"Thankee, thank you—I appreciate the welcome," you say, filled with genuine good feeling.
"For my next endeavor—"
"Your Majesties, I beg your gracious leave."
You freeze as a grizzle-faced man rises to his feet from the table on your right. He wears a star-shaped pendant wide as his head; the necklace shifts back and forth across his stout stomach as he jabs a hand towards you.
"This seasick ragamuffin, shipped to thee by that provincial sourpuss Ruffino; how do you take his measure at this time?"
All eyes shift to the dais. King Saul clears his throat and inclines a purple-gloved hand to his Queen.
"I would not say thee nay to more display," she says, appraisingly. It does your heart good to hear that the Queen seems appreciative.
Onward