Makarov had sat back down, and was sipping at his tea. He didn't seem to pay much mind to what was happening. Of course, he knew what the newcomers did not, and that was that things always worked themselves out int he guild, usually between the members and that was for the best. If he stepped in top stop every little argument or punish ever little threat, then the guild wouldn't ever be able to take care of itself and may come to rely on him. Instead, they needed to rely on one another.

A woman sat not too far behind Alaric, leaning back in her chair and sipping at her drink much like the master. "Funny to see a man who so quickly throws his blade out at others to tell someone to learn their place don't you think? Even funnier to hear the same man then tell someone to control their temper. It's like watching a pot yelling at a kettle for being black." She stayed in her seat the entire time, looking at the man's back. "Maybe you didn't understand the idea behind this guild when you came to join. Maybe your personality isn't suitable for Iron Tree."