[center][h3][color=993333]István Shilage[/color][/h3][/center]

[@The Otter][@VKAllen]

[color=993333]"It's a shame, really. The Lady Amelie is no longer with us. The realm is poorer for it."[/color]

Guillaume Fotier. The Sincere. Knight-Errant, living upright and truthful in his every waking moment, smiling goodwill ever plastered upon his face. A shining beacon of all that "Chivalry" was to entail, his earnestness and commitment to that which was good and just had a reputation the preceded even the reach of his blade, pointedly named "Sincerity." The latest in a long line of Ithillane knights that, it seemed, enjoyed the West much more than his predecessors.

You couldn't place a man more in opposition of István without the cosmos backing your try. He regarded the sauntering blonde coolly, face cast in stone that all present knew would far from preturb the Honest Knight. They had shared some time in mutual service to Earl Edric— known quantities to eachother twice over. To that end, Shilage felt no need to conduct his usual prodding, and instead replied to the comfortable greeting with a grimness that could only belong with bearing bad news.

[color=993333]"The storm took her while at sea."[/color] He continued, glancing to the young heir that stood beside him for a moment. [color=993333]"A sudden tragedy. A reminder to us that we must rejoice each day we wake with breath left to draw."[/color]

Case in point: István knew well that it served none to let slip that Cadmon was here rather than administrating the holdings that had been left to him when the Earl had [i]also[/i] perished. Guillaume was to the core fettered, and let his honesty color his judgement freely, but he wasn't a fool. He had known the Demet house and its heir long enough to put things together, if given the requisite pieces— and for such an upright man, this situation could only be abandonment of responsibility, and from there objectionable.

He would not betray them in wartime, such was a concern for fools— but they didn't need him protesting their presence, either.

So instead, István allowed the mournful truth to alter his tone, ever so slightly, from his usual oppressive rumble. It [i]was[/i] shameful; Amelie and Edric both had taken great pains to accomodate him as all but one of their own in his time as the latter's understudy— a kindness not at all necessary, but one never to be forgotten. Perhaps if he had joined them, he would have changed things, strong as an ox and capable enough swimmer.

But he was not, and they had passed— just as likely that Cadmon would be left without trustworthy council after the fierce gale broke upon the coast if he had, too. With no way of knowing, the mind would be poisoned by the question.

[color=993333]"You look well. The road ever suits your whimsy."[/color]