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He wasn’t sure why he wanted to do this. Maybe it started as a passing whim? He kept telling himself it was because making nice with the Empire would benefit his own standing, but he isn’t fooling anyone with that one. Not least of all because he’s trying to “make nice” with Hubert of all people. But a friendly conversation over tea could only strengthen relationships between House Gloucester and the Empire. That’s what Lorenz has been telling himself. And he believes it. Probably. Definitely not.
He’s on a diplomatic visit to Enbarr when the fancy strikes him, and he supposes he’ll have to act quickly if he wants to pursue this before he returns to Gloucester Territory. He could strike the conversation in person, but that’s hardly fitting of someone as educated and refined as he. Besides, it’s not as though Hubert leaves Edelgard’s side long enough for a conversation anyways.
A letter. Yes, a letter would be perfect! A traditional and elegant way to invite a… comrade? Romantic interest? Who knows… To such an occasion. He thanks himself for bringing an ample supply of embossed parchment with him on his travels. A beautiful letter can only make Hubert more likely to accept the proposition. Right? Right.
Count Vestra
On this beautiful clear day, 28th of Horsebow Moon, 1189, I would be honored if you would consider meeting me in the Imperial Gardens for tea at sundown. Ferdinand tells me you do not care much for tea, but I will arrange alternate refreshments to be prepared for you in its place. Tea is simply the name of the occasion, not necessarily the beverage of choice. Perhaps we could discuss politics, though truly I would prefer to discuss more personal matters. I would appreciate the opportunity to learn more about you, and I am told I make excellent tea company.
Please respond to this missive at your earliest convenience.
Yours always,
L. H. Gloucester
He finishes the letter with a flourish, folds it precisely into three, slips it into an envelope, and seals it with the nearby candle. He is away from his customary wax seal, so just the plain wax will have to do for now. Certainly not ideal, but it is the best he has under the current circumstances.
Addressing the letter to Count Vestra, in precise script — as always — he flags down a palace messenger, and instructs the poor boy to deliver the letter to the Count immediately. How clever he is, he thinks. Hubert could never ignore an official letter from a potential ally to the Empire. Especially not while said ally happens to be visiting, and his guest chambers just short walk away.
———
It is mid afternoon when the day’s official mail arrives. Personal mail is reserved for the evening (Not as though Hubert receives any in the first place), and the unofficial official mail arrives under the cover of nightfall. Unfortunately, this is the boring mail, each and every piece to be examined carefully before reaching the Empress’ desk. Even in times of peace, one can never be too vigilant.
Former nobility looking to get in Her Majesty’s good graces, notice of rebellion and unrest in former Faerghus territory, negotiations on securing the ports of Derdriu for trade routes…. Boring. He almost wishes these letters had been laced with something. Magic, poison, ciphers, anything would be better than opening envelope after envelope to find nothing of interest at all. Of course he could never hope for an attempt on Her Majesty’s life, but it would at least give him something to do.
A particularly decorative envelope catches his attention about halfway through the pile. Addressed directly to him — unusual while the sun is still up — in script he quickly recognizes to be Gloucester’s, filing this letter as definitely not threatening. He must have finally come to a decision on the reparations to be paid to the former Alliance, though Hubert has no idea why this news should be coming to him as opposed to the Empress.
He slices open the envelope with a knife-turned-letter opener (One of the few not laced with something or other), not even bothering to break the wax sealing it shut. Skimming through the letter, the Minister finds nothing pertaining to budgets or reparations. Instead it appears to be… A date request?
Ugh. Personal mail.
———
Lorenz receives his response just as the sun is starting to dip lower in the sky. He supposes he’s running a bit low on time to make the arrangements for tea, but he has achieved greater under more pressing time constraints. The envelope isn’t directly addressed to him, but a black envelope sealed with black wax and marked with the Adrestian double eagle certainly narrows the list of possible senders.
Lorenz can’t help but feel his heart speed up a bit as he fumbles to open the envelope. He’s glad nobody is around to see him at the moment, he supposes he must be horribly red. He unfolds the parchment carefully, hoping to save this potential love note if he can, to find a response written in neat, capitalized print:
No.
—H