"You stand in the presence of Shaaza, second of his name, Prince of Sharjaan, Lord of Scidna, Sovereign Protector, and High Steward of the Five Edges! Let all men pay their due!" A herald, wearing a hat topped with a plume of three-colored feathers that bobbed with every self-important breath, bellowed his proclamation to the rafters.
This was the moment ordained by tradition for Aron to kneel.
The fire would have his soul and body before he did.
He remained upright, offering only the shallowest dip of his head.
"Sir Aron Mizio," he projected "Envoy in the stead of Her Grace, Jasmine Veloni-isha, First of her Name, Princess of Yarzat and Herculia, Protector of the Highlands and the Lowlands, presents himself to the court of Sharjaan!"
The presentation was as bitter a pill to the Sharjaans as their arrogance was to him. Had a torch been thrust between the Yarzat envoy and the Sharjaan lords, the flame would have flickered out from the sheer chill in the room.
