"Apology, I- uhh . . ." Vyarin stammered his apologies to the king in the local tongue. He stopped himself before he said something he well shouldn't, and instead dropped to one knee. He had seen such practice in the surrounding lands. Hopefully it was similarly applicable here. "I am . . . servant. To you," he finally said. The king's Prozdy-speech was good, for a foreigner at least. Certainly better than Vyarin's own Apura-tongue. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the presence of a few more faces in the back of the crowd as he stood again. Tellos had managed to shuffle in, having exchanged his armour for his finery, and beside him one other, a warrior Vyarin knew by the name of Brudzkon "the Many-Faced". He felt a wave of relief, knowing that some support has arrived in this grandiose and cavernous court. Vyarin's and Tellos' eyes met, and the latter made a motion to his compatriot. They were both loyal men, and spirited besides. They will represent Prozdy well here.