Ordhan had thought Piers' curiosity to be a momentary thing, a minute's wondering about the odd knight that interrupted his day. It was strange enough that Piers somehow remembered the lanky child hovering behind the visiting bann's daughter, some twenty-five years ago. Perhaps it was because of the confusing twists the meeting had already taken that this new confession did not strike him as so bizarre as it ought to have.
Head quirked slightly to one side, brows drawn together, Ordhan strove to absorb this. "That was very kind of her," Ordhan answered softly. It made sense, in its own strange way; Bann Emmaline was after all the one who had invited him to the estate with the rest of the noble family, all those years ago. "Fortunately, my half-brother provided what my father did not." He paused, eyes wandering away for a moment as one hand brushed away a nonexistent wrinkle on his pant leg. It was easy to keep disdain or bitterness from his voice, but sorrow took more of an effort.
"Mad? Of course not, ser," said Ordhan quickly, though he tried to keep from wondering how much either of them had learned. "Though I would wonder why either of you would take the trouble." Bann Emmaline had died during the Blight, it was told; did that mean that she, with four sons of her own, had bothered to watch one forgotten bastard's path through life, only to see him end up as a shameful waste of breath in the guard?