Chapter 53
A Day at the Office
Several weeks had passed since Walter had become betrothed to Phila, and life had finally settled into a modicum of normality. Chrom had finally declared an end to the state of emergency the Second Plegian War had started, and Walter had settled into a regular routine. His days started with morning prayers, and then he had breakfast, spent an hour or so training in the courtyard, and reported for work at a few hours before midday. He would then work in his office until lunch, and break briefly for said meal. He would spend two hours assisting Frederick with the training of the officer cadets, before going to the capital's Temple of Naga and spend a couple more hours instructing the higher level clerics in Bersian holy magic. From there, he would return to work, before eating dinner, working some more, and retiring for the evening. To Walter's immense relief, the end of the state of emergency meant that Council sessions were now once a month instead of once a week. This gave Walter much more free time in which to accomplish actual work, and despite having more to do than ever, he was finally making some headway…though at times he didn't feel like it.
"Captain, what's the status on the reorganization of the Third Regiment in General Sedgar's Fourth Division?" Walter asked, staring down at his own work.
"Almost complete, General," Phila answered after a moment. "The only thing they lack is their new commanding officer. If I might make a recommendation, or rather several, I've reviewed the last examination scores for the officer cadets, and compiled a list of who I believe will rank where on the final exam in three months time."
Walter looked up at Phila and smiled. "I commend your initiative, bring it here and I'll take a look at it myself."
Phila obliged, stood up, and walked over to his desk, coming up beside him and placing the list in front of him.
"Harold is doing quite well, as I'd expected," Walter muttered as he burned through the list. "Allen is excelling, as per usual…Byron is doing…adequately…Of course Rodger is barely scraping by…Graeme is falling behind, yet you've placed him in the tier of prospective colonels?" he asked, turning to her in confusion.
"He's lowborn, General," Phila supplied. "From what Frederick told me, this is all fairly new to him. Frederick expects him to improve by leaps and bounds as he becomes more familiar with the rigors of command."
"I trust in his judgment, and yours," Walter responded, before setting down the list and sighing. "I still need to inform the current Generals of their own obligations to complete the course…that will not be a pleasant Council session. Assuming I get their cooperation, which I'm not counting on at all, I will have to double check on the progress of Miriel's gunpowder weapons research, compile a list of Bersian spells for…well, everyone in the Guild of Mages to review, come up with some manner of strategy to counter Bersian air units should the need arise, given that pegasi are woefully underprepared to deal with Storm Riders or Hexterian Wyverns…I feel like I am drowning, Phila. Even with a cowed Council after the failed coup, it hardly seems that we are getting anything done. Then there comes my duties as Duke of Nordenheim…. We have not even started planning our wedding yet, and it's been nearly three weeks since we were betrothed. It just never ends!"
"We have changed more in these past few months than has been done in centuries, Walter. I know it is hard to see, but we are getting things done…I believe you need a break," Phila said worriedly, before placing her hands on his shoulders and massaging them gently. Walter let out an involuntary groan of relief. "Now I know you need a break," she chided. "Normally when I touch you in any manner greater than holding hands or interlocking arms you shoo me away."
"Just this once, I will let it slide," Walter sighed happily as her fingers slowly dissolved the stones that had replaced the muscles in his shoulders. They'd exchanged little more than chaste kisses and small, cordial gestures of affection so far; Walter was unwilling to press further, out of respect for Phila, despite what he'd found to be an almost eagerness for acts of intimacy. He supposed that stemmed from her relative lack of intimacy throughout most of her life, but he would never do anything untoward, as Phila already assured him she knew (much to her seeming annoyance), but he remained diligent all the same. All it took was a single lapse in judgment, after all.
"Well, aren't I lucky," Phila said sarcastically behind him. "Though I can't help but wonder how far your tolerance will go," she added in an almost seductive whisper, suddenly much closer to his ear. He could feel her breath on his neck now, and Walter suppressed a shudder.
"Do not test me, Phila," he warned, though his tone seemed rather strained, even by his ears. Why is my voice so feeble?
"I would do nothing of the sort, General," Phila said, her voice still sultry, as she snaked her arms fully over his shoulders, embracing him from behind. "After all, why would I want such a handsome, wonderful man angry with me?" Despite the fact that she was speaking barely above a whisper, the sound thundered in Walter's ear. He then let out a sound somewhere between a guttural growl of pleasure and a yelp of surprise as he felt Phila's lips brush his neck. "Do you see?" she whispered, before planting another kiss on his neck. There was no yelp in his voice this time. "I wish only to make you happy."
