Riverkeep

Nic turns his gaze at the stranger.

"And what is your name young sir..?"

Riverkeep

The young noble completely ignored Nic, not even sparing him a glance.

"My great lord Bryce, please silence your dog before I have to gut him." He palms his sword hilt. A plain but masterfully crafted thing, the sword is.

Riverkeep

Nics expression slowly fades as he grows impatient.

Nic calmly says, "What.. is your name; and what gves you the right to discriminate my brother?"

Nic slowly graps the hilt of his sword.

Riverkeep

Bryce turns to Nic with an expectant look that shouted in every way to stop. He walks over to the noble, focus fixed on him. Bryce stands in front of him, just within a lunge's reach.

"I'm not carrying your lives."
He says with a look around at the faces in the room.
"I'm merely a messenger. A voice. Some men carrying your lives are right outside the door. Even more men carrying your lives lay in wait across in the river in Saxum and at The White Keep for an order. If all goes well and Porte is saved, I'll be the voice that calls to push on the fight. If all doesn't, then you can blame me. And who are you?"

Riverkeep

The noble barks a laugh.
"Your words are pretty, yes, and bold. But empty. I see it in your eyes. What conviction do you have, Wyrm? How can you be so broken and so proud at the same time? And I am Raith of the Gates, high lord of house Moira. A lesser house than Caryotte but led by greater men than any of your breed. How ironic."

Riverkeep

"Why do you consist on marking down our house?"

Nic still has his hand grasped on the hilt of his sword.

Riverkeep
Bryce whips around to Nic with a look of anger. Slowly he turns back to the noble- Raith.

"Well, Lord Moira, if you will grace us with your greatness, you're free to join this council- war council I suppose now. Or shall you go back to your house and raise your own banners to fight independently of us?"

Riverkeep

Nic releases the hilt and walks forward to where he is only a few feet away from Bryce now.

Riverkeep

"House Moira rides for Porte, not Caryotte dogs. You come into the halls of our city and strut about like you take precedence. Maybe if you were fit to save us, maybe if you were fit to save anybody, I would respect you more. The way I hear it," he pauses to give Bryce a dark smile, "you can't even protect whores. What a great whore she must've been, for you to send her back to Saxum for a burial."

Riverkeep

Nic turns to face Bryce.

"What does he speak of brother?"