He'd thought of one, he really had. Cricket had thought of a wonderfully valid excuse (a lie, he'd thought of a lie) for why he was, what? Fifteen minutes late? No. That wasn't right, the clocks read thirty after three as he raced past them. Oh no. Oh great Selene! Uncle Sunil really was going to send him to the monastery. Thirty minutes late and covered in mud. But the moment he skidded through the doorway into the meeting room to see Uncle Sunil, Marwa, Anstice, and... oh wonderful... an emissary from the kingdom of Hermes, if the deep blue robes were anything to go by, he'd quite forgotten what the excuse (lie) was.

"Uncle," Cricket said, plastering on a charming smile (the one that showed off his dimples, and usually got him out of trouble or into more of it depending), and standing up straight just how Father had taught him kings were supposed to stand. "So sorry to keep everyone waiting."

Uncle Sunil's face had turned a new shade of red, somewhere in the vermillion family. Which would have been funny, and spectacular, and all things hilarious if it weren't for the way his dark glinting eyes were fixed on Cricket of all people. Cricket saw Marwa shake her head as she struggled to suppress a fond smile, and Anstice duck her head behind one of her beautifully hand painted fans. Well. They weren't going to be any help.

"I don't think we've been introduced." Cricket took two great steps around the table, careful to avoid Uncle, and held his hand out to the emissary. "You're from Hermes, yes?"

The man looked down at his outstretched hand, and Cricket saw his lip curl. Glancing down Cricket found the hand was caked in still drying mud. He laughed nervously, and tucked it back behind him, opting for a respectful bow instead.

"Cricket," Uncle Sunil said, his voice strained for politeness. There was a vein on his temple which Cricket and Anstice had taken to placing bets on. They'd watch Uncle Sunil get truly enraged, and then bet how many beats per minute it was pulsing at. Right that moment it looked like it was about to explode. "This is Lord Benoit. He was visiting to bring your father a message, and decided he'd like to stop in and see—"

"And see how the young prince was doing with his matters of state," Benoit interrupted, which only made Uncle Sunil's vein pulse harder. Anstice made a noise like a laugh, and then covered it with a cough. Benoit took no notice. "We'd heard that your father had given you a few villages to manage?"

Honestly, Cricket had to give it to Benoit, the man knew how to put up a front. If he hadn't cringed away from sullying himself with Cricket's grubby hands not but a few minutes ago, Cricket would believe nothing was amiss in this room. This room where Uncle Sunil's face was hot enough to fry an egg, Anstice was nearly doubled over where she leaned against the table, and Cricket was trailing muddy footprints everywhere he went. Nothing at all to see here. Just a normal day in court. And really, it kind of was just a normal day in Lunette, but Cricket wasn't about to say as such.

"Ah yes," Cricket nodded, his smile softening around the edges from the charming thing that it had been into something more thoughtful. "I've been taking care of Candra and Natsuki since... How long has it been again Uncle?"

"Since your seventeenth name day," Anstice supplied. She'd recovered from her bought of giggles, dropped her fan, and was pulling from the piles of papers on the table some reports. "About eight months, if I'm not mistaken."

"Nine," Marwa corrected softly. "Well... nearly nine."

"Thank you, Mother." Anstice pulled a sheet of paper from the stack to let Cricket and Benoit look over statistics on the crops from that year. "It was a very good season for both villages."

"And there you have it." Cricket tapped the paper as if it held all the answers. "You can return home to Hermes and tell everyone that Lunette is in safe hands with me."

"Of course. Of course." Benoit nodded agreeably. "There was never any doubt. Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have to deliver that message to his highness."

"It was a pleasure meeting with you, Lord Benoit." Cricket pulled the charming, dimpled smile back onto his lips, and offered the man another polite bow.

"You as well, Your Highness. Please, next time you are in Hermes, feel free to pay me a visit." Benoit bowed even lower, and when he rose there was a twinkling of mischief in his eyes, as if he thought this whole thing rather funny. And well, maybe it would be if Uncle Sunil didn't skin Ignacia alive, and send Cricket to a monastery. Benoit had just risen in Cricket's esteem though.

