A deep timber started after just a slight hesitation – talking, not shouting as some did, telling of as lease some experience with the machine. “Good afternoon, sir, my name is Jeric Alder, Lord of Londris.” The name of a province some distance away, known for its lakes. “I wish to inquire about the, ah, establishment.” There was an odd burble, the crackling of the line distorting the soft sound so it wasn’t recognisable. The man cleared his throat. “The matter is somewhat delicate, and I am not fond of this contraption. I request a private discussion with yourself and I. This evening, or your earliest convenience.”