Fotios rolled his eyes as his name was announced in the chamber on the other side of the columns. Like a basic commoner, he was being presented before the monarch but there was little another way of being seen on such an urgent matter. Missives would have taken at least a few days in either direction to secure a private audience with the king. By attending the palace on a hearing day, he could at least have the chance at an open communication with immediate effect.

Stepping into the throne room, Fotios felt his soul sigh a little with contentment. He enjoyed being a part of the world that existed within walls such as these; with fine ceilings of artwork, golden filigree about the columns, and white marble as far as the eye could see. It was clear and beautiful and the floor had been buffed to a high shine that reflected Fotios' sandals back at him. As they were made of black leather, the effect was a dark, sooting ring about the soles of his feet.

The only element of the room that was a surprise, or perhaps less automatically comfortable to Fotios, was the fact that no king was sat in the giant gilded throne at the other end of the hall. Instead, a much slighter figure - that of a young princess - had taken the seat in his stead.

Curious... Fotios wondered. There were rumors of King Minas' illness being serious but all spokesmen of the Xanthos House had been attempting to make the disease seem... insignificant. But if that was so, could the man not drag himself to his own crowning chair? Curious again...

For a moment, Fotios considered the idea that perhaps Minas of Xanthos was more sickly than the Xanthos House wished to make known. Were he in fatally ill health, they would not want to spread panic to a populace ruled by a dying king. And, knowing Keikelius of Stravos and Pavlos of Marikas the way he did, Fotios suspected there were political concerns to the subterfuge too.

Either way, Fotios accepted, it would appear that he would not be meeting the king that morn. Instead, he would have to deal with the man's daughter. A woman who was, by Lucille, his niece. Even if they had only met a handful of times over the years.

"Your Royal Highness," Fotios offered, moving to stand before her and bow with elegance. "A pleasant surprise to see you before me instead of your father. I had not expected so pretty a face to be my welcome... And in Leventi colours no less. You do your maternal lineage great respect."

Like Persephone, Fotios was wearing a tribute to the color of purple in his own garb. His chiton, fastened at both shoulders and hanging loose beneath the arms, was a soft and shimmering dove grey, worked along the edges with thread of violet. A black belt cinched at his narrow waist and filigree of silver curled over each shoulder. He appeared all the part for his Head of House rank but treated Persephone with the respect she was deserving over him, for she was of the immediate family to a reigning monarch.