"Pardon my friend, the life of a hermit has made her unused to proper roman socializing," Tiber said, though it was probably lost on everyone there except Sabatine that his voice oozed sarcasm. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but let him speak regardless. Tiber wasn't a speech writer, more accustomed to spartan speech than oratory. He retrieved a golden drachma and flipped it by a quick motion of the thumb, sending it spinning back into the palm of the same hand. 

"We come here as clients, seeking our patrons aid." He emphasized it by the next flick of his thumb sending the coin spinning to land at the foot of the 'throne' before Gorm.  

"What is this?" Gorm asked dangerously, huffing at the small coin as if it were an insult, which was half correct, though the ketcharch was obviously curious at the pectacle. 

"Our tribute," Tiber remarked, as if it was the most obvious answer in the galaxy. "You see, my friend and I were on vacation for a bit. After she was attacked from men of yours who doubtless were acting of their own accord, she needed a breather, and being a fellow soldier I decided to help her and we headed to the beach. But when I got back, I found my shop ransacked by brigands." 

He shook his head, lifting his arms vaguely as he gestured. "I couldn't imagine how such barbarism could happen under your watch, good Ketcharch. But I know you must have been so busy celebrating your birthday, your men likely took to drink and weren't their best." He placed a hand on his chest. "I hold no grudges. All I ask, is that the men who assailed my residence, granted to me by service to the Empress-" 

Sabatine's mouth went small, trying not to laugh at the thought of 'servicing the empress'. Tiber would get her for that, but with a great force of will he kept his face straight. "-are brought to justice, and my friend and I can sleep peacefully at night." 

It was a small bit of theater, but Tiber was doing his best to keep from going to war with Gorm, while also keeping the man and his lackeys from walking all over him. He was giving the warlord an out, one that Tiber sincerely hoped he take. 

But a darker side of him was waiting for him not to. It was Mars, patiently waiting for the blood to flow.