Sir Terryn Selgvyrdson sat with one arm draped over the back of his chair, the other dropped down to rest on the pommel of his weapon. He spotted the Lonemine Lord from across the room. Not because he had seen him on the streets of Stonewood, but rather because the other man had an air of authority about him -- nevermind the strange sense of familiarity that Terryn felt.
As the Lord drew closer, Ian slid several cards off of the table, shuffling his deck before slipping it into a pouch hanging from his belt. Bjorn finished off the last of his ale, and Oswald scowled. The Hedge Knight Commander remained impassive, pointedly ignoring the Lord's guards and courtesan. As the Lord spoke, however, he arched a fiery red eyebrow quizzically, his sapphire eyes sparkling in the light of the nearby hearth.
Terryn was not sure what to make of the man. He was not garbed in particularly high-brow clothing, though he must have thought highly of his escort or his own skill with a blade to dress as he did in this area, and nor did he dress himself in the standard Lonemine wear. In fact, for whatever reason, even his guards wore street clothing. Odd, in the very least, though he was sure there was some sound reasoning behind it. Perhaps the Lonemine soldiers were as unwelcome here as they no doubt were in the guard barracks?
After a moment of assessment, the Hedge Knight smiled amiably, and waved over a serving girl. "I make a point to know the major players in any area," he replied casually, "it tends to help, in a profession such as mine. But what's more, I've heard you've caused quite a stir...What're you having?" He broke off abruptly as the wench reached their table. This meeting would likely drain the last of his personal funds, but it what was a little money in greasing the wheels of conversation?