Traverse International Airport
The name was not really fitting the actual structure: Two runways, one which was long enough for intercontinental flights, a few hangars, a small terminal and a fence. Nothing fancy or large.
Yet, it was one of the three major airports in the Free Lands. They were a small country and while smaller airfields for STOL-planes and amphibians were all over the place, major ways of getting around were horse, train and the own two feet.
The young man standing on the over-glorified airfield waited for someone: Her mother took in a new cub and today was the day, where he would visit Leas House. Gwen Banphrionsa of the Tribe of Cavan had a soft spot to her cubs, as a Clan Chief and mother she had to. Foreigners might call her a Grande Dame.
The young man, Tyran Banphrionsa of the Tribe of Cavan, only heard a description of the young man and worked from there. He seemed nice enough.
That he was supposed to particularly meet his older sister Fiona was a different story - he would be intimidated enough soon enough. For now, his quest was to welcome the Krugeristani in the Free Lands.
The young man, his chin like chiseled, brown-haired and with his mother's eyes, waited for their guest, wearing full marcach-armour, the one used for tournaments, half-cuirass, leather wear, a longsword at his side and a quiver with bow and arrows on his other. It was meant not to be shown off, but to be used in their contests and ceremonies, the odd scratch showed that.
He was not frowning as he looked for the plane carrying the newest cub.
He was actually smiling - by the descriptions he had from his mother, Karak Golahman was an interesting person.