A continuation of  luprand's journey through the twilight years of the Palamani Dominion! He and a group of concerned mages hope to prevent Civil War through a unique and... expansive plot. Now, I've unfortunately been a bit distracted as of late, so this story was co-written by my dear friend,  nocturne, so make sure to let him know as well if you like this!

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Yves ©  luprand
Story ©  nocturne & c'est moi

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The travel was slow going on the Dominion’s Roads; the Palamani built them wide and easy to travel on, but the one drawback to being as large as the Palamani; very few things could carry them. Cavalry had never been a part of their military stratagem, as the largest of legionnaires could simply pluck armored knights off their mounts with ease, and no cavalry charge had ever broken a shield wall with Palamani muscle to prop it up. That left the humble ox and yak to carry goods and people across the sprawling expanse of the Dominion; reliable, but painfully slow. Yves was being carried in a canvassed wagon, the mages of Vralstag Tower surrounding him, rubbing their broad shoulders.

Yves was easily handling his own ground with the mages these days; he towered over the smaller members of the order, with a middle round and hard as a boulder, matched with strong, hearty limbs wide as tree trunks. He rubbed his head, his thickened bicep rubbing against his vast, hearty chest. “So… explain this to me. You people want to bring down the Dominion?”

The leader of the mages, one Avitus, was a tall, massively muscular cat with a thick beard. Listening to Yves, he stroked his whiskers. “The collapse of the Dominion is inevitable. No one nation can rule the world. Palamani beat our chests and boast we are the mightiest nation on earth, which is true… but only because every other great nation has died. If the Dominion were still hearty and vigorous, the legions would march across the tattered ruins of the world in attempt to expand further than anyone could have ever imagined. Instead, Valentulus can barely hold on. He has three sons. Triplets.”

Yves’ ears splayed, and he rested his muzzle atop his fist. “Oh… and I guess none of them have been named their father’s heir definitively?”

Avitus nodded grimly. “You see the predicament. Thraxus is the largest, reportedly the last to be born- he compensates for that rumor by hoarding Jidou. It starves his men, but they’re still legionnaires, and he has the most of them. He holds Old Remera, hoping to muster up the spirits of the old empire. The next is Gabrielus; he considers himself a cultured man, and is already halfway into vice with a harem and a court centered in Nova Remera surrounded by socialites and merry-makers. He will be by far the easiest. The last, and the one we’re going to now, is Jacobus. He has the smallest chance to win the war; he’s a dreary man to be around. Not violent, but he barely believes in being Imperator, and only seems to be building up forces because his brothers are doing it. He’s nursing his dour disposition along the sunny fields of Nareva, in Andalecia.”

“I’m still confused…” Yves arched his brow. “What do you gain from this? From my, er, talents?”

Avitus sighed. “Unchecked, the Dominion will eat itself because of people like Valentulus’ sons. It will be violent and bloody, an utter apocalypse. If the Dominion must fall, we would rather you help us make it a… soft fall. If the Dominion quietly fades into a collection of states ruled by fat and happy kings too indulgent to make war, we can see the Palamani die a quiet, peaceful death.”

Yves pursed his lips, slowly nodding. “And in doing so, you’ll send me home?”

The archmage nodded. “We’ll make certain of it. It is, after all, how we knew to find you out. We sensed your coming with magicks that help us understand the flowing river of time. We can navigate its course back to where you came from… some… five hundred years downstream, if we’re not mistaken?”

The large canine blinked. “How do you know all this? Do you know what happens in the future?”

Avitus held up his hand. “Please, we know enough. Time acts… strangely. Knowing too much does things to a man. Anyways, let us focus on the present… behold, the Villa of Jacobus Maximus.”

The cat gestured to a grand, sprawling estate of marble columns, stucco walls, and tiled roofs, perched on top of a green hill overlooking a shimmering river, lined with cultivated cypress trees. It overlooked a city in the distance, ringed by strong walls.

Yves whistled low. “He’s terribly depressed in a place like this? It looks like the cover of a romance novel.”

“Jacobus is determined to be sad. He’d make a good Imperator if he weren’t so gloomy,” Avitus commented.

The drive up the hill brought out heavily armored legionnaries, bearing Jacobus’ sigil on banners; a bear’s claw enwreathed by laurels on a black field. When the sentries saw the Archmage of Vralstag was being carried on the wagon, they were immediately ushered into a lush courtyard centered around a large, bubbling fountain, with flowering vines wrapped around columns. Seated in a large chair was, doubtless, Jacobus; he was a black bear with tan patches, arms thickly roped with muscle, every rippling definition set by his glossy fur. He was dressed in a black and gold robe, a crown of flowers perched on his morose head as he sighed deeply, giving the barest acknowledgement of the mages filing out.

“To what do I owe a pleasure, Avitus?” Jacobus groaned.

