Rolling his eyes at the Duke, Karac settles himself down on a chair and fixes the man with a cheerful smile. It doesn't fade, or shift even in the face of mock anger. He doesn't move an inch as the noble launches into some spiel about betrayal and plots, one he really couldn't care less about, in all honesty. His reputation with the nobles wasn't very good, all things considered, but they were worse scum than the peasants in his mind. "You seem to have great hearing, my Duke," The smile curves ever higher as he looks Anders over calmly, watching the mercenary's face after the Duke speaks, seeming pleased by what reaction the man has, if any, to the Duke blurting out what he planned to explain and reveal in detail, "But seem very...stupid."
"If you speak out of turn again, I'll inform the Prince that you are scheming with an assassin upon the day of his coronation. Or are running security on it without his permission. Both are highly suspicious and monitoring both fall under the duty of serving my brother's interests." Much like the Duke did, he raises his voice, which turns cold and curt in a instant, the smile turning down into a heavy scowl very few people could pull of with sincerity. Loathing and disgust flares in his eyes. Then it's gone in an instant the smile returning, but the disgust staying.
Twirling the wineglass dexterously in hand, Karac considers the Duke behind his bodyguard for a few brief moments of time. However, it passes swiftly, before he continues, tone holding heavy sarcasm and doubt, most of it directed at the Duke, it would seem. "And I'm sure the Prince would believe a noble and a...knight? Commoner? Over the word of his little brother, the one who has more use and more potential than a solitary duke ever could at this point and time."
The leather of his boots creaked as the lordl-- Heir rose to his feet from the plush chair. A crooked smile fixed itself upon his face as he eyed the Duke of Severance and the Mercenary, taking them both in, appraising both their frame and form with wandering eyes. That gaze turns and stays upon the Duke. "You've made an enemy you didn't really have to, my Dear Duke. Unless you want to stop playing at pretend and actually have an intelligent discourse about your future and mine."
As an afterthought, with a glance to the Mercenary Anders, another roll of his eyes following, "And his too, I suppose, if he can drop that wretched accent.