A short burly fellow of a man, wearing what resembled almost a shining white kettle pot for armor, white cloak flapping in the winter wind, and a faithful bastard sword sheathed at his side—stood outside the Romulich Orchard upon a hilltop. Where he kept a menacing watch on the whole breadth of the estate. Occasionally snacking upon a short loaf of bread, or on an apple as he studied the property. Chewing, staring, chewing, and even more glaring for all the while. The passionate fire in his eyes seemed to have kept him warm while he stood out in the freezing cold.