A strict voice cut through the hall, formal and sharp.
"Father. This behavior is unbecoming of a king. And this is not how a sovereign should present himself before an allied nation. I must insist you conduct yourself with the dignity your position demands."
Lioness turned toward the voice.
Felicia moved gracefully toward them, her steps measured and elegant, the hem of her beautiful casual dress swaying gently with each stride. Her posture was perfect, her chin lifted, her tail held in a composed curve.
She glanced around the hall at the Beastkin Royal Guards, then began pointing at them one by one.
"That collar is askew. Straighten it. You. Your belt is loose. Fasten it properly. And you, do not slouch. You are a royal guard of the Beastkin Nation, not a tavern patron. Stand as though you remember it."
The Beastkin guards flinched, several of them hurriedly straightening their collars, adjusting their sashes, and standing at rigid attention.
