"I'm glad," Viktor says with no small amount of relief. Friendship is so much better than formality, than awe. Nevermind that on the Allagan prince's tongue, his name sounds like a song he'd almost forgot. He resists the tiny voice in the back of his head urging him to ask G'raha to say his name again. "Better at standing on large monsters than ceremony."

He tips his chin up to take in the scenery he knows so well. To get himself back on track. Viktor strolls toward the square -- the best place to watch merchants and adventurers come and go. Here, sun glints prettily off white and green stone. "I grew up in this area. Back then, it was just the ferry and a whole lot of sand. Couldn't wait to escape."

Beneath the outrageous statue of Lolorito, Viktor stops. Good-natured, he asks, "What about you? Er, what's your home like?" He imagines, briefly, the princeling ruling from some idyllic floating fortress, Azys Lla with better weather and (maybe) fewer shackled dragons. "Were you itching to get away, too?"