Oh, that's a Vorrutyer, alright. Don't think he doesn't know it, Byerly -- his grandfather was Le Sanguinaire, after all. Piotr Vorkosigan knows the Vorrutyers well. Piotr returns the look with one of his own -- not so haughty and superior as it is full of razor-edged conviction and, above all else, a loyalty to the Emperor so whole and tenable that there's nothing Piotr wouldn't do in his service. Jaw tight, eyes hard, Piotr leans in close to Byerly with that uncomfortable Vorkosigan aura of utter intensity.

"No, you don't," he growls. "You serve at the Emperor's command. Take care not to forget that, Vorrutyer."

He straightens up, a look of disgust washing over his face. "I have neither the patience nor the time to entertain insubordinate malcontents. You're of better use to me working than idle, but even an impotent worm can make for good bait."

He doesn't deign to clarify that, only raising his eyebrows slightly at Byerly. "Now," he says brusquely, "if you have any intelligence to substantiate these claims to security, bring them to my attention immediately. Otherwise..." He nods to one of the liveried men holding Byerly's arms. "Armsman, please show this man to the stables."

That's right, Byerly, you're on mucking duty.