Zog dispelled his Illusion Mimicry and struck a pose, preparing to welcome the distinguished guest from the Foreign Country.
Great figures throughout history, for the most part, shared a common trait: respect for talented people.
Things like spitting out food mid-meal or running out barefoot to greet a visitor.
No matter what they were really thinking, they had to show the right attitude first.
'But to be honest,' Zog had never understood why they had to spit the food out. 'Wouldn't it make no difference if they just swallowed it first and then went to greet them?'
The train slowly ground to a halt. Since it was composed entirely of freight cars, the sole passenger had been placed in the driver's cabin.
This passenger was dressed in a woolen suit, the latest fashion, and carried a briefcase.
Judging by his slightly crooked mustache and his messy yet vaguely styled hair, he had probably taken great care with his appearance, only for it to be ruined by the strong winds here.
