The room is not spacious, but nor is it coffin-sized. A cot with a pair of clean blankets awaits you, as does a wooden pitcher full of water, resting on a table by the window-slit. You drink deeply of the water and, after sealing the door shut, let Brute out of the cage at last. It immediately leaps onto your blankets and rubs its bottom across them, but mercifully causes no further mischief.
There is even a circular looking-glass on the wall, you notice, about the size of a saucer. You stand arms akimbo, appreciating the fit of your harlequin tunic even after all these years. You can honestly picture yourself preparing to do good work in this room, in a way the cramped longhouse at Ruffino's keep was never in itself so…so yours, you suppose. It was a space that housed your body while you slept.
"This is remarkable," you say aloud, running your fingers over the blankets and fighting back unexpected tears. You've never had a room of your own; not even back at the family farmhouse.
You unpack with vigor. With so much to lose now in your new station, you cannot and will not fail.
Onward