<div class="floatleft">(http://imgur.com/3hgsLSS.jpg)</div><br/>Malcyn awoke to the delicious smells of dinner, wafting up from the kitchen, and the sounds of voice, muffled, from the common room below. Groggily, he sat up on his bed and peered around in the twilight of his room. A dismayed look at the darkness beyond his window confirmed his unhappy suspicions: he had slept through the last hours of the day.<br/><br/>Perhaps he had pushed himself too hard these past days, spending most hours in the saddle, or perhaps the temptation of a nap before resuming his studies had just been too great, but when he’d set eyes upon the bed, he had decided against all better judgment that this was a good time for a nap. Just a small one, mind you, or so he’d told himself. He would close his eyes for one minute only.<br/><br/>That one minute had turned into hours and the result was a guilty glance to the bags that held his supplies as he washed and changed into fresh clothes. A pair of plain black pants, a white shirt, equally plain but well made and long coat of a thick, dark gray fabric, that had been embroidered by the mother of a child he’d helped.  He combed his hair and scowled when his hair refused any call to order.<br/><br/>Lacking the patience to do more, he left his room and hurried down the stairs, accosting the first servant he came across with a wide smile and a greeting.<br/><br/>“Is that stew?” he asked eagerly. “It is, isn’t it? I could smell it all the way up in my room. If there is any left, I’d like a portion, please.”<br/><br/>The young man settled into a chair not far from the lady addressing a noblewoman and a musketeer, turning his head towards them when his ears picked up their topic. Stories were always welcome and he shifted in his seat, facing the three as he politely refrained from imposing but not making a secret of his curiosity either.