FORGOTTEN ORCHIDS | CHAPTER THREE
THE PAPERWORK WAS SENT TO the Cod Empire just as the sun reached noon, Atticus sending the post the moment he had sealed it with the official Vulpesterra stamp. It was important to him that the agreement between the Cod Empire and Vulpesterra was set in stone, even if he was sure that waking up before dawn to draft paperwork wasn't his brightest idea. Especially when there was a meeting with his council looming ever closer as the sun peaked over the mountains.
Atticus was only able to get the final draft done while under the stares of the older men and women that guided him, though they pretended to converse among themselves to avoid distracting Atticus from his work. It was helpful, in a way, as the white noise gave him the push he needed to finally sign his name and put the paper into an envelope.
"Take this to the Codfather," he told the errand boy that had been summoned to the chambers ten minutes before. He pressed the envelope into the boy's hands. "Take care of it and be safe during your journey." The boy—a teenager, really, just shy of eighteen—nodded and took his leave, the closing of the door behind him setting the agreement between Vulpesterra and the Cod Empire into stone.
Flowers for a shulker of wood every month. His mother would kill him.
"The kingdom is prospering nicely, Foxling," Lady Angelica spoke, turning his attention onto her. "We're all very proud of you for your hard work."
Atticus tried to fight back that warm feeling in his chest that came with an adult—a real one, one who understood the world more than he did—recognizing the work he'd put into his kingdom. He smiled, giving her a nod. "Thank you. How are your own lives faring in Vulpesterra?" he asked, looking around the table.
"I think we're all in agreement when we say that our lives are very well," Lord Arthur said, the others nodding in agreement at his statement. "I do have a question for you, Foxling, if I may have the time?" Atticus nodded, leaning forward to hear him better—Lord Arthur was always a quiet man, even before he joined the council. It was rare to hear him speak more than a sentence at the meetings. "When do you think you will be ready to be married?"
Atticus frowned, biting back the pinch of annoyance that came with the question. He respected his council—trusted their opinions. They'd led his mother when she was still alive, and they had never led him astray before. "Do you believe I need to be married soon?" he asked, looking at the other councilmen, so Lord Arthur didn't feel targeted by his question.
There were a few moments of silence, the councilmen thinking over his question. Atticus tapped his fingers against the table, trying not to let his nerves get to him. He was only twenty-four, for Prime's sake—not exactly on the Death Goddess' doorstep! Everyone was always poking at those parts of Atticus' life—marriage, kids. He was practically still a kid himself. Just because he was a king at sixteen doesn't mean he was ready to be an adult.
"Not soon," Lady Angelica decided. "But you should be considering your options for a marriage to show a stronger front to Vulpesterra and the other empires."
Atticus tried to keep his sigh of irritation soft, giving a short nod to the older woman. "Thank you for your input." He glanced around at the other councilmen. "I . . . I'll consider beginning a courtship with someone, but I will not be getting married for some years. I want to marry for love, not power."
Lord Arthur smiled. "That's a fair compromise, Foxling. Thank you for hearing me out."
Atticus fought to make his smile back seem real. "Thank you for your time. If that's all for today, I believe we should call this meeting to an end and reconvene next week."
Murmurs of agreement washed over Atticus, pulling a breath of relief from his chest as he gathered the papers in front of him, giving one to Jane when she came to stand beside him. "Give this to Sir Thomas, it's for the horses he's been asking for." The blush that brushed across her cheeks was more than enough payment for Atticus buying a new horse for the stables that he was almost certain they didn't need.
"Right away, Foxling," she said, hurrying off to follow his orders.
Atticus stood, saying his goodbyes to the Lords and Ladies of the Council before he took his leave. His shoulders finally untensed after waiting hours for the meeting to end. As much as he loved his Council, he just wanted a nap. Prime, he hadn't had a nap in ages. Probably since he was crowned king.
But he was done with his paperwork. He'd tended his garden, and he had no meetings scheduled until next week. It wasn't the day for petitioners to come to the castle to air their grievances—though it would be another day of wasted hours, as he hadn't had a petitioner since he was twenty-two—and he was certain that no staff member had a birthday party for him to attend.
A nap sounded great.
[ FORGOTTEN ORCHIDS ]
As it turns out, napping wasn't one of Atticus' talents—of which he already didn't have many. Napping was another one to add to the list, it seemed, as he'd spent three hours trying to fall asleep, sunlight still streaming into his room, until he'd finally kicked off the covers in a huff and decided to have dinner early.
He was just putting on his shoes—who went through a castle barefoot?—when someone knocked on the bedroom door. Atticus called for them to come in, already expecting Jane to be checking on him. It was unusual for Atticus to spend this much time inside his room, after all.
He was not expecting her to be holding a package, a note attached to it with string tying it to the parcel. "I've put the signed papers from the Codfather in your library," Jane said, handing the box to Atticus. "He wanted this delivered to you personally."
For a moment, Atticus wondered if the Codfather was trying to poison him—King Joel had been sent a package years ago containing an airborne pollen that nearly killed him—before realizing that it was silly to think so when they had an agreement in place. Besides, the Codfather would get nothing out of it, so Atticus opened the box without caution, though he was careful not to tear the note at the same time.
Atticus turned the paper over to read.
Foxling,
Thank you for the trade deal :D
I'll see you next month. Thought I would send more over to help make up for the shulker you gave me.
Be well!
Codfather
The box was full of blue orchids, some already beginning to wilt and others still drying out. Atticus winced at the sight of them, knowing these orchids wouldn't survive the week since they'd been so carelessly picked, but he still had to fight back a smile at the intentions of the Codfather. At the end of the day, it was a gift, and it had been a long time since Atticus had been given a gift.
The thought crossed Atticus' mind to send a thank-you note attached to a shulker of wood, but he knew that it would start a back-and-forth between the two empires, and while Vulpesterra could supply as much wood as needed, the Cod Empire only had so many blue orchids.
Jane looked over his shoulder, smiling at the sight of the flowers. "Cute," she commented. Atticus huffed under his breath, fighting back a smile. Jane patted his shoulder. "I'll leave you to it. Make sure you thank him for his kindness." Atticus waved her away, resisting the urge to make a yes, mom joke.
As Jane closed the door behind her, Atticus gathered the flowers and brought them to the garden that made a home on his balcony. A butterfly had made a home within the lilacs, its orange color a striking contrast against the pale pink petals. Atticus kept his distance from the smaller creature, not wanting to startle it, and brought the orchids to the space he'd made previously. The flowers from the Cod Empire were still alive, thriving under the Vulpesterrian sun, making Atticus smile.
He brought the new flowers to the others, settling them around the other flowers. The Codfather had neglected to keep the stem attached to the roots, and with the flowers already dying, Atticus knew it was no use trying to keep them alive. So instead he placed them around the others, letting the blue petals decorate the soil and brighten the once-barren space.
He gave it a week before he had to take them back out due to the dead petals becoming a depressing sight, but it was the thought that counted.
Atticus stepped back into his room, letting the silence settle over him as he walked across the floor to his desk. He settled into his chair and grabbed a quill and parchment to draft a thank-you note to the Codfather. Though he wouldn't send a gift back, it wouldn't hurt to let the other man know that the gift was appreciated.
It was remarkably easier to fall asleep with the pleased feeling in his chest, terribly happy that his council would be thankful that Vulpesterra was friendly with another empire.