Alfyn doesn't seem put out at all to be talking to a stranger in a strange place. He turns from the bit of floor he's claimed with his bedroll and a handful of things he's been unpacking from his satchel: vials of various shapes and sizes, drying herbs tied with twine, a leather-bound book.

"Well, personally, I leave mine right by the front door. Can't miss it when I need it! Though I guess this farm's a fair sight bigger than my humble home back in Clearbrook..."

He hums as he considers.

"Still, I reckon I'd check near the entrance of the main house. Maybe in a closet? Whaddya think?"