"Tell father we're coming, and see that when the guards are scolded for barging in on us, it is done in a spirit of magnanimity," Perrine murmured to Renée Kennin, and the matron darted from the room.  "If you will follow me, Your Majesty, I will take you to the Lord Anquis now," [i]and with luck he will even be awake, and sane[/i].

She led the young king and his knight through the halls of the old keep, ascending a staircase before reaching the master's chambers.  A sense of mingled sheepishness and existential dread still lingered in her over her earlier failure to recognize Alonso for who he was, and treat him in kind.  That the trespass had been forgiven was some consolation, but it did not mean that there wouldn't be consequences.  A bad first impression was a difficult thing to overcome, and she ill-fancied the thought of House Anquis leaving a bad taste in the mouth of the sovereign.  Thinking of bad tastes, the meal she had provided seemed in hindsight far too base for the royal palate.  There was not much to be done on such short notice, but she could have at least called for fine wine to replace the mead.  Mead!  For the king!  

There would be proper feasts prepared for all future meals His Majesty spent in the city.

Though Perrine found herself almost more distressed at having offended Sir Linus Kolbe.  The knight's words had been harsher than his sovereign's - rightly so - and she could think only that he thought her a fool, a child, that he would disdain her and her family.  He was only a knight.  He had no significant holdings that she was aware of, so his opinion was of little enough consequence at court.  But he had been [i]there[/i], with Sacha, and so he represented something.  Her gut twisted.

The door to the master bedroom was closed when they arrived, but Renée Kennin emerged from it mere moments after, to inform them that the lord was indeed awake and ready to receive his guests.  Perrine lead them into the room.  It was spacious and tastefully decorated.  Opposite the door, a large window with curtains drawn allowed the twilight in, though the room was also lit by two wall-mounted braziers, and a writing lamp on the desk in the corner, where Mathys sat, his light hair obscuring his face as he hunched over a diagram of the male form he was copying from a book of anatomy.  The room was dominated by the large bed.  Above it hung two portraits of young women - her father's two late wives: Perrine's mother Emeline, and Mathys' mother Nolwenn.  Her father lay in the bed, his gaunt form propped up with several pillows.  On the other side of the bed a balding physician with round eyes and a flat nose seemed to fade into the background.

As they entered, Mathys rose from his chair and scurried to the foot of the bed, where bowed deeply.  Her father managed only a weak nod.

"His Majesty, Alonso vas Aretaeus, son of Leonard vas Aretaeus, King of Areta, and his knight Sir Linus Kolbe," Perrine said by way of introduction.  "And this is my father, Lord Demour Anquis, Baron of Greenbank, and his heir, Lord Mathys Anquis.  My brother."

"Your Majesty, you do me a great honor.  I would stand, but..." Demour gestured feebly at the bed and the unobtrusive doctor.  His breath was shallow, his voice a rasp barely above a whisper.  "I have not had the good fortune to see you since you were a boy; the journey to court is hard on an old man.  But I won't bore you with pleasantries and reminiscence.  To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?  Besides the obvious."  Besides Vicenna.