[ Lord Francel's omelettes, delicious though they are, salvage nothing new from whatever abyss swallowed up Zephirin's memories. Zephirin remembers no prayers said before a meal, no companions' faces as they sat around a table. He simply cuts his portion into evenly-sized pieces, eating tidily, at a steady pace.

But soon his expression turns pensive; his knife and fork pause hovering near the edge of his plate. ]

...An adventurer? [ That possibility does not rule out dealings with House Fortemps, and it is far more welcome a notion than fearing himself guilty of a crime. ] I wonder, then, whether I ought take my leave of Coerthas and travel the land. With luck, I shall retrace my steps, and something may come to me on the road.

[ No doubt Ser Stephannot would have him depart immediately. ]