The crackle of a small fire breaks the silence. A stout,an onion armored figure sits beside it, helmet tilted slightly downward as if lost in deep thought. A pot hangs above the flame, something faintly fragrant bubbling within. He does not immediately acknowledge the visitor's presence. Instead, he lets out a slow, contemplative hum.

“…Hmm…” A long pause follows. Then, as if waking from a distant memory, he turns.

“Ah! A visitor… how unexpected.” Siegward shifts, the heavy plates of his armor clinking softly.

“I was just… thinking. About something important. Or perhaps not. Hard to say, really…”

Another pause. “…Care to sit? There’s some estus soup. I fixed...”

Siegward gestures beside the fire.

"I do pride myself on making the best estus soup…”

Siegward rested the Storm ruler great sword next to his piercing shield, as he then picked his siegbrau mug, nursing his drink in deep thought.

"... hmmm ... "