Although Malvin was sitting still, the back of his coat flicked as if something twitched beneath it.
A little soft in the head, this one then. Still, he seems harmless enough, a far cry from the self-righteous glares and sword-rustling that oftentimes accompanies faces like that. His yellow eyes narrowed slightly at the strangely dressed man.

"I imagine it is for the same reason you have golden eyes; I inherited them. Ultimately, I do not know. Your guess is as good as mine."
Malvin wished to be elsewhere. If they were supposed to talk to this vassal, Wyrmslayer next, they should be at it while there was still light left to see by. Still, it seemed Cynric was not yet done acquireing manpower.