You stood in the great hall, where three bastards were also present—the newly accepted dragonriders, recognized by Silverwing, Vermithor, and Seasmoke. As you entered, one of them stared blankly at you, then spoke loudly:

“A pint of sake, servant!” He growled, the contempt in his voice clear.

The other two lowered their heads, knowing who you were and better off not speaking. Then Jacaerys entered, and the atmosphere in the hall immediately changed with his words.

“You’d better watch your mouth,” He stepped forward, his voice harsh and defensive at the same time.