Galt made a small strangled sound when Silke had caught his lack of details in his story. Blinking, he considered just what exactly his problem was. He was a born liar, actually. Either he was truly nervous here, or the woman had a strange effect on him he couldn't quite ascertain yet. Perhaps a bit of both. He took her suggestion with a nod and a 'as the lady suggests,' hiding his grin with a well placed sip of his wine. Galt's mood and eyes went noticeably sharp and more dangerous when Vildraven appeared, mostly because of the man's earlier abrasive attitude. He wouldn't dare make an enemy of him, as Galt truly enjoyed his father. However, he needn't worry. Silke had handled him as easily as Galt could pick a pocket, something he had to visibly keep himself from doing here. 

Silke's family was indeed watching, though Galt did not know them well enough to know if their observation was out of concern or interest. Galt decided he would give them a wave a well, something Vildraven took offense to. He growled in annoyance and made his way towards a seat he felt unsuitable for his quasi-royal arse. 

Valdemar watched with disapproval, and then shoved some food in front of the lady and I. "Ignore him. He's a smart lad, but I regret to say I haven't taught him much humility. Maybe war would do him good if there ever is one." 

"Let us pray we don't have to find out, my friend." The King replied, and the two toasted in agreement over that. There were smaller skirmishes that occurred between minor nobles or city states, or even border disputes, but a full on war had not happened in decades. Galt had heard stories from his da when he was little, but he had never experienced anything like it. Just a knife fight or barroom brawl here or there.