[ Zephirin's hand sinks back down to his side; he meets Francel's gaze, his frown carefully smoothed away. In the young lord's remarks, he hears the same strange, concerned reluctance of their conversation over breakfast, and once more it seems that he ought leave his past buried, though Camp Dragonhead has proven a possible lead.

His memories should never have become Lord Francel's responsibility, in any case.

After a moment, Zephirin crosses the armory floor to approach Francel, his right hand outstretched for the young lord's upon reaching him. On his lips, he wears a small, rueful smile. ]

Unless Ser Corentiaux objects, I suppose I am to stay here for a time, then. No matter what comes of it, I hope to repay your kindness.