If Larsa were to reveal his rank (which is something he’d rather not do at the time), perhaps showing his crown would be the easiest way to get it across. He really should introduce himself as ‘Emperor Larsa Solidor’, but then—well. Larsa didn’t like throwing his rank around, even when he was just the son of the Emperor and the brother of a Consul.

Nevertheless, a few months was not too long. He looked back to the wall. “Are we, truly? Apprehension and bewilderment seem common on the faces of those who hold some power here.” His lips turned into a tight little frown, a hand going to the sword hanging by his side protectively. Swordbreaker—a parrying dagger—was fitted on his back for easy retrieval, glistening gold in intricate loops, away from his hands.

Despite Larsa’s uneasiness with the ‘safety’ of this place, he didn’t seem too worried for his own well-being.

“Oh—forgive me. I am Larsa Solidor. Your presence is a welcome one.”