Hotep stood quietly to the side, posture subservient and subtle as had been bid by Divine Queen. Here he would appear as handservant to the Pharaoh, not hem, not Seer. Though there was much, indeed, to see. He understood those beside him to be a Priestess of Osiris and a courtly advisor, and though the trials of posture and pretend were not close to his heart, there was some amusement in knowing he, now lowly, stood among such giants.

Like the priestess, he smiled at the Queen's arrival. It was no vulnerability to show awe over those rightly deserving of it. Let their neighbors see that Satriya burned brightly for its rulers.

But now, with subtle eyes, his sun-bright gaze considered the strangers. How they spoke, how they postured, where they positioned their guards. No, Hotep did not enjoy the convoluted pleasantries of court, but he knew how to perform them. The white one — yes, a true warrior. Fearsome and aloof. The other, the man... he did not speak as one accustomed to formal proceedings. He sounded common. How had he come to power?

The third though, not introduced — so perhaps a servant, or a guard — had a mercenary look. In Hotep's old life, greed had been frequent enough in rival kingdoms. Some postured and begged for the favor of rich gifts. Others thought to take them at the point of fangs. In this sojourn, Satriya would no doubt be tested. Pharaoh might indeed be required to prove these were gifts, which could only be given, and not taken.