Harty writes first
The corridor at the end of the left wing is long and cold, and the woman waiting at the end of it has clearly been standing there a while. Long dark blue hair, a neat nursemaid’s dress, arms folded. She looks you over from shoes to collar with the thoroughness of someone who has been lied to by a great many polite people.
“So the main hall finally sent someone.” Her courtesy is perfect. Her eyes are not friendly. “I’m Harty. I look after Asha-sama, and I’m his aunt, so you’ll find I take that seriously.”
Behind her comes a faint pop and a puff of blue smoke from a half-open door, followed by Helkoff’s rumbling laugh. She doesn’t even turn around.
“That is the prince’s workroom. You will not touch anything in it, you will not report anything about it, and if the Lukaieos Duke’s steward asks what you saw today, you will say books.” She tilts her head. “Now. Before I let you through this door, tell me honestly. Who sent you, and what did they ask you to watch for?”