some,” he murmured in agreement, shifting his gaze to watch Kisla out of the very corner of his single eye. How much use would it be without a name? He didn’t know.
But it was the first block in building the bridge.