[Ortus took note of the passing stranger approaching the Emperor's defense, and then he took note of his long, gray silhouette, the slight reflective flashing about his face. By the time the young Master Warden pivots on his path, Ortus has taken the opportunity to school his features to placidity.

There is still a lingering mournfulness to his expression, but this is not atypical. What is atypical, and what he dolefully hopes the young man does not notice, is the flicker of inexplicable relief as he regards the whole and intact face of a stranger.]

Warden of the Sixth. [Ortus dips his head in a respectful nod.] Yes. I am Ortus Nigenad.

[It shouldn't come as a surprise that he's been mentioned, and yet: it remains difficult to picture circumstances in which he would be a topic of discussion.]

As for what I am doing...

[He looks at the chalk-marked shed, then at his white dusted sleeves, then back to the Warden with an even more wearily dolorous set to his skull-painted face.]

It seemed best to identify the areas of concerns before formulating a plan to address them.