Floral Solution

"What can be done?" Dierdre looked up at Roland. 

"I'm not sure that I can do too much to heal him, other than give him some medicine to help keep his energy up. I think the solution might be to take him back to Klain when the next opportunity arises. Since the nightmares worsened when he came here, perhaps going back will help them somewhat," He paused, looking around the room. 

Everyone in here was surely trustworthy beyond suspicion. He continued, in a softer voice. 

"In the mean time, I received a letter from home today with the latest messenger boat from Klain." He was thankful that a regular service had been established to carry mail back and forth. It wasn't quite as fast as the carrier pigeons, but the small one-man boats could carry all the letters to Serafina in addition to the military and diplomatic reports he provided to the officials. 

"What does that have to do with this illness?" Haf asked curiously. 

"My wife included something in it that I had not thought to make use of." Roland cleared his throat, reached into his pocket and pulled out the small packet. "The Void makes constant use of halflings for its bidding." 

He opened the packet to display its contents to the group. "Serafina sent me seeds of the Fullest Lily, a rare flower whose smell is absolutely repugnant to Halflings. They can barely breathe when they get near it. I suggest we plant these around this hut and throughout the settlement. If a halfling is helping the Void in interfering with Lysander's rest, this would drive it away from here."

"It's not a terribly convincing plan," Mayra put in, causing Roland to cringe. "The halflings don't seem to have anything to do with dreams, unless you think one cursed Lysander when he got here." 

"It's the best idea I have for the moment until the next passenger boat leaves for Klain. If anyone has anything better, I would be happy to listen and try whatever options are deemed best for the situation. In any event, it cannot be a bad thing to drive away halflings with ill intentions," He concluded. 

"I have no better solution," Haf admitted. 

"Don't look at me," Peter shrugged. 

"All right," Dierdre sighed. "I hope this works." 

"The seeds bloom quickly," assured Mayra. "I've seen them in action. I'll go plant them quickly right now, before I go with Haf on our errand." She seemed to feel bad for criticizing Roland's plan without coming up with anything better. 

She held out her hand and Roland gave her the packet. The girl was working so hard. He would have to remember to thank her well at some point. Peter followed her out, and Roland shook his head with a slight smile. Riley was right about them.

It was like watching a puppy follow a child. Poor fellow was hopeless. He hoped Mayra wouldn't hurt his former comrade-in-arms. 

"I'll leave him to rest now," Roland said, opening Mayra's box that she'd left inside as Lysander thrashed in his sleep. He quickly found what he was looking for; Dr. Sherman had trained her well in how to organize her medical supplies. "When he wakes, make this into some tea and have him drink it." 

It wasn't magical, but hopefully would give him some energy to fight off the malaise that settled on him. 

"Thank you," Dierdre's eyes welled, and he smiled at her. 

This was what he actually wanted to do. Practice medicine, help people. He glanced over at Haf, who watched with a strange expression. 

Duncan had been the same way about Roland's work. If not for the familial love he'd found knowing his real father, Roland would have far preferred to remain a nearly-nameless former street urchin than become a prince. He loved helping people, healing others, and getting to know those who were suffering. 

At every turn, however, everyone seemed to think he was destined for more. He didn't particularly want to be king of Rhone when his father passed. The subject had only been brought up once or twice, with great consternation on both sides. The General had suggested on more than one occasion that Roland run for one of the official Council positions of Klain when one became available, but that was just as awful a prospect. 

Now, it seemed he would have to potentially fend off another nation's leadership. It was almost comically horrifying in its irony. 

He would have to write to Finn about it. Breaking the news to her that she was essentially a princess all over again would doubtlessly amuse her... except, apparently in Ceto, she would be responsible for ruling in his absence. 

Roland smiled imagining her reaction to that news. 

Still, that would never be. He knew even less of Ceto than of Rhone, and they already had a ruler and an intact lineage... well, sort of. Their next in line for leadership was enchanted and out of his mind, and the second in line seemed anything but keen to take the helm. 

It was a predicament. One that he certainly didn't want to be involved in, whatsoever. 

__________

Peter watched as Mayra worked quickly outside. The garden next to the hut had already been harvested of its bounty, leaving room for more seeds in the disturbed earth. It was short work, and Mayra was diligent. 

Peter brought a bucket of water, knowing that it was likely to be needed. She looked up with her mouth opened as if to speak, but stopped when he set it down beside her. 

"Thank you," She said, a little strangely. "I was just about to ask if you would mind bringing me some." 

"Honored to be of service," He teased, giving her a little salute. "What next?"

He had only just asked the question when Haf stepped out of the hut. The Commodore glanced around, his eyes tightening when they landed on Mayra still kneeling in the dirt as she poured the water across where the seeds were planted. 

"Ready?" The older man asked. 

"Yes, I'm finished here," Mayra smiled. 

Peter paused, not sure if he was invited along on whatever this errand was, but the Commodore ignored him. Well, he wasn't under the man's orders. If he was told to leave them alone, he would. If nothing was said, he would tag along instead of waiting to be asked. 

Mayra said not a word. It was an odd mix of gratifying and frustrating, if he were honest. On the one hand, he appreciated that she accepted his presence as a fact of life. 

In the most flattering sense, he was like an extension of her. 

In a negative light, he was not worth noticing, nor did he deserve the attention. 

He rejected that thought immediately. She thanked him when she thought of it; it was just that she was exhausting herself with all the tasks she took upon herself. He had to find a way to stop her from it. 

It was exhausting him, as well. He didn't sleep until after she went to bed, and tried to be up before her when he could. 

Peter almost resented himself for the effort he put into following and protecting Mayra. He noticed the looks Riley, Ashley, and even Roland gave him. Pity. 

He didn't want the pity, even though he likely seemed pitiful for trailing after a woman that had far greater things on her mind than romance. But he liked that about her. Ambition, wanderlust, the craving for adventure. 

If she were some doting maid obsessed with capturing his attention, he would have lost interest long ago. 

He walked behind her and Haf, resisting the urge to sigh in frustration. Just then, she tossed a look over her shoulder, searching. Making sure he was still there with her. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly as her eyes met his. 

Who cared if Roland or Riley pitied him? He'd follow Mayra forever if she'd let him. 

And if his orders allowed. He couldn't tell when he would be recalled to Klain, or be ordered on some other long-ranging assignment across the lands. 

"I hope you're able to figure out something from this, Mayra. I appreciate your efforts," Haf was saying quietly. 

"I can't make any promises. I'll try my best. There are more qualified people in Klain that I might send for," The woman's voice caught slightly on the word 'people', but Peter couldn't figure out what to make of that. 

Perhaps something was caught in her throat. 

"That would be kind of you to do," The Commodore nodded at her. "The storage is just over here." 

He led to a building that, unlike the dwellings of the settlement, had no windows, but the doors were large. Haf took a key and unlocked it, opening the wide double doors to lead Mayra, and by extension Peter, inside. 

"Here is the net that was brought back. How large a sample will you need to analyze the coating?" He asked her. 

Peter looked between them, pondering the exchange. It was none of his business, but then again, he hadn't been told to leave. 

"Not very large, I should think," Mayra responded. "It depends on how much oil there is on it." 

"Did you not already take some?" Peter asked, pointing to a cut and fraying edge a few feet further down the net. 

"The net was cut during the voyage," Haf looked at the younger man dismissively. Peter wondered if he'd annoyed the man. 

Peter took a couple of steps and knelt down, careful not to touch anything. "This cut is clearly fresh."