Whitefish River Wheat kings and pretty things

It wasn't long until the approach of pawsteps stole her attention. Before Ira had the chance to even look, Hieronymous spoke, addressing her by title instead of his usual sing-song praise. It wasn't hard to notice the shift, Hiero had always been a loud, dramatic man. This...this was different. When golden orbs fell on the painted man she noticed the wounds that littered his torso, still new, but at least scabbed over. Hieronymous...She raised her head, suddenly overcome with caution at his tattered state and formal behavior. Had something happened while she was gone? Why didn't Evergreen tell her? The roan woman did her best to keep her expression neutral as it often was, but her eyes would remain locked on the knight. Figuring the best way to approach the growing concerns she'd simply ask, Is something wrong?