[center][h2]The Dancing Bull Inn - Northwestern Threll - Poor District[/h2][h3]Early morning[/h3][/center][hr]In a small private chamber, more of a cubbyhole than a full room, long before the rooster’s crow, the door opened with a creak, letting the warm glow of the rushlight in and illuminating the sleeping form of a pale-haired Elf. The light’s holder, an Elven woman just shy of 800, tip-toed over to the cot, apprehensive of her least favorite duty.
“Lady Myrrhis,” She whispered, gently nudging the knight’s shoulder. “Lady Myrrhis, it’s time to rise.”
The knight stirred, her neck competing with the cot’s creaking on account of an insufficiently stuffed straw mattress. A knight she may have been, but also one aware of her situation, one who heeded the advice of her purser to be frugal. “I’m awake, Mrs. Lathari.” She said in a tone of voice that clearly indicated otherwise. Despite the relation, Myrrhis couldn’t bring herself to refer to the woman by her first name. After all, she had been her minder and aide since birth, and her brother’s and mother’s before her. It would’ve been difficult, nay impossible not to show respect.
“The innkeeper has prepared some warm water.” The elder Elf continued as she set down a jug of it beside the cot, “He’ll be serving breakfast shortly.”

Half an hour later, the two Elves and two Humans were sitting around a table.
“Threll truly is a jewel of the continent, even at such a tumultuous time.” Gordon, her young squire commented.
“You may get more time to explore it yet. This matter may not end with a simple report.” She shared between bites, “Soldiers turned bandits are common after a prolonged conflict. A land full of warriors with no one to fight, often with few skills outside of fighting and no one except their comrades who understands what they’ve been through. But during one, it is a sign of exceptionally poor morale for an entire company to defect like this.” The problem was further compounded by the fact that the soldiers in question had been trained on how to find small bands of warriors in the countryside. The same tactics that had worked in Lannion were now known by these deserters, drawing out the search.
“Do you believe the Emperor will hold you accountable?” He asked.
“We shall find out soon. You will accompany me. It will do you good to visit the court. And you best be there anyhow, since if I am found at fault, then as my Squire you will also be executed.”
“Excuse me?!” He nearly choked on a spoonful of beans.
“I jest, Gordon. You’ve nothing to fear.” She shared with a smile, leading to a round of chuckles around the table.[center][h2]Sapiliezen Hill - Northwestern Threll - Poor District[/h2][h3]Later that morning[/h3][/center][hr]Despite the early rise, they’d been beaten to the palace by a few others. She bowed politely when the Emperor entered, Gordon following suit and then both settled in for the wait, an Elf in a plain black dress with a white and red sash around the waist and over her left shoulder and a young black-haired man in a blue doublet standing out a bit among the crowd.
“Some tea if you have any.” Myrrhis replied to the servant before going back to observing the squabbling nobles, ignoring being addressed incorrectly under the assumption no one told the man who she was. After all, she’d never been to Threll before and her summons and arrival were rather hasty.
“Observe.” She discreetly pointed the argument out to Gordon, “I would like to point out that regardless of who is seen first, we will all be delayed by arguing, whereas otherwise someone could already be speaking to the Emperor, but given our different standing, interrupting would be impolite.” She said just loud enough to be overheard by the squabbling group, circumventing the obstacle while still passing the suggestion along before quieting down again. “Self-respect and maintaining appearances are important, Gordon, but you must take care to never let them stand in the way of results.” ‘And a general of all people should know that, if no one else’ She thought, but kept that thought to herself.