I glanced at Riven, who looked like he regretted every decision he'd ever made.
True friendship, indeed.
With a resigned sigh, I forced my attention back to the instructor, who was now nervously detailing the precise angle one's chin should be raised to maximize royal disdain without causing an international incident.
"Forty-five degrees," she explained, trembling slightly, her voice wavering like leaves in a hurricane. "Anything more, and it's a direct declaration of war."
I frowned, turning to Riven. "Is she serious?"
He nodded solemnly. "Unfortunately, yes. They dedicated an entire chapter in the etiquette textbook to proper chin elevation."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, muttering, "Who writes these manuals? And have they ever actually interacted with a real person?"
[Clearly not. They're probably locked in a basement somewhere, scribbling furiously while hoping to avoid execution.]
