King
Krysaos allowed Tycondrius into the room first, as politeness and rank dictated. The junior officer was first to enter and the senior, first to exit.
The Lone Shadowdark had attained a set of trousers, belonging to the cabin's previous inhabitant. Cross-legged, he levitated in the air... flowing Elven sigils of mana glowing on his naked chest.
It was... something that the elves did.
While they could choose to sleep, the practice was disdained by the more traditional elves. Instead, they chose to meditate, recovering their energies by absorbing the mana in their surroundings.
The levitation was unnecessary... and like foregoing sleep, the Elven Lone had chosen to sit, not on the deck where his less-magically adept companions were bound, but above it.
Tycon spoke in a firm voice to wake the young Ranger, "Mister Lone."
He waited patiently for several moments... but there was no response.