In Which Florian Fills the Pretentious Silence

June 7, 1169

"...and that is undeniable proof that the world is not a flat surface, and not a sphere, but a trapezohedron," concluded Florian, despite the fact that his meticulous calculations were clearly lost on a simple soul like Falidor. "A hexagonal trapezohedron, to be precise."

His companion frowned. "And where might we be sitting on this antiprism of yours?"

"One of the upper faces, near the central vertex, a little to the left."

Falidor's mouth twitched in a silent laugh, then collapsed into a half-smile. "Fascinating. Does the baron know you're here?"

Florian shrugged. "Not here specifically, but he told me to leave, with the baroness in labor and all."

The other man's eyebrow arched. Florian wasn't surprised; most people sometimes had trouble believing what he had to say, for some reason or another. "Whenever Lady Alina was in labor, Lord Severin practically had me running the place--seven children and never once was I asked to leave."

"Yes, but did you ever walk into the birthing room and catch a full view of her ladyship's nethers?" His eyes bulging, Falidor's back straightened; Florian grinned. "Enough said."

"Indeed."

Florian tossed back his head, that simultaneously beautiful and disgusting view still flashing before his eyes. "It might have been nice to see that when she wasn't in the process of giving birth, but I'll take what I can get."

"You would say that," Falidor scolded, his teeth bared in a wide grin. "You're lucky the baron hasn't replaced you yet, you know."

"Oh, I'm not worried." Florian raised his hand to eye level and picked at the hangnail on his middle finger. "The baron needs someone who can actually speak his mind."

"Well, no one could say you don't--" Falidor's jaw dropped, his gaze captured by some unexpected sight behind Florian's back. "Your grace?"

Surprised, Florian turned around to see a tall geezer making his way into the room. His eyes were the same soft blue as the baroness's, but the brows that sat above them were dark and sloped, and his graying mane of hair still contained some silky black strands; this must have been Lord Severin's father. "Falidor," the duke acknowledged with a slight twitch of his lips.

"This is certainly unexpected, your grace," Falidor replied, a trace of worry in his face betraying the welcoming tone of his voice. "To what do we here owe the honor?"

The duke chuckled as he stepped toward Falidor, his confident stride that of a man half his age. "Does a man need a reason to visit his son and grandchildren?"

"When he lives in another country, I imagine it helps," Florian quipped by sheer instinct, earning a quick glare from Falidor. He shrugged; some people just placed too much value on those pretentious silences that could easily be filled with a perfectly good comment.

Smirking, the duke sent a sidelong glance Florian's way. "Who is this?"

"Just the baron's steward," Falidor muttered, a little too apologetic for Florian's taste. "Don't mind him; he thinks the world is a bipyramid."

Florian bit his lip. "Trapezohedron--there's a difference, you know. And I proved it, in case you weren't listening."

The duke dismissed the fact with a wave of his hand, then turned back to Falidor. "Anyway, is Severin around?"

Falidor shook his head. "He's out right now."

"Oh?" The older man seemed to be waiting for more information, but if Falidor knew anything, he wasn't at liberty to divulge it. At last, the duke seemed to pick up on this. "How about the children?"

"They're at the castle."

"Bad timing on my part, then?" The duke glanced toward the ceiling, then shrugged. "No matter; I'll just go off and kill some time somewhere, then come back in a few hours. Say, where's the nearest brothel?"

This last bit had been directed at Florian--and with great enthusiasm, at that. He almost felt bad for the man; seeing as he was happily married and didn't even live in this shire, he couldn't answer the question.

"It's about ten minutes northeast of the village," Falidor told him. "The road veers off to the west about halfway between, but just keep following the fence and you can't miss it."

Shocked, the duke turned around and gaped at his son's steward. "I must say, I never would have expected you to know something like that."

"And why wouldn't he?" Florian demanded. "Do men in Dovia not visit their wives at work anymore?"

Falidor raised his hands to his face and moaned, but what could Florian do? It was against his very nature to ignore such obvious conversational opportunities. "Don't jump down the man's throat just because he's a good husband."

His friend didn't seem any less embarrassed; the duke, however, laughed. "Perhaps I ought to call on Octavius more often. Anyway, I'd best be off; those pretty ladies can't feed themselves if I'm here talking to you two, can they?"

Not giving either of them a chance to reply, he turned around and made his way out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Somewhat unsure of what to make of that whole instance, Florian squinted. "Interesting fellow."

"Oh, he's interesting," Falidor agreed, crossing his arms across his chest, "but you know... sometimes, there's only so much interesting a man can handle."

Florian wasn't quite sure of this, but he was feeling a little indulgent, so he gave the compromise of a shrug. "Perhaps. Anyway, do you want to ride up to Tetran and see if the baroness has given birth yet?"

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