Heirs of the Gods

Ch 55: Seeds of change

THIS IS A POV CHANGE! Just a heads up to avoid confusion!

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Burnished gold. Gold so bright, it seemed like a mirror. He could stare at his reflection, refracted and warbled, on any surface in the room. A polished golden vase, full of immaculate red roses. A golden trimmed mirror, encrusted with jewels and pearls. Even a ridiculous golden inkwell.

He stared at the glossy surface of the desk, his eyes catching on his own face, reflected and distorted by the enormous ashtray beside his hand. Finely cut crystal, imported from the east, trimmed with gold. He didn't need to know the exact price to know he could've fed a small village with it. He bit back a scoff and discreetly shoved it to the side, before lifting his face and observing the men stood before him. 

The expression that met him varied in confusion, wariness. Sleepiness, even. He watched as Viscount Bramford nudged Count Wellington, who startled and straightened. Try as they may hide it, they were out of their element. In their many years of service, none of these men had ever been called upon so early. Nor in these circumstances.

It was Lord Allen who spoke first. Tentatively, meekly. "Your Grace," he began, dipping his head in respect. "We are glad to see you are well, and so soon at that. We were just wondering why you had called upon us... You see, we expected you to recover fully before assuming business as usual, it was surprising, is all."

"Yes, Your Grace," Count Wellington piped up. "It was a surprise when you called upon me. And so early," he muttered the last bit. "It was expected that you would rest. Certainly, after such a long absence. Don't you think it best to recuperate before taking the lead? A nice seaside rest would do you wonders. No one would fault you for taking a break."

"Woolmere is lovely this time of the year," Lord Allen said, head dipped to the side as if he were speaking to a child, convincing him of taking a much-needed nap. "The seaside manor could be prepared in no time. The fresh air would do you wonders. Some rest, time off. Leisure, that's what's good."

The noblemen all chorused their approval, nodding and adding their tidbits of opinion, suggesting hunting trips and cricket games, horseracing matches and the best gentlemen's clubs in Woolmere. Their gazes glib, their tones oily and wheedling. Yes-men, the lot of them. It was no wonder his father had loved having them around. Who didn't love a cadre of people paid to tell you exactly what you wanted to hear? 

Grayson watched them blankly. Face stoic, eyes glacial. One by one, they quieted down. He continued to stare at them unnervingly, so long, they began to squirm.

By the time he spoke, a sheet of ice had fallen over the room, dousing any gleeful suggestions of fun and mischief. "Leisure," he uttered dryly. "At a time like this."

Lord Allen went red up to his mink-lined collar. "Your Grace," he sputtered. "We only meant well. Surely, you wouldn't want to be stuck going over useless, stuffy paperwork, when you ought to be resting, having fun."

"I'm glad to see your opinion of your job, Lord Allen. Perhaps we should revise your secretarial duties, if they so bother you."

Lord Allen went from red to white as snow, stammering and tugging on his collar, sweat beading his forehead. He went to speak up again, but he was quieted by Lord Avesbury, his father's old advisor.

"My Lord," he said placatingly, coming up to Grayson in front of his desk. "All of us here, we want nothing but for you to feel better. These past months, they've been so terribly difficult. We were all consumed by grief by your father's passing, may the Fates rest his soul. When you came back, all of us were elated. Truly, a fate's sent miracle. We never meant to encourage you to shirk your duties. Rather, we were all perhaps too caught up on making sure you were well enough. After everything you've been through, we were focused on you resting, having time to grieve. That is all we want, for the head of our duchy to be as healthy as possible."