I'll make no bones with you, young Bandochel, that finding a place for you represents a bit of a burden for this old man. Throwing you straight to the briars last night was a means of determining who you are and what you offer."
He rubs his palms together, his kind tone taking the sting out of his words. "You must understand, Westfenster Palace has not been home to a fool for generations; a fact that would take an exceptional talent to alter." He looks at you carefully. "If I were you, I would count myself very, very fortunate to have made an early patron of Her Majesty the Queen. I heard tell from her hand-maidens that she enjoyed your efforts considerably."
Your heart beats faster. "It was the greatest honor of my life to entertain her."
"The King and Court writ large were…less transported," he says, a true-born diplomat. "Therefore, to make most effective use of thy talents, I issue thee these marching orders until such time as I see fit to change them: Keep Her Majesty Happy."
"Align thee to Her social calendar; ingratiate thyself with her ladies-in-waiting; and, if you have even a sliver of common sense, do nothing to cause her offense or embarrassment."
With that, he retakes his seat at his desk. "What say you?" he says, with an air of dismissal.