Queen Laeral Silverhand stepped forward. As a Chosen, she had perhaps dealt with angels more than anyone else in all Faerûn. She understood their temperaments. They certainly meant no harm; it was simply in their nature to behave that way. Of course, no matter how proud angels were, they could not throw a tantrum before Queen Laeral Silverhand. As always, strength was the best passport.
Faced with Queen Laeral Silverhand, the others had nothing to say. Setting aside her strength, her seniority alone was enough to command the respect of everyone present. Sometimes, living a little longer had its advantages.
But Solam was petty. Even though he knew angels could not possibly be as gentle as folk legends made them out to be, he still could not accept them showing off in front of him like this... Like I said, the man was petty...
So Solam simply ignored the angels and turned to leave. The angels wanted to stop him. They wished to assess whether Solam posed any danger to this world, but the constructs immediately forced them back.
Queen Laeral Silverhand sighed helplessly and once again stopped the angels. After spending several years with Solam, she could not say she understood him very well, but she had a general idea of what kind of person he was.
Solam was very proud, even arrogant. What was more interesting was that his pride was never directed solely at the weak; it was directed at everyone. Queen Laeral Silverhand sometimes wondered where Solam's arrogant attitude came from. Although Solam had never said so, she could tell that he held an inexplicable sense of superiority over everyone. It did not come from strength, birth, or power.
Whether facing the Five Great Powers of the Abyss, facing her—a Chosen of Magic—or even facing Mystra,