as if bricks be only for the building

There were times when Vez sounded confident about his announcements of guests. There were times when he stuttered, and nothing came out. Flora, knowing that it was hardly her job or place to correct him (or was it, then?), usually just let it alone. Did she overestimate his mild share of anxious incompetence? Perhaps she did. But he was supposed to be the guard of an important royal holding, so Flora wondered whether anyone in the capital actually knew about it, or if they'd instead sent him to her knowing firsthand what he could and couldn't do.

She was glad of this opportunity for him, regardless, because nobody all that imposing ever came, thankfully, and Addam was of course a great friend to him. Would be, anyway, when Addam was around, which he wasn't, lately.

Most days, the hallways were so quiet that Flora thought she could hear the dust settling, the spiders sneezing at it. She wandered through empty bedrooms from which all staff had been sent away, imagining how anyone could ever possibly need all of this. They couldn't. She didn't. Her mother probably thought she should.

This day, then, was quite markedly different, because as she completed her seventh daily circuit from library to washroom and back again, she suddenly heard the double doors above her fly open and bang their handles upon the stone of the manor, making to knock hello themselves.

That wouldn't be Vez. That couldn't be Vez.

But it was Vez's voice, alright, that cried out, "Lady Flora! Announcing His Majesty the King!"

Had Flora had the time, she would have stopped to consider that the proper way to introduce the king was probably to call out to all possible available residents of whatever current locale, and also the building itself, such as to shake the foundations. But she didn't, because even if the king knew about her present predicament - and she wasn't sure that he did -, it wouldn't do for her to be slow producing herself for his view.

Producing herself? His view? The king, here?

The entire reason Zettar had never begrudged Addam (much) the enfeoffment of Aletta was that Aletta could be skewed, almost gerrymandered, so as to represent relatively little. There were so few people, per capita, who therein lived, and being a farmer was of course of no particularly high station, for a lord. This wasn't feudalism, anymore.

The king, here? Flora repeated it to herself under her breath over and over as she advanced herself, via the railing, up through the stairwell.

The king, here? And for me?

He stood patiently, arms at his sides and no sword at his hip. To either flank of him stood Tornan soldiers, but even if Flora had been told that they were, say, Carnelian and Chalcedony, she'd have no way of knowing at a glance which was which - and if there were other soldiers who could do this, Vez was not one. Vez would never be one. Vez was very content, without his red armor.

(Only the general could tell them all from each other, and that was why he maintained his rank.)

The other damning thing was that Flora would have curtseyed, if she thought that she could have. Like this, she just placed one palm over her chest and bowed her head.

"My Lord," she said, low and clear. Or was it Your Majesty? Whatever Addam said was what she should say, right? But then, Addam was his son.

"Beloved Flora," the king replied, and since he didn't smile, Flora was entirely unsure how to apprehend any measure of relief.

The soldiers gave no sign of clarification either. Frankly, Flora was surprised she hadn't heard the sounds of manifest confusion and panic out in the yard of the manor; it was midday, but there were so many people constantly milling about that no matter who was taking lunch, at least somebody would have been watching the port, even just for the sake of being idle.

And everyone, whether they lived in Torna or were just visiting, knew what the king looked like: his long mane of hair, his piercing gaze, his red and white vestments.

Maybe they didn't care, though. Maybe they weren't particularly piqued to see that the head of the nation at most imminent war with the Aegis had departed from his figurehead orientation, in the capital. They knew that Addam was on the hunt. They knew that their opinions of Addam were meant to be kept more or less hushed. They knew that the current occupant of the throne was rather a quiet one.

Quiet now, he was, as he regarded Flora. She knew she looked at least half presentable, because she tried to stay that way throughout the day unless she truly had to retire early, but it was possible that her face was flushed, her forehead pocked with acne.

"I'm pleased to see you here," she tried, and then wondered why she'd said it. What, exactly, should be so pleasing? "It's an honor to be visited." By anyone, really, she thought but didn't say.

The king allowed the barest hint of a smile then. "The work of reconstruction is slow but steady. All the hands in Auresco are tied together in the aftermath of tragedy."

This, Flora knew implicitly as she listened to the king speak, was true leadership. Each weighty, florid statement issued forth as if completely natural, yet each phrase was so careful. The intrinsic mouthpiece of the nation spoke of fears and doubts, but he appeared no less certain of himself for any fraction of a second.

Addam wasn't like that. No, not quite yet.

The king blinked once, resuming his intent. "I found that the passage of time in other places has been considerably swifter."

Ah. So it was about that.

Flora tried to reply with the king's own surety. "That the throne is expressing its concern for me in my hour of need is not something I take lightly. And with your own presence, Your Majesty..."

Well. It wasn't much, but it was something - a valiant effort, at least.

Actually, what it was was Flora sounding as if she meant to be argumentative; defensive, ready to bat back at the king for suggesting that she might be in trouble, or careless, or crude.

But then she thought back to what the king had originally said.

His smile broadened, invoking the participation of his eyes. "I had anticipated the possibility of my presence here putting you ill at ease. But I merely wish to congratulate you, as well as Addam."

"But...you came all the way here, just to see me?"

"We cannot very well do these things with great ceremony in the capital," the king said. "You have never been allowed that. I would not think it the right time for such change, though I might wish to grant it."

"That's..." As if this very great house weren't ceremony enough, and plenty, in which for a child to be born. "...thank you, my lord."

