The young nobleman you are speaking to doesn't notice you until you are right next to him, as his nose is buried in a small, leather bound book. When he hears your voice he jumps and lets out a little squeak of surprise very unbecoming of his station. A moment later he has gathered himself again and turns to you, smiling broadly, “Greetings milady. You must be new here in the capitol, otherwise you would know that this wait is a commonplace sight.”
He sighs and continues in a much quieter voice, “You see, the Marchioness, long may she reign, has gotten more sullen and withdrawn since her husband disappeared. We,” and at this he indicates everyone waiting in line with you, “are here to petition on behalf of our land, but are not always seen. Some days she opens these gates, some days she doesn’t. In the meantime we wait.”
