The dwarf's disapproval seemed to be quickly swallowed by pride, the edge of gruffness faded from his voice when he accepted the praise. Ordhan dipped his head in agreement. Dwarven smith-work alone held a formidable reputation; even without Conlan's recommendation, Ordhan would have likely sought one of them out for the job.
He allowed himself to smile, a vague tilt of the lips that barely implied emotion. "Then I have done well to come here," Ordhan answered. "I need a suit of knights' armor. The sturdier, the better." The request was unfortunately narrow. A knight had to blend in with his fellows, even if the armor could be heavier or the design more practical.
The dwarf seemed angered by Ordhan's notice of the trophies behind him. "I am sorry," answered Ordhan mildly. The dismissal may have softened the harshness of the tone, but Ordhan suspected it also implied that the armor held some meaning the dwarf was not willing to discuss. Given the limited extent of Ordhan's knowledge about dwarves, it could very well be something cultural. Better to tread lightly than to trample some cultural sensibility. By the dwarf's keen glance, however, it seemed that whatever offense he had taken was past and he had already set himself to business.