As Tyathe approached the group, Gillian couldn’t help but to gawk slightly. He could remember clearly the first time he’d step foot in Candaeln, having caught a glance at the famed undead knight standing sentinel in the main hall like something out of the epics. Though, now faced with the woman herself, he could only ask “..h…how?” as he noted the sudden height disparity with clear confusion. “I…I’m just going to assume some sort of magic is at play.” He says, giving up trying to figure what the undead did to her armor to add that much bulk, much less how she carried it all.
The Princesses entrance was a welcomed distraction from the spatial conundrum. He had to admit, Eliabelle was certainly shaping-er...growing into a fine young woman, and he'd heard nothing but good things about her. That did not, however, put him at much ease and he fought the urge to roll his eyes as the princess explained her motivation for the knights being there. "As always, the capital boils the Iron Rose's duties down to ceremony..." He thinks. The captains presence he could understand, but his and the others time could have been better spent than attending to the fancies of the royal heir.
Still, it was only a minor annoyance, one born of goodwill (and perhaps a dash of entitlement) at that. He takes a deep breath and walks carefully over to the princess, intent on fulfilling his duties to the young woman and dismissing himself as quickly as possible. "Not that she'd have much in the way to say to someone of my station." He thinks, bowing slightly in greeting. "Good evening Your Royal Highness." He says, suddenly thankful for what few lessons of courtly manners he'd learned for Parnella. "I am Sir Gillian Reynaud of the Iron Roses. I thank you for the generous hospitality you've shown our order this evening."
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