Chapter Text
Wriothesley wakes up to a dull, throbbing sensation at the crook of his neck, courtesy of an awkward sleeping position he hadn't bothered to correct the night before. He lay there for a while thinking about the reports, paperwork, and inspections he had to do that day.
He sighs and swings his legs over the edge of his bed to get up and start his day. His feet touch the cold metal floor, and he quickly regrets ever getting up. It made him wish he could retreat back into the fleeting warmth of sleep.
Though he knew he couldn’t indulge in such comforts. Not today, and truly, never at all. As the administrator of a prison, he had to be there to set rules and examples. A sharp, involuntary flick of his ear betrays his mounting irritation. He sighs again and eventually gets up.
He washes up and dons his heavy attire. He leaves his tail free from its usual wraps today for a rare change of pace. Though he feels like he will come to regret his decision. His boots click against the cold floor as he heads towards his office to start the laborious work that awaited him. He had put off doing some of it because a fight broke out in the pankration rink, requiring his personal intervention to restore order.
-
He had barely settled into his chair before the frantic, light patter of footsteps echoed from the stairwell. Sigewinne practically flew up the steps and into his office, face holding its usual warmth.
"Good morning, Your Grace!" she chimes, her bright exclamation puncturing the quiet sanctuary of his workspace. Her enthusiasm always seems to defy the heavy atmosphere of the fortress. She truly was the only source of light in this place.
"Morning." Wriothesley gruffs in reply. He had gotten used to her bubbly demeanor this early. Must be a Melusine thing, he assumes. And a subtle, involuntary sway of his tail betrayed his genuine comfort at her presence, completely undermining his stoic exterior.
Sigewinne rounds his desk and hands him a milkshake. She eyes him as he took it and put it on his desk.
"For later," he mumbles softly, setting it aside and silently praying she won't press him to drink it right now. Thankfully, she just smiles, letting the evasion slide.
"What's going on today, Head Nurse?" He shifts the papers with only half his attention, hoping something would catch his attention and drag his mind out of the slump it seemed to be in today.
"We're baking today."
That's all she said.
Wriothesley’s train of thought derailed instantly; even his tail froze mid-sway, locked in sudden, sheer panic.
Then kick-started trying to find a way, a desperate search for an exit strategy. He had those reports to finish, inspections to do, and people to subtly threaten.
Baking with Sigewinne was a nightmare; he knew that purely by how her milkshakes tasted. Desolation.
"Don't even think about trying to get out of this either," She pushes a letter towards him, cutting off his excuses before they could even form.
"Monsieur Neuvillette permitted us to use the kitchen in the Palais Mermonia."
Wriothesley opened the letter, and his eyes narrowed at the pristine seal of the Iudex. Betrayed. And worse, his plan to escape using urgent fortress duties was entirely ruined. Not only was he trapped in a baking session, but he was also being dragged out of his underwater sanctuary and right into the pristine, bustling halls of the Palais.
A part of him wanted to punch himself in the face for allowing them to continue to send letters, but the more logical part of him knew they would've continued either way.
"Why must we use the kitchen in the Palais? The one here works just fine," he mutters, making one final, futile attempt to dig his heels in. A last-ditch effort to salvage his morning. He pushes the letter away as if it had personally offended him.
"Of course! The water here is …drinkable to say the least." Sigewinne looked up at him.
"And it gives you a reason to get out of here." Wriothesley scoffed at that.
"I have far too much to do down here, Sigewinne. I really don’t have the time—"
"He's expecting us."
The blunt interruption cut his complaint dead in its tracks. It didn't take a course in meka mechanics to know who he was. Wriothesley's tail wagged at the thought that Neuvillette was actively anticipating his presence at the Palais.
"I-" He sighs. "Fine, just let me delegate some tasks before we head out." He stands up to grab his coat. Wriothesley turns back to look at Sigewinne,
"Nothing too crazy, right…?"
"Nothing too crazy."
"Thank you."
Wriothesley goes down the steps of his office, and he hears a delighted laugh coming from up there. Wriothesley starts to think a headache is coming along.