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<span class="mu-i">“My Lady Kyria Eustace.”</span> Your bow is stiff, both from injury and a hint of nervousness. <span class="mu-i">“I was most honoured to receive your invitation.”</span>
<span class="mu-i">“My beautiful lady, no?”</span> Eustace’s smile as she continues to haltingly speak in your language reminds you of the indulgent expression of Brother Calhallan, but with none of the self-depreciating humility. <span class="mu-i">“I have learnt these rough words. Am delighted my skill?”</span>
<span class="mu-i">“Most certainly.”</span> You answer politely, indeed she seems to know far more of your tongue than you know of hers. You hope to high heaven that behind you Mikail is keeping the same poker face as yours. At least you don’t have to worry about Brother Rousseau cracking a smirk at her efforts. <span class="mu-i">“I am glad to hear that your expedition enjoyed every success.”</span>
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