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The other man smiled warmly, but he said nothing. Instead, his gaze fell upon Koh, who was lying down in the corner of the room, head resting on his front paws.

A long moment transpired as Ettol continued waiting, unsure what to try next.

He hated being on the back foot like this, not knowing who he was dealing with. What a mistake, answering that knock so cordially. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so eager to re-initiate contact with his brethren. The timing hadn't exactly been ideal, either.

Careful, he told himself. Careful and steady.

He decided to reassess the situation. Might this time actually prove advantageous? Damian and Parson were set to arrive any minute now--could they be useful here? If this stranger was an adversary--as he increasingly seemed to be--then it would certainly be better not to face him alone.

But how to explain the stranger's presence? An elaborate fiction might be needed. Ettol disliked resorting to those, as they tended to cause future complications, but if there was no other way, then--

"I've a question for you," said the stranger.

"Yes?"

"Have you seen a man with a large scar over his right eye?" He pointed to his own eye.

Ettol's gaze twitched. "You are in search of such a man?"

"Among other things, yes. Have you seen him?"

"I'm afraid not, though I've met many with similar scars. Perhaps you could tell me his name?"

"Oh, he would have left quite an impression, I'm sure. If you'd met him, I doubt you would mistake him for someone else, even with that meager description."

Avoidance. Again. It was no coincidence, Ettol felt.

"...Are you an Oathbearer?" said Ettol.

The stranger made no response.

All but confirmation, as far as Ettol was concerned. But still, he should be wary of an elaborate ruse. Oathbearers were some of his favorite opponents from the First Age. So full of pride, yet so easily undone.

That was why this could be a ploy. A trick to put him at ease. To make him stop being cautious.

Only someone extremely knowledgeable of the ancient world would be able to pull off such a thing, though.

Hmm.

"You have my sympathy, if so," Ettol went on. "It cannot be easy, living a life of constant repression."

"We all do it, in one way or another," said the stranger. "It is just a matter of understanding the bounds of one's own inner compass. Done properly, the 'repression,' as you put it, is hardly even felt."