The white fox messenger's eyebrows arched slightly, a flicker of genuine disbelief breaking through his aristocratic mask.
It was as if he couldn't grasp how a human—a creature from the lower flats—could be so entirely ignorant of the bloodline dynamics governing the continent's elite.
Well, of course, she was ignorant. She wasn't from around here.
"Who?" the messenger repeated, his voice dropping into a smooth, reverent cadence that felt entirely performative yet deeply rooted in ancestral pride.
He adjusted the high silk collar of his robes, his three bright-red tails curling tightly behind him.
"You truly are a creature of the outer wilderness if that name does not already make your knees buckle, human. His Imperial Excellency, Lord Kaelen of the Crimson Line. The High Sovereign of the Crimson Court, Master of the Eleven Spires, and the direct progenitor of the truest, purest fox lineage left in this world."
