Bretonnia Prelude Part I

Late Autumn, Quenelles

The Duke entered the chamber, weary of the days legislation and the endless quarrels of the peasants. Nevertheless he was honor-bound to protect the lowliest of people and hear their needs. He heavily sat down on a padded arm chair facing the large fireplace in his chamber and rested his legs on a small table used by his late mother for brunches with her lady-friends. As the rain pitter-pattered outside he leaned forward resting his head on his hand. It was moments like this one that gave the Duke solace; the warmth of the hearth and the sound of the calm rain. A soft knock on the door broke his moment of respite.

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