Hushed Willows “my temper would perhaps be called resentful.”

Mouth quirked at the aspect of civility — the epitome of his being, he liked to think — and Sontés tipped a becoming chin at her forgiveness. ”I come from rather north, beyond the Bracken Woods—if that’s what those hinters are called.” How to phrase the rest of this...? ”I was closely associated with a haven known as Rhaesuial, although I hadn’t been born within its realm. My services were more... judicial, if you will.”

Nonwithstanding having retired from Le Parlement to pursue the far south, Sont had no qualms with belaying his story within this copse. ”So, I suppose I ‘come from a land far-far-away’,” the once-justice griped, but with a wry tone. Thankfully, he had not been one of the few to have crossed the treacherous Icefields; but his scrutinizing gaze still softened with the dry weariness that comes with long travel. ”In truth, a part of me misses my lady’s realm. It has been some time since I’ve chanced upon a place so at ease, as this.”