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16: Half a Holiday

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𝙻𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚡

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September 26th, Thursday

Hewler Street's only florist had awoken at the crack of dawn to prepare for September twenty-sixth: Queen's Day.

Lennox thought it was more like the arse crack of dawn. He was disgruntled at the extreme lengths he had to go to just to procure some cash. The bags underneath his eyes were almost as heavy as the bags he was loading with tinctures.

Before he could finish and slip out unnoticed, Renato stumbled out of his bedroom, rubbing his eyes. "Flower boy, what's all this commotion about?"

Lennox assumed he was referring to the noise outside that had awoken the florist hours earlier. "I thought I told you to stop calling me that," he said with a hint of annoyance. "Don't you know what day it is?"

"No, I don't. Mind filling me in?" Renato sounded just as irritated.

It seemed as if he really had no idea. If only Lennox had started stashing money sooner, then he wouldn't have to spend a single day longer with his father and the Verita Aser's insipid celebrations. Or the oblivious guy in front of him.

"It's Queen's Day, you idiot. You know, that time of year when half the country celebrates the birthday of the Verita Aser Queen and ignores how fucked up high society is because they mingle with commoners for a single day?"

"Seems like you have some... interesting opinions about today's festivities."

"Something like that." Lennox plucked the briefcase he had been packing off the ground and shimmied into his cloak, also laden with goods to sell. "Did you want to come, Renato?" the florist called out to him, who had disappeared into Lennox's old room. But not too loud, lest he arouse the attention of his father.

The rest of his family had already left, immersing themselves in the festivities far too early for his liking.

Queen's Day was the one day that his fractured family fused together so that they were three-quarters of a whole. The day that it was only his father that kept them from being as one. Even when all the other soldiers were off duty, he never stopped working. When he wasn't holed up in his fortress of an office, he was either roaming the streets, inspecting the stalls, or snapping at someone. Not exactly the model parent.

Renato glided up to him, putting a finger on Lennox's lips. "Ah, ah, ah. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, just call me Ren."

"I'll call you Ren when you stop calling me 'flower boy'," he snapped.

Discovering the insensitivity of what he said, Lennox shifted around, glancing at his shoes uncomfortably. "And, uh, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Don't sweat it, I barely knew them."

"Well... hurry up, or I'm leaving you behind."

"Alright, alright. You're so hard to please, flower boy."

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Blue roses and white lilies were scattered across the streets, their emblems and colours hand-painted on cloth verandas. Numerous shopkeepers were selling a variety of jewellery and bespoke trinkets with the same design, each with their own booth that lined the bustling streets.

Lennox would be one of them if he had enough inventory for the shop or enough interest for the medications he made. He roamed the streets, with Renato trailing close behind.