[color=#007985][b][h2]Sir Jerel Ban[/h2][/b][/color]“No, I don’t suppose they do.”

The sigh had suckerpunched Jerel. He wanted to explain, but how could he? She was a Paladin and notoriously blunt. Questions of faith were best kept for musty cloisters and mustier priests.

Let her think I’m just a coward, it’ll save on derision. 

And a hypocrite, complaining about the vexious court and then dancing to its tune with questions between lines.

“Children have precious little useful to say,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his beard charms clattering, “But neither do most people here.” There was an irony there that made Jerel smile. 

“I suppose I’m jumping a ghosts; not every noble is Phoran Cal," he paused, as if thinking over a question. He wasn't. He'd formed in not long into the night, spurned on by Velbrance. It was one of the reasons he'd hoped to speak to Tyaethe, just not so soon, so sober, "Did you ever meet him before he rebelled?” 

[@Raineh Daze]