Ah, at least you will admit to that. It is not nearly as fine as the drink that Archer offered us, but it's certainly fit for a king.

[The change in dialogue is a bit obvious here. A king. Just him. He may hold no grudge against her and he does not dislike her, but he will not confer to her the respect of such a position. Not until, in his eyes, she has earned it.

He fills the goblet with a ladle and then holds up his own to drink.]

To this new world, whatever it may be called.