Alcuin of York gestures for Athelstan not to trouble himself, listening too.

When Sinric finishes the song, the man steps out of the shadow. "You've lost none of your skill, my student." He comes over to press a kiss to Sinric's brow. "For music or for making friends."

"This is Athelstan of the Holy Isle." Sinric introduces, smiling fondly. "He has been telling me about Paris."