Delphinium, or A Necromancer's Home (TCoLaD Book 2)

Letters

~ Hexday, 11th of Aprilis, 11831 ~

"Why have I not received any correspondence?" Pierre asked, looking up from his journal as he finished writing down some figures that his advisors had given him. "Surely it was known when I was arriving." He, along with Vivien, Jourdain, and Tibault, were in the room that Pierre had chosen to become his study. They were discussing the relations between the counties and the duchy as a whole. More discussion would be had another day, with the ruling comtes themselves, once Pierre was more situated, but he wished to be informed as quickly as he could about things.

Vivien coughed and seemed to blush, though it was difficult to tell behind his facial hair. "I was, ah, ordered by His Highness to wait several days before giving you anything tangible to work upon, Your Grace. He has said that you are to have some fun before you lose yourself in another project." Well, that certainly sounded like his foster brother, so the statement was probably true. Pierre held back on trying to defend how much fun he had as opposed to work. That never helped, after all.

Pluta, who lay on one of the high shelves observing them, sneezed a laugh. Tibault and Jourdain wisely stayed quiet.

"I want all of the letters from the past month that have been addressed to the ruler of Piques here as soon as possible," the duc said. "With those addressed to me specifically on top. And any official unopened petitions that have come in since Aimé left marked as well." Pierre was not quite certain if he could do much about the latter. He was not well informed enough yet to help, but he could at least begin to gather knowledge. And he did have his advisors here to advise him.

"Most of the official petitions have come upon my own desk, even while Aimé was ruling, Your Grace," Vivien replied. "I confess I have not had much time to sort through them in the last week or so as we have been busy with your arrival, so I shall bring them and we can discuss them together."

"Good, thank you."

Vivien stood and went to gather the letters as well as check if anything new had come in yet. Tibault and Jourdain stayed in their seats.

Pierre returned to his notes, pulling a second journal closer. They were scattered thoughts, plans plotted out in vague terms that would mean little to those that neither knew his shorthand nor were privy to his information. Most in the new notebook from Lizzy were about Piques itself, what Tibault and Jourdain had confirmed and expressed about their counties, but some things about Faery were scribbled in the margins. Observations about Jourdain and why he or his father might want him dead were in the older journal, a few pages further back from where he had opened it.

Vivien returned with a stack that was almost too large to be carried by one man (Tibault made to stand and help him before the steward shook his head—that might just be the catalyst to everything ending up on the floor). It seemed word traveled fast in Piques. Pierre closed his journals and moved them to the far side to make room.

"The ones facing up are unread, addressed to you or to Piques. The others I have at least looked at, and replied to many," Vivien said, placing everything down.

"Merci, dear steward," Pierre replied. He ran a finger along the letters, found the ones that were all unread, and put them in a smaller pile. The stack looked less likely to spill now. "If you would be so kind as to leave me be for now? Lord Tibault, Lord Jourdain, you may also depart. It will take me some time to read through these and I do not wish to take up your afternoon. When I need your assistance, I will send for you."

"Of course, Your Grace."

Pierre fanned out the smaller stack of letters as the other men left. One drew his eye right away, and he smiled as he recognized Ophion's handwriting. He took that to read with pleasure.