Loghain Mac Tir keeps to himself during the journey to Nevarra, a task not difficult for him to accomplish, even in relatively close quarters. He rides his mare, Sooty, at a respectable distance from the rest of the party, often takes his evening watches alone--alone, save for the company of a fairly menacing-looking wolf-dog often seen shadowing his steps, that is. He's not a man many others go out of their way to meet; some seem to take a particular pleasure in sending venomous scowls his way, though no one has yet been bold enough to try to overtly antagonize him. (Whatever fight they might start, perhaps they have the wisdom to recognize he's more than capable of finishing it.)

All this to say that, when Adalia suddenly pokes her head into his peripheral vision while he sits alone near the periphery of the camp taking the blade of his dagger to a whetstone, he does indeed look surprised to see her. It's short-lived, however, once he spots the green glow in her palm. Then he only smiles wryly.

"The Traitor Teyrn," he replies, tone almost mild, as he turns his attention back to the dagger. "Among other names. I prefer to go by Loghain." Nodding to the half-wolf, half-mabari hound warming herself near the fire, he remarks, "That's Primrose. Who are you?"