Andras was caught off guard by the womanâ€™s nonchalance. This was a cooler reaction than he normally received, and it set him onto his back foot. Then he reminded himself that he was not posing as Andras the Prince, but rather the anonymous Sir Ewan. The words he had planned escaped from him as a deflated sigh.<span style="font-style: italic">How on earth can I impress a warrior woman?</span>He nodded for her to step away from the merchant.<br/><br/>â€œWell, er,â€ Andras stumbled, â€œfor one thing this one is a thief,â€ he said, nodding to the merchant behind them. In the process Andras inadvertently caught the manâ€™s eye, who was clearly curious about the hushed conversation. Andras smiled pleasantly at the merchant as he spun his tale of woe. â€œYou are better off dealing with the Yanaren family. They are friends of mine. Honest folk. Iâ€™d hate to see someone new to the area be, well, swindled. I would be happy to show you the way, if you care to meet them. Milady.â€<br/><br/>Andras knew that he was taking a chance. There was a good possibility that she would consider<span style="font-style: italic">him</span>to be the charlatan. Andras hoped that as a prominent knight in the middle of a grand tournament, his presumed honor would lend credence to his white lies and perhaps gain the womanâ€™s confidence. After all, he meant her no harm. Andras hoped that sentiment found its way through his sparkling eyes and gentle smile.