"Your Grace," a voice murmured, smooth as poured oil.
Sebastian stepped forward from the shadows of the dining hall, his movements so refined they were almost silent. He tipped a silver decanter, replenishing Alpheo's cup with a steady hand. "The kitchens have prepared the venison meat-cake and the pâté as per your request. The crust is, I am told, exceptionally flaky today."
"Please, Sebastian, convey my regards to the cooks; I can smell the sage and butter from here,''
"With pleasure, Your Grace." The Head Attendant turned his professional mask toward the other man at the table, inclining his head just so. "And a wonderful honor to serve you today, Lord Jarza. May I offer my belated congratulations on your wife's recent blessing?"
"Always happy to receive congratulations, Sebastian. Now, make sure you bring me an abundant serving; I've been training since dawn and I'm starving enough to eat the horse I rode in on," Jarza boomed, his voice far too loud for the setting.
