[center][h2][color=#b3431e]Wulfric Demet[/color][/h2][/center]
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Wulfric's grin down at Rudolf was far from the bloodthirsty one he'd faced Chèrle and his retinue with, though he managed to keep his own chuckle at the blond's expense down. [color=#b3431e]"That [i]was[/i] the idea,"[/color] he agreed, with a small shrug. [color=#b3431e]"Alas, that you all would find me when I have to play host to someone [i]else..."[/i][/color] He sighed tragically, turning his eyes back to the Skaeller nobleman.

[color=#b3431e]"You see the fix you've put me in, Artoé? You're not the runt I was out looking for, but here you had to come, trampling down the countryside, acting all high-and-mighty and scaring the smallfolk. That's bad enough manners as it is, but this really takes the cake, you know?"[/color]

There were no more threats, thinly-veiled or blatant, to be made. [color=#b3431e]"I can still forgive it all—and, rude as that greeting was, I'm sure this motley crew can forgive you as well—so long as you behave yourself and come along. Father's more diplomatic than I am, anyways, he'll probably give you some cakes and tea and apologize for the trouble and send you on down south without any more delay. But you really [i]must[/i] be a good boy and do as I say."[/color]