Vargis' first guffaw was alarming. The second was lower, but stronger, and soon the old man was clutching his knees in the midst of a laughing fit. Eragos did not know what a 'sausage wallet' was meant to be. At least, he did not - until he began to picture things in the crude way of Eithne Savastian. Then it became fairly obvious what she meant. It was not the first time that Eithne had defied not only his question, but the very standards to which they were meant to hold themselves as White Riders. Eragos doubted it was so simple as dislike. Something was strange about the Lady Areinh. Eragos did not know what it was. Yet he would not assume that it was proper or correct to call her... that ...simply because he found her manner unnerving and unwelcome.
That Eithne did was a measure of her own foolishness.
"You will keep a civil tongue when you address the subject of a lady," Eragos glowered at her. "Or you will be silent."
White Riders did not have hard discipline. This was not an organization of knights, despite their appearances to that effect, and it was not a military group. They were like-minded individuals who had some training in self-defense and generally traded on the honor and authority implied by their position. Eragos was one of the more ... militant ... Riders that he knew, and he was that way for good reason. Too many White Riders had seen their skulls split open, their authority mocked and their opinions derided. Agrippa was a fine Captain, and they were trained in discipline to an extent, but a White Rider who sought to make their bones while speaking the way Eithne spoke was asking for trouble.
She would defy him again, because she knew no other way.
"Now," and he dipped his pen in ink once more. "Try again. Give me your impressions of the Lady Areinh. Impressions, girl, and not insults!"