A young man stood in front of a grand noble. The noble with long flowing white hair and eyes of blue spread his arms wide as he greeted the old master pianist.
"Mr. Shilon," the man said, his voice booming. The man adjusted his fur coat over his white military uniform as a wide, vile grin spread on his face. "I believe he is the man?"
The old pianist Shilon got on his knees, and so did the person behind him.
The other one's knees never touched the ground though, and his posture was clumsy. The grand noble was in too good a mood to denounce his prized chief guest and chalked it up to not knowing proper etiquette.
"My lord, the great protector and pillar of our grand kingdom, this lowly servant expresses his greetings."
"Greetings," the man behind said too, his accent thick.
"Stand up," the noble commanded and up stood the two peasants. "I did not believe that a pianist as great as the 'blank' himself would be one so young."
