Lady Eira was the first person to move, slipping quietly into the chamber's washroom to collect a small basin, washcloth, and soap, along with a pitcher of water that she set on an iron trivet over the coals of the room's small hearth.
Dalwyn had peeked out from under the blankets, but Lady Cerys held him firmly in place. No matter how much her son wanted to greet the knight he'd come to idolize, this moment belonged to Sir Ollie and his family, and she wouldn't let her son intrude on that.
In the end, it was Cynwrig who broke the silence as he lowered his chain veil and put away his sword.
"Jamys," Cynwrig said as he began working at the laces holding his mail coif in place, pulling it off along with the padded cap beneath it. "You should let him come in. I'm sure that armor isn't any more comfortable than mine," he said as he tugged off the gauntlets that covered his hands, dropping them to the floor with an audible -chink.-
