The man in front of him is undeniably a king--the way he holds himself, the way he interacts with those around him could mean nothing else--but he is also nothing that Arthur understands (he thinks for a moment that the look in his eyes reminds him of Merlin, but shakes that thought off as soon as it comes). When he looks at Arthur it is with a soldier's eye, though, assessing and understanding much in a single glance. He says friend and holds out a hand; Arthur returns the word and takes the hand with caution, for this man is made up of so many edges (and he knows there are more than he can see under the layers of this man who has been broken and rebuilt) that he could cut himself if he tries to get too close.