Elandris raised his eyebrows slightly at the term 'sell-sword', simply because of the automatic connotations of the phrase. What interested him more was the stranger's assertion that he had once been a Knight. A Knight of what sort? A Knight of Dawn? - no, implausible. Were this man a Knight of Dawn, he would be far too intelligent and suspicious to openly announce the fact. Unless...<br/>Elandris unconsciously narrowed his eyes in thought. Perhaps he was delving too deeply into the matter; perhaps the answers to his questions lay on the surface. not under layers of silence and regretted memories. Suddenly, he understood. The man's eyes conveyed it all. The loss, the sorrow, the true resignation of his soul. Elandris comprehended the message behind the cold disks of sober blue that now appraised him with neither arrogance nor submission. And the realization was a disturbing one.<br/>This man wanted to die.<br/>It was all that the Warden could do in order to restrain himself from twitching noticeably. He had no idea at all whether this man was someone worth eliminating, and to tell the truth did not entirely expect that, due to the other's attitude concerning life(or lack thereof), it would not be necessary to deal with him himself, if the need arose.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">What is <span style="font-weight: bold">wrong</span> with you?</span><br/>Elandris snapped out of his calculating reverie. What<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>wrong with him. This man probably had nothing to do with anything the Warden was expected to take notice of. He was a lost, lonely soldier, and deserved words of comfort rather than thoughts of violence. If Elandris had to kill him later, at least there would be the vague consolation that he had done what he could for the peace of the man's soul.<br/>It was at this point that he realized he had not yet responded to the Knight's question.<br/><br/>"I travel when and  where I must," he said, conscious of the fact that there had been a sizable gap between the lines of conversation. "I am a Messenger."<br/>It was a term every man understood. Messengers were especially common in the green hills of the Dales, due to the lack of paved roads or fast travel. In many areas of the wilds, the only hope of receiving any mail or news of the outside world at all lay in the hands of Messengers, swift people who traveled light and never remained in one place for longer than necessary. It was a guise that had served Elandris well in the past, and it was rarely questioned.<br/>Looking about the empty tavern, Elandris shrugged slightly, shifting his feet on the smooth wooden floor. "About these Southern wastes there seems to be an uncommon bit of call for swordsmen. There seems to be an unusual massing of all manner of nasty creatures in the woods. There have been rumors of inherent invasion."<br/>Elandris did not consider an invasion plausible. Orcs were disorganized; disjointed. There was no central government; the only chance of union between various tribes would be to have one warlord kill all the others and assume control of their mobs. Warlords did not have long enough lifespans to plan and launch an assault on a Human settlement, even one this close to their hunting grounds.