"What think you then, Lord Bisqueath," King Saul says, his quiet voice carrying across the hall as if by magic, "of the youth?"
The grizzled noble with the enormous pendant who spoken before steeples his fingers. "As the fool does seek to learn our ways, it is meet that we should conjure a taskmaster's battery," Bisqueath says, leaning forward against the table. "By your leave," he adds, grinning in a way that does not please you.
You look across the room to King Saul. An aide has just handed him a scroll to review—some edict or other—and he is preoccupied. He gives Bisqueath a single nod and the entire room turns its attention to you.
Onward