As much as you'd like to be clad in shining gold and white armor right now, your current attire consists of a brown dress, ontop of which lies a white apron covered in soap suds and wet splotches.
Judging from the soft glow of moonlight filtering in from one of the broken shutters of the galley kitchen, you'd say it's somewhere around midnight. You grumble as you scrub your wet washcloth along the bottom of a crusty pot, mostly upset by the fact that almost everyone else in the keep has gone to sleep by now, leaving you all by yourself in the kitchen with a massive pile of filthy dishes to enjoy.