“All hail Lord Verice!”
Verice started out of his thoughts to find the streets lined with people, all gazing at him. He lifted his hand to acknowledge the hail out of habit. Delighted smiles flashed over the faces in the crowd, and the cheers began in earnest, growing in volume.
With a sigh, Verice noted his helmet dangling from his saddle. Wryly smiling, he acknowledged the crowd again, and made eye contact with Narthing.
They continued to move forward but in answer to the unspoken command, Narthing slowed his horse, and maneuvered to Verice’s side. The crowd thinned a bit, but now they were waving handkerchiefs and ribbons in addition to their greetings.
“You could have reminded me about the helmet,” Verice chided his captain quietly.
“You seemed lost in thought, m’lord. I didn’t wish to disturb you.”
Verice snorted. “You could have picked up the pace as well.”
“It’s been some time since the people have seen you, m’lord,” Narthing’s voice held no apology. “Besides, the Lady Warna seemed to be enjoying herself.”
She was at that, smiling at the crowds and waving back to them.
“Remind me to reassign you,” Verice growled, lifting his hand and nodding his head in acknowledgment of the crowd. “To one of the southernmost bogs, perhaps.”
“Certainly, m’lord,” Narthing allowed Verice to take point. “I’ll make a note.”
There was nothing for it. Verice sighed, and picked up the pace just enough that it wouldn’t take all day to get to the castle gates.
He cast a glance back at Warna, but there was no reason to worry. She met his gaze fearlessly. There was a twinkling in her eye and enough laughter in her smile that he knew she was enjoying the jest as well.
A woman darted forward then, holding out a roll of parchment, tied with a ribbon. “Pray, oh Lord, hear my petition!”
Verice accepted the roll, and placed it in his helm.
They continued on for a while, people calling out, wishing him well. There were others with petitions. Once his helm was full, he passed back any others to Narthing. They’d all have to be seen to, of course.
They entered the square to find the Lord Mayor and his lady on the balcony of their home, overlooking the fountain in the center.
“Welcome, Lord High Baron,” The Mayor seemed a bit out of breath, and his chain of office was slightly askew. The crowd around his house quieted to hear his words. “Had we known of your visit, we’d have prepared a far better welcome.”
“An informal visit,” Verice called up to the man even as he kept his horse moving. “Impromptu on my part, I fear. I thank thee for thy gracious welcome and ask pardon for the disruption of your peace.”
“There is no disruption.” The Lord Mayor leaned on his balcony. “And our peace is your doing, m’lord.”
“My thanks,” Verice said. “You are gracious.”
The mayor smiled. “And this lovely lady is…?”
Warna called out in response before Verice could say a word. “Warna of Farentell, your lordship. Octara is lovely!” Her smile was infectious, and the crowd cheered in response.
Verice tensed, and his horse shifted nervously in response. He hadn’t wanted to bring any attention to Warna, much less give any information. He brought his horse under control with a firm hand. It was time to leave. “Our thanks, Lord Mayor, but we must be on our way.” He gestured to Narthing to continue, but the Lord Mayor pressed up to the railing, looking anxious.
“M’lord, I would inquire…” His words faded as he waited.
“Yes?” Verice asked, trying not to let his impatience show.
“The Festival of Light and Laughter,” There was a note of apology in the Lord Mayor’s voice. “The date fast approaches, and—” He hesitated. “We’ve made no plans, waiting on your Lordship—”
The pain in Verice’s chest must have been visible on his face, for the man cut off his words abruptly. “Forgive me, Lord High Baron. I—”
“It needed asking,” Verice managed. “I’ll consider it.”
“My thanks, m’lord.” The Lord Mayor bowed his head, and raised his voice. “May the Lord of Light and the Lady of Laughter bless thee, our Lord High Baron!”
