Markus was not as well versed in political maneuverings as Calliope, particularly in the court of Dalib Sahara on the Corsair Coast. He could only really trust the Sultan, or better, follow the Sultan's orders so as not to anger a man who could call for his execution at any time. But when he saw that his presence on the right hand throne was seen as a problem by the subtle facial twitches of the prince, he had to keep his displeasure of being used from appearing on his face. He hoped the new garb he wore wasn't what a Prince would normally wear so as not to add insult to injury. 

He was glad for the change of clothes though, and if the Sultan did not want them returned he was certain he could sell it hundreds of coin royals. His mane of black hair had been cut and styled, wavier and clipped shorter in the back to give him a less unkempt, more adventurous look to him. Much like the nobleborn swordsman he had been. He wore a royal purple kaftan with golden hemlins, that hugged his masculine shoulders and flowed down nearly to his ankles. His tan top beneath, as well as his loose fitting pants was made of seraser, likely the most expensive type of silk in the Arad Luin, and all of the northland. Luckily it didn't feel [i]too[/i] dainty, not that he would go sailing in it. 

Markus debated on whether he should rise or not at that moment, but after a moment he dispelled the notion as the Prince was now going over to sit at the Sultan's left hand. That, however, left Calliope standing there before the Sultan, awkwardly. Though she didn't show it. She had a presence that commanded respect and appeal in any situation. Still, the nuance of her standing while all others sat wasn't lost on Markus, and he figured he would solve the situation and aid her by gracefully lifting on the throne, as if this was what he had been bid all along, and hold his hand out to Calliope as he presented the chair to her. 

"I thank you, wise Sultan." Markus said, using his most heroic voice. The echoes on the marbled walls certainly aided him in this endeavor. "For this great honor to sit at your right hand. But it would be a disservice to not award the true savior of your son with this esteemed seat, if you would so allow it." He ended the small speech with a bent knee, and when the Sultan, who was clearly uncomfortable with a woman in a position of power at all, hesitantly acquiesced, Calliope strode forward confidently and took Markus's hand and seat. 

The Sultan then clapped, and slowly the heavy doors of the throne room opened as Satraps and Pashas entered the room, along with a retinue of fearocious and fomidable guards wearing helms that had the likeness of jackals. Their breastplates were bronze scale armor that clinked lightly as they moved in unison. "So, Captain Flintbrook and Lady Calliope, will you regale me of the tale on how you saved my son?" The Sultan began. 

"They were blackguards, your highness." Calliope said with a dramatic flair, all eyes on her as she began to recount what had happened. Markus did well to keep his eye out on the crowd, but even he did not foresee a beautiful woman with olive colored skin walk up to him and take his hand from behind. He turned, about to grab the concealed dagger that was in his boot, when he saw her give a slight bow as she kissed his hand. She wore a fashionable dress of golden silk, overlapped by a garment of interwoven fabrics the color of red and orange like the setting sun that hugged her hip like a sarong, only it tightly wrapped around her snug belt. Her earrings were two suns that hung beside her healthy, flushed cheeks. The woman's hair was dark and made of long curlsm and atop her head was a crown. 

"My prince," she said, her eyes filled with pleasure. "It does me well that you are safe." 

Markus' eyes widened and Achmed sputtered in clear outrage. The Captain opened his mouth to speak, before large hands drapped gently across the woman's shoulders. "No my Princess Melissenos, Prince Achmed sits at the left hand of the great Sultan. This is but a skilled Sailor and personal friend." As quickly as her eyes were bright, they became dull just as swiftly until they landed on Achmed, which she hurried over to speak to. The man that had directed her was a large and fat man, black bearded with the skin of dried leather, though he hid it in robes of satin and an illustrious hat. He had a brooch of the Sidewinder Serpent upon his chest that tied his light cloak to his back. 

"Ah, my Vizier. How good of you to appear. On time as usual." 
[@Penny]