After muted celebration of a battle survived with the company, you withdraw to your cot earlier than normal and pass out. Not necessarily an exhibition worthy of Vatch's memory, you think with a yawn, but it certainly could have been worse….
Just Past Sunrise
You're thoroughly enjoying a bit of additional sleep, for the first time since your arrival at Court, when you feel a stiff rapping on the soles of your feet.
"Glurrr," you state with great umbrage, shifting yourself up on your elbows. An impassive herald looks down at you, lowering her truncheon.
"The Chief Steward requests your presence."
If she didn't mean request, she shouldn't have said request, you think sourly a few minutes later, having thrown on a set of clothes and snatched a quick sweetroll from the breakfast cart. You try not to let the delicious, warm pastry cheer you up; you don't want anything to spoil your justifiable indignation.
Into The Palace