Richard settles into a routine. He wanders the ground floor, his sword sheathed and his shield slung over his back. He is unarmored past his base leathers. His mace is stowed with his breastplate, his many daggers still bristle from their unconcealed, easily reached scabbards on his hips, sides and upper thighs. Carrying a shielded candle around with him he is convinced that he will never allow the dandy back into the house.
If I see that feather I'll cut it from his head!
Richard grumbles, shakes his head, checks the next room, windows, door, hiding places, moves on.
No... no... that's no good. Might try that damnable magic again.
The sturdy fighters face darkens, he moves through the main room into the kitchen, double checking the door, again. It is bolted and barred, a chair against the door-handle.
First sign of that blasted mage I will scream 'ALARM' at the top of my lungs and THEN Charge the little bugger!
Apparantly pleased at his decision, Richard doesn't even spend much thought on kicking Ignatious' brother as he passes through the main room once again.
How the heck did he Sleep through all that ruckus!?
That is all the thought of sleep Richard entertains, he has a mission, he has stood two-day-watches before, this will not be difficult.
I won't let them down again.