[Estinien is keeping Aymeric paced in ale, and he, too, can feel the edges of his mind starting to get fuzzy. Taking another drink of ale, he glances to his friend, his expression unchanging. Mayhap he'd smile, but the day had surely robbed him of that sort of extra energy.]

Aye.

'Tis been no short while since last we filled such lowly roles. Though, I much prefer the temple knight's garb to that ridiculous excuse for armor. The Mistress is swiving daft to fit her guards with such.