The first question gets a small chuckle, a knowing smile, because Estinien has exactly zero interest in actually answering that question. The flash of the blade doesn't even seem to surprise him.

"Your man Maxima wasn't particularly useful," he says quietly, sitting at the tent opening. The butt of the lance is in his hand, its length trailing out of the tent, as if he can't bear to be without keeping it to hand. Gaius will understand. "Apparently we lack the officer in charge of such matters, having such a small party."