"Good." Balthazar sighs, relieved by the ease of the tension in the atmosphere. He even smiles, but there's a definite shaky edge to it, because now that the immediate threat of a fight is gone, he has to deal with the implications of this stranger being here.

His apprentice. He's not sure whether to be ecstatic or critical, stunned or furious. His gaze is hard to read, as a consequence of too many emotions stacked on top of one another, but he gives a grave nod. "And the ring chose you. Which means you must be the Prime Merlinian. Do I get a name to call you?"

Because he doesn't actually read minds. That would be unethical. Usually.