Chapter 52: The Day the Papers Fell

BRAK

The sheer amount of paperwork piled between them was, frankly, a crime against trees everywhere.

It wasn’t merely a pile. It was an intimidating, leaning tower of heavy cream parchment that rose so high above the mahogany desk that Xavion couldn’t even see Lioren’s nose without actively craning his neck to the side. The top three folders wobbled precariously every time a draft rustled the velvet curtains near the window.

Xavion leaned forward in his seat, staring blankly at the paper mountain before him.

"This is..."

"...the carefully curated list of the finest candidates to serve as your personal attendant, yes!" Lioren chimed in brightly, propping his chin on one hand as he peeked around the side of the paper mountain with a ridiculously triumphant grin.

Xavion looked at the stack again, then back at the green-haired Grand Duke. "It seems... rather a lot."

"Oh, can you blame me? I fully intended to narrow the list down to three or four names, but every time I picked up a file, I thought, ’Oh, but this fellow has such an impressive track record!’ And then the next one would be, ’Ah, but this young man studied ancient languages!’ Honestly, how was I supposed to throw out perfectly good candidates just because I couldn’t bring myself to cut the list down? That would have been terribly unfair to them."

In truth, Lioren’s sudden enthusiasm for democratic personal administration was rooted in a few very specific, very deliberate motives.

First and foremost, he genuinely wanted Xavion to have someone capable, utterly trustworthy, and soft-spoken, someone who wouldn’t flinch at a former general’s scarred eye or tip off capital gossips about what time the Prince went to bed. More importantly, Lioren was fiercely determined to give Xavion back his own steering wheel.

And, of course, there was the third reason. The very tiny, very secret reason.

Despite Lioren insisting on going through all the candidates himself, the sheer amount of work was proving to be rather exhausting.

If Xavion happened to sit down and help him slog through the paper monster, thereby cutting the dreadful task in half, well, that was simply an added convenience. A completely incidental, entirely unplanned benefit. Lioren was thinking of Xavion’s personal growth and well-being first and foremost.

He really couldn’t stress that enough to himself.

"Your Grace," Xavion said quietly, running a hand over the back of his neck with a weary sigh. "You could simply choose someone on my behalf. I trust your judgment in household matters far more than my own."

"Out of the question!" Lioren declared instantly, slapping his palm against the desk so hard the parchment tower gave a perilous, sickening shudder to the right. "This person will be helping you every single day, carrying your tea, and listening to you grumble when the northern weather turns wet. They are attending to you, not me. You must make the final call."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the wood, his eyes softening into an earnest, reassuring warmth. "Tell you what, we’ll pick a frontrunner together today. Just look through the candidates and pick someone who gives you that feeling of, ’Hmm, he doesn’t look like a walking disaster. Promising start.’ No pressure. Fair?"

Xavion looked at the Grand Duke for a long, quiet moment.

"...Fair," Xavion agreed.

"Splendid! To work!" Lioren declared, snatching the top three files off the mountain of papers and sliding two of them across the table to Xavion.

The first ten minutes went remarkably smoothly, with Lioren and Xavion gradually narrowing down the candidates to a more manageable number.

Lioren paid close attention to each record, weighing their experience, skills, and suitability for the position. There were other things to consider, of course. Given Xavion’s background, it wouldn’t hurt to know whether any of their frontrunners had personal grievances stemming from the wars against Ostharia.

Lioren wasn’t about to assume that such connections automatically made someone unsuitable, but it was worth checking before they made their final decision. Once they had settled on a shortlist, he could ask Therin to look into their backgrounds more thoroughly.

Some candidates were dismissed for mundane, practical reasons. One boy was barely seventeen, far too young and green to handle the mountain of affairs without melting into tears under Therin’s sharp gaze. Another candidate had a record spanning fifty years, but Lioren couldn’t help wondering if the poor man ought to be thinking about retirement instead. Surely, after half a century of service, he’d earned a chance to put his feet up and enjoy the rest of his life?

Then came Lioren’s own peculiar, highly opinionated commentary.

