The 40th day of Fall's Ending, 991 KY
"Eh Pawl, there's sum'on to see you."
Rodder Pawl looked up from the pile of silver he was polishing in anticipation of the Winter's Beginning parties to find his fellow footman lounging in the pantry door. "To see me? Who?"
"Dunno, but Mr Bortle weren't happy, you getting visitors here. He said you should meet 'em at the beer garden on your half-day, but then he seen 'im and put 'im in the front parlor. Mr Bortle's waiting for you there, and ain't he in a mood."
Mr Bortle the butler could stuff his mood, thought Pawl as he put down the silver tray he'd been working on and donned his livery coat; he knew better than to ask a friend to come round his employer's townhouse. Someone visiting him specifically, someone grand enough to be asked to wait in the front parlor, mystified him. He approached the front parlor door, where Mr Bortle stood like a mother waiting to pounce on a naughty child. "And who is this Mr Brown to you, Pawl?" said the butler.