Kasimir would generally count himself as lucky for his education outside of Middenheim. It gave him a knack for accents, even Brettonian ones. However, at this moment he regretted the experience, as he would be able to blissfully ignore Eleanor's haughty expectations. The woman was either the most highborn woman in the Old World, expecting the drakwald to be traversable by red carpet, or she was blatantly trying to annoy him. Either was as likely as the other. 

"Of course, allow me to escort you to a bedroom I know is unoccupied." He said, inclining his head as if he were dealing with a valued foreign dignitary. She arguably was at that, though he would not put her as 'valued' as she might think. 

He led her away from the throne room, through the corridors and back rooms where he was reasonably certain no further assassins would be lurking in wait. He had nearly died tonight from the guards, just as she had from the men who had killed her poor patron. Kasimir lamented the death, he had always liked Oderick, or at least had never had a large problem with him. Skilled Templars of the White Wolf were hard to come by, and despite his taste in company, he was a stalwart and stout man. 

Minutes later, Kasimir approached a large door in the center of a grand hall. He stepped aside and allowed her to enter. "Here we are, and I shall fetch the servants while you make yourself comfortable." Eleanor held his head up high, and Kasimir imagined that if she wasn't a fraud, she was used to looking down her nose at everyone in her life. She opened the door, and then blinked. Her lips opened to speak, but Kasimir pushed her into the quilt closet and closed the door, sitting down in front of it and crossing his arms. Inevitably he felt her pummeling the door, but he was easily half again her weight and stayed put. 

"Easy princess, it's not all sunshine and roses for me, either." He remarked dryly, closing his eyes. "At least you have a soft place to sleep. I'll have to nap against the door." 

He heard curses in several languages, but eventually the tantrum ceased. Kasimir would have given her his own room, but demanding even larger quarters had irked him, and even servants needed sleep. After an hour passed, he found himself to his feet and went to the great hall where he spoke to the master of servants, Algrik, to find a suitable place for a lady to sleep. He informed Kasimir that the red wing could have one available the next morning, as well as a connected room for Kasimir in his stewardship. Satisfied, Kasimir made it back to the closet. He looked in to see the lady Eleanor sleeping on a pile of quilts she had utilized for a place to sleep, and then he sat back down and slept until daybreak. He dreamed of things he could hardly remember, but one sequence remained in his head. He was running across a wooded area where men and women, all lost souls, trudged as if they were going to market. Somehow he knew they were going into the maw of a great daemon, and next in line was Eleanor, only she did not wear the dress of a lady. She looked more like a sorceress of the imperial college, and somehow he knew she was to be the tastiest morsel of all for the daemon. 

A maid that had passed by the spot had woken him up just before she had stepped into the gaping mouth of the riunous being. He awoke with a start, and the maid gently informed him the Lady Elanor's quarters were waiting and ready. His tailbone hurt, but he thanked her and stood up. The bastard stretched his neck and opened the door to find a wild haired Eleanor staring daggers at him. 

"Not to your liking, mon cheri?" He asked her with a grin. "Me neither, the stone does not suit me, I find. Luckily there's a room available now, and a change of clothes and a bath awaiting you."