The knight turned these words over in his head as he listened. It was as good of an explanation as any. Yet all of it was so strange; Ordhan had thought Nathaniel alone among the nobles in his generosity, or if not alone, near it. Most spoke for themselves through their actions: greedy and distant at best, deceptive and murderous at worst. Even as a child, he had learned this from his own family, if they could be called so.
In that thought was some small revelation, a possible answer to a question long-forgotten. The dislike Bann Reynold held for the Ledaal house, Bann Emmaline in particular, no doubt stemmed from this contrast. He had been too young to realize this when he last pondered the matter, though not too young to recognize the differences between their families. These differences seemed only to grow more and more great, from the bright eyes and full cheeks of the elvish servants to the estate's modest appearance. And the man's willingness to talk to him.
"Thank you, ser," said Ordhan, voice hinting more at a smile than his face was. He did not bother to argue its validity; perhaps the mention of his father hindered him from dismissing the scrap of recognition. Such a distant and thorough rejection should not sting so after the passing of so many years, but Lord Piers had no reservation in dredging up thoughts long-buried, whether intentionally or otherwise. "He has not," answered Ordhan simply. And would he have even listened if the man tried? At the time, he was certain he would have spurned it. It may be no different, now.