Basren knew better than to ignore a summons. With others, he could be as flippant as he liked, but he'd learned--and learned early--that the king was not one to wait. He only took his time to stop by his rooms and allow his valet to dress him after a short bath. He couldn't be seen with dirt underneath his nails and grimy to the elbows, especially not when he went to the king. Before he left, he tucked a small blue flower in the button hole of his vest, something that matched his eyes.<br/><br/>Waves of both nervousness and anticipation, not unpleasant, buoyed him towards the king's private dining room. Sovele was there already, and Basren gave the low, stately bow that respect required before he came into the room. The looming sheet draped over what had to be a surprise gave Basren a small thrill of anxiety, but he was careful to keep his face pleasant. It was, probably, a gift, and whatever it was, Basren was going to receive it with grace and gratitude. There as always the hope, too, that it would be something pleasant. Sometimes, it was.<br/><br/>Before he could sit, Sovele was already having it unveiled. Basren's smile didn't falter.<br/><br/>It was almost like looking in a mirror. Basren didn't remember his father, but he could pick out the features that they shared, the artist had been so skilled. For a moment, his gaze was arrested, just a little too long, before he responded.<br/><br/>"It's quite beautiful," he agreed. He pressed on, "I know just where to put it, so it can be seen to full effect." A short walk took him to the king's side, where he placed a kiss to Sovele's cheek and said, "Thank you. Every time I look at it, I will remember how lucky I am that it was you I was raised by."<br/><br/>That had gone well, he thought, and he took his seat, ready to break into the meal. His particular favorites had been laid out, and Basren made sure to thank Sovele for that, too, for even remembering. He helped to serve Sovele first, though, exhibiting his own remembrances about what the king liked.<br/><br/>He licked his lip once he started to heap his own plate, giving a short glance at Sovele before he started to speak. His heart beat just a little bit faster.<br/><br/>"I'm glad you bought up the garden, actually," he said. "I was wondering what you thought of these flowers here, on the table."<br/><br/>For the past week, Basren had been taking flowers from his fledgling garden and having them displayed at the tables where the family took their meals. No one knew, except the servants, which meant, in effect, that everyone knew. Or at least Sovele would, probably. Anything Basren ordered done in his rooms was overheard by his valet.<br/><br/>But today he'd had special flowers sent up. They were a shade of violet so dark they were only purple at the edges, almost frilly at their edges. They couldn't be found anywhere inside Sovele's sovereignty.<br/><br/>"I was wondering if you might help me procure them. Aren't they lovely? But they grow in the northern region, above us. No one I talk to seems to know how I might set up a trade for them. I thought, maybe a flower that grows here, in exchange... If anyone could do it, you could. Perhaps as a silly indulgence for me?"<br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Basren<br/>
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