The Palace of Curt.
"I will speak with your son."
He said, keeping a stern gaze on the indifferent face of the queen, which occasionally picked and dropped his. He didn't have a luxury of checking out the two usual women standing before the throne. Though the queen was quite considerate to make shifts for the women guards so that they could tend to their children. But that wasn't enough for him. He felt like she was healing other's wound and left hers oozing, a hollow of grotesque gore.
"If you will speak with me, you should do that in the appropriate manner. I even wonder why you are standing before me. Thought you had it all, and would no longer need my favor."
He ignored the remaining things she had said and crushed his ego. He bowed slightly before her and said again,
"I'll speak with your son."
"You aren't talking to your fellow. You're talking to the queen and each of your words must make sure to emphasize such stance."