"I will," Cricket promised.

Benoit said his goodbyes to the others and left. Once he was out of ear shot, Cricket hunched his shoulders waiting for the shout that was—

"You impudent, immature, impetuous, rude, moronic, little brat!"

Ah... there it was.

"Sunil," Marwa said. Her tone was soft, but there was a hint of warning there, as if advising Uncle Sunil not to take this dressing down too far. And oh great Selene, what had Cricket ever done to deserve her and her loyalty? Other than being adopted by the king, of course.

"No. Marwa. He's gone too far this time. Skipping lessons. Jumping the wall. Falling into mud puddles. Being late. Embarrassing me." Uncle Sunil said that last bit as if it were Cricket's worst sin of all, and Cricket supposed maybe in his eyes, it was.

"I didn't mean to be late. I just lost track of time." It was a weak defense even to his own ears, but he had to try, didn't he?

"I'll have you shipped off on the first carriage out of here. You can go up the mountains and let the monks teach you some manners. Mark my words." Uncle Sunil was wagging his finger in a rather dangerous way, Cricket hoped he didn't hit himself or someone else with it. And then he turned and stormed off.

"Well," Cricket said when he was gone, deflating into a chair. "That could have gone better."

Anstice tutted, moving over to him to smack him lightly on the head with her fan. "Where were you?"

Cricket held up a hand, smiling a little, and then he pulled a small box of strawberry mochi from his bag. Anstice squealed in delight, scooping them up.

"I take it back. I don't care where you were!" She took a bite of one with a happy murmur.

Marwa was not so easily swayed, she stood behind Anstice, shaking her head in disapproval. "You went over the wall."

"I'm very sorry I was late." Cricket ducked his head. "I didn't mean to be. We just got caught up in everything."

"Tell me you at least took Ignacia with you." Marwa sighed, defeated.

"I did."

"Thank you." She stepped over to pat his shoulder, a gesture that had always made him feel much better in spite of everything. Then she snatched a mochi from Anstice's hands, eliciting a squawk of protest, and headed for the door. "Go get cleaned up. Dinner is in a couple of hours, and if your uncle sees that mud still in your hair then he'll try to take scissors to it again."

"Yes ma'am." Cricket offered her a salute, a smile, and once she was gone, he rose from his chair, stretching. "Can you drop these off at my room? I've looked at last month's numbers, but I assume these are updated?"

Anstice nodded, her cheeks puffed up around what appeared to be a mochi in each. Cricket snorted, which turned into a full belly laugh. He rolled forward, holding his stomach as he chortled. When it finally wore off, and Anstice had somehow managed to chew, and swallow the two mochi without choking, Cricket leaned over the papers again to look at them.

His mouth pressed into a line, muddy fingers scrubbing over his face, leaving smudges in their wake. "Tell me they're happy, Anstice."

"They're happy. I know your father tries, but these smaller villages need updated agricultural tools so they can make enough off their crops to sustain not just themselves, but also their homes. You've done that for them."

The initiative had been simple. Cricket had ordered the latest in farming and magical technology be provided to the farmers of Candra and Natsuki. The people there hadn't seen an update in decades, probably longer. Like Anstice said, Father tried, but there were too many outliers, and not enough help. Then there was the issue of importance, and those who had a higher population were higher on the king's list. It was as simple as that. No one's fault. Cricket believed that the best thing he could do for those people was not to throw money at them, but to give them the tools they needed to succeed. It wasn't much, maybe Father would have done something else, but he'd entrusted them to Cricket. And Cricket had done what he thought was best.

"I'm sure Uncle would disagree."

"Yeah. Well." Anstice rolled her eyes. "Your uncle wouldn't know a good idea if it bit him in the ass."

Cricket nodded in agreement. Uncle Sunil was... He was... He was a bit backwards, as far as Cricket was concerned. And completely inflexible.

"Right. I better go have a bath. I'll see you later."

Anstice turned back to the papers, stuffing another mochi in her mouth, and began to gather them up as Cricket retreated to his rooms.