Ordhan followed Conlan further in when the other led, coming to a halt at a spot near one of the weather-warped walls. The house was musty from disuse, left untended while Conlan was in Amaranthine and for however long his stay in the Denerim prison had been. Conlan simply didn't own enough for any of the untidiness to be from clutter. A glance around the room took in what little there was.
"I know of a merchant or two who you could sell some of this to," he suggested. "I imagine even Grey Wardens need money from time to time." Perhaps it was the realization that Conlan was leaving for good that made it easy to forget the strain of the past days.
The corner of Ordhan's mouth lifted in faint amusement, even the slight expression rare for the stoic knight. "Conlan, you know how little I stay at my house. Perhaps what you do not want to sell could be left to the elves?" He paused, voice softening as he added, "I imagine they have nothing, now."