It was time, he supposed, that he deliver his findings to Zelda. Although as he moved towards Taviora and noted the decidedly absent scent of Hyrule, it seemed as though this might not be the best time. But Alistair knew that he had hesitated long enough, choosing to visit Moonstone instead of heading directly to the Goddess. Perhaps the crime was not as grave as murder, perhaps murder was not even intended, but it had caused Amoxtli to wither enough as to revoke his throne. He did not know who had done it, not exactly, but he knew that they were within Glorall and his suspicion was that Eden knew more than he had let on with his expected pleasantries on the situation. The older male always had something lurking behind his eyes, a stormy, tumultuous inner being that was wholly clandestine in nature.
Regardless of Hyrule's apparent absence, Alistair knew that it was important for Zelda to know and do what she wished with the information, whether that be to avenge her uncle's injuries or keep the peace. That was not up to him to decide; he was simply a messenger, delivering the information and then stepping back. A position of power earned from this mission was certainly not at the forefront of his mind, but he supposed that was what he was working towards from an outward perspective. In truth he cared far more about his home than he let on, the forests had become embedded in his very being, the claustrophobic nature of the trees offering him solace in his very claustrophobic nature.
He trotted across the borders, nostrils flaring to catch Zelda's scent. Alistair followed the trail until it became poignant and concentrated, soon catching sight of the Goddess through the tall pines. A small 'woof' was offered by way of alerting the woman to his presence, he had not been particularly quiet in his approach but others had compared him to a silent spectre and it was not his intention to surprise her.
Alistair dipped his head slightly, before moving his peculiar white gaze to focus on her own streaked teal. "Lady Zelda," he began, his monotone voice sounding somehow more serious than usual. "I bring... information. It is, perhaps, not the best time, and I do realize this, but..." He cleared his throat. Despite his adeptness for diplomacy, dancing around sensitive subjects had never been something he was very good at it. The directness of his speech did not allow for it. "I think it is best for you to know. It is something I cannot keep to myself. Your uncle, his poisoning... I have... suspicions. Perhaps one could say they are a bit more than simple suspicions... " Alistair let his words hang in the air. He would give her time to refuse him an audience before he launched into what he had found.