The King's lunch was materialising on the central countertop, along with a few other plates that were going onto trays headed to other parts of the Castle. They weren't going to take longer than Iollan's allotted two minutes, because this kitchen ran to his schedule.

He would have liked to detain the butler for longer than those two minutes that was fast becoming one, but there was food on the table that needed to be sent off.

So for now. Small Talk. Or at least, a Chives' rendition of it, comprised of Innocent Questions.

"Where were you on New Year's Eve?"