The voice is a thunderous roar, an authoritative earthquake. The black titan appears as though spawned from a nightmare, planting his formidable bulk in between the intruder and the unsuspecting colt he'd been making a beeline for. Each rippling muscle is flexed to its fullest, the weak moonlight glimmering off the battle-hardened contours and enhancing the beast's fearsome appearance; his ivory-painted hooves appear almost ghost-like, attached as they are to the great black mass of the Indomitable.

His dragons swarm around him, circling him and the one-winged young stallion. Vadir's wingbeats are lazy and disapproving, sulking because she'd encouraged him to simply charge in, all guns blazing, and take down the would-be thief without asking any questions. Something gave the newly-crowned Sultan pause, however. Yes, his first instinct had been to trample in and attack the failed sleuth, as Gaucho had done so many times with those who had made the mistake of targeting the Throat. He'd second-guessed himself, though - what if it's a misunderstanding? What if he'd just imagined the attempted stealth? What if his first act as Sultan is accidentally squishing a perfectly harmless outcast?

That's why he'd decided to simply posture in front of the stymied intruder, throw his bulk around and try to frighten an explanation out of him. Vadir finds this to be stupidity in the extreme. "The thing with thieves," she points out with the same painstaking, patient tone she would use if she was talking to somebody young or retarded, "is that they aren't known for telling the truth."

This, the beast concedes, is a fair point. Because he is brutally honest and disapproves of lying, he tends to project these characteristics onto all others, assuming that they also follow the same rules. Vadir thinks it naiive; Volterra is inclined to agree, but he'll never admit that. Maybe he'll learn from this. Maybe in future, anybody who has a stealth for the Throat stopped by him will find themselves on the business end of the Indomitable's famous wrath, but for today this thief is safe.

Ignoring the queen's disapproval, the titanic stallion glowers down at the intruder. He vaguely recognises him from mass gatherings, but couldn't put a name to him if he tried. "What did you want with that boy?" he demands, his ears slicked back and his mane flying in a storm around his face from the brisk evening wind.