The man had an inkling of repsect, at least, proven in the very manner in which he responded. Sigurd couldn't say that he was fond of the particular title, but it certainly offered an air of class and status, which Mathias was apparently familiar with. Even the gradual bow of his head and his stance seemed intent to please, and that the Norwegian was, so he graced him for his efforts. The expression written plain over his features was questionable, however.
He seemed strong, both in physique and in mind, and those aquamarine eyes did everything in their power to convey that very fact. The brillance of the blue they provided was accompanied with the rest of his... Admittedly rather appealing features. A sharp sterness adorned the very same lips that a grin had occupied previously, and could be compared to the embodyment of the romanticized criminals in the books that the maids enjoyed reading. Sigurd was being challenged here, as if the expression was a test set out by Mathias to see if he could handle such a cavalier man. He could prove to be a handful. His father would definitely frown upon his decision and reconsider giving him such leash for these things in the future.
And yet, the rest of Mathias seemed to fit the bill perfectly. From what he could tell from his position, cramped with the rest of the man enslaved in the plaza, he was tall and reasonably broad in his build, with shoulders apparently wider than his own; at least his King would surely favor that. His figure seemed sturdy and balanced, which would be perfect considering the very nature of the castle's structure and surroundings. A weak man could not last in the harsh conditions that the royalty favoured. It was a method to draw their enemies away and persuade them to reconsider an ambush.
Finally, the Norwegian finished his pondering, and gave a small hum of consideration to the prospect of looking around at the rest of the men on offer. He doubted it was necessary by now, and he wanted at least to prove to his brother that his decision took time and deliberation before he could be certain, but he couldn't see anyone that provided him with the same level of interest as the accented man before him did. Instead of looking elsewhere, he kept the questions running. "Alright, Mathias," He drawled in a deep tone, every word smooth and packed with confidence. "How long have you been enslaved? Who have you worked for, and what are you good at?"
It was, perhaps, not the most creative of questions to ask, but something Sigurd believed he should be aware of. It was a topic that affected him and his final selection, and perhaps the answer he recieved could decide whether or not Mathias was the perfect man for the job. Sigurd waited in a hushed silence, patient and persevering, as he awaited his potential guard's response.
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