He is; prince Maziar leads the way in. The throne room is long, magically lit, and lined with panels of carved wood and stained glass depicting scenes from the country's history, both military and peaceful; bronze-armored guards with spears stand at attention between the panels. A thick green carpet leads up the center of the room to a platform containing the throne, a bulky object carved out of a single piece of mottled translucent green stone and polished to a shine. The man sitting on it looks somewhat older and substantially less cheerful than prince Maziar, and watches them approach with a poorly-concealed air of exhaustion; the younger man standing to the right of the throne seems a little more interested in the group.
Prince Maziar stops a few feet short of the steps and bows. "Your Majesty King Nawfal al-Kaprela al-Kamar, Prince Faadil, may I present Cam, master conjurer and aspiring cleric of abundance. Gentlemen, may I present His Majesty King Nawfal al-Kaprela al-Kamar and His Highness Prince Faadil al-Kaprela al-Kamar."
"Welcome," says the king.