"Phila, we're supposed to be working," Walter reprimanded. "And this is entirely inappropriate," he added. Once again his voice committed base treason, however, and his tone came out longing instead of stern. To the stockade with it! But why is Phila acting like this anyway? She's hinted at wanting more, but such…forwardness…
"No, you're supposed to be on break, and I believe I should take one as well," Phila countered huskily, planting another kiss on his neck, this one closer to the shoulder, and Walter craned his neck to try to glare at her disapprovingly. Once his eyes met hers, however, such thoughts immediately fled his mind, and were replaced with white noise and a very strong something that somewhat resembled a very ravenous hunger. Walter was both exhilarated and alarmed to see the same desire reflected in Phila's russet orbs. "You always work so hard, Walter," she whispered, almost sounding sad. "You never make time for yourself...I suppose that I'll have to-"
"Oh dear Naga!" A voice came from the doorway. Walter and Phila both visibly jumped and turned crimson simultaneously, their gazes snapping to the doorway as Phila bolted upright. It was Rickard, of all people, making a show of averting his eyes. "Oh, I did not need to see that," he said dramatically. "My poor, innocent young mind is forever scarred."
"You saw nothing," Walter said forcefully, his traitorous voice finally coming to heel and coming out as strong as he'd intended. "The Captain and I were simply reviewing her early predictions for who would place where in the officer corps."
"Yes, of course," Rickard said with a knowing smile as he sat at his desk. Phila chose that moment to return to her own desk. Walter saw out of the corner of his eye her shoot him an expression of mixed disappointment and that same longing, but it was gone after the briefest of moments, quickly buried under the professional veteran he'd come to expect from her.
"I…I had not expected you back at the office," Walter admitted to Rickard, shaking his thoughts from the less than appropriate place they'd just been. "Not for a long time, yet. Your duties as Duke must be as extensive as mine."
"They are," Rickard admitted, "but Mother and Father did not leave me wholly unprepared for the position, and Father had much of his affairs already sorted. It will take getting used to, of course, but I am equal to the task. The only thing I could have asked for is that Bastian had survived, but…well, he likely would have killed himself in shame. I suppose his end was exactly as he'd wanted it: dying beside his lord."
"I have faith in your abilities, Captain," Walter assured. His thoughts turned then to what he wanted to discuss with Rickard before, and he frowned before turning to Phila. "Captain, might you excuse yourself for a spell? I've need to talk with Captain Thorne."
"About your role in my father's death?" Rickard asked bluntly before Phila could do more than place her arms on her chair to stand up. "There is nothing really to discuss, General," Rickard said sadly. "And certainly nothing that can't be said around the woman who wet-nursed me…" he trailed off briefly as Phila settled back down, before steeling his resolve. "I do not blame you, General. Father forced our hands. He killed himself with your mace, as far as I'm concerned. If you fear I'll request a change in position, or that I will hate you, you are wrong on both counts."
Walter wasn't convinced. "Rickard, there is no need to bottle it up," he said sternly. "It will do no one any good."
"There's nothing to bottle up," Rickard insisted. "House Thorne is notorious for moving past death quickly and with relative ease, General. I may not be my father's equal in many regards, but I was more than his equal in that…and he moved on from Mother's death in mere months. Also, after reading my father's journals…The father I'd grown up with had died years ago, his true soul lost to the cruelty and barbarism of the crusade and the death of his love. The events at Dornheim were not murder, or even justice, but mercy on a tortured soul. If I feel anything toward you, it is gratitude for freeing him from the rage, pain, and despair that had consumed him. You have my loyalty, respect, and thanks, General Lennart, and that is that."
Walter gazed at the man, trying to judge if he was lying or covering something up. Alas, Rickard was as plainly honest as he ever was, and Walter sighed. "Then thank you," Walter finally replied. "I am honored by your words. I am lucky to have you as my subordinate."
"That you are…oh, that reminds me!" Rickard stated out of the blue, eliciting looks of confusion from the other two. "While I was visiting Port Grant to iron out a tax plan with the Duchess, the first of the Bersian trade caravans came through."
"And…how does this relate to me?" Walter asked, nonplussed.
"Such a short memory will only do you ill, General," Rickard responded cheekily. "I seem to recall a fondness for a certain beverage available only in Bersia…"
The pieces fell into place in Walter's mind, and his eyes lit up. "Coffee?" He asked quietly, hopefully.
"Indeed," Rickard replied smugly. "The crates are currently sitting in the kitchens, King Chrom's servants are currently attempting to figure out how to brew- and, he's gone," Rickard chuckled as the door slammed shut behind Walter.
"I'm not entirely sure that beverage isn't addictive," Phila said doubtfully as she eyed the door in worry.
"Well, he certainly wasn't suffering like drunks do when deprived of the bottle," Rickard replied in his defense. "Perhaps unnervingly overeager, but not addicted. We should keep an eye on him…though I suspect that will be no problem for you," he finished with a cheeky grin.
"Oh shut up," Phila grumbled as Rickard laughed at her increasingly red face.
Twenty minutes later, Walter returned to the office. With him was a platter, carrying a large kettle, a bowl of sugar, a creamer, and three mugs, humming merrily. Walter never hummed.
"Coffee?" he asked Rickard, almost disturbingly cheerfully, as he waltzed into the room.
