A cacophony of bird calls echoed around the torchlit room--the piercing caw of a murder of raven, the screech of an eagle, the cooing of dozens of pigeons. He had even been busy breeding doves to release for the wedding. The male Salt twin was engrossed in his work. 

He swept the bird droppings from the floor into pan and threw it out the window, his mouth and nose veiled by a handkerchief. It was not work usually done by a man of his status--usually reserved for one of squires or maids--but he enjoyed his solitude far more than he disliked sweeping. 

While leaning out the window Judam Salt emitted a high-pitched whistle. Moments later, his personal falcon--Mulder--landed on his outstretched glove, the bells on his ankles jingling. The Salt twin pulled a morsel of rabbit from a bag on his belt and felt it to Mulder, stroking him along his feathered neck with the back of one finger. "You obeyed quickly, Mulder. You're learning so fast," he praised, clutching the small strips of leather that hung from the falcon’s legs.

Judam took his falcon into one of the empty mews. It was a large room which served not only as housing for his raptor, but also as a storage space for his falconry equipment. Mulder flew from his hand and onto a perch within the room and Judam closed the door to safety chamber. 

Judam heard the sing-song voice of his sister calling him, announcing her arrival to the aviary. It echoed up the stone stairway, and it was not long before Pyrra followed. She leaned in the door, a smirk on her face and a note clutched in her hand. 

 “What is it, songbird?” He returned her smile. It was always nice to see one of the few people in the kingdom he actually enjoyed talking to, even if he assumed it was for business. “Do you have a letter to send?”