Alma calmly strolls down the hallway of the manor to her master's study.  It wasn't particularly unusual for her to be called for in the middle of the day.  Jerece Monrova had owned her for most of her life.  He was a man that comes from a long line money, but many were unaware of where his success actually originated.  Some say his family made their riches in black market dealings, but personally, he chooses to believe his ancestors were well-respected knights that were granted coin and land by the rulers of the past.  He was not a particularly bad man, just slightly incompetent.  He would seek out Alma's advice for legitimate things sometimes, but his requests would often be absurd.  He would charge her with the task of proof reading all his letters, reorganizing his library, even occasionally asking what he should wear on an outing, or which trinket he should purchase.  Such trivial things were almost aggravating to Alma, but she did as she was told.<br/><br/>"You called for me sir?" She sighs, gently closing the door behind her.  Jerece gets up from his desk and walks over to her.<br/><br/>"Yes, I have a simple request of you," he starts.  Alma groans inwardly, figuring he'd ask something like what tea he should have with his afternoon snack.  "I need you to attend an event for me.  My son has requested my presence promptly.  He is thinking of marrying and wishes for me to meet his chosen before he proposes," he explains, quite pleased with the news from his son.  "I trust you to properly represent me.  When I return please have a report ready of the goings on," he adds, and hands her a golden invitation.<br/><br/>Alma accepts it with a small nod and looks down at the invitation for a brief moment.  "Thank you for entrusting such a task to me sir.  I will not disappoint you," she says formally and bows to him.  She was relieved to actually do something of importance.<br/><br/>"You never do.  That should be all for now,"  Jerece smiles and dismisses her.  Alma turns on her heel to exit, the invitation in hand.  "Ah, wait a moment," Jerece pipes up, stopping her in her tracks.  "Which tea do you think I should have with me afternoon snack?" he asks.  Alma presses her lips together tightly and narrowly avoids cursing aloud irratably.