He dubbed himself the Rat King when he foresaw the rodents crawling on his corpse, weaving in and out of his garments like a sensation, like a disease. Now he waits for them down in the ornate sewer home he fashioned. It is a fickle thing, the premo...
The girl is different. Boidae can sense it. There is something more perceptive in her nature.
Aldéric speaks to them as if she is not there but Boidae knows that he means for her to hear each word. He speaks of how generous the king is to let them return, of how he wishes to see his old friend again. He is careful to insert some negative comments here: he wonders aloud if they will be given adequate rooms and laments having to visit at such a busy time. The king cannot know that Aldéric is aware of how very alert his little friend is.
This friend plays her part well. With wide eyes she stares ahead, unfocused and dreamy, as if she could float through the very walls. Such lack of attention, it is marvelous how well he has taught her. Of course, this is when she is attentive to her inattentiveness: in discreet moments she slips her ruse to glance at them.
Yes, something has changed since he has been here last.
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"My friend!" Aldéric holds his arms out genially as they enter the room, a thin smile stretching across his face. "How very long it has been. How are you?"
"Very well," the king returns the smile. "And you? You are not changed much, I see."
"No, not yet, I think. I have a few centuries left in me, I hope." They clasp hands and as the king releases his, Aldéric ushers the girl to the forefront. "I found this charming thing wandering the hallways. She is quite grown—I remember when you got her. You really do have fine taste, my friend."
Her head noticeably snaps upward and she stares at Aldéric before mastering her emotions. She fixates on the tiles at her feet.
"Thank you," the king replies stiffly and outstretches a hand toward her. Though his eyes do not turn toward Lord Luca, the latter shifts back slightly and the High Chancellor clears his throat.
"My lord," he extends a hand to Aldéric who smiles again as he clasps it within his own. "I hope you are well."
"Exceedingly, Slyv. And you? How is the old war wound?"
"Fine," he grunts and resumes his place. The king has placed the girl safely at his side and now turns back to his visitors.
"The musical piece you sent me was quite beautiful. Signor Shchepetov can attest that I was quite taken with it."
Pavel bows and says: "Indeed, he was very happy with it, milord."
Aldéric laughs: the sound is soft and cold, like the quiet fall of snow on a winter's day. "I am glad. I thought it would bring back some fond memories of our younger days."
"Indeed, it did." The king stares at him a moment before adding: "I am truly glad that you have come."
"As am I," he replies easily. "I was amiss to not have come at the beginning of this proposition. I fear my sense of opportunity egregiously swayed my interest."
