The verdant lowlands they were passing look lifted straight out of a movie or a painting, and with Glorfindel's stories of his precious armor weaved from something out of magic itself, Roland's mind felt at ease. Quiet moments like this gave him perspective on the surreal nature his life has unexpectedly taken.

"That would have been quite a sight to see." They reach the more forested areas not before long as they converse, a canopy of trees with a variety of foreign flora peppering in with the green. "If I had such extravagant armor, I'd probably do the same and wear it to bed myself."

Granted with a bit of shade from the increasingly warm temperature, Roland tilts his head up and smiles at the serenity of healthy leaves shielding them from garish light. His mind wanders to his own favorite Evermorian attire, the answer coming to him in a split second.

"Someone in the kingdom, a citizen we helped and recruited named Grimm, thought it nice to give me a new uniform to wear as Chief Consul. It turned out great. A black and purple robe with gold accents. Matching white gloves and boots. It was well put-together, but more than how it looked, it represented the citizens' trust in me. When I put it on, I knew I had to work even harder to repay them."