Jobe looked up from his single-minded campaign to consume every edible object in reach when his name was mentioned. He couldn’t help but start a little, hardly expecting anyone to have heard his introduction, but the hefty woman sat a space away from him had engaged him in conversation. He turned, bread dropping out of his mouth as he looked at her quizzically.

“Uh, hey Ghis.” He replied, acknowledging her pleasantries with a half-smile. His confidence was returning as he realised she was not all that unlike any farm-girl he had met in the past, and because she was a little on the round size her looks were not overwhelming his simple sensibilities. All of that changed rather quickly however when a demure, but undeniably pretty, young woman made herself known and sat down next to him. He quickly averted his eyes and returned to his food, replying with a half-hearted greeting, letting the two women talk.

Someone was walking around with wine, which Jobe refused out of principle, though when ale was called he was more than willing to call for a cup if Mytchel was making the rounds. After a few moments of quiet eating it became clear that the woman known as Ghis was not quite done with the small talk, drawing Jobe away from eating once again.

“I’m from Terh, west of the Truesh peaks, small farming town.” He replied quickly, trying to sound like he was too good for his humble origins. It probably hadn’t come out quite as he planned. He was about to get back to work when his eyes caught Ghis staring at him in that way he had noticed the older women tended to. It might have been his imagination, but it looked almost predatory, nothing like the coy eyed maidens of stories, he coughed a little as his nerves jangled.

“Some.” He replied, resisting the urge to answer Ghis’ seemingly layered question with a full account of his working life on the farm. He decided that probably wouldn’t be appropriate, and he wanted to leave that life behind him anyway. The natural break in conversation and his progressively full belly had opened up an opportunity for Jobe to look around at the assorted individuals that had been gathered in the hall. Though Jobe was not what one would consider a shrewd or talented observer, he couldn’t help but pick up the foreign look of Northerners talking together with no small amount of hostility. There was also a dangerous looking man watching over the table, and a flimsy bookish type gawking and conversing wildly with everyone around him. It seemed like a strange bunch of people had gathered to answer the call of the King, but when the call comes who wouldn’t answer?