Cellan takes Lear out through the kitchen and nobody dares to comment on them passing, even with the full staff there on the dinner preparations. The silence there might even be funny if he had time to think about it, but his mind is preoccupied by feathers and quills and gold and thoughts about the state of the jewellers workshop after all these years. He smirks and closes the door behind them. He knows just where to find the feathers Lear asked for and he heads in that part of the kitchen garden.
“I wish to be a fly on the kitchen wall right now. The gossiping will have no end.” Cellan remarks and smiles inwardly at the prospect of knowing what is going on in the kitchen right now.
“Why did you take us through the kitchen?” Lear inquires.
“It’s closer. We can get the feathers you need
