Spoiler: Successful Perception Test (Intuition - Not Hearing or Vision)
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At first you think he might be partly blind, or concussed or something; but then you begin to put together that it comes off as a more social disinclination than a physiological one. When you confer with Bella, she whispers to you after a gasp.
"Oh - do you think it's our hair? Bretonnian women cover their hair in public - those who are marriagable, or married. They only show it on their wedding day, or indoors to their family. Except for little girls, and their holy Maidens, and - oh no! Taalia, does he think we are prostitutes?!"
That would explain his immediate goodwill - but observing the knight as you have travelled, you don't think that's the case. More likely, having grasped that you are foreign, he is simply not heaping upon you the expectations that he would someone local - but he averts his eyes with almost desperately dutiful regularity just as if you were walking around without a shirt. Can uncovered hair really be so... intimate to these people? How scandalized they must be, when they go to other countries and women shake their hair around with such rampant godlessness!
Spoiler: Successful Visual Perception Test +10%
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With all your belongings strapped up on Cleménce's back, you are inclined to keep an eye out to make sure they are not overweighted to one side or the other to cause irritation to the steed, or to fall off. During one such glance, you see the corner of bright silvery links of fine chain and black leather poking out the corner of one saddlebag. You recognise it as a very fine horse's bridle - the kind of thing that one does not normally carry as spare. The pegasus, you fear, did not make out of the mountain conflict alive - mortally wounded by the orcs before you arrived, after all. Sir Briant must have brought both his destrier and his pegasus to the battlefront, using the pegasus to run messages across the gap and make opportunistic strikes at the orcs high in the mountains - and now, with that critical casualty, he is making his way home.
Another strange country; another stranger to whose defence you were compelled to leap, against the perfidious greenskin; another equine casualty, and its human master in mourning. The young knight's distress at this loss is less raucous than Gaulfredo's. Your more-or-less adoptive father was very emotive, even by Tilean standards, especially when it came to the horse Bartolemi slain by the goblins, or Rocco felled by age. But restrained as it is, you intuit that Sir Briant's greif is just as deep; even if his way is to bind it within himself, instead of release it.
Spoiler: OOC:
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You may, if you like, insist on camping and eating now; or you may trust your guide knows what he is doing. Decide!