Theodore Hawkins was late. He was very late. Last night's festivities at both the pub and the brothel kept him in bed until ten minutes ago. He should have been tending to the prince hours ago. Theodore wouldn't be in a snit about being late if he were in a more secure position, but he wasn't. Theodore was an easily replaceable servant for the prince. He wasn't anything special at all. Theodore was awed that he hadn't been replaced yet. The prince didn't mind his tardiness, but his father, the king, did. Theodore walked calmly, at an esteemed pace towards the prince's quarters, passing several other servants along the way. He didn't run because it was unseemly to do so in such a place, but he did have a quicker pace than most. When he made it to the prince's inner most quarters where his bedchamber was, he started grabbing dirty clothes and piling them for easier carry. He should have done this hours ago, along with many other chores. Such as, righting the bed, dressing the prince, making his bath, bringing him his breakfast and running through his itenerary, cleaning out the bedpan, and bringing in his armor. Theodore awaited punishment as he hurriedly tried to do his chores.