Sleep had fortunately not eluded him. 

He had killed before Clausewitz Heilwig, though even his first hadn't riled him up more than a minute. He suspected he might not be what the sigmarite priests called a 'man of conscience.' He would dispute that, if he had the care to. The half a dozen men who had fallen to his blade had either tried to kill him, or were scourges the empire could do without. Fortunately, it seemed Clausewitz Heilwig happened to be both. The weariness of the road had worn off of him, and true to his word, Hammershaldt had provided clothes for the evening for after he had washed up. 

His fears of being put in some ostentatious display were alleviated. He had been given a handsome black jerkin with embroidered patterns of ulrican wolves mirroring one another. His wolfskin cloak had been replaced with a gilded cape that swept about his shoulders, and the shirt beneath was colored light and made of satin, and his trousers were comfortable and loose fitting save for when the fabric met just above his ankles. His traveling shoes had been polished to the best of the court's considerable abilities, likely not having the time to find something else in his size on such short notice. 

Once he donned the outfit and slid on a pair of belts, one to hold his hunting knife and the other for his sword, opened the door leading out of his chambers. 

"There's no need for that." 

Kasimir found himself standing face to face with what happened to be the captain of the guard, flanked by six men with halberds. He had a mustache that would make an ostermark man proud, and grey eyes that looked far too striking for his relatively mundane, aged face. He wore no helmet, but he had on armor and a surcoat that would be the envy of any imperial swordsman. Kasimir knew immediately he meant his own sword. The bastard glanced down at his hip, and then back at the captain. 

"Have you been ordered to make sure I don't bring it?" Kasimir asked, wanting to be specific. 

"Yes. I was told you would likely argue, but I want this to be as easy as possible. If you please..." After a moment's hesitation, Kasimir acquiesced. He unhooked the belt, and laid it across the bench next to the door, and stepped out into the hall. The nap had lasted for a few hours, as the windows showed the sun was now finally dipping low, the clouds having fled and Ulric blessing them with a red sky. As soon as Kasimir stepped out, the captain smiled. "If you please, sir." 

"Let's not keep them waiting," Kasimir quipped, and the troupe marched north, leaving the southern wing of the Graf's palace. Kasimir strode at the head, acting for all he was worth like the captain himself, confident and fierce. They were making good time, as the grounds of the fortress were vast, until a pair of workmen hauling a large table stalled them, trying to manuever out of a chamber for some refashioning project to one of the rooms. Kasimir glanced out one of the windows. To fill the silence, the real captain spoke. "Have they told you of your responsibilities yet, herr Reinhardt?" 

Down below, Kasimir saw an odd pair walking across the flagstones, followed by a small entourage of servants. The man was clearly a white wolf, broad shouldered and red bearded. With some chagrin, Kasimir noted [i]he[/i] was armed. On his arm, walking with him was one of the most lovely women he had ever seen, pretty of face and curvaceous in every place a man dreams of. But she clearly was not from here, that was evident just by the way she moved. Her eyes flicked to every exit, glinting with some hidden secret, though perhaps he was imagining things. She smiled and seemed to be laughing at the man's jokes, but somehow it did not reach her eyes. 

"Not specifically," Kasimir said, turning away. He had only taken a second to glance outside. 

"That is because specifically you're to do what the Graf or Hammserhaldt tells you, or any other noble for that matter, unless they are superseded by one of the two. I know your position, and I don't envy it. I had one much like it, once upon a time." The older man said, and spread his mustache in a smile. "I am originally from Nordland, and I also found refuge in the court of Middenheim. Perhaps one day you'll have my job, or one like it. Or if you're lucky, you'll seduce some baron's daughter. Stranger things have happened."

"I appreciate the advice, but I've only been here a day. Let's not make ambitious plans just yet." The bastard replied, indicating they move forward now the hall was clear.