An anxious morning of waiting for some word from Theo turned into a rough afternoon.

I began to consider all the things that might have happened to him shortly after lunch, all the possible reasons that could explain why I hadn't heard anything from my friend about his morning spent gleaning information at the Circles. Some of the scenarios I painted were rather unkind, such as the possibility that Theo had been unable to rouse himself at the required hour, as he indicated might be the case, half in jest. At least, I hoped it was half in jest.

He's not exactly what I'd call a morning person.

Like several evenings ago, I found myself in a worrisome mood and desperate to find some diversion to prevent myself from going mad. I tried to ignore the fact that I'd expected Theo back at my keep over three hours ago.

It wasn't as if I could just hop over to his keep and inquire after him, ask a servant if Lord Haundsing were up and about. As useful as our subterfuge was, there were times where I cursed the fact that I could not simply walk over and say hello.

What was worse was the fact that I had no-one else to confide in, and could seem to do nothing to ease these worries that gnawed at the back of my skull like some oppressive flea.

Patience, I told myself.

After lingering over breakfast far longer than was necessary, I read for a little while before deciding to busy myself with some of the more mundane aspects of being a Lord.

For example, three tenants of mine were respectfully requesting an extension on the tribute they owed me, pleading extenuating circumstances as the reason. There had also been two thefts in my territory within the past couple of days, both which appeared to be simple misunderstandings. The items stolen were marked, and had already been handed over to one of the local Fences.

Fences were the opposite of merchants - they handed out money for items that were brought to them, either as a temporary 'loan' or on a more permanent basis, usually for quite less money than the item was worth.

They would never knowingly traffic an item that had been marked with a Lord's seal, of course ... not if they wished to keep an even number of fingers and toes. If a Fence were brought merchandise that turned out to be marked, they would simply shake their head at the luckless thief, light a greyberry candle to show them the Lord's mark, and offer to return the thing to the Lord protecting it, no questions asked.

I'd requested that any returned items be brought back to me directly, so that I could return them to the affected merchant or house owner myself. It seemed to fit my current plan regarding my reputation – a smiling, friendly Lord Tucat coming to the rescue, taking a personal interest in the well-being of his tenants.

The fact that I myself had a hand in stealing some of the very things that I was returning to their owners was a given, of course. Reputations like that don't just make themselves.

Once I was done my assorted lordly duties, I left my study and spent some time downstairs in the exercise room to occupy myself until lunch was ready to be served, about two hours past the dueling hour. I didn't bother lighting any of the vimroot-oil torches as I did so, because I figured I had far too much nervous energy already. Instead, I chose to fire up some relaxing foxmallow and chicory candlesticks.

The velvety, soothing smells did very little to calm my nerves, and by the time the kitchen bell had begun to chime I was more than ready to leave the room, finding myself driven to distraction with even the smallest movements and sounds. The creaking of wood as I climbed, the scrape of my padded gloves against stone, any noise that might have heralded Theodore's return instantly wrenched my attention away from what I was doing and towards the secret door, half expecting to see my friend enter.

Patience, I kept reminding myself.

And so I found myself heading back upstairs to the main floor, opting not to have lunch sent down via the dumbwaiter as I'd originally intended. If lunch were to hold any sort of enjoyment for me, I'd have to take it in a place where I wouldn't interpret every noise as a sign that Theo had returned.

I hadn't realized that I'd made eating down in my exercise hall such a habit. The servants who were lounging in the dining hall looked quite startled to see me upstairs, inquiring about lunch and when it might be served.

Several stammering attempts were made to apologize for the lack of finery being set out for me, which I brushed off, advising that I would prefer to take lunch in the sitting room anyways. The younger, lankier of the two servants scurried off to convey that news to the kitchen with haste, presumably attempting to make up for his idle loafing with a display of blistering speed.

Moments after arriving at the sitting room with my plate of victuals, I encountered Talia's similarly bewildered expression, her flaxen curls a blur dancing around her face as she turned her head to greet me, looking astonished.

My attractive young keepmistress was luxuriously reclining on the shallow couch against the back wall with a dinner pastry in one hand and an open book in front of her in the other, feet nearest the crackling fireplace, a combination of which made for an extremely fetching pose. The hem of her green-grey dress fell away from her upturned knees enough to reveal a shapely calf, the rest of her dress arranging itself in a manner that suggested there were many other shapely things worthy of consideration.