"Any beverage that makes a man act so out of character has no place in my body," Rickard replied, unnerved at this new, creepily cheerful Walter. Walter paid him no heed, placing a mug on the table and pouring him a generous portion anyway. He looked Rickard up and down, unnerving the young man, before he added a three spoonfuls of sugar. He didn't even bother asking Phila as he placed the second mug on her own desk. He looked shrewdly at her for an uncomfortable second, before adding two spoonfuls of sugar and a tiny bit of cream to it. He then carried the tray over to his own desk, before finally pouring himself a cup, and added a single spoonful of sugar and a small amount of cream.
"This drink will revolutionize your life!" Walter declared, his voice still disquietingly cheerful, before he grabbed his own mug and drank from it slowly, savoring the flavor he'd been so long deprived of. "Well, go on!" he said to his two adjutants, who were looking at him as if he was mad, "Drink!"
Rickard and Phila shared a single nervous glance, before Phila shrugged and reached for her own mug, taking a tentative sip. Rickard sighed in resignation before grabbing his own mug and taking a drink from it himself.
"It's…I don't know how to describe it," Phila said contemplatively, before smiling. "It tastes fine enough, at the least. It tastes somewhat bitter, but you added just the right amount of sugar, and the cream goes well with it."
"I also don't mind it," Rickard said, though he clearly wasn't as impressed. "I prefer tea, myself, but this is certainly different, in a good way."
"I am glad you both enjoy it," Walter said, hiding the grin that threatened to break loose on his face. They don't know what is about to happen. "If you desire more, feel free to help yourself. I've already instructed the servants in how to prepare it, and ordered another kettle to be brought up in the next half hour."
"And if we did not wish for more?" Rickard asked amusedly.
"Then I will drink it all myself," Walter pledged, and the other two laughed. They each then turned to their work. Walter snuck glances regularly; they were each consuming their beverages rather fast, and again he had to restrain his smile. He almost broke out into laughter as they neared that magical fifteen minute mark and had already finished off two cups each.
Walter's grin finally broke free as the effects of the drink hit the pair of them.
It was subtle at first. He could see Rickard tapping his quill absently on the desk whenever he wasn't writing, leaving ink stains all over the reports. Not that the now fidgety young Duke noticed…Talys, on the other hand, was drumming an incredibly fast rhythm on the desk with her free hand now, and he could see her leg bouncing as she tapped her foot on the ground.
"You know," Rickard said curiously as he noticed the damage he was causing to his own work load, "I feel somewhat…energetic all of a sudden. I wonder what's come over me."
"Oh, you as well?" Phila asked as she continued drumming on the table. "That's an odd coincid…Walter?" She suddenly asked, turning a sharp gaze at the now openly grinning paladin. "What does this beverage do?"
"It is best imbibed in the morning, or when one is suspecting to be working late into the night," Walter answered vaguely. Rickard looked at him, utterly befuddled, but Phila's gaze hardened as she realized exactly what Walter had just done. "I have a feeling this is going to be a very productive afternoon."
And it was. Under the magical power of coffee, the three of them carved through at least half again as much work as they normally would by the time the sun began to set…although Rickard seemed ready to vibrate apart at the seams as the sun's last rays shone through into the office. He hadn't stopped drinking coffee, even after the third kettle had been brought up.
"Moderation, Captain," Walter warned as Rickard poured himself another cup for the nth time.
"General, I would like to apologize," Rickard said, at such a fast clip and so giddy that Walter became concerned for the man's health. "I should never have doubted you. This is truly the greatest beverage across all possible worlds. Why, I feel like I could do three consecutive sessions of Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour and hardly break a sweat."
Walter shot a nervous glance to Phila, who was now glaring at him disapprovingly. "Perhaps you should consider not drinking that cup," Walter suggested.
"I could work all night like this!" Rickard countered. "Why would I not drink this cup? In fact, why am I bothering?" he giggled, before setting the cup down and reaching for the kettle itself. "This seems much more expedient."
"Alright, that's enough," Phila sighed, standing up. Rickard looked at her, confused, before she walked over and seized him by the wrist, dragging him away from his desk…and the coffee.
"NO!" Rickard shouted melodramatically as Phila began dragging him toward the door. "My precious!"
"You're seeing a healer," she said shortly. As they reached the door, she turned around and glared frozen death at Walter. "And we will be having words about this, love," she promised ominously, before closing the door far too gently for a woman who was clearly angry. Somehow, it was worse than slamming it.
Walter remained frozen in trepidation for a second, before shrugging. "I guess they didn't like the coffee," Walter said, before getting up and helping himself to another cup. Waste not, want not, after all, Walter thought contentedly as he sat back down with his prize. Oh, how he'd missed coffee.
AN:
Something lighthearted after all of the drama and shit. Also, COFFEE MOTHERFUCKERS. IT IS THE FUEL OF LIFE. RESPECT IT. I don't drink it very often myself, unfortunately, but it is a godsend when you're put on tower guard 3rd shift and aren't allowed to chain smoke to stay awake. Praise the bean. Praise it.
Also, I'm not making Phila into a slut. You ever been with an older woman who hasn't seen any substantial intimacy for decades? Cause I have. "Eager" doesn't even fucking describe it. It wasn't an isolated experience either. Turns out women can get aroused too, who woulda thought?
