"It is no trouble," says the speaker of the guards, "to aid in attendance the duties of an emissary, good clothsman. If you may wait a moment..."
It is indeed only a moment (or a few) before an older gentleman comes forth from the gate. Sir Piersen, it happens to be, whose heavy grey beard seems inadequately supported by his slight frame. He makes only a brief examination of the letter, particularly the seal, before smiling and nodding.
"Welcome, then, good messengers," he says. "May you pardon your delay."
...
You are escorted quickly through the courtyard, meeting up with two younger male attendants who follow behind you. They are garbed in finer fashion, a sort Hiritus would have never seen on the servants of his estate (fit enough for young nobles, in fact). Each has a stout shortsword upon their belt, and all things considered, they do seem to be more than ceremonial.
Sir Piersen leads you to a large, empty lounge. Their are three wide couches completing much of a circle, and two separate tables, one round with chairs spaced evenly, a bowl of fruit at its center, and the other a narrow rectangle flanked by high-backed benches. Where there are not book-filled shelves, there are vast, well-painted landscapes. The furnishings of an altogether stunning quality.
"It may be some time," Sir Piersen offers, apologetically, "before Lord Vemaunt may take your message. Please permit yourselves to our comforts, and if you have any needs in the mean time, do not hesitate to request." Smiling and nodding politely (though certainly not bowing), Sir Piersen leaves you to the room.
The two servants (or are they guards?) stand at attention on either side of the doorway. Immediately following Piersen's exit, a halfling with a violin makes his way into the room, taking a station wordlessly in one corner before beginning to play.
