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Authors: Catherine Gilbert Murdock
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Duchess Wilhelmina. She dropped it with a hiss. At the same instant, Escoffier leapt into Trudy's arms.
"Also, see that the cat's fed, will you?" With that, the queen swept her gown away from the lunging dog and took Roger's elbow. "I did not know you had
circus grounds,
Your Grace," she murmured, sounding perhaps too sincere. "I am quite curious to observe them..."
Quickly a nobleman stepped up to escort Wisdom, who engaged the man in a conversation on their travels, which, she assured him, had passed without incident.
Rubbing her wrist, Wilhelmina sent her pet a dagger-eyed glare before stomping to the front of the procession, the glittering crowd behind her. Several footmen circled the little dog, none too keen to approach, and when Trudy tried to nudge the dog away from her precious skirts, it snapped at her ankle.
Escoffier adjusted his position in Trudy's arms and blinked at her. Trudy was quite convinced that had he been human, he would have been laughing.
Memoirs of the Master Swordsman
FELIS EL GATO
Impresario Extraordinaire ♦ Soldier of Fortune
Mercenary of Stage & Empire
LORD OF THE LEGENDARY
FIST OF GOD
Famed Throughout the Courts and Countries of the World
&
The Great Sultanate
* THE BOOTED MAESTRO *
W RITTEN IN H IS O WN H AND ~A LL T RUTHS V ERIFIED ~
A LL B OASTS R EAL
A Most Marvelous Entertainment,
Not to Be Missed!
***
I MUST HERE RELAY a singular incident that transpired whilst we domiciled in Froglock. Unfortunately the vast responsibilities of my position—for by this point I was nothing less than
second in command,
which Emperor Rüdiger IV himself called me, in the presence of bystanders—did not allow me to observe this event directly. The repeated recountings by others, however, over many weeks subsequent, permit me to relay the tale within these pages.
From the moment of our entry into Froglock, we had heard talk of Wisdom of Montagne, the princess betrothed to the Duke of Farina, whose arrival had been much delayed; rumors swirled that the royal delegation had been sickened en route. At last they were sighted, and when their carriage that dusk passed through the gates of the palace of Phraugheloch, 'twas a dusty and mediocre showing it made.
Anticipating their entrance, Dowager Duchess Wilhelmina assembled a welcoming party in the palace courtyard. I myself could never speak ill of such a noble and handsome woman and have sought to defend her from various slanders, such as how she kept her youngest son in military service in hopes that his death would gain her more land, which is a vicious falsehood I would never under pain of torture repeat. Froglock's more critical citizens similarly whispered that in orchestrating this public greeting, Wilhelmina sought to put Montagne's dishevelment—inevitable after a journey of such length, and so ill-fortuned—to her own advantage. Moreover, in greeting the queen mother while standing, the duchess would circumvent the convention of offering one's seat to royalty, a point of protocol which the woman—or so her unsympathetic subjects implied—particularly resented.
The carriage came to a rest, and the two Montagne royals and their lady-in-waiting exited its confines—again, I only quote the witnesses there present—in remarkably good form given the stress of many days' travel and the speed with which they had hurried. The usual pleasantries commenced but were interrupted almost at once when a sable-haired cat emerged from the coach to join his mistress, the queen mother. The duchess as it transpired was holding her own small terrier, which promptly and in the inevitable manner of its breed attempted, with much vocalizing, to leave her grip and pursue the feline.
The duchess—here again I only repeat others' reports and in no way seek to impugn the nobility of Her Most Noble Grace—was thus presented with a dilemma of no small significance. Were she to acknowledge the misbehavior of the creature sounding in her arms, she would be
"Also, see that the cat's fed, will you?" With that, the queen swept her gown away from the lunging dog and took Roger's elbow. "I did not know you had
circus grounds,
Your Grace," she murmured, sounding perhaps too sincere. "I am quite curious to observe them..."
Quickly a nobleman stepped up to escort Wisdom, who engaged the man in a conversation on their travels, which, she assured him, had passed without incident.
Rubbing her wrist, Wilhelmina sent her pet a dagger-eyed glare before stomping to the front of the procession, the glittering crowd behind her. Several footmen circled the little dog, none too keen to approach, and when Trudy tried to nudge the dog away from her precious skirts, it snapped at her ankle.
Escoffier adjusted his position in Trudy's arms and blinked at her. Trudy was quite convinced that had he been human, he would have been laughing.
Memoirs of the Master Swordsman
FELIS EL GATO
Impresario Extraordinaire ♦ Soldier of Fortune
Mercenary of Stage & Empire
LORD OF THE LEGENDARY
FIST OF GOD
Famed Throughout the Courts and Countries of the World
&
The Great Sultanate
* THE BOOTED MAESTRO *
W RITTEN IN H IS O WN H AND ~A LL T RUTHS V ERIFIED ~
A LL B OASTS R EAL
A Most Marvelous Entertainment,
Not to Be Missed!
***
I MUST HERE RELAY a singular incident that transpired whilst we domiciled in Froglock. Unfortunately the vast responsibilities of my position—for by this point I was nothing less than
second in command,
which Emperor Rüdiger IV himself called me, in the presence of bystanders—did not allow me to observe this event directly. The repeated recountings by others, however, over many weeks subsequent, permit me to relay the tale within these pages.
From the moment of our entry into Froglock, we had heard talk of Wisdom of Montagne, the princess betrothed to the Duke of Farina, whose arrival had been much delayed; rumors swirled that the royal delegation had been sickened en route. At last they were sighted, and when their carriage that dusk passed through the gates of the palace of Phraugheloch, 'twas a dusty and mediocre showing it made.
Anticipating their entrance, Dowager Duchess Wilhelmina assembled a welcoming party in the palace courtyard. I myself could never speak ill of such a noble and handsome woman and have sought to defend her from various slanders, such as how she kept her youngest son in military service in hopes that his death would gain her more land, which is a vicious falsehood I would never under pain of torture repeat. Froglock's more critical citizens similarly whispered that in orchestrating this public greeting, Wilhelmina sought to put Montagne's dishevelment—inevitable after a journey of such length, and so ill-fortuned—to her own advantage. Moreover, in greeting the queen mother while standing, the duchess would circumvent the convention of offering one's seat to royalty, a point of protocol which the woman—or so her unsympathetic subjects implied—particularly resented.
The carriage came to a rest, and the two Montagne royals and their lady-in-waiting exited its confines—again, I only quote the witnesses there present—in remarkably good form given the stress of many days' travel and the speed with which they had hurried. The usual pleasantries commenced but were interrupted almost at once when a sable-haired cat emerged from the coach to join his mistress, the queen mother. The duchess as it transpired was holding her own small terrier, which promptly and in the inevitable manner of its breed attempted, with much vocalizing, to leave her grip and pursue the feline.
The duchess—here again I only repeat others' reports and in no way seek to impugn the nobility of Her Most Noble Grace—was thus presented with a dilemma of no small significance. Were she to acknowledge the misbehavior of the creature sounding in her arms, she would be
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