“Your Grandness, your father sent us, to soothe your devastated spirit,” Avitus announced. “That is why we have brought with us an aspiring… host.” The feline placed his hands on Yves, guiding him to the front of their pack. “Yves, of Orestes.”

Jacobus scoffed. “Since when has my father given a damn about my happiness?”

“The Imperator’s exact words is that he hoped to make you productive and lively in the running of his provinces of Andalecia and Al-Andalus, Princeps,” Avitus bowed his head.

“Ah, that sounds more like father,” Jacobus nodded, turning to Yves. “So, the great Yves of Orestes… with what talent do you hope to delight me?”

Yves looked to Avitus, who nodded. “Well, sir… I’m a bit of a storyteller, but my talent is, uhm… cooking.”

Jacobus sat up straighter, arching his brow quizzically. “Cooking? I have a cook already.”

The stout canine dared a grin. “I’m better. Much better. I’ve been told I have a magic touch; you tell me the one thing you want to eat more than anything, and I will make it just as sweet or savory as you can envision.”

The great bear slowly nodded. “A diversion, I suppose, if you can deliver. But why do you feel food is going to make me glad?”

“Is not good food meant to feed the soul as well as the stomach?” Yves attempted something a bit more fanciful. “A… taste on the tongue can as easily alter a mood as a beautiful sunset. Do not women know a way to a man’s heart is through his, er, stomach?”

“A poet chef. Well. Perhaps novelty will amuse after all,” Jacobus said. He then thought for a moment. “My mother in my youth directed the kitchen staff of the Imperator’s Palace to make a treat… a cherry tart from her native Umberland, sweetened with honey and cinnamon. Its dough was dense, yet flaky, almost earthy in texture, like the simple sunrise over the freshly tilled soil of a farm. Can you deliver that?”

Yves internally rolled his eyes. A dramatic gourmet. “Give me an hour, and I’ll deliver cherries and, ah. Sunrise. Just like mother used to make.”

Once led to the kitchen, Yves was faced with a much larger room to work with than at the inn. Warm ovens had been working to prepare the day’s next meal as one cow shouted out orders to the what had to be her sous chefs. The woman was tall, arms thick as she brought a cleaver down on a ham hock with a resounding thud. Her apron stretched over an impressive bust, that cleaver coming down several more times before she pushed the meat away. Turning she spotted Yves for a moment before snorting.

“Who the hell are you and why are you in my kitchen?” she demanded, storming over toward the canine. “Speak up, I don't have all day! Snap to it or I'll have you tossed out with the garbage. Ask Horace, did it last week to a slow errand boy.”

A nearby boar merely snorted as if to agree, too busy with preparing a broth to give much real attention.

Taking a deep breath, his chest shoving out several inches, Yves tried to force a smile onto his face. “Hi, sorry to cause a fuss. I'm Yves, here to work for the Princeps. Just need to make him a tart to clear being his chef.”

The cow’s jaw dropped as she stared at the shepherd before her eyes went wide with anger, hands clenching as fury built. “Chef?! A new chef? He thinks he can just have some new slab of meat waltz in and just replace me?” Snorting loud, she stomped a hoof before whipping back around. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get this kitchen in order? To find cooks who can get what I want done properly?! Of course not, you're just some stupid, hackneyed baker at best! I will not stand here and take this insult! No, if a new chef is what he wants then he will have one! Everybody, pack up, we’re leaving.”

The kitchen came to a screeching halt as the workers stared in shock at the order. Even the nearby boar oinked in surprise, “Uh, Lucialla, you're kidding, right?”

“Horace, when have you ever heard me make a joke in this kitchen?” the cow growled before stomping back to her station. The cleaver she’d been using was quickly shoved away into a case after being washed as the rest of the staff simply began dropping what they were doing and packing.

Yves blinked dimly as the impact of the scene settled over him. “W-wait, you don't have to quit! This isn't even a certain thing.”

It was too late as the train of sous chefs began making their way out the back, Lucialla digging out a ring of keys and shoving them into Yves’ hands. “I would wish you luck, but personally I expect you to fail, miserably. Then you can see what happens to those who fail the son of the Imperator. There won't be enough of you left to feed the hogs.” The look in her eyes was one of burning fury, fully unchecked as she spun on the spot and began stalking out. The string of curses that echoed through the kitchen as she left would have made a sailor blush in awe of the creative usage.

The swollen shepherd was left wide-eyed in surprise as the kitchen was left devoid of any other person, the resounding profanities that had been left in the head chef’s wake more than a bit disarming. A few moments ticked by before he managed to snap himself back to reality. Biting his lip he glanced around the room before rubbing his hands over his face. “This was not how I was hoping to get things rolling…”

Moving to a clear space he managed to fish out a clean baking pan and began to focus. The bear had been incredibly specific and if he was going