Before anyone could answer, a fair and flaxen female, elven if her pointed ears were any indication, hurdled over the banister with grace. Intriguing, he thought. Females of athletic form and ability were few in his kingdom, even fewer in his province, and thus they were alluring. He preferred human, uneasy about the races mixing, but she appeared human enough. His curious nature soon took on another form. Perhaps she could tell stories of her people—their histories and beliefs—and maybe magic, and then she spoke, slaying all interest. He stared at her with those critical eyes of his. Apparently her mind is not as nimble as her frame, he said to himself. He sighed, smirking even, and rubbed the stumble on his face. 

"I have to shave this shit," he said softly. He turned his attention to the crowd and continued, "So, a man with grievous injuries enters hostile territory and no one is the least bit curious? Very well."