[center][h2][color=#b3ccff]Esben Mathiassen[/color][/h2][/center]
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[color=#b3ccff]"But of course, we should be so put upon,"[/color] Esben muttered, drawing up close to Izayoi, Galahad, and Éliane himself. [color=#b3ccff]"I don't know what good either myself or Éliane will do here—if I recognize him right, he outranks both of us, and is in a good enough position that he won't have any real fear of retribution from [i]our[/i] superiors for making our lives difficult. Unless his father decides to abandon him, but that's...unlikely."[/color]

He glanced sidelong at Éliane for a moment. [color=#b3ccff]"Let's try not to antagonize him, could we? Or if we do, at least make whatever happens to him look like it was an [i]accident[/i] so that Kayliss and Baramoux have less to try and cover up after. And less hassle for our own families when his goes on the war path."[/color]

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[center][h2][color=#b3431e]Wulfric Demet[/color][/h2][/center]
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[color=#b3431e]"Ah, did one of them give you the attitude adjustment that left your nose a little crooked?"[/color] The taller man next to the angry Skaeller nobleman kept his tone light and polite, standing as relaxed as could be despite the tension in the situation. Just as the party riding up had heard him laughing, his face still had an easy grin, no matter how annoyed he might actually be feeling. Something that only Rudolf could guess at, most likely.

Wulfric scanned over the assorted Kirins as he talk, giving the erstwhile-Shilage-cum-Sagramori a long look and a slow nod, before his full attention fell on the exceedingly-agitated bellowing blond he was looking down on. [color=#b3431e]"It [i]is[/i] shameful it didn't work, of course, but they can hardly be faulted for that, can they? These things [i]do[/i] take some mutual effort, old boy. Self-reflection, you know? Internal, not the sort you get staring at one of these after you've done too much polishing."[/color]

Callused knuckles rapped on the shorter nobleman's shining breastplate, before resting there lightly. Not yet reaching to grab at the edge of it, yet, but making it plainly clear how highly Wulfric Demet rated his opposition's bluster.

[color=#b3431e]"Really, though, I think it's [i]you[/i] who doesn't know who he's talking to, my dear [i]Comté d'Artoé.[/i] Chèrle, right? Coulos's son? Why, not only that, but I daresay I know more about what you're supposed to be doing than you do."[/color] He grinned, patting the man's back with his other hand and turning to the rest of the those standing opposite his own posse, raising his voice without any apparent effort so that they could hear as clearly as when their own leader was bellowing at him. [color=#b3431e]"There's no [i]would[/i] about it, I'm afraid. I [i]will[/i] bar your passage, Artoé, unless you and your band submit to my lawful authority, hand over your weapons, and we escort you all back to meet with Earl Demet and then he can send you on your merry way after making sure you aren't going to cause any trouble. Otherwise, we can escort you back to Caerdaran, and let you hop on a boat and find some other place to go make yourselves a nuisance."[/color]

The son of Earl Demet was well named, it would seem, for the wolf-like way his grin had changed as he looked back down at the hopefully-chagrined Chèrle d'Artoé, leaning in close to the man's ear. [color=#b3431e]"Choose [i]wisely,[/i] good man. Don't go thinking you have a third option to try and play around with, hmm? It's been so dreadfully [i]boring[/i] ranging out here, but I [i]am[/i] trying to work on my patience, you know. I'd hate to have somebody go and ruin that for me."[/color]