Gillian turned his gaze to the crowd as the small crew and the princess headed out from the room, glaring a path through the crowd.  In the back of his mind, he was grateful the hundi had seemingly taken up the reigns in easing the princess. People seemed at ease with the dog eared folk, though he himself could never figure why. Perhaps it was just he was always more a cat person?  Regardless, he was doing a better job of it than Gillian. Food wasn’t a bad idea, and one he should also take up on. The ale he had slugged earlier now sat in his gut like a rock, agitated from the stress of the night and the lack of a proper meal before the ball.

“We should have someone send for our equipment at the barracks while they are at it.” He adds to the trio of knights. “Or at least have them send up some breast plates, shirts, swords and trousers from the royal guards armory.”  He adds. While Sult and Christina looks lovely in their gowns, he’d rather them in something a little more suited for their professions for the night. 

As they approached the stairs, Gillian heard the soft thump of footsteps, his hand quickly shifting itself to the hilt of his blade, ready to draw. The woman certainly had a uh…bounce to her chest as it were. As she huffed her greeting, he recognized her vaguely as the court mage. His hand did not move, she was as much as suspect as anyone else. Doubly so, given she was a practitioner of magic.

Christina’s icy greeting, however, brought him out of that. Magic user aside, she didn’t stand much to gain with her own assassin caught, and the barrier from earlier looked too impressive to have been the work of some dabbling noble or a knight of their order. Moreover, the princess seemed to be comforted by her presence (though, if that made her more or less a risk he couldn’t say for now). He starts to speak, wanting to put the curt greeting of ‘mage’ behind them quickly. “We are very grateful for your assistance earlier ma’am…If that was you. With the barrier. I think the ice was one of ours.” He starts, etiquette failing slightly.  Thanking a court mage for helping stop an assassination was more complicated than knowing which fork to use during which course of dinner. “But we should really be escorting the princess back to a secure location. So not to be rude, but I’m afraid I’ll have to insist that you both walk and talk.” He says, not wanting to turn the mage away just yet.