Noctisardor Bypass steel your heart, the dawn will come

A foreign lilt to the golem's words, syllables mangled in a manner the prince finds pleasing to the ear. An accent, he recalls from past lessons, ever delighted to find practical purpose to his vast wealth of imparted knowledge. True to the royal bearing whipped into the bones of him, Amadis remains a neutral, affable presence, revealing none of his surprise or his childish glee at the new experience. Rivenvood, the elfblood repeats in his thoughts, then quickly corrects himself — Rivenwood! Easy enough to recognize the ways the sounds warp and twist with the reference of known words to guide him.
A pleasure to make acquaintance of you and of Rivenwood, Graf Mahler, The firetouched royal echoes the name to commit it to memory, making great effort to mirror the guttural tones of the foreign title. He waffles, briefly, over the offering of the extent of his name — his own titles. The pause is imperceptible, a blink and it is done. In my homeland, I was known as Amadis Katriel Vaea Elvhen. But... I am here, now. Amadis will suffice, if it please you. A deferent dip of his head, a touch bashful. Guilt tugs at his heart; he feels deceitful. Yet he cannot imagine the ruler of another land would take pleasure in hearing of Amadis's own claim to leadership, however far off that claim might lie now. It is not relevant here, nor wanted, and he soothes himself with that thought.