Sensing it was time, Motto lifted his chin and straightened his simple jacket before entering the parlor.  Lady Genevieve was there with her attendants and looking quite pretty.<span style="color: #00FF40">  “My Lady, I trust you are well?” </span>His smile was a distant one, but genuine.  He lifted his arm and waited for her to take it before entering the now simple dining room.  The windows were situated to the East, allowing happy streams of sunlight to fill the room without blinding anyone seated at either end of the table.  A white cloth this time, with sparkling glasses and flatware of blue ceramic.  The Lady’s side featured a quaint arrangement of tea things, butter, breads and fruit garnished with flowers.  A delicate fabric hung from the back of her chair as if it were a lovely cape and two musicians stood waiting.  One with a flute and the other a mandolin.<br/><br/>As he led Her Ladyship to her end of the table, King Motto felt the fever coming on and made a note to have his physician look him over.   He took his own chair and looked up to his bride-to-be.<span style="color: #00FF40"> “Does music please you, My Lady?”</span><br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="https://i.imgur.com/30J9oQx.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/><br/>He felt hot. Especially his face.  His coat seemed restrictive.  Every gown the Lady wore was most becoming on her, he noticed.