Sir, the wagons," a footman murmurs to Fig.
"We'll converse more," Fig says, looking away from you to the remainder of Ruffino's gifts. "In the meantime, take your ape to the stables and have it outfitted with a leash and collar; that cage is hardly trustworthy."
"My ape?" You raise your hand. "There's been a mistake, honorable Steward; this beast is meant for His Majesty."
"His Majesty would sooner gift me His crown than tend an ape, I'm quite sure," the Steward says immediately. "You seem to have an affinity with it; you keep it, with His Majesty's compliments."
The beast, in your care?