A solitary figure kneels in the chapel in silent contemplation as the rays of sunset filter through the windows upon his cloaked form.

A small book rests on the chapel floor beside him, a piece of well kept parchment atop it, which his fingers seem to trace across every few minutes as he remains in place.

The atmosphere of the chapel is defined by its silence and the coolness of night air and marble, so it is no surprise that your hackles raise at the sound of the door opening behind you and the tread of two pairs of feet.

While this was hardly an officially private area, it was out of the way enough that Giles had thought he would remain undisturbed. His rich cloak was pulled up around his shoulders and his head was cowled, obscuring his appearance on first glance. If his guest was who he invited, then his identity was already known, if not then no sense to provide them any knowledge for free.

Either way, they were entering his space, so courtesy dictated they announce first, assuming they held to such traditions.

"Oh!" A man's voice rings out. "My goodness! I had not thought--"

"It's alright, brother." The second voice is that of an old man. "No use disturbing him. We'll use the Lady Chapel. Come on."

The sandals scrape again, this time moving away. "Pardon the disturbance, please, young lord," the monk calls out.

A deep voice echoes through the room as Giles responds. "There is no need to rush off, there is room for us all in God's House if my Rosaries will not intrude on your spiritual needs."

The monk turns and bows his head.

"Thank you, sir. The Lord Mayor was looking for a quiet place to pray for our Lord's help with..." He stops his explanation, and you hear him startle. "Oh! Right, well, I'll leave you to it, then! God's love to you both, sirs." And he is gone, leaving you in a chamber with the Lord Mayor of London.

His steady tread on the stone comes to a stop directly before the old king's tomb, and you see him kneel in earnest prayer for a time.

Giles offers a nod of acknowledgment to the Lord Mayor, but doesn't interrupt his meditation, going on with softly speaking under his breath as he chanted his Hail Mary's for his personal penance over his own impure thoughts today.

All the while he kept an ear on the Mayor, in case the man should experience a crisis of faith, or need an ear to bend.

The lord mayor prays for some time, his head bowed, before he returns to sit in one of the seats for a moment. His expression is somewhat worn.

He heaves a heavy sigh and says "Well, that's one hearing I did get."

Giles smirked. "Well, mortal man is possessed of neither the infinite wisdom or patience of our Lord God." He quipped.

"Ha! You can say that twice and be right both times." He looked around the room, then switched to English. "You savvy this lingo?"

Giles shook his head in the negative. "I'm sorry my Lord, I am familiar enough to recognize the cadence and patterns, but I never mastered the speech. Low and High French, the tongue of the Romans or our Western neighbours I speak fluently however if that is an acceptable, if poor, substitute for your native tongue?"

"Doesn't do me much good, I'm afraid, but I suppose we're alone enough." He looks about again, then lowers his voice to a conspiratorial rasp. "Look, do you know anything about the timetable, here? I mean, is Richard going to stick around, or is this Saladin thing kicking off in the next month or so?"

"Worried you're going to miss the boat milord?" Giles enquired in an innocent voice.

"I'm sure it will take some time to organize the expedition thoroughly, although if one listens to gossip, some pressure is being applied to KING Richard to expedite the process." Giles adds, emphasizing the station of the one whom the Lord Mayor so flippantly referred to.

"Hm.." the mayor says, an eyebrows rising up his forehead. "Well, before he goes, King Richard needs to hear what I've got to say. It won't wait forever." He rises up slowly, his solid frame creaking a bit in the knees. "It certainly won't wait until Jerusalem is liberated and the great and the good return."

He dusts off the knees of his pants. "I bid you good day, young lord," he says with affected dignity, and offers a bow in your direction.

"I am sure the King will make room in his itinerary for such an important meeting milord. Let your mind and soul rest at ease, for there are many fine individuals who may be able to help you gain an audience as well...for the right incentive. Some of the more benevolent may even do it out of the goodness of their hearts."

Giles replies before returning the bow.

The Mayor raises an eyebrow. He isn't entirely sure, but his finely-tuned senses suspect that you may have just asked for a bribe. This calls for a delicate calculation, as how is a man to be sure he will not offend a man by offering him cash to do what he says a benevolent man would do anyway. An offended nobleman could arrange for a lowborn Saxon man to be arrested for said cash offer. Hm, troubling. Should he risk it?

To Bribe or Not to Bribe? Prudent check. tn. 12: 1d20 5

Perhaps he should, but in the end, he did not. After a pregnant pause, the Lord Mayor bows his head. "Thank you for your suggestion. I think I may know some of whom you speak, and I will see if they are willing to help forestall the calamity."

"I am glad that in the house of our Lord God you have found the wisdom to solve your dilemma milord. May you walk in his grace " Giles replies, completely oblivious to the man's internal conflict.

"And you, sir," the Lord Mayor replies. He bows once and makes his /exit.

After the Mayor leaves, Giles maintains his vigil until the sun has well and truly set before departing the chapel and heading into the evening.

/scene