@redeminence
A summons from the Cardinal himself.
When Charon had received the letter, the seal had confused and excited him. He’d been considering reaching out himself – not to the Cardinal directly, but maybe a member of his household or staff. Somebody with ears and no mouth, somebody the Cardinal probably saw every day, somebody who had faded into the furniture. What he wanted, really, was a living lamp. Failing that, he would have been happy with a squire of some sort.
But a squire wasn’t needed. Here was a request to walk right in the door (the servant door, granted, but a door nevertheless) and to speak face to face with the man himself.
He preens himself before he leaves, making sure that every hair is in place, that his clothes and skin alike are unblemished. This is a very important meeting, and he finds himself strangely exhilarated as he leaves his dwellings. What will he find behind the very next set of doors he enters? Hopefully nothing so sharp as a sword or his own words.
Following the instructions on the letter, he approaches the servant’s door and knocks in a pattern. He’s late, by about twenty minutes, determined to make it seem as though this wasn’t very high on his list of priorities. No need to seem too eager, after all.
When the door opens, Charon bows low. “Your Eminence,” he purrs before standing with a kind of flourish. “How can I help?”