From behind his iron helm, Silas' lips twitched downwards at Ophella's expression. She had known his name and [i]of[/i] him. But of course she did, he was a lone knight that had made it his business to write the wrongs in the world, no matter the shadows that were cast upon his image. Remaining leaned up against the wall, he took the time to actually look upon the rest of the mages. They all seemed just a bit too carefree from his liking, speaking freely and openly, as if attending a seasonal outing instead of an anonymous gathering.

Brown eyes fell onto the king next, his countenance, though feigning reassurance, hid the lines of worry and stress. Silas kept himself composed throughout the conversations around him, familiar with being alone, it was rather easy. The magic in the air was dense and thick, a mixture of different tastes seeping through the minuscule kinks in his armor. They all held some specific form of magic, something that they excelled in more than anyone else it seemed. His attention refocused solely on the main cast, the King, the Queen, their general, and more than anyone else: Ophella. He considered her a threat for reasons that he couldn't quite understand, she seemed to permeate with power. And he hated it. 

[i]I feel beneath her...[/i] he realized, his fist clenching behind the metal of his gauntlets. [i]She's the true danger here.[/i]