I believe it's customary for a mentor to celebrate when his own protégé saves him. [Smugly, though that teasing satisfaction never leaves his voice enough to reach the almost grim angles of his features. Palm upturned just a moment later; an offering for her to accompany him down to the ancient cellar below.] Perceval spared no expense the first night I managed it.

Mongolian hordes, it was - if memory still serves.