"Lancer..." mulls Soren as he cradles his cup in his hands, the heat a nice substitute for what he lost when he pulled back. The spark of recognition glints. "Ah, I've met him before. It was the first night. Or, well... you could say I met his spear before I met the man." He brings the ale to his lips; it buzzes fragrantly on his tongue. He gulps it down, trying not to wince too hard at the sting of alcohol. "We were all a little wound up that night. ...Since that's probably not his true name, would it be too great a leap to assume that he also participated in the same war that you did?"