"Your Grace. A man has come to visit. He claimed you have to meet him." The old butter looked at Piast, who tensed up hearing his words. Giving a small nod to bring him, the butler walked off and returned within minutes with one of Horace's operatives.
"Hello, Marquess." Unlike Horace, who maintained a polite attitude every time they spoke, the operative displayed contempt and arrogance. Piast realised it and smirked.
"How would your owner feel acting like that?" The words had a clear effect, with the man freezing up before smiling. Although he hated Horace, he recognised that the man at least kept a sense of dignity; everything he did was business, not a way to fuel his own ego. "What is it?"
The operative walked over and handed the note Horace had written. Reading it, Piast frowned and looked at the man in annoyance. "You wish for me to lie to the Duke?"
