I am the new Conjuror of the Tirisgarde, before which I was the Commander of the Lunarfall garrison on Draenor.
When I accepted this quest, I thought [npc=88115] is but another helpless NPC that would be slaughtered ten steps out of his puny room without me.
Ten steps out of his puny room, we encountered some Murlocs. I hopped off my mount, in shiny (cloth) armor, artifact in my hands, ready to save his sorry @$$, when he summoned this volley of fiery meteors and utterly eradicated the fish-gnomes.
I was like "Wow, looks like it does take some combat skill to be a Prince!"
We moved along for a while, and there is this ditch in front of us, filled with water. I simply ran though, the hooves of my mount splashed water everywhere, then I turned around to check the Prince.
He stopped at the ditch, and then he Blinked to the other side.
Not a single drop of water on his delicate garment and elven boots.
At that moment, I realized one fact. I might be a Commander, a Conjurer, Hellscream's Downfall and Defiler's End, but deep down, I was still a filthy, vulgar peasant adventurer that had zero clue whatsoever to formality.
I would never ever be as noble as this Prince.