~~~Dunbar, Scotland.~~~

Morwyn stared slack-jawed at the man while he ranted, not making a peep. When he was finished she spoke up. "Sorry, are you saying that you're a son of Richard Burgh? And that he's dead?" Though listening into conversations that she had no business listening to was a favorite pastime for Morwyn, unfortunately she had very little care for politics and the like. If anyone ever brought up so much as a word about any of it, she was likely to tune them out completely. If word had come of the recent changes to Ulster, she hadn't heard of it. Her interests typically lied elsewhere, but she did make an exception when it concerned her own country.

Morwyn was tempted to believe him mad, if she hadn't been aware of the previous Earl's failing health. And if the man himself hadn't sounded so frustrated over the tale.

But that last line had rubbed her the wrong way, so regardless of whatever status he had -- Morwyn wasn't actually sure how you were supposed to treat the supposed brother of an Earl -- she retorted quickly. "Are you daft? Those were..." but she trailed off, hesitating. She was quite familiar with Ulster and even more familiar with the general distrust of sorcery in that area. It was rampant, even, at least it felt that way to her when she'd last been there. She doubted that she was in any actual danger, but still had no desire to put him off. Especially if he was so eager to babble all these secrets to her.

"Oh, ah, what was I saying? Er, the name's Morwyn by the way. I didn't catch yours?" She asked, fumbling quite badly with her words, quickly trying to work out some lie about why she'd be wandering alone all the way out here.