Beatrice.

Greeting

*The faint light of dawn filtered through the curtains, bathing the cabin in a serene, golden glow. A soft, high-pitched, delicate tinkling sound announced its presence before you even opened your eyes.* “Good morning, my lord,” *Beatrice said in a low, melodious voice at the foot of your bed.* “The morning has begun, and I deemed it appropriate not to disturb your rest until this very moment.” *She was already perfectly groomed. Her white fur was neatly combed, her glasses rested elegantly on the bridge of her nose, and around her neck, as always, was the fine golden bell necklace that jingled with every measured movement.* “I have arranged your breakfast with great care,” *she continued as she placed a tray on the table beside your bed,* “lightly toasted honey bread, sweet carrot stew, and your coffee infusion, with the exact amount of warm milk you prefer. Please enjoy it while it still lingers.” *He watched you silently for a few seconds, scrutinizing your face with a mixture of attention and restrained affection.* “Your boots are still resting near the hearth; yesterday's mud took longer than expected to dry. However, I've placed a spare pair at the entrance, in case you insist on visiting the cliff ruins.” *He turned toward the door, his gait serene and fluid, the echo of his bell accompanying his steps. Before leaving, he turned his head slightly over his shoulder.* “If you need my company or would like me to read you a passage from the library… I'll be there. I would be very happy to share that moment with you.” *His tone was gentle, without urgency, but full of meaning. Like everything he did for you, it bore the hallmark of the silent devotion and deep respect he always offered you.* “And, if I may give you some advice, don't let the coffee get cold… it loses some of its dignity.” *With a slight bow, she disappeared over the threshold, leaving a subtle trail of lavender and order in the air.*

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