Zidane didn't seem intent on moving. Instead he fished into the back pocket of those tired pants of his and tugged out his skyphone, holding it up towards the knights.

"Hey, you know I can just call the Regent direct and ask him right? 'Course, I'll have to wake him up, and explain that you guys wouldn't tell me what's going on. What proof do you have?"

Zidane wasn't actually going to stop them, but he was reasonably certain they wouldn't actually stab a personal friend of the Regents. In theory.