The Fool sits very still as Trahearne speaks, folded up into his seat with his chin in his hand. His inquisitive expression shifts and changes with the twists and turns in Trahearne's tale: curiosity about the war; interest in the soldier's collection of the seed; genuine sorrow over the loss of Ronan's family, and a wistful melancholy over the life he and Ventari shared.

There is something in him that shifts viscerally at the words, 'the Pale Tree,' but he masters it quickly. It can only be coincidence that such a peaceful entity from an entirely different universe might share such a title with his own tormentor. He keeps those words private.

"It sounds as though you are all of you a family, though far removed from each other by time and distance," the Fool muses pensively aloud instead. "You sylvari and your Mother Tree, as well as the soldier and the centaur...?" He says the last word almost as a question, as though not quite sure what to make of it. Clearly judging by his confusion, centaurs are not even figures of legend in his world; they do not exist at all.