Duke Strax von Catterwall
Strax kept pace with the princess easily. His stride was long and heavy, each step echoing off the polished stone floor and reverberating through the large halls. The large grin that had been fighting to be seen finally forced itself onto his face when he heard those two magical words; Speak freely. "I hail from Catterwall, far to the north."
He answered proudly. "It's roughly forty-three thousand nautical miles from here. Took three months to get here, but it was well worth it."
Of course, it would have been a much shorter trip if he had flown, but Strax had a hard time trusting flying vehicles. The only time he employed them was for warfare. "Tell me,"
he said, changing the subject. "Do you have any interest in combat, your majesty? In my country, it is tradition for those who wish to grow closer to spar with one another. Nothing brings two souls closer than the heat of combat... athletic competitions are a close second, though."