"Oh, absolute rubbish," Lioren muttered, flicking a parchment with his thumb. "Look at this fellow. Impeccable references from three different lords, yes, but he’s changed employers four times in six years! Why? Does he smell faintly of boiled cabbage? People don’t jump house-to-house like a panicked squirrel unless there’s a catch."

Xavion tilted his head, reading the margin notes. "It says here his previous masters were relocated to the southern coast."

"A likely story," Lioren sniffed, tossing the file into the rejected pile.

He snatched up the next paper, skimming the lines before letting out a sudden, delighted snort. "Ah! Now this one. Excellent credentials, trained in the capital, knows how to care for fine leather riding gear... but his previous lord wrote a tiny note at the bottom complaining that he ’possesses a relentless passion for conversational chatter.’"

Lioren paused, leaning his chin in his hand, a thoughtful, slightly wicked spark lighting up his eyes. "Hmm. A talkative attendant. Personally, I’d rather have an attendant who has something to say than one who looks at me as though I’ve personally ruined his entire day whenever I ask him a question."

As the minutes passed and the paper mountain gradually shrank, the review became less of a chore and more of a conversation. The dry, tedious business of reviewing employment records somehow devolved into a comfortable, surprisingly easy back-and-forth.

Lioren pointed out something on the next page and nudged it toward Xavion, urging him to take a look as well. Apparently, he’d found something amusing enough that he couldn’t possibly enjoy it alone.

Lioren had been explaining his point when Xavion leaned forward to get a better look at the writing near his finger. Since they were sitting across the corner of the desk from each other, the movement brought their faces unexpectedly close.

Lioren’s words trailed off as he suddenly realized just how little space remained between them. Xavion was close enough that Lioren could clearly see his violet eye, and for a moment, he completely forgot what he’d been saying.

Lioren’s finger stopped above the page. His bright blue eyes lifted to Xavion’s face, only to find that he was much closer than expected.

For a brief moment, Lioren forgot what he’d been about to say.

Then he blinked, realized he was staring, and hastily drew back. A faint blush spread across his cheeks as he lowered his gaze to the papers and cleared his throat with an absurdly loud, thoroughly unconvincing cough.

"Right. Where were we? Ah... yes! So... as I was saying... the... the thing... yes..." Lioren babbled, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes darted frantically across the lines, completely failing to find where he had left off.

Lioren barely managed to get the words out before he noticed Xavion opening his mouth, seemingly about to say something in response.

But whatever Xavion had intended to say never came.

The eye that wasn’t hidden beneath his eyepatch suddenly widened. His expression changed so abruptly that Lioren’s awkward embarrassment vanished, replaced by immediate concern.

Xavion’s hand shot up to his face, fingers pressing against the eyepatch that covered his right eye. His breath caught, and his shoulders stiffened as though he were struggling to endure something painful.

"Your Highness?"

Lioren leaned forward, all thoughts of their earlier awkwardness forgotten. He had no idea what was happening, but the look on Xavion’s face made it clear that something was terribly wrong.

"Akh...!"

The sudden, violent jerk of his upper body knocked his elbow straight into the side of the remaining paper mountain.

CRASH

The stack of papers collapsed, spilling across the desk and scattering onto the floor.

"I..." Xavion gasped out. He instinctively lunged forward, reaching out with his left hand to catch the falling documents, to fix the mess, to hide...

But the sudden movement completely destroyed what little balance his brain had left.

Xavion lurched sideways in his seat, one hand still pressed firmly against the eyepatch covering his eye. His other hand reached blindly toward the edge of the desk, searching for something to steady himself against, but his fingers only caught the scattered papers. Before Lioren could reach across to help, Xavion slipped from his seat and fell to the floor, curling forward with his hand still clamped over his eye.

Even from across the desk, Lioren could see how tightly Xavion pressed it against his face, his visible eye squeezed shut as he struggled through whatever was happening to him.

The smile vanished from Lioren’s face in an instant. He sprang up and hurried around the desk, his heart lurching at the sight of Xavion crumpled among the scattered papers.

"Prince Xavion!"