Horst nearly answers -- yes, I would question my own regent: who better than one's own citizens to judge one's decisions; but, perhaps more to your point, I am not your citizen -- but then something else occurs to him, and instead he laughs, amidst this otherwise grave situation. "My own crowned regent sits a throne of fire, heralded by a choir of the screaming tortured, and conspires after the souls of the innocent. I daresay I would have somewhat stronger admonitions for him, given an audience."

He meets Nuada's eyes, though, his eerie, scouring yellow stare; his own expression sobers considerably. "I would make their affairs my own," he answers, inclining his head toward Nuada's workers.