By the time I arrived the entire staff was descending upon the front for with a rapidity that belied the excellent choices Uncle had made in their employment. Admittedly, one of the footmen’s hair looked like a haystack and his liverly as well as the east wings maid looked like they had just been put on, but he was as ready to defend this entry like the Bifrost bridge at Ragnarok. The footmen James and Stephen, the latter being the lecher, commenced to ensuring no entry had been forced. Ms. Adeline, or miserly cook who’s only redeeming quality is her ability to not kill with food poisoning, attended to Mss. Pimms. Sergei, our cossack stable master was outside with the hounds, based on his almost unintelligible yells and there exited braying. With my initial assessment verifying that all was being handled appropriately, the man-at-arms Gabriel and myself proceed outward to unleash he’ll and fury upon whatever was assaulting us. With myself in lead we exited the door, it’s dark oak paneling seeming darker and less inviting than usual. Upon the granite cut steps we saw what we assumed was some pauper dead from ferocious wounds we could see.
Peter's stuff.