"I apologise Lord Elding, I didn't hear you had returned," he says, scurrying along at your side. Did he teleport in or was he just spawned fully-formed from thin air to serve you? Much of a muchness really, they rotate in and out with such frequency it's completely impossible to keep track of them all.
"I was at my estate, of course. In need of some rest and recuperation. Particularly lean year we just had I hear," you reply, your accent naturally dropping into a sort of flattened-out yet still cultured arrangement from every continent.
"Of course sir, it must have been an incredible strain for you sir."
"And how are the books looking today?"
"Very good sir absolutely nothing to concern yourself with sir."
"Excellent!"
You take six more strides, and the stooge keeps following you. You halt.
"... leave," you prompt him. He nods furiously and vanishes back into the crowd, gone in an instant if you cared to look for him. Instead you simply stare out across the hustle and bustle, into the middle distance, and ponder. Mortals really are a submissive lot. You've gone entire years with little more than mail correspondence to prove that you're still alive and yet the merchant house continues to send you free money. It's insane.
