“More or less, M’lady.” Grumbled the gray-haired driver in response to her question, his voice hoarse with age and rather dry in tone.

He was a man of average height and slender build, with sagging shoulders and a rather narrow frame. Instead of a beard, this man had thick, scruffy stubble across his face, from his cheeks to his chin to the top of his lip. His eyes were solemn and burdened by heavy bags beneath them, wrinkles riveted his forehead, chin, and the corners of his wide mouth. His clothing was that of a commoner; a brown two-piece tunic, worn leather boots, and ragged gloves on his hands.

“Follow me Princess, Your Ladyship that is,” he said, his voice slightly rising in tone,”we’re going around back, down to the cellar. There’s someone waiting for you, Baron Simon Monticourt. He’s one of the men who arranged your escape. He wishes to see you.”

The man walked past Cecilia around to the back of the carriage, and politely indicated for her to follow. As he proceeded past the carriage around to the side of the inn, he spoke again,”My name is Bromley, Your Ladyship. It’s an honor to be in your presence. I’m glad I got you to safety. It was a tight squeeze getting you out of Proud Spire and Dalhorst, I’m just thankful that we managed to save you.”

Despite his weathered appearance and rugged tone, Bromley was quite chatty and as respectful as he could be toward Cecilia. He lead her around to the back of the inn, which, aside from several kegs and crates, was empty and deserted.
The large double door that lead to the cellar was nearby. 
Bromley stepped forward and unlatched the doors and pulled them both wide open, and turned back to Cecilia.

“Baron Monticourt has things to discuss with you, Your Ladyship. After that I’m sure he’ll see to you a proper meal and a good hot bath, both of which I’m sure you desperately want. I need to go tend to my carriage and horses, but I’ll see you later. Have a good evening, Princess.”