"What's the matter?" Darius asked. "Is there some kind of problem?"
"N-No, my lord!" Sevrin hurriedly replied. "It's just... something came up that I wanted to inform you about. I thought you should know since it is somewhat related to you."
There was a pause on the other end. "...Go on."
Sevrin took a breath and explained what he had discovered. That there was a chef from Bagdad, the one who had won the Golden Ladle Championship yesterday, whose name was Soren Everly and who resembled his disowned son, and so forth.
He kept his tone respectful and measured, careful not to sound like he was wasting his time.
However, the voice sounded totally uninterested. "So...?"
"Ahem. I-I was just worried if they are the same person..." Sevrin trailed off, sure that Lord Darius understood what he was implying.
