The next morning.
Darion woke up.
He lay on the tilted bed for a moment, then sat up and called for the servant.
The chubby woman, whose name he learned this morning was Maret, appeared at the door quickly enough that he suspected she had been nearby already. He asked for a bath, hot, and she went to arrange it without comment.
He bathed quickly, dressed, ate a bowl of deer meats served by the cook, and came downstairs to find Garren already moving through the great hall.
They fell into step together, moving out into the castle compound, the morning cold enough that their breath was visible between words.
"How's the meat sales," Darion said.
"Underway," Garren said. "I put three knights I'd trust with my own coin on it, which in Percvale isn't saying much but it's saying something. They're in the market now." He paused.
