despair searching.
“I’m sure you can imagine the poor effects this has on his health…”
LORENZ’S SYMPATHIES EXTEND beyond Acheron’s pathetic whimpers, as—unlike some of his peers—he can see beyond the current situation to follow the ripples where they may lead. One strike against the Roundtable (—one body; pragmatic as he must be, now, the dismissive thought gives him pause where it would not have otherwise) is hardly worth commenting on. But House Riegan has reared its head and taken notice, and, perhaps more remarkably, sought their help.
Much as he takes issue with Duke Riegan, and the house, and its heir on a great many things—he is not so callous as to turn a blind eye to the slow march of tragedy that seems to plague it.
If anything, he is right to be concerned. Acheron, loose-lipped imbecile he is, is more than happy to rub shoulders with strangers if it will flatter his ego. He is not without political savvy, but it has clearly slipped into a miserable state of decay, befitting the man who has offered nothing of use but another winding turn.
As they walk the streets, Lorenz keen to take the lead, arms crossed behind his back and eyes scanning the horizon.
“—And so, on behalf of House Gloucester, I offer apologies for the indefensible display of manners Acheron chose to grace us with.” Amends must be made, first and foremost. “I was raised under far higher standards for my conduct.”
The market’s throng of people make it hard to speak over, least of all to pick out a particular stranger in the crowd. Their directions to find said stranger are as obtuse, but Lorenz thanks his many years of social summers spent weaving through with wide-eyed curiosity as a child to know the prime spots for merchants. The vegetable vendors preferred the intersections, easy enough to push their wares, close enough to taverns and the city’s more discerning chefs to catch their eye.
At one such stall, across the way, there is a gentleman, noontime sunlight glinting for a moment on a monocle. Enough to catch Lorenz’s eye, to exchange glances with the ladies accompanying him before he makes the first step.
“Pendrell, I assume.” No time to dally, but Lorenz strives to be polite, hands no longer clasped behind his back and standing at full attention, a small but pleasant smile across his lips. “We were told you had a particular penchant for the finest crops offered in Derdriu’s markets.”
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