Orsa was grateful and hopefully that immeasurable thanks was evident with his frequent pauses to tip his chin down in respect. Though it occurred to him that it might take awhile for his majesty to be able to transcribe his constant muttering into something telligible, if he failed to straighten himself out first. Mind a mess and speech absolutely cluttered, it was a wonder he retained any semblance of nobility during his leave from the family all those years ago. The necromancer definitely carried the air of a lunatic wizard that belonged in some far off tower.<br/><br/>"I'll be sure to make my requests as the inspiration comes. You were not incorrect to assume my earlier hesitation was that of... conservation. I don't mean to chew through the resources of a foreign king like some hungry sow who has yet to give birth. Ah-- well... I suppose it would be uncouth to think of them that way." An all too fond look broke out across his features. His creations were, in some ways, like children. Products of his creativity and restless nights laboring over their unborn bodies so that they might have the best shot at life. Even if they were sent to be cannon fodder, it was no different than any father of the sword who sent his many sons to the battlefield. Perhaps he was thinking aloud when he continued his feverish note-taking. "It is only myself I'm disappointed in when they fall apart at the seams... Woe is the beast, damned and still unable to fulfill their purpose," mumbled under hushed breath.<br/><br/>Verbal or written, updates came easily. And testing, even more so.  As long as his handiwork proved that their bodies stood strong, there was no difficulty in provoking aggression from restless spirits confined to unfamiliar corpses. The next knock at the door, so gentle it was a wonder he too noticed through the delirious haze that were his thoughts, prompted Orsa to shut book and set pen aside, making room for the generous meal. It was rare that food caused such excitement for a man his age. "Oh-ho! I hadn't even considered the pleasure of being able to eat and drink well, and of the sea's bounty no less. Camponan cooks might know how best to roast a pig, but there's only so much I could take of that fatty sweetness." Roasts and roots indeed made up most of the mainland menu, and neither were things he dearly missed. The spices of the coast would've drawn him here if his work did not.<br/><br/>Orsa accepted the glass of wine with a smile, caving into his desire for a drink within the moment before digging into his meal. Surprisingly slow and meticulous compared to the typical, manic behavior that seemed to be so emblematic of him that Mendoza took mention. But to the question of his departure, he slowed to a halt to think for a moment, thankfully stopping himself before he might've began to click his fork against the plate or something equally annoying.<br/><br/>"I was never a family man, my apologies if that might come as a surprise, sire." The necromancer replied with light humor. "My estrangement from my house started at quite a young age actually. When Campona started to fade I took it upon myself to leave and let that whole mess topple behind me. There was little to be done, and besides, vitamancy was a dying art. I wasn't satisfied with only being of worth in armor. Nevertheless I wore those colors most of my trip, until I found those of a king to replace them." His face had grown rather dour, if only for a few seconds. Orsa remedied this with a bite of fish and peppers and a delighted hum. "No one knew where I'd run off to, especially since at the time I hadn't the faintest clue either... And, well, those that even found out that I was gone might not be there if I were to go back, if you understand."<br/><br/>Campona was just one of many settlements to get swallowed up as soon as the world went to hell. Even one with many respectable families in it's upper class lost the support of the surrounding rulers who felt more content to swallow up their weaker neighbors in search of land. Campona was weak, their armies small and no amount of military ingenuity would have saved it. Orsa wouldn't have been surprised if he returned not only to foreign flags but a new name for his hometown as well. "You know, sire... I had the brief thought that you might go to war with the bidder that won my birthplace. Not that I need any sort of revenge, such is beyond my interest. But I'm curious to see just what killed Campona for good. When I was a boy our enemies were great, in no doubt overwhelming."<br/><br/>Another joyous bite that he savored and washed down with a healthy swig of wine. Orsa crossed his fingers for a moment with a wide grin that stretched his laugh lines. "All that aside, I am but a ghost that has wandered to your doorstep. My guide were mere rumors, I've lacked any companions-- living, at least! It would be a great honor to share the name of your domain. Orsa Battistiano da Segovia, ah? Or, perhaps that name reeks too loudly of the mainland." His name and identity were Mendoza's to do with as he wished, after all.