Nok-Nok strides in, as best as his short legs can manage, then his gait slows, then stops as he takes in the t

Nok-Nok strides in, as best as his short legs can manage, then his gait slows, then stops as he takes in the throne room – his eyes and ears swivel independently, as if trying to take every direction in at once – after scanning the area around him, he looks upward, and squints, as if uncertain if there's a ceiling above him or not. He stands still, swaying slightly, eyes affixed on the ceiling. Others in the throne room are disdainfully silent, some wrinkle their nose and take a step back. Some of the guard's hands fall to the hilt of their blades.