Talia hastily leapt to her feet (despite my vigorous protests) in a whirl of feminine poise, coloring mightily and stammering her apologies for presuming to sit in a room clearly meant for Lords and Ladies, that it would never happen again, and had begun plaintively assuring me that she was on her break before I finally managed to interject.

“Talia, it's alright. This is a 'Sitting Room', after all ... I could hardly chastise you for sitting down while in one now, could I?” I smiled easily at her, an expression that did nothing to change the look of panic and concern she was giving me.

Her expression reminded me of the conversation I'd had with Theo ... how hard I'd been driving myself, the wall I kept up between me and my staff, how others viewed me. I felt a pang of melancholy.

Even the lovely Talia, whose friendly voice I often heard confidently exchanging clever light-hearted barbs with the other staff, was not immune. The Talia that I knew differed greatly from the wry and mischievous lass she became when she believed I was not around.

I fleetingly wondered if I might get to meet that other Talia someday. Judging from the look on her face and how unexpectedly flustered my presence seemed to make her, I didn't think it likely.

“Milord, I see you mean to use this room,” she said, appearing to come to a decision, bobbing her head respectfully and hurriedly collecting her belongings. “I'll retire to a more appropriate place.”

“Talia, by all the gods woman-” I said, allowing frustration to creep into my voice, “if I have to order you to sit back down, I will. I just came up for a spot of lunch. Please, I don't want to feel like I've driven you out of here or anything.”

After some badgering she finally relented. She sat back down upon the couch, straight and proper, nowhere near as artistically satisfying as her previous pose.

Ah well.

I would have been content with her simply resuming reading (where had she gotten that book? It wasn't one of mine...) but it seemed that my presence caused her to feel obligated to attempt some sort of conversation, though the prospect appeared to fill her with dread. She stammered her way awkwardly through a couple of social niceties, talking about the weather and such, each attempt punctuated by an awkward silence once I’d responded.

Between bites I attempted to ask a few questions of my own, all meeting with a similar kind of success ... a quiet, simple answer that seemed to linger just on the cusp of full-blown conversation without actually becoming one.

You can't exactly get lost in an activity like that. Her unease was infectious, and my worried concern regarding Theodore continued unabated.

I hurried through the remainder of my meal in order that I might excuse myself, which I thought would be best given how flummoxed my presence appeared to make my young keep-mistress. My departure was not met with an expression of relief, but with a kind of forlorn embarrassment, Talia looking strangely uncomfortable and avoiding my eye. I stood and wished her a pleasant afternoon, receiving a mere ghost of a smile back.

Perhaps the fastest lunch ever. It had gone by quicker than if I'd taken it in the dining hall, or my exercise hall. So much for distracting myself.

I was also pretty sure I'd ruined the rest of Talia's afternoon. I began to silently curse the very existence of this awkward and ill-begotten day, fervently wishing that Theo would make haste with his return so I could cease my worrying and salvage what remained of my evening. I was getting anxious again, more so by the minute.

Stopping mid-stride in the hallway, I realized that not only was I making myself more anxious with my dark thoughts, but that I had no clue where in my keep I was headed.

Closing my eyes, I considered my options. I briefly toyed with the notion of spending some time in the kitchen, but I could still remember the last time I'd tried that. An emotionally charged kitchen run by a chef whose only interest, aside from cooking, comes from yelling at his staff and calling them idiots in a hundred different ways ... well, that's not the best sort of place to relax.

Exercise I had already done for the day, more than I should have really, fighting a duel on the morrow and all. Lordly duties I had already taken care of.

Read a book or two? The only ones I would consider to be suitably immersive I'd already read at least a dozen times, and given my current state of mind an attempt to read anything would probably be futile.

I was too keyed up, too agitated to be good at anything, except perhaps pacing nervously or looking troubled.

Where the deuce was Theo?

Three Baal-be-damned hours late...

“Patience,” a serene voice inside my head whispered.

I opened my eyes.

“Screw it,” I replied aloud to that serene, whispering voice.

I turned myself completely around, strode down the hallway to the cloak room to pick up some outside clothing and my swords, and marched purposefully out of my keep and into the sunny street. My feet led me in the general direction of the Circles.