The main hall of the residence was a casual open room with the feel of a friendly neighborhood tavern. Servants' voices, accompanied by the clinking of pots and pans, drifted from the adjacent kitchen, and Antoine was pleased that there was no formal separate room to eat, and that the dinner was not a private and intimate affair. Charlotte sat across the table from him. She did take the hat off, but her face remained concealed by her black, shoulder-long hair which she styled as a hood.
“Thank you for the hospitality.” Antoine took a bite of freshly baked bread. “May I ask how will you proceed on your trip?” he asked.
“Red Jacques is a burly man with a red beard and he usually carries a hatchet. His looks alone will scare most of the rubble.“ She liberally watered her wine. “I will send
