Here were a couple of people, a whole two of them, who did not appreciate what Skandra was trying to say. Vedette was the least gracious apology accepter in the history of such a task, which was the first time a man ate all of the fish being cooked on a stone because he was hungry from fishing all day, and his shrew of a wife - who'd simply been weaving the first basket - had shrieked in his ear about it. Women were always trying to make you think there was something you could have done different, to make them happier. But since Vedette was never going to lift up her skirt and sit in his lap Skandra couldn't be bothered to care just then. He'd try to change the weather before he gave a damn what she thought.
Cavras and Ithacles were traitors, leaving him hanging that way.
Red Coat was moving from table to table, exchanging a few quick words. A smile. Skandra looked without looking for as long as he dared and saw the same thing. Red Coat shaking hands with someone. Red Coat laughing at a joke Skandra couldn't hear. Red Coat smiling while the whole room smiled at him. Abruptly it made sense. And perhaps far, far too late. Red Coat was not one of the king's guard. He was an enforcer, someone who made certain this tavern was never troubled by... trouble. And if there was one thing that could bring trouble to your establishment it was a prince and all his fucking friends looking for an assassin. Which Red Coat seemed to know, because he stopped directly behind Ithacles' chair. The quiet was deafening.
"You look like my brother's captain," Red Coat told him.
"You should watch your tongue," Cavras snapped quickly.
"He's drunk, don't mind him," Skandra's companionable arm snaked around Cavras' shoulder and then covered his mouth. "Start filling a man with ale and suddenly he thinks he's a prince! Ha! No offense intended, sir."
Instead of answering Red Coat glanced to his right, and then to his left. As if checking to see if something else was going to happen. Once he seemed certain - he swept his hand back. Almost at once patrons began sliding their tables away from this side of the tavern. The taps were normally very crowded. Now there was hardly a soul in sight. Cavras' flailing indicated his desire to remain quiet - so Skandra let go. Open space. A lot of it. He'd seen this before, too. Usually right before somebody fought to the death.
"Face me," Red Coat said, and it was not a question - but he still managed to make it sound polite.
There was the enforcer, some twenty feet away from Ithacles, stripping off the red coat that had named him in Skandra's mind and tossing it to the ground.