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You are the man known as Lord Volkhard von Arundel to the human worms whose presence you are forced to endure and Thales, ruler of Agartha, to your friends and enemies. You are visiting your darling niece, the finest weapon of your creation as well as a potential future thorn in your side to mitigate, though that is an issue for the future.
...Or it should be, anyway.
"Uncle," the impertinent girl says through the heavy voice modulation of the mask that was your gift to her, along with the rest of the garb she's currently wearing. You had felt a surge of pride in your work upon seeing it on her, mingled with the disgust humans always invoke in you, but the nitpicks she's made are grating.
"What is it now, Edelgard?" you say, forcing yourself not to snap. It would not do to lose your composure in the presence of such a lowly creature. "My dear niece."
"The heels of the boots are still too low."
"And what," you say, "is the problem with that? Surely they are more comfortable to walk around in."
She shakes her head, and you are grateful that she is wearing the mask and so you don't have to see whatever insipid human facial expression she is wearing. "If the purpose is concealing my identity," she says, "it won't do. My height is...unfortunately distinctive."
"And why should that matter?" you ask. Surely there are enough humans the same size as her for it to be a nonissue.
"In case you haven't noticed," she says, and though it's veiled by the voice modulator to an extent, you loathe the emotion you can hear dripping from her words, "human women tend to be, on average, shorter than men. And I...am somewhat shorter than average, besides."
You scratch the chin of the human skin you're wearing and frown, considering her words. "...Fine," you eventually, reluctantly concede. "We will make the modification."
You are Hubert von Vestra, heir to House Vestra and humble servant to the future Adrestian emperor.
"Hubert," your liege says, and you immediately turn to acknowledge her.
“I am yours to command, as ever,” you say with a bow.
She nods, before her expression becomes a grimace as she says, “I need you to pay a visit to our…associates, on the matter of the you-know-what.”
You pause, considering. “Far be it from me to question your orders, my lady,” you say, “but I was under the impression that it was finally to your satisfaction.” You know the garments in question have undergone substantial tailoring and the boots in particular had significant modifications on multiple occasions.
“Oh, it is,” she says. “But if I can make my uncle’s life more difficult, even in a small way, far be it from me to pass by any opportunity.”
You let out a low chuckle. “As you say.”