Captain Erik rounded the corner into the wing of the keep where the rooms for the head of the house were maintained. Though the hour was late and he had been awake since very early in the day, he had insisted on staying up until all the feast had concluded and the guests had either departed - some to the village inn or rooms at taverns in the village, or even perhaps on their way home - or retired to their guest chambers.

He stopped as he saw a figure standing outside a doorway. He did not want to alarm any of the guests by suddenly barrelling through the corridor, so he remained where he was. From the sconces on the wall nearby the door in question, he could make out the woman's face, though it took a few moments for him to place the identity. There had been a fair number of people attending this wedding, after all, though Erik knew it was still a small-sized one. He had breathed a sigh of relief that Lady Raeschel hadn't invited more people.

Myranda Tyrell, the name finally came to the soldier. He frowned, his brow furrowing as he also recalled the chambers he and her son had been given. Those were farther down and around the next bend in the hallway. Why was she standing outside this room? After the woman had looked briefly about the hallway - almost as if to ensure no one was nearby and observing, Erik mused to himself - he resumed his pace.

As he walked past the room she had entered, he pulled a piece of parchment from a small pocket on his doublet. Earlier in the day he had worn leather armor, but felt no need of that small protection at this late hour. He glanced down at the parchment, then looked back up at the door. He continued down the corridor, taking a quick mental count. Within moments, he had located the room on his list and its assigned occupant. Odd, he thought as he continued on his way, replacing the parchment into its previous location. I wonder if I should say something to Lady Raeschel...