[He has heard rumors about Lord Vayne in the past, just as he has heard rumors about every other lord— those participating in the Crown Contest, surely, but even those hopefuls who had been left behind on Lenegis, deigned unfit to compete, and those who might pursue a spot when the next round began some years down the line. Rumors were, indeed, always flying among the nobility, but Dohalim has always and ever done his best to take such things with several grains of salt, whenever possible.

If even half the vicious words that were whispered among the nobility were true, then Lenegis would well and truly be nothing more than a pit of vipers. This, he refuses to believe.

The Vayne that appears before him is polite, collected. He leans on etiquette, and seems far more relatable than many of their contemporaries, rare though his opportunities to meet with them have been. As he bows, Dohalim dips his own head in greeting, a show of respect in turn, and there's a quiet murmur among some of armored soldiers at his back.]

Please, you need not bow to me, Lord Vayne. You are a guest in my home— I would have us speak with one another as equals.

[That is, after all, the reputation he has built for himself these past few years. Equality in all things, though he knows there are many who disagree with his approach.]