Arathorne scoffed at the upstart prince's behavior, not honoring such hubris with a response. He could see arrogance would be his and his empire's undoing already, what with the foolish disrespect he openly displayed and overtly proud mannerisms. Pushing those thoughts aside, Arathorne humbly nodded as he acknowledged the greetings richly dressed diplomats subjected to him, and his arms slid into the rests of the chair he sat on.<br/><br/>Carefully observing the proceeds of the congregation, Arathorne silently contemplated his next actions. None of the nobles assembled were dressed as he had in full battle gear, with the exception of the Slayer prince who barely fell into that category, but the fact that they were all from varying provinces was obvious. The one directly opposing him wore a turban and had a belted scimitar, the scabbard encrusted with various shining stones, no doubt the work of a master artisan.<br/><br/>With a grudging respect he looked the somewhat exotic-looking woman that barely acknowledged his presence up and down. She looked like a warrior, a woman hard to find in the lands of Britannia. He noted however she was terribly short, and he would easily stand head and shoulders over her, but brought to mind the fact that warriors, regardless of size and stature, would hold their own given a good sword arm and a sharp blade.<br/><br/>He also paid some attention to the thin young noble who had so enthusiastically regarded him, with a long red coat and styled hair. He looked delicate, almost like a doll, and it looked as if even a collar that was reasonably heavy around his neck would chafe his pale skin. However, when Arathorne looked into the man's eyes: he could not find the strength of a warrior, but only the subtlety of a politician. No doubt the man's veins would be blue, he thought to himself.<br/><br/>The prince on the end of the table directly opposing the king was another issue entirely, a man dirty from endless weeks of travel, more looking like a street beggar than any royalty. His hair seemed to probably be infested with lice, and black rings were obvious around his eyes. Arathorne could notice however the haughty way he carried himself. Very obviously noble, but how else Arathorne saw the highborn as the man was, he did not know.<br/><br/>Arathorne leaned back in his chair as his bodyguard knights took their places at his sides. Only when he had spent sufficient time listening and understanding the situation in this meeting would be begin again to open his mouth.