Bhaali the caretaker of the Yervaan Palace
And then there was a creaking sound across the room from the direction of the wooden room divider, someone had pushed open a door. A warm glow appeared behind the wooden framed cloth divider and then the figure of a hunched over man, old as old can get, his face crunched, a big white moustache covering most of his small, wrinkled face. He entered carrying a lantern in one hand.
“Honorable sir…” the man said in Hastani in the customary way of greeting guests, the old man’s voice was breathy, shaking from aged vocal chords, he approached the bed in an awkward gait that made it seem like his hips and knees might give out at any moment, “…you must rest now...everything here is safe…
you must rest” he gestured with his other hand asking Gulaan to lie back down.
“Where am I…who are you?” Gulaan asked in Hastani.
“You came here last night honorable sir. This is the palace of Yervaan. I am the caretaker” the man said.