((
Sadly this includes the stablemaster, probably the only person who could have told anyone how the fire started.
I kid you not, I truly laughed out loud as I read this!
Good ol' Waery, inadvertently saving Trubaldsome from some rather awkward questions. ))
Waery stumbled his way back into the throne room, soot-stained, scorched and generally unpresentable. He tromps through the court with a small pile of his Lord's posessions in his arms, leaving black boot-marks across the smooth stone floor.
"Here y'are M'lord, 'tis all I could save." He proferred the chest, with the diary and snuffbox set atop it.
Trubaldsome's eyes darted from Waery to the boxful of rather explosive evidence a few times, swiftly calculating, then he threw his arms wide, making a great show of taking the box from Waery, saying, "Ah,
Bless you Waery, you have rescued this most
precious box of dear Grandmother's love letters from the flames. I have carried these with me from Miring, saving them for years to in turn preserve some small part of her blessed memory." With one hand, he clasped the bewildered Waery by the shoulder- rather gingerly, attempting to avoid any dirty soot- in a show of thanks. "Thanks to you, Captain, she lives on in our hearts."
With that said, he handed the box back to Waery, instead focusing his attention on something rather more valuable to him: His snuffbox. Frantically, he wiped away at the blackened scorch-marks on its gilded lid for a moment with a fine handkerchief, before tossing it away and opening the small box, only to find its contents rather spoiled by the fire.
"Bah," He sighed, snapping the lid shut again and reaching into a pocket for his backup, taking a quick calming pinch before resuming his seat.
Thank Waery for returning that box of... Trubalsome's Grandmother's preserved love letters to him, loudly enough for those nearby to overhear. That should prevent any nosy questions about the box...