Looking up from the unfolded letters in his hands, Picard carefully creased them once more, setting them back in the false book. He looked at his king attentively, though the words he'd been reading danced behind his eyes. It was hard to believe such letters were connected to Valentine; the varying prose and poetry seemed to have bled from the king himself, but they were addressed to him, not from him. In some, the gentle advisor recognized the handwriting of Vincent and of Carina. In others, the loopy calligraphy was unfamiliar. He could only assume that the mysterious third party was either an admirer or a pen pal - either way, a romantic one at that. Tucking the hollow book back onto the shelf, he paid his king his full attention.

	"Of course, your Majesty," Picard responded obediently with a half-bow. Though not a typical servant, the brunette had few qualms when it came to playing messenger for Valentine. He was too likable a man, too kind and gracious, to consider refusing. Beyond that, they had grown up together, and he'd fallen easily into the serving role with the dark-haired monarch.

	The advisor to the throne took his leave silently, not wanting to disturb his king's thoughts any further, and closed the door to the king's chambers softly behind himself. With his own thoughts of the letters he had unearthed pushed to the recesses of his mind, Picard first sought out the princess, whom he believed would be easier to track down than the bishop. The desperate, cursed man was one that Picard generally tried to avoid as it was - he knew the man sought an angel, and feared discovery for being what he sought. By his own system of beliefs, Picard did not interfere with matters that did not directly hold affect or influence on the royal family. They held his loyalty and intrigue, and so it was they who received his guidance and aid. Though he was sure Valentine and Cordelia would disagree with his choice to not remove the bishop's curse, he strongly believed that the man could find an angel to strike a deal with himself, rather than wait for one to hear of his plight and aid him.

	Pushing aside his mind's wanderings, Picard first checked the princess's chambers, and then her brother's study. When both were fruitless, he descended to the grounds the knights trained on. Sure enough, the light-haired princess was training, her strikes on the dummies sure and true. A gaggle of pages stood to the side, observing her technique, and the advisor patiently waited for her demonstration to end. When the pages applauded and the knights in charge of them pulled their attention from the hard-working royal, he stepped forth.

	"Your Highness," he began, heart stuttering at the fierce look on her face. It softened almost immediately, but his heart did not calm. "His Majesty requests your presence in his study."

	"What does he wish to discuss?" Cordelia inquired, sheathing her sword on her hip and placing her shield on her back. "The impending meeting? Or perhaps the journey?"

	"He did not say, your Highness," Picard told her apologetically. "He requested your presence, as well as that of the bishop, Argus."

	"I see." Green eyes assessed the knights and pages assembled, and then fell back on the advisor before her. "Expect me shortly. I must finish my business here first."

	"Understood," he responded with a nod.

	Cordelia turned away from Picard, the action dismissive enough for him, and he gave the same small bow he'd given Valentine before exiting the training grounds. Now, he just needed to track down Cain. He was less familiar with the man's habits, though he knew enough to avoid him. As it was, he hoped he could find the bishop in a timely manner. It would not do to keep the royal family waiting, especially with such an important meeting on the horizon. What success could bank on the bishop's presence, however, eluded Picard. The only instance that came to mind was that the man would be there for their protection; he was a worthy opponent, and loyal to the throne. His only concern was whether or not that loyalty relied on an angel taking notice of and removing his curse. In truth, Picard knew little about the man.

[hr]
	With Picard's departure returned the fierce look on Cordelia's face, the face she wore when she meant business. Well, she had a sweet look for that, too, but that was generally reserved for when she was dealing with her brother. Regardless, the business at hand had to do with the new pages - finally, new recruits to fill the gaps in the sector and honour the kingdom. The peace that washed through Raphael, even with the assassination of the monarchs of Michael, meant that there were very few stepping up to be knights or warriors in their kingdom. The people saw little need, unable to understand that it was because of the knights and warriors that they had any peace and safety at all. Distressing, to say the least, when you wanted to uphold the peaceful ways of Raphael.

	"I expect," Cordelia told the pages assembled, "that you'll all work hard on what I've shown you. You know who to go to if you have trouble."

	She gestured to the assembled knights, and nodded to both groups. With a dismissing salute, she exited the training grounds, heading straight for her chambers. If she were to meet with her brother, it would not do for her to be in the clothes she wore, or carrying both her sword and shield. Finer clothes and her sword alone would suffice, though he surely planned to bring her to the meeting as his guard, which meant the shield would see the sun again in no time. The day was still young, even with the weather brewing over the horizon. At the very least, if it rained, they'd have sufficient cover for the two of them if Valentine were to hold the shield over their heads.

	One change of clothes later, the mossy green of their kingdom draped over her form and cinched at the waist, Cordelia hung her family's shield on the wall beside her vanity. Reattaching the scabbard to her hip with the sword still sheathed, she nodded to herself. This would do, though the shield probably would have made Picard feel better around the bishop, Cain. She was no fool, and had noticed his aversion to the man. In her opinion, it was unfair; he did what he could to control his curse, and in turn also did what he could to use it for good. If an angel would just come and lift it, perhaps those who feared him would breathe a little easier. After all, the fear was of his curse, not the man himself. How many people saw past it, however, eluded Cordelia.

	Prepared for the meeting, Cordelia left her chambers and made her way to her brother's study. She assumed he would already be present, and when she arrived, knocked on the door politely. Whenever work was being done in this room, the door was kept closed, away from prying eyes and listening ears. It was important that it be done, lest information fall into the wrong hands. When you ruled a kingdom, you could never be too careful. After waiting for an acceptable period of time, Cordelia opened the door to the study, surprised to see it empty. As he was not here, she could only assume he was wrapping up matters elsewhere. No matter, she'd wait at his desk. If he wanted the seat for himself, he should have arrived before her. Cordelia was not one to waste time, and hoped her brother and the bishop arrived soon.