"You don't seem to surprised." Everild let out a faint laugh. "So, did the prince speculate these from the start?"
Erland got his mind back to reality. "(I didn't have the time to spare a thought about him...Not to mention that Frode told me not to)" He smiled. "You overestimate me." He finally noticed Everild's attire. He was wearing a regular shirt without the robe and his sleeves were folded. His arms were filled with scars and wounds, old and new as if someone has beaten him.
Everild walked towards the small table near the kitchen. "Come and sit down. My fiancée has made some warm soup. Would you like some tea too?" He started to pour some soup in a bowl.
"Um...(What if he mixes something in it?)" He approached Everild with a smile. "May I help you?"
