Gretchen came inside from a walk -- walks were nice. Focusing on the trees rather than the bizarreness of the place -- and got the message. She came downstairs in her workout clothes, a little unsure herself how one went about these, but approving of the choice of venue.
The people of Ruritania had accepted that their Queen's sport showcase of choice was the marathon rather than the fencing salon, since she'd at least married a swordsman, but between Dad and tradition, it'd been a major part of Gretchen's education.
There was no mistaking for whom she was looking. "Hello."
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