02.Oct.18, 07:50 PM
The day hadn’t started out too badly, but it was going downhill fast, and it wasn’t even noon. R’dal had shown up the night before, asking if he could sleep in F’drel’s weyr. Apparently he was doing something with his sisters early in the morning and wanted to get in as much sleep as possible. Or something like that, F’drel hadn’t entirely followed the logic. Their friendship had somehow survived the boating incident, and it had been a bit weird for a few weeks, but they had settled back into a sort of routine of R’dal periodically stopping by to spend the night or take a nap. F’drel was almost used to it now, which was odd — he’d never expected to be comfortable sharing a bed with anyone other than his siblings, but here he was.
So waking up had been fine, but nothing afterwards had been. R’dal had left, and F’drel went to get breakfast. He’d gone to get klah, but someone in front of him had knocked it over, and he’d been unable to get any that morning. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d cut his finger on a shard of the klah pot that had shattered when he tried to help clean it up. One of the kitchen workers had insisted he go see one of the Weyr Healers, despite it being a very minor cut, but she wouldn’t let him say no. So he’d had to deal with the Healers, which was never fun.
He finally gets back to his weyr, planning to make a small pot of klah of his own, but of course a firelizard had to arrive with a message. At least it hadn’t startled him enough he broke his own klah pot, but it was small consolation considering the contents of the message. M’ris wanted him to visit his office? Why? What did he do? What could the Weyrleader possibly want with him? F’drel couldn’t think of a single good reason for being summoned to the Weyrleader’s office — not a one.
Whatever it was, putting off going would likely only annoy M’ris, so F’drel reluctantly headed off for the office. He got more and more worried with every step he took, worst case scenarios running through his head. Still, he continued to the office and knocked, announcing himself and waiting for a confirmation from inside. When one came, F’drel let himself inside and stopped dead.
The man in the room was not the Weyrleader.
He was someone F'drel wanted to see even less than the Weyrleader.
“Good morning, my Lord,” he said stiffly, eyeing Jalazmar warily while keeping his expression as pleasantly neutral as possible, “is the Weyrleader in?”
So waking up had been fine, but nothing afterwards had been. R’dal had left, and F’drel went to get breakfast. He’d gone to get klah, but someone in front of him had knocked it over, and he’d been unable to get any that morning. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d cut his finger on a shard of the klah pot that had shattered when he tried to help clean it up. One of the kitchen workers had insisted he go see one of the Weyr Healers, despite it being a very minor cut, but she wouldn’t let him say no. So he’d had to deal with the Healers, which was never fun.
He finally gets back to his weyr, planning to make a small pot of klah of his own, but of course a firelizard had to arrive with a message. At least it hadn’t startled him enough he broke his own klah pot, but it was small consolation considering the contents of the message. M’ris wanted him to visit his office? Why? What did he do? What could the Weyrleader possibly want with him? F’drel couldn’t think of a single good reason for being summoned to the Weyrleader’s office — not a one.
Whatever it was, putting off going would likely only annoy M’ris, so F’drel reluctantly headed off for the office. He got more and more worried with every step he took, worst case scenarios running through his head. Still, he continued to the office and knocked, announcing himself and waiting for a confirmation from inside. When one came, F’drel let himself inside and stopped dead.
The man in the room was not the Weyrleader.
He was someone F'drel wanted to see even less than the Weyrleader.
“Good morning, my Lord,” he said stiffly, eyeing Jalazmar warily while keeping his expression as pleasantly neutral as possible, “is the Weyrleader in?”