The man who opened the door wore a servant's coat over a respectable shirt and slacks. His hair was gray, but his face was young. He looked Remant over, then asked: "May I help you, Sir?"
"I'd like to speak with the late Viscount Forzen," he said. "My name is Remant."
The manservant's expression changed only for the barest flicker, but he asked politely, "Have you come from that dreadful solicitor?"
Remant held up a hand. "I have, but I've come to talk. If the master of the house would spare me a little of his time, I believe we can resolve this."
The manservant held his ground. "We were given very specific instructions to turn away anyone that woman sent."
Remant paused to consider, but the manservant moved to close the door in his face. With a sigh, he stuck his hand in the opening, then forced it back open.
"She appears to have the force of law on her side," he said, as the other man gaped at him, "along with enough money to make a compelling argument. I don't wish to see you punished, but I do need to speak to the former Viscount. So..." He thought as quickly as I could. "I will wait out here. You will go and tell him that you turned me away, but that I remain waiting outside to speak to him. Would that be acceptable?"
"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" asked the manservant. "You could smash right through this door if you wanted. I couldn't stop you."
"Yes," answered Remant, "but that would be rude. And this is good oak, beautifully crafted. It would be a shame to damage it."
The other man swallowed. "Wait out here, please. I'll tell the Viscount."
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