They do indeed, I'm afraid. [Neck stretched back against the armrest, working actively to shake the ache from his bones. The pains comes more often these days, and he suspects as the years go on it'll only grow more pressing. Age is a curse, but one not devoid of pleasure or company, duty or honor; he wants for none of it, fortunate as he is. And, muscles shaken from their state, Galahad finally moves to right himself, careful not to jostle his companion in the process. Careful shifting, courteous measures.
His servant sets a tray beside them: hot tea, and pleasant little confections, though likely baked at least a day prior, given how infrequently the knight returns to his own home.] Another year and you'll take the Lord Chancellor's place, or so the rumors say.
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His servant sets a tray beside them: hot tea, and pleasant little confections, though likely baked at least a day prior, given how infrequently the knight returns to his own home.] Another year and you'll take the Lord Chancellor's place, or so the rumors say.