Bouradine, who was much more attached to living beyond the next few minutes than having a misunderstanding blown out of proportion, quickly pulled out his pistol and veritably tossed on the ground as if it was a live grenade that he had to immediately distance himself from to survive. It was not the method in which Rene had instructed him, but the pistol still had the safety lock engaged, and bounced harmlessly in the dirt. The merchant was not a real threat; he was panicked, with a basic knowledge of firearms only as a means for self-defense, and neither equipped nor willing to engage a marine in combat. Terror tended to make people who didn't have martial training or nerves of steel react unpredictably. That he flung his weapon was probably an expected outcome for the soldier, though he said nothing on the matter, nor did he his body posture indicate anything, not even the relief he surely felt when the minor threat had been eliminated.

Just as the colonel leaned down to cautiously retrieve the pistol, his duchess slipped around the side of Rosaria. Everyone was so fixated on the 'enemy' in front of them, and the curious confrontation with the man, that they had been too distracted to notice what the wayward noblewoman was doing. Dasin belatedly stretched out an arm just as she was out of reach, while their teenage companion nearly jumped out of her skin as her mistress glided past. Solae knew that if she had taken another route or waited a second longer someone would have stopped her. While what she was doing might take a year off of Rene's life or give him gray hair premature, she was a cunning woman of determination, and she would no more let her friends stay in her way than she would her adversaries.

"We can worry about propriety later," she declared by way of introduction. "I am Duchess Solae Falia and we come as friends. The Kalderi were worried about their missing citizen, but we can address that after we tend to the injured. We have better medical supplies on our ship," she added as she did a visual assessment of the wounded woman. Rene would be a better judge of what sort of treatment she needed, but the Bonaventure would have an actual bed and equipment that they had acquired during their travels. Ten, mercenary man of ambiguous morals that he was, had stocked them with enough to last them weeks of constant scuffles easily. "Dasin, Yarue, do you think the two of you could carry her to the ship? No offense to Rene, I think you'd have an easier time of it," she said with a bright smile. There probably wasn't an aristocrat in the sector that would so fondly remember being slung over a shoulder.

"D-duchess?" Bouradine stammered again, perplexed. His eyes grew wider as he drank in the refined features of the golden-haired woman in front of him that was so direct and compassionate. He couldn't quite decide what was more bizarre- that he had been found, that a duchess had visited his abandoned planet seeking him out, that she was there apparently on behalf of the Kalderi, that she was personally concerned about the health of a single marine, that she had two Syshin with her, that the Syshin were dressed in uniforms, that the Syshin's uniforms were obviously tailored for their specific use, or that she spoke to them with respect when the empire habitually treated them as slaves. Fiction was less strange than the scene unfolding in front of him. Too stunned into silence to object, his stare traveled around the group.

"Yes, we can carry her," Dasin affirmed, "easier together as two if she is hurt, but we are here to protect you." His large eyes went from the half-conscious warrior to the diplomat who looked on with worry.

"My life isn't in danger, though, and hers is," Solae pointed out. "Where is Bel'sian, Mr. Bouradine?" Without consciously meaning to the reluctant leader had taken control of the situation and, just as unconsciously, Bouradine respected her inherent authority. Later he would reflect about what made her so compelling. The fact of the matter that whenever an individual acted as if they were a responsible person to make decisions (as the linguist did not), those around the individual in question would respond in kind so long as they were reasonable.

"Are you going to take her away?" the merchant panicked.

"No, I would never take someone anywhere against their will. Dasin and Yarue can carry the marine to our ship, and we will prove to you that we are the honorable members of the empire we claim ourselves to be, so Rene will escort you there as well. Once this lady has been stabilized we can discuss how we all came to be here. Rosaria and I will go to Bel'sian. You have my word as a Falia, we will do nothing more than talk to her and bring her to the ship."

It wasn't as if there was a true choice. Bouradine recognized they wouldn't just leave after coming all this way. Looking at the marine, and then at the earnest blue eyes in front of him, he sighed. There was no better option than trusting. If he was reading the 'room' correctly, the trio of armed men would back up whatever their leader asked of them, and she was quite set on her plan- enough that he doubted the muscular man with the rifle could dissuade her. Besides, had they meant to kill him, they would have done so already and departed for their next target. "She's down the path," he said with a gesture towards the worn path towards the ruins.