"Thank you." Ordhan followed as the elf led the way, the clunking of his boots echoing behind her lighter footsteps as she led him down one hallway, then another. After noticing the slight difference in the elven servant, it was easy for Ordhan to pick up on other clues; the sight of well-used furniture and modest decoration was not lost on him, nor what it suggested about the estate's owner. Though distant, the memories of Denever castle were still vivid, and made a stark contrast: pretentious, extravagant--all for show, with even Eileen being scolded away from some of the furniture. The trappings were all too expensive for the Wylands strained treasury (he heard the servants gossip even as a boy), all displayed in the most conspicuous way possible. As for the house he served, Ordhan had only seen their estate from the outside, though if appearances were any indication the inside would be just as lavish. No, this was not what he imagined a noble's dwelling to look like. Then again, hadn't the Ledaals always been a family separate in his mind?
Another surprise came in the form of the red-haired elf, whose cheery greeting was anything but the usual furtive manner of servants. He nodded politely in reply, but gave little thought to the exchange between the two.
The pause at the doorway was too long; the knight had hoped that his visit would not inconvenience Lord Piers, but it seemed that he was interrupting. It could not be helped. He was already here, so he would simply waste as little of the man's time as possible.
When the door was opened for him he entered, not sparing a glance for its interior as he approached to a polite distance from the man seated at the ottoman. "Maker's blessings, Lord Piers," he said, bowing from the waist. Nervousness was easily drowned in protocol. The shield of manners slipped for a moment when Piers invited him to sit; the other was polite and welcoming, despite his strained appearance, but the chasm of rank between them gave Ordhan pause. He couldn't recall any time a noble had invited him to sit in such a situation, and was at a loss for what the proper response was. As luck would have it, his interaction with them was precious little for a knight. Rather than stand like a simpleton while figuring it out, however, he gave a nod and a smile and took the indicated chair.
"I am surprised you remember," muttered Ordhan, mild astonishment flickering across his features. He was flattered, and deeply; though it suggested no opinion of himself on the lord's part, the remembrance was almost as much of an honor as the invitation had been in the first place. However, the spread of papers was evidence that the lord had been interrupted, and as polite as Piers' reception was, Ordhan did not come to waste his time with small talk. "I apologize, ser," he hastily recovered. "I have a letter for you from your son, Constans." He extended the hand with the letter, trying not to avoid eye contact. The man's eyes were the same as Constans's, though these looked at him rather than through him.