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The man rubbed his beardless chin with a questioning gaze, “Where do you come from?”
“The, uh, Verac sire.” Lucian did not want to say such a thing so early but here he was.
“The Heir of Ruin?” Recognition struck the nobleman as he fully understood the situation, “That Dwarf, that was Adok Fireskin. Where is he?”
“He went off to gather some wine for himself, Lord.”
The Nobleman looked rather thoughtfully as he noticed something was off. As if sudden realization struck him the Knight looked over to see the truth for himself. Gone was his arm, the limb sitting nearby at the feet of a shield upon a table wrapped in linen cloth.
“I shall never ride again it seems.” The Nobleman said as he laid down, “How far had I fallen to be saved by a Peasant as well. Pitiful.”
There was a sense of depression now coming in. The man suddenly lost all his desire to talk as he realized the truth of the matter. Without an arm he might be able to fight on the ground but a Knight without a steed could not really call themselves a Knight.
>Stay silent
>Joke that he was also saved by a most noble dwarf
>As Morr saved him, he must have purpose still
>Other words of encouragement.