Zarathustra stood for a moment before shaking his head in disappointment at Henrik's response. Still refusing to meet the challenge presented before him. Yet, even that was answer enough on it's own. No one expected Norsia capable of marching to war tomorrow, or even this month, but still Henrik was blind to what lay before him. Slowly resuming his seat he listened to others speak, quickly swearing their fealty, the jarl Bertil even going so far as to offer up a gift on the spot. Thus the race to grovel for position had begun in full swing. 

Zarathustra let them to it, drinking his mead as he half listened. As Bertil finished his speech and returned to his chair. 

"The moot has spoken, and thus I and my kinsmen are honor bound to follow the lead of the High King, whoever that might be."