"Would that they all were that wise." He glared at the ale for a moment, as if it had offended him down to his very soul by not living up to his expectations of it being slightly better than the ale most taverns offered, then sighed, dipped another piece of bread in it, and took a bite. Gods, it was awful, but he was hungry. "Sadly, I believe most of them are much more desperate than wise."

Something, he supposed, he could sympathize with. Going north in his state, just before winter descended on Westeros, to look for something he barely even knew? That was just as desperate an act as stealing gold and food off of travelers coming up and down the roads.