Wrinkling his nose, Benedict takes care to step more carefully, that mud doesn't flick up onto any part of him other than his boots; why does anyone live in Ferelden, he wonders, but keeps it to himself.

"What was it like?" he asks instead, reassured somewhat that their contact is familiar to Isaac, "Montsimmard." As far as he's aware, the Orlesian Circles haven't been entirely as barbaric as the eastern ones, but perhaps there's just less said about them.