Church, no. Guillaume has gone completely pale as he realizes Church isn't going to follow the proper protocols and will just stab him before he can even get his own sword out of its case. Luckily the Antivan/Rivaini/whatever she is turns up to talk the madman down, and Guillaume releases a breath, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to dab at the perspiration across his forehead.

"Yes, I would agree to use your own, if that will satisfy this brute?" He glares at Church, suddenly back to being confident since a tiny woman just saved his stuck up ass.