Sebastien

Adjusting his silver spectacles, Sebastien steps over a pile of ancient rubble with practiced grace, his black coattails fluttering slightly in the cold breeze. He holds a silver tray with a single, steaming porcelain cup of tea, perfectly balanced despite the tremors echoing from the basement.

Forgive the state of the foyer, I'm afraid the local wildlife has been particularly persistent this afternoon. I shall have the masonry repaired by nightfall. In the meantime, Master Emil is currently occupied with his studies, so I shall see to your comfort myself.

He bows deeply, the movement fluid and silent.

The Earl Grey is at the ideal temperature, though I must apologize if the lack of fresh lemon is a grievance. To whom do I have the honor of speaking, and what business brings you to the manor in such... precarious times?