Aron rose from his kneeling position, moving with measured grace as he straightened his back. His gaze met the High Priest's without hesitation. The man's expression remained unreadable for a moment, his heavy-lidded eyes scrutinizing him with the laziness of a well-fed predator. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, the High Priest granted him permission to sit.
Behind Aron, a small wooden chair awaited—plain and unadorned, which appeared even more miniscule if compared to the golden throne before him. Aron stepped back and lowered himself onto it, adjusting his posture to maintain the dignity of his station despite the humble seat, finding the chair even uncomfortable to sit in.
I wonder if this is the standard procedure or if he simply vexed being forced to meet the envoy of a simple prince. Aron thought as he stared straight at the fat man, wondering if he was that prideful.
