You can see he's taken aback behind his frozen expression, and he looks away. "I... admire your spirit, friend... And I envy it. I am sorry if I have offended you. I lost many comrades during the war, both of flesh and metal, alike. Despite our differences, we always had each other's backs, such is the way of a Cyran Soldier.

"But... what was it you said? You seek a "Vassal of the Platinum God? Hmm... sounds cryptic, putting it mildly." He paused, trying to remember. "Now that you mention it... a couple of gentlemen came in here earlier today. One of them was a bastard of a man, named Brent. The other... he was a priest, but he wore strange vestments... he did mention he served a Vassal of some sort. Cynric. That was his name."

Just as he says this, you hear commotion at he door. A bald, ugly man, wearing studded leather armor, is shoved into the room. Following him, a dark haired, older man, wearing dark gray cleric's vestments, and bearing a platinum holy symbol.

"Buy yourself a drink," the cleric commanded , "sit down, and keep quiet."

"Yeah, yeah, your highness. Whatever you say," said the bald man, rolling his eyes.

The barkeep leaned in close, and quietly says to you, "That's them."