In Which Severin Is Aware of the Worst Part

May 24, 1191

The worst part of growing older, Severin was learning all too well, was not the decline of one's own body. Not for him, at least. He'd perhaps won the game of dice when it came to blood, given how long both of his parents had ended up living--hell, his mother may have still been alive had she been allowed to die of natural causes. Barring some unforeseen incident, he'd live to be a very old man.

The worst part, for him, was that not everyone around him was so fortunate.

"Dressed and out of bed, I see. Feeling better?" A little hopeful, given the past month and a half or so.

"Not particularly, no." Adonis's body agreed with a hacking cough. "But I'd rather my children and grandchildren not remember me as some bedridden invalid."

"Nothing wrong with being a bedridden invalid, but I see your point."

His old friend chuckled. "Only you would think there's nothing wrong with being a bedridden invalid."

"Perhaps, but that only means everyone else is wrong."

Adonis laughed again. There wasn't much else Severin could do aside from offering the family any help they needed--and they didn't need much, given the not-insignificant rewards of Adonis's business savvy. At least he could make him laugh. "Fair enough."

"At least let me lend you my cook for a couple of days. She's quite good."

"Thank you, but I can't keep down anything that isn't broth, and Nanalie's made sure to supply plenty.

"Just sit and chat with me a while, like old friends do. That will be enough."

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