Chapter Text
"Alright, here ya go."
Clorinde stiffened as the harsh clang of coins reverberated against the dull walls of the Duke's office. She glanced at the pouch that he tossed on his desk. It was gaudy in appearance, and it looked more like a small nap sack than a coin purse, but the outline of the mora within was visible with how full the pouch was.
Hesitantly, she stepped forward, but couldn't bring herself to pick it up. Was she supposed to just grab it and go? Just like that? This was the first time she's seen him in… just about forever. He didn't want to ask her anything? Tell her anything? Even after everything, she hoped for at least something. But what that something was, she wasn't quite sure. What did she even expect? She accepted a commission, and he was paying her for completing it. Simple as that. She's done commission work before, so why did this time feel any different?
Was anything more necessary?
The Duke leaned back in his chair and motioned to the pouch. "That's the agreed payment, not a mora more, not a mora less... more or less. Feel free to count it if you like, I'll take no offense."
Clorinde bit the inside of her cheek and grabbed the pouch. It was much heavier than she thought it would be, but she kept her surprise to herself. "That won't be necessary, Your Grace, I trust you," she said.
She swore the sharp ice in his eyes softened, but when he blinked, whatever change or difference she thought she saw was gone.
"As I do you, Mademoiselle," he said and picked up some documents on his desk and started to read through it.
That was her cue to go, she knew these kinds of social details quite well. But hearing him address her like that yet again sounded far too strange. He'd been doing that since she first accepted his commission. She thought she could get used to it, told herself to, but she just couldn't, no matter how hard she tried. Hearing him call her that grated on her ears. It sounded too out of place. And she was addressed that way by hundreds a day!
"Do you want me to summon a guard to escort you back to the surface?" He asked her suddenly.
Clorinde stiffened again, and glanced back at him. He was looking at her from just over the edge of the report in his hand, and she realized with a start that this was the first time he's looked her in the eyes since she arrived in the fortress.
That softness was there again, she swore it was, and quite suddenly she was reminded of the boy that used to toss small rocks at her window. The one that would show her the strangest bugs or the prettiest rocks.
The one that once took her hand and asked her for forever…
"That won't be necessary, Your Grace," she said and turned to leave. She needed to get back home. She was tired, more mentally than physically, and she could only imagine how tired he must be. The pile of paperwork on his desk was immense.
Still, even as her foot hovered over the steps leading out of his main office, she did not move. There was this intense nagging feeling telling her to say something to him. Something else, but what that something was, she had no idea. She just didn't want to just grab the mora and leave like she was some kind of gardemech with a human face. But, isn't that what one did? Isn't that what adventurers did?
"Tell me, why does it feel like you have even more free time than me? Your title wasn’t bought, was it?" She blurted without thinking. As soon as she said it, she mentally slapped herself. Of all things she could have said, she had to criticize his accomplishments? She wasn't even honest in her ridiculous accusations!
The Duke's brows rose high on his head, and he carefully set the report in his hand down, which turned out not to be a report at all. Rather, it was the comics page from the steambird hidden behind said report. He didn't even try to hide it either!
Clorinde narrowed her eyes and stepped closer to question him, but silenced herself once he held up a finger.
"One moment, please," he said and leaned down to rifle through his drawers. He sped through three separate ones, each time producing several thick documents, and laid them out across his desk for her to see. "Now, let me see... 'excellent management'... 'leading tax contributor'," he said as he held up each official document. "Oh, and 'specially granted this title...' Well, what do you know?" He said and leaned back in his chair, his expression as serious as stone. "Good guess, that's pretty much what happened after all."
Clorinde was speechless. Part because she questioned him in the first place, and part because of how serious he stayed the whole time. She hadn't meant for it to come off like she actually doubted the hard work he put in the fortress. However at this point, it felt awkward to clarify that she was only joking. Though, she didn't exactly try her hardest to sound like she was… instead she sounded accusatory.
It was a harsh reminder that she had no social life.
"I-I only jest, " she embarrassingly stammered out anyway. "I didn't intend to mock your accomplishments, Your Grace, it was simply a terrible attempt at…" light hearted banter? Humor? She really had no idea. "...conversation," she settled with.
"Hmm," he watched her for a few beats of silence, then a few more. It was as if he was reading all of the confused and incoherent shouts in the back of her head. Right as she was starting to feel too uncomfortable, he cleared his throat and pulled out an exquisite looking box from one of his drawers. "Then, would you care to join me for a cup of tea? We can let bygones be bygones as we enjoy the pleasant aroma of earl gray."
This was the opportunity she was looking for! It had to be…
"Sure!" She said perhaps a bit too eagerly. She quickly recovered, as best she could. "I mean… I'd like that."
For the first time since seeing him again in well over a decade, he smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. They remained icy, cold. As guarded as the Fortress of Meropide itself.
She couldn't blame him. But she also couldn't help but wonder if he meant all bygones…