At that moment, everyone present felt fortunate that this Prince of Cormyr was so damned hard to kill.
If His Highness Altais had truly been crushed to death beneath the wheels, it would likely have sparked the greatest diplomatic incident since Zelandia's founding and Cormyr's establishment a thousand years ago.
Even Leviathan, whose heart was an energy core, could not help but marvel at how formidable the protective resources Cormyr had invested in this heir were.
At the savage speed of 740 kilometers per hour that had erupted in that instant, even a Balor would have been smashed hard enough to cough up blood. Yet this Cormyrian prince, run over head-on by the wheels, was perfectly fine aside from a tread mark creased across his face.
However, with the military situation urgent and in order to ease everyone's awkwardness, Prince Altais waved away the Suzail Mage rushing over to help him, as well as the Purple Dragon Guards who had nearly been scared into heart attacks, and staggered to his feet.
He roughly wiped the wheel-track crease from his face with a silk handkerchief he carried, then, as though nothing had happened, shook hands in turn with Eilwen and the still-unrecovered Kike. "I am Altais, commander of the garrison presently stationed in Tifanton, Cormyr. First, I thank you for buying precious time for the refugees, for Tifanton, and for Cormyr. If you have any requests or vital intelligence, speak freely."
Eilwen gave the garrison commander, whom everyone called "Your Highness," an approving look. "The military situation is urgent. Let's go up to the battlements and assist with the defense. We can talk as we walk."
"Good!"
Altais showed none of a prince's hauteur. At once, he hurried up the spiral staircase alongside this somewhat strange-looking "elven Ranger," heading for the