In Which Florian Makes an Offer

October 22, 1164

"Good day for a mental breakdown, isn't it, my lord?" teased Florian as he took a seat next to the baroness, noting her husband's disheveled figure sprawled on the desk. It was getting close to midday, but Florian had only just arrived at the castle, as most of his household had spent the better part of a week confined to bed with a dreadful flu. Fortunately, they all seemed to be over the worst of it, and both Evera and Goodwife Noth were now well enough to keep an eye on the others, so he'd figured it would be best if he returned to work for the afternoon; it seemed he had picked the right day.

Neither of the other two seemed to take notice of him. Instead, Holladrin sent a worried glance her husband's way; Florian debated taking the opportunity to observe how her pregnancy was treating her breasts, but ultimately decided against it. "Darling, you've been working so hard. Maybe you should go lie down for a while..."

Octavius sighed. "At this point, I'll sleep when I'm dead--which, at the rate people are getting mauled, poisoned, strangled, and otherwise slaughtered around here, should be fairly soon. Four more unnatural deaths this week in this shire alone, would you believe it?"

It certainly wasn't enviable to be anyone's lord these days, Florian had to admit. Still, there must have been something he could say to lift the man's spirits, if only slightly. "Hmmm... you know, Aldhein said there were a dozen in the king's shire. And at least by the end of September, people had grown wise to that whole routine with the conspicuous people handing around those poisonous roses--I mean, it's a pity the news didn't spread as well as we all might have hoped after they got eight people in that last week of August, but we haven't had any other such incidents in a month now, correct?"

The baron pressed his chin to the piece of parchment in front of him and ran his fingers through his hair. Meanwhile, Holladrin turned to Florian. "Well, yes, but ever since the rose scare ended, the deaths in the forests picked up again, and it would be much easier to catch a suspicious flower distributor than it would be to catch someone preying on lone travelers with no one around for miles."

"And apparently catching the flower distributors is difficult enough," Florian concluded dully. "Damn. I'm sorry, my lord--just out of curiosity, how are the duke and Lord Severin coping with the stress?"

Holladrin rolled her eyes. "According to their wives, angry seething at anything that moves and thrice-daily sexual releases, respectively."

"Well, at least her ladyship is reaping the benefits, then. What about your brother the king?"

"He's fine--he's got the three of them doing the work for him. If I wasn't so pregnant at the moment, I'd ride up there and give him a piece of my mind. I'll have to write a letter and instruct someone to shout it aloud to him."

Florian groaned. "Our king, ladies and gentlemen."

"You took the words right out of my mouth," the baroness agreed. "I kind of wish Aldhein was still working for Roderick, to be honest. He's far more competent than that idiot Eblor, and I imagine he'd deal with Roderick's slack much more thoroughly. Of course, that would leave Dalston in an even worse state."

Considering this, Florian shrugged. "I suppose it can't get much worse for anyone right now anyway."

Octavius pushed himself from the surface of his desk and nodded. "I'll say. If I didn't have a duty to the people here, I would have moved my family back to Dovia months ago."

Florian tossed back his head. "I'd move back to Dovia in a heartbeat--it's a pity I'm an exile, really."

Someone knocked on the door; the baron gritted his teeth. "Who is it?"

"Just me, Papa," piped up his eight-year-old son from the corridor. "Can I come in?"

Relieved, his father closed his eyes. "Of course, son."

Sparron opened the door and stepped into the study, nodding in the direction of the couch. "Florian, good sir. Holladrin, you're looking lovely today."

"What a little charmer," Florian sneered, his eyes narrowed. "I'm inclined to think you want something."

"And why should you think that, my friend? Perhaps I am simply attempting to revive chivalry."

Florian raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that chivalry ever died."

"That's because you wouldn't know chivalry if it stripped naked in front of you and squirmed around on your lap," jeered Holladrin.

"What an absurd hypothetical situation, my lady; chivalry could never take the place of my wife."

Rubbing his forehead, Octavius pulled himself from his chair and made his way around the desk to his son. "Florian, not now, all right? Anyway, what do you need, Sparron?"

Sparron rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Can I go for a ride with Jadin? Garrett said he'd come with us, and since he's going, Jadin's cousin Searle might come too."

The baron frowned. "You know full-well that it's dangerous out there these days. I'm not sure I'd feel secure about you riding around aimlessly with only Garrett and Searle for protection, and I'm sure Jadin's father would tell him the same thing."

The boy pouted, his blue-gray eyes wide as he stared up at his father. "Please? We haven't gone for a ride in so long..."

"Sorry son, but you're not going without an adult," Octavius insisted. "I'd take you myself, but I have a lot of work to do. We'll go for a ride when it's safer out there, all right?"

Sparron crossed his arms, stomping his foot in the process. "At this rate, it'll never be safer!"

"I could take him," offered Florian, peeling himself away from the couch and ruffling Sparron's hair--much to the boy's disapproval. "I'll take Garrett too, and maybe a guard if you can spare one. We'll head straight to Lord Severin's castle and get Jadin, and Falidor and Searle if they want to come too, all the while avoiding any remotely forested areas like Falidor avoids his wife."

Octavius took a moment to consider. Then, the corners of his mouth twitched into a brief smile, though his eyes remained tired and frustrated. "I can spare a guard. In fact, maybe take two--and when you get to Veldora, ask Severin if he can send a few as well."

"Fah-ther!" whined Sparron in protest. "That's way too many adults--you're being paranoid!"

"Maybe," he admitted, "but in times like this, one can't be too careful. You may think me a doting fool now, but you'll understand one day. In the mean time, have a pleasant ride; say hello to your friend for me, and make sure you thank Florian--and make sure you're home for supper."

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