Finally, Lady Rastan comes to a halt, standing aside to reveal two imposing black doors. You wait for her to go ahead, but she does nothing. Apparently, she expects you to knock.
There's a pause, then a voice from behind the door says, "Come in. Perhaps somewhat less noisily?"
You push the door open, walking into a grand and roomy office. There's a good distance of plush carpet between you and a dark wooden desk, behind which sits a short middle-aged lady, peering at you over the top of her spectacles.
"Ah," she says. "Kan. I see that you haven't become any quieter since the last time we met."
"I was eight when we last met," you say.
"Yes," Aunt Cavalcade replies. She continues to look at you, her gaze not wavering.
Aunt Cavalcade sits back, continuing to scrutinize you. Eventually, she waves a hand towards a chair in front of her desk. You sink down, grateful for the opportunity to finally take a seat.
For several seconds, there is silence between the two of you. You get the sense that you are being measured up. That sensation is only heightened by the presence of Lady Rastan, who is standing directly behind you.
Finally, Aunt Cavalcade leans forward. "So," she says, "we will be hosting you here for six months. I take it that you are familiar with the nature of this institution?"