Ithacles had been sure to gather up his rolled scroll even as he offered the woman her uniform back. He tucked the paper beneath an arm and stood back a foot or so. She was quite striking, with hair almost too blonde to be yellow. Almost white, like his mother's. Is that why she is so familiar? he thought. He put a hand to his chin and listened to her speak, being sure not to interrupt her with a stray gesture.
He was actually wearing his sword and became quite aware of it as she spoke of weaponry. It was foolish perhaps to walk about his own castle with a blade. After all, who would he be fighting? And yet he felt odd without it. Off balance even. It was a short, heavy saber known as a hanger. Its guard was worthy of his position, intricately tooled with scrollwork and punched holes in the pattern of his favorite constellation, Urss, the bear.
"You're stronger than I thought you'd be," she admitted.
He was slow to reply, making some sort of sound almost like a word--as if he'd committed to a sentence and then cancelled it in the same thought.
"A--well, thank you? Why do you look so familiar? I've seen you somewhere...Other than the training grounds."