"What should I say when I meet Lord Lorenzo?" In the summer palace of the King of Falan, Gigano uneasily tugged at his rented, expensive suit, whispering to the attendant waiting with him.
The attendant was a noble youth dressed in a red and blue, wide-sleeved, narrow-bodied outfit, with red lips and white teeth, bangs reaching the eyebrows, and thick, long hair draping to the shoulders like a helmet—a fashionable hairstyle among young Falan nobility.
He glanced up and down at Gigano, a hint of disdain in his eyes: "Just mind your manners; better too much than too little. Just remember this: treat Lord Lorenzo as if he's the vice king."
Gigano nodded, somewhat understanding, straightened his body, squinted his eyes, repeatedly going over the court etiquette he had hastily learned in his mind.
"Creak—"
