“Thank you, Master. I apologise for lingering too long, it won’t happen again.”<br/><br/>The murmur was sincere, Atticus was displeased with himself for being distracted from his bath, even though it was a pleasant pastime he should have remembered his position. He picked up his belt and fastened it at his hips, knowing he looked less than his usual, some mud clinging to his worn boots, his hair only partially dry, not to mention the sweat he had worked up...<br/><br/>He followed behind Master Ryan at a respectable distance, eyes fixed on the guest , the composer he had heard Master Bradoon mention in his perusal of the broadsheet – a mister Kawazoe.<br/>