“We’ll reside in the house of the Lord Mayor tonight,” says the helpful guard. “And we’ll be dining with him and his family.” “We? As in, me as well?” “I’m not sure. As the King’s personal guard, we’re usually offered a seat at the lower table in the hall. I’m not sure where they’ll put you, especially looking like that.” His eyes twinkle with merriment, though I can’t see his smile under the masklike jaw-guard of his helmet.
