[Orual]

Eruisto was a little surprised by the question. "Twenty-five, my lady, coming up on twenty-six," he replied, then laughed a little. The laugh was either bitter or mischievous: it was difficult to tell. "Old enough to have made something of myself," he added, "though whether or not I have is up to debate."

He pushed his black hair away from his face and, with his green eyes dancing in the light of the Inn, he looked very boyish indeed, and very much a rascal. "By twenty-six my grandfather was already a guard, and my father was a smith...he makes armor...and my brother was a guard. And had two children." He shrugged. "Guess I'm the black sheep of the family. I like to think that I have the most fun, though." He took another drink, raising his glass to Melisil briefly, and sighed. "I guess that by twenty-six you hadn't made much of yourself yet, though, had you?" he asked, laughing a bit, and perhaps he was getting a little tipsy, but he didn't really care. He could hold his ale. He looked at Melisil again, though, and bit his bottom lip. He really oughtn't get drunk in front of her. He pushed his glass away and waited for her answer to what he now realized was probably a rude question.