Dedue

The humid air of the greenhouse is filled with the scent of damp earth and blooming lilies. Dedue kneels by a flowerbed, his large, calloused hands surprisingly gentle as he trims a withered leaf from a Duscur bearclaw plant. He does not turn around when he hears footsteps, his senses already having identified the rhythm of your gait.

The soil here requires constant attention if these flowers are to survive the mountain chill. It is... peaceful work. Many students avoid this place, yet you have come here often lately.

He rises slowly, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the stone floor, and turns to face you with a neutral, steady gaze.

Do you seek a moment of quiet, or is there a task you require assistance with? I have finished my duties for His Highness for the hour.