Mr. & Mrs Meropide

Chapter Forty-Five: This and That

Clorinde and Wriothesley met up early in the morning, knowing their match would be in the middle of the day again. The city streets were already bustling with activity, filled with anticipation for the next round of the competition. The two fighters decided to grab some street food, enjoying the lively atmosphere that had taken over Fontaine.

As they walked through the crowd, their attention was drawn to a stack of freshly printed Steambird newspapers. The headlines were all about the previous day's matches, with detailed reports on every victory and defeat. Wriothesley glanced down at the article about their fight. They each bought a copy.

"It's interesting seeing my name in the newspaper," he said absentmindedly, taking a bite of his food.

Clorinde, flipping through her own copy, glanced up. "Why? Don't they report about the Fortress of Meropide every now and then?"

"They do, they do," Wriothesley replied, his tone softening. "But then it's always 'the Duke,' not my actual name. Seeing it in print like this... brings back memories."

Clorinde sensed the shift in his mood and put her paper down completely, giving him her full attention. "You don't seem too happy about it," she observed, her gaze curious but gentle.

Wriothesley let out a small sigh, almost as if the weight of the past pressed down for just a moment. "It's not a big deal," he began, hesitating before continuing. "It's just that when I picked my name, I had read it in a paper."

Clorinde's eyes softened, her mind recalling that Wriothesley, like herself, was an orphan. "Oh," she said thoughtfully. "Was it an article you liked?"

"Not at all," Wriothesley said with a light chuckle. "I remember thinking it was long and complicated, but it was what came to mind at the time. At least the guy who had it before me lived a long life. Didn't sound too bad in the end."

Clorinde smiled, understanding the significance. "I think it's a nice name for you. And for what it's worth," she added, her tone sincere, "I think the name is completely yours now."

Wriothesley looked at her, surprised by the warmth in her words. Her encouraging smile brought a sense of comfort, and he found himself smiling back, the lingering sadness in his expression lifting slightly. "Yes, I guess so," he said, nodding in agreement. For the first time, it felt like his name truly belonged to him, as much as the life he had built.

"You know," Wriothesley said, glancing at her with a curious look, "you're the first person I've ever discussed this with."

Clorinde raised an eyebrow, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at the unexpected admission. "Then it's my honor," she said softly, her voice carrying that same warmth.

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment before Clorinde, not wanting the opportunity to pass, spoke again. "Say, after today's fight... how would you like to hang out at my place?" She glanced at him casually, though her heart was racing just a little.

Wriothesley chuckled, ever quick to lighten the mood. "I fear if I do that, our champion duelist will suffer defeat for the first time." He smirked before adding, "I've been building up my TCG deck, you stand no chance."

Clorinde smiled, realizing he had accepted her invitation. A soft blush crept across her cheeks as her thoughts drifted to the last time they had shared wine together and how that night had turned out. She hesitated, unsure whether she should have alcohol ready for their evening or avoid it altogether.

She paused, considering. Maybe offering wine would give her a better sense of what he thought about it. But would Wriothesley catch on to what she was hinting at? Probably not. He'd likely just answer whether or not he was in the mood for wine, and that seemed much more realistic. She dismissed the thought with a small sigh. Boys weren't good at picking up hints like that—so how else could she figure it out?