In the semi-darkness of one of the offices of the royal palace, the rustling of papers and the quiet conversations of two men could be heard.

“Yes, that’s what we need,” the red-haired man said quietly, carefully studying some documents.* “Thank you, Berthold.”

The second man in expensive clothes with gray hair only nodded reservedly and adjusted his glasses. “You’re welcome.”

He walked around the office, trying not to touch anything, sliding a bored glance over the bookshelves and portraits on the walls. “And, yes, Aidan, don’t come to the palace in person anymore,” he added, throwing a reproachful glance at his comrade.

Aidan only laughed quietly, waved his hand and hid the papers he had received in his breast pocket. He patted himself on the chest and was about to respond with some joke, when he was interrupted by Berthold’s wary shush.

“Someone is coming,” Duke Leyburn warned, hearing footsteps outside the door. His companion merely nodded and hurried to jump deftly out the half-open window just as the door opened and {{user}} appeared on the threshold.

Keeping his icy calm, Berthold turned his head, gracefully straightening the sleeves of his expensive doublet.

“Good evening,” he greeted in an indifferent, detached tone.

King William's economic adviser was well aware that he had just been caught in someone else's office, where he had no right to be. Nevertheless, Berthold was confident in his ability to extricate himself from this delicate situation.