He wouldn't direct her to call him Father. Even Addam did not call him that. And yet Addam's desire to be a parent was driven by no spite, no swear to be greater than his father had been, when it came to that crucial up-bringing duty.

Instead, Khanoro just lidded his eyes, nodded his way through a swallow. When Flora flicked her eyes to the soldiers, she saw that their stiff postures had relaxed, somewhat. And she herself? Still rigid, still perspiring.

"How did you leave the capital?" Though there was no calamitous commotion here, the thought of hordes of anxious people gathering to watch a Titan ship depart from either the rear or the fore Aurescan harbor was one that didn't gel with the rest of the king's grave affect.

"Azurda is a dutiful compatriot of the royal family," the king replied. Flora tried to imagine just how dutiful her favorite cryptic Titan could be, when asked to serve as a pack animal. But then the king added, "When I mentioned that my quest was to land here, to see you, he happily obliged."

Ah. Well then.

More and more, Flora began to convince herself that Khanoro really was just here to see her, to lay his kingly eyes upon her and pronounce it good news that the child of his child would soon be born. And was that so unbelievable? Was that so, in other terms, wrong?

Addam spoke most often of what his father thought, what he did, rather than what his father was like, what he had once done. Flora, on the other hand, was frequently voluble about the foibles of her parents, and who was well-meaning when the other was cross, and who was cross most often.

The kinds of things that children fast becoming adults observed, about their parents. But Addam had observed none of that, of course, so he had none of it to show, much less to share.

Apparently, it took Flora's own specific brand of cleverness to tease these things out, and to greet her husband's father as any gracious in-law should be treated.

Flora cleared her throat, settled herself. If she'd dallied a moment longer, she'd have darted a mischievous glance to the guards.

"Would you like anything, Father? Water? Tea?"

He waved away the invitation for solicitation. "I want for nothing. If we have need, I am sure Chrysoprase and Chroem can muster their attentions."

"More brothers?" Flora inquired, eyes twinkling, because though she wasn't personally acquainted with the pair, she knew of the earnest, ever-quarreling guards.

"Cousins," Khanoro replied knowingly. "And these two are twins."

The twins, such as they were, excused themselves to the benches that lined the interior walls of the upper parlor. Left to relative privacy, the king offered Flora his arm. "I would sit with you," he said, meeting her gaze as if she were just perfectly met to his height, "and discuss your future. It is no test; rather, it is an area of knowledge in which I myself have sorely lacked, and I would know you better for your inextricable ties to our family."

And this, again, was why he was the king. Of course, he knew intimately the layout of the manor, having inspected it himself on many a prior occasion when the residing lord and lady were two much different individuals, but Flora correctly determined that it was the only test that there was to be: how she could comport herself, and avail him skillfully of her hospitality.

As well, she used the time of the promenade to the dining room for rapid self-reflection. There is nothing you can say, Flora sternly admonished herself, based on this communicated understanding, that would change any opinion of you held by any in lands near or far, courts high or low. You cannot change what has already come to pass - and neither can he. You can only embrace the opportunity.

She'd be bright. She'd be engaging. She wouldn't ask, why now; wouldn't be distracted with the thing that the king was so firmly not letting himself be distracted with. Most of all, she'd interview him with the same veracity as that which he indulged with her.

Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd even feel comfortable in her presentation of all her most charming and genuine qualities, by the time the visit was done.

She wondered, as they entered the dining room and she showed him to a chair (his gesture to pull out a chair for her, and insist that she sit first, was aborted), how Addam's father had come to know of their not-so-little not-so-secret. What gossip had carried it to the capital, and why was it Azurda?

If Addam had ever met with his father about such a matter, he hadn't told her.

Just as Flora was about to fasten on to the next thought, addressing the relative impropriety of her position, Khanoro fixed her with a gaze and said, "You well know that Addam has no great love of ruling, nor any similar aspirations. I believe you had known this when he asked you to enter into a contract of marriage."

She could be dignified. She could be stately. She could be royal.

Or she could be Flora.

"I've always known Addam," she replied steadily. "Even if I loved him only half as much, I would certainly have clear knowledge of that fact. And I have no desire to be anywhere else on Alrest but here, ever."

I would not leave him, to take my nobly-born child and spirit away. Nor would I leave him for a more attractively benefitted royal. I would not conceal my own motives from him or from you. I am a capable and intelligent woman, and I have chosen this, of all possible places, to be mine.

All these things, Flora said, without saying them. Perhaps she did wish for a bit of unnecessary refreshment.

"You would seek to call me Father," said the king, "knowing that it would buy you no favor. Does it not concern you that Addam's relationship to the throne is so strained?"

Flora stirred her imaginary tea. Oh, yes, a quandary indeed, never yet stated so plainly.

"I had thought, my lord, that this very meeting was convened with the purpose of ameliorating that fact."

"You would not live among the bustle of the palace."

"I would not."

"You would not have Addam succeed me from here."

"I would not."

"Then, Flora, how do you intend this to be accomplished?"

Mentally, she took a sip of the tea, dotted the corners of her lips with a napkin, folded her hands in front of her once more.

"By whatever innate and unmagical force it is that drew you here to greet me, and call me beloved."

The king smiled. "I do like you, Flora."

Flora acknowledged it with warmth in her eyes. "And Addam likes you, too."