"Yes, my lord, we are quite exhausted. Très épuisé, as you might say in your home country." I added, wishing to lay on some small bit of Brettonian to follow the advice of good Aldo. Fernald gave me a pleased look, smiling at the very first instance of my Brettonian phrase. Camilla hid her knowing smile, though I could see it in her pretty eyes. I looked from my companion to the lord, always trying to find some small edge. "Might I ask if there is fresh clothes we might utilize on the morrow? I would rather be well dressed if I am to entertain one of your stature at breakfast time. Camilla here is a fine dancer and she would look radiant in one of your doubtlessly well-tailored dresses." 

"Of course, sir Priest. We have fine coats and attire you may freely take. The signorita as well" Fernald said, and Kian hid his grin with a humble bow. It wouldn't do to stay at a lord's household without taking a few valuables, and he would rather have permission so there wasn't the annoyance of the chase for later. Fernald waved for another servant to approach, this one a bit older than Gaston but undeniably Tilean with his dark features and olive skin. "Escort my two guests to their room, Renard." 

I stood up brusquely, and Camilla joined me, straightening her belt for a brief moment as we followed the servant out of the great hall and into the colorful corridor of the De La Rochefoucauld. As we walked, I felt a small, irking feeling in the back of my mind. I felt as if we were being watched somehow, and if my eyes were not deceived, a door closed as we passed by, but looking at Camilla, she looked none too concerned. Her dark eyes glittered as they passed over the paintings and busts of Brettonian knights and lords of legend and wars long past. One painting showcased a battle of Fredemund de Aquitaine slaying a greenskin warboss at the cusp of the dreaded woods of Athel Loren. 

"Ar deez bettles famoos?" Camilla asked in Reikspeil. Somehow, her accent in my native tongue made her all the more attractive. 

"I believe that is the unification of Brettonia itself." I said, mostly certain of the accuracy of my assessment. "I don't know the painter, however. It's not Robourte Voltaire, the coloring is all wrong." 

"We are here, signor and signoritta" Renard said, having turned the corner and unlocking the door at the end of the hallway. He opened it and stepped aside. Within was a lovely chamber, with a small dining area beside a cupboard and kitchen area, and two steps up led to a bed with a layered canopy above it. To the right was a small area with a couch and a fireplace. "Call if you need anything." 

"Thank you, Renard. But my companion and I are quite tired. Do make sure we have our privacy, sleep is quite important for us as we have a long day ahead." I told him, taking Camilla's hand and all but yanking her into the room. She stifled a laugh and closed the door. I pulled her toward me and as she pressed, I dipped her down as if we were dancing. 

"I thought you were exhausted," Camilla remarked. 

"Epuisé d'attendre," I said, my eyebrows wiggling.