"That's rather comforting to know," Ned thinks aloud, and part of him truly does mean it. The last months of his life - before he'd found himself floundering in the waters of the fountain - had been prisoner in the royal dungeon. Prior to being tossed in there like refuse, he'd begun to question his sanity, everything around him, everyone around him. A man of deep, unrelenting honor and conviction of self and duty, he'd mistakenly expected the same in those around him without question or possible thought they'd not adhere to such a strict moral code. It's what did him in, in the end. Believing in the hearts of men when they'd already gone black.

"I heard rumors of a spring somewhere to the south; do you know of it?"