Handy ruminated on how he was going to present himself. It felt weird that the armour didn’t chafe in places, and the comfort was off-putting. He braced himself for the inevitable political fanfare and bullshit the second he entered the royal hall, the inevitable dance and political theatre it would take to maximise the impact of the promised rapprochement between himself and the king. The Equestrians he was not looking forward to having to deal with. He heard there was a princess present, but it wasn’t one of the princesses. Equestria was actually a patchwork of princes and princesses, it seemed, with most falling somewhere on the equivalency of everything from a duke to a vassal king, to use the griffons as a measuring stick. Differentiating between their various statuses was often an art by itself, and it was never immediately obvious, with some being so inconsequential as to be effectively nameless, and others being everything but sovereign rulers in their own right. Only the lower nobility, counts, and other nobodies of the sort had any title or rank that made sense upon the face of it. Fun.