Mirabelle awoke briskly from her peaceful slumber, forgetful of the events of late last night. She stretched her arms out and yawned cutely, covering her mouth suddenly out of habit. She then stood up to her feet, and opened her windows to gaze out from her room. She sat by the windowsill for a moment, simply staring at the sight of Arthroyeaux at morning with a content smile. The peaceful picturesque scene was enough to brighten Mirabelle's day immediately. She remained satisfied with a moment of procrastination in favour of enjoying the sight, before soon after deciding it would be better to make the most of her time. 

Mirabelle caught one of the servants wandering the corridors, and requested for her bath to be ready. She then proceeded to pick out her garments for the day and then make her bedsheets on her own. Mirabelle preferred to reduce the work of the servants as much as possible, partly out of empathy but also out of necessity to avoid an inquisitive servant snooping around her belongings. 

The servant returned eventually with fresh towel and two other servants with buckets of hot and cold water, and together the three of them made sure Mirabelle's bath was ready to be used. She briefly requested a light breakfast to be brought up, before thanking and dismissing the servants. Once they had left, Mirabelle slipped off her dressing gown and stepped into her bath, soaking up in the steamy water and using the soap to her hygiene. 

Once she was done, Mirabelle dried herself fully with her towel, putting on her emerald leaf-green dress and put on her green slippers. She neatened up her bathing area and looked for her lute. There she sat once more by the windowsill, gently plucking at the strings and humming in absent-minded melody as she waited for her breakfast to arrive.
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Phillip sat alone in the dining room, as nobody else who would normally join him for breakfast was up at so early an hour. Only the cooks who were still busily cooking his morning meal were up as early as he, and even then they had not woken before the lord. The baron had once again had a sleepless night, concluded only upon sunrise and the chirping of the early birds by his window. He had attended to his own bath and personal grooming on his own, and readied himself before heading to the dining room. Now he sat and waited, reading a certain book he had brought downstairs with him. 

It was not random at all, as he had kept this book in a particular place for him to find at any time. He had recently been inspired to read once more of the tale of Avaddon the Revenant Mistwraith, detailed in the book titled "The Vengeance of Mistchapelle". Phillip recalled being told the tale once or twice, over a campfire on a night before the Battle of Mistchapelle. His fellow Chevalier Bannerets taught him of a fabled warrior who boasted a chevalier's prowess wielding the powers of fate. 

As far as Phillip read through the book, it tells of how the Revenant Mistwraith was once the chevalier Aventine Vestille, son of Baron Vestille, the lord of Mistchapelle. The early chapters illustrated the life of honour and virtue Aventine lead with a stalwart heart, sworn to uphold his father's name and serve his father's kingdom. It was all embellished with court life and the all-too familiar Bretonian politics and intrigue, and Phillip felt as though he could imagine what was to happen next in ever chapter. The current chapter illustrated a plot by secretive figures to murder the Baron Vestille, a scene of classical Bretonian origins. The presence of treachery and dishonourable plots disgusted Phillip within, but he evermore wished to read to the end.

Eventually, kitchen servants brought out Phillip's morning meal of toasted manchet with butter and honey, with a side of poached quail eggs. Phillip did not close his book, and simply slipped it to the side. He continued to read as he began to eat, and was careful not to make a mess upon the delicate pages.