"Asterix."
The name was spoken without title. Not Sir. Not Knight.
Just Asterix.
In a court where words were weapons and silence sharper still, such omission did not go unnoticed.
It was not a slip of the tongue.
The Baron did not make mistakes with language.
Not when silence would suffice. Not unless the purpose was to wound with precision.
A lack of title for a Knight of Asterix's caliber, could only mean disrespect, for a leader of the House call a Knight just by his name, was no different than calling him a battle slave.
Asterix inclined his head. The gesture was modest and controlled. Beneath it, his stomach churned. But he knew how this worked.
Reacting to insult was worse than the insult itself.
The best thing he could do, was sit there and listen.
"Are you an agent of the Empire?" the Baron asked.
The room became still.
"Or a spy from a rival House?"
