Aramon slipped quietly into the space behind the privacy panel that split this inner chamber of the Xerarch's tent, noting the shadow cast on it's cloth surface by the bed and the figure lounging on it, created by light on the opposite side. He passed his eyes over the shadowy form then sketched out a bow.
"Your Grace, word reached me that you were... unwell. I merely wished to offer whatever assistance I or my office can provide until you are able to actively resume the duties of your offices."
He straightened and turned slightly away, glancing back the way he came, considering.
"I am willing to do whatever you require of me on this matter."
As Aramon spoke, his vision safely obscured by the privacy partition, a rooster crowed, reminding Selenia that dawn approached and she couldn't rule an empire from her bed, comfy though it was. She rose and began to dress herself. By the time Aramon fell silent, she was not even half way finished.
She lifted one foot, then the other. Straightend. Tracking fingers through her hair for tangles and stretching her back before taking some small measure of pity on her Arbiter.
"I am not certain there is much you can do, Aramon." She answered buckling buckles. "I am still who I am, what I am." She paused, loosening her swordbelt. It was tighter than before. "It just so happens that I will be...more...in the near future."
