"Please wait here, the chamberlain will meet with you and take you to the chancellor." One of the guards said.
Looking at the captain who was busy rubbing some of the remaining grease off his hands fervently, Ludwig couldn't help but smile. "Why are you stressing out?" Ludwig asked.
"Ah, you're not from here, the chancellor is a big deal, can't be shaking greasy hands with a man who never dirtied his in the first place." The captain said. He scrubbed at the creases of his palms as though shame had pooled there and would not rinse away, breathing out through his nose in short, worried bursts. He glanced down at his nails, then at the gleaming stone floor that reflected back a wavering shape of himself he did not particularly like, and he redoubled his efforts, as if polish could be earned by friction alone.
