I watched the Master of Messages hand over Worcester to the Keeper, the two identically-dressed figures bowing to each other minutely before stalking off in opposite directions. I caught up with the Master at the door to his chambers, where he handed me a message-medallion bound in a cloth.

“Ah, Rokhin. Would you kindly take this to be transcribed? Pick up a blank medallion at the same time and have Tallis rigged in full heavy gear, please.”
“Of course, sir. Anything else?”
“Could you bring a decanter of Farvis up when you’re done?”
“Certainly. Will you be retiring for the night?”
“I think so, Rokhin. That will be all.”

I bowed slightly and headed for the transcription office. The scribe on watch took the medallion and signed me out a fresh one, sending a runner down to the stables with the orders for RMC53 “Tallis”.

Putting a war-eagle like Tallis into armour would take some time, so I visited the Winery and procured a bottle of Farvis and a heated decanter.