In truth, Sauveterre knows exactly what the elf means by altering armor. He's been seeing a smithy stationed in Serault for the last twenty or so years. That old blacksmith watched the boy grow into a man, and always is willing to help. In fact, the armor he wears now is one of the smithy's newer masterpieces that he gifted to Alayre a day after his promotion to Knight-Commander.

"I know of someone who can alter it well." He mumbles aloud while fussing with the tight straps of his couter. His left shoulder feels woefully stiff with it on. He might have to go without this piece of armor for awhile. Sacrificing defense for speed.

"Truly?" A somewhat bashful smile crosses his face briefly but soon it's masked. "I ought thank you regardless of your avoidance to praise. I think you've given me an excuse to swim again." The Templar chuckles.