Hardly a welcome incentive. I don't prefer to be rushed. If we must, at all. I hoped bonds would satisfy them, but all of my predictions are turning out wrong.

[His rank isn't exactly clear, but to be safe and polite, she would dip into a graceful curtsy. His dark features are familiar, similar to the men in the North. He's grizzled, rough and obviously worn from life. His face spoke more than the others among them. It was pleasant to look at him and watch emotions cross his features.]

Eirene of Blood Antonova. I am glad to meet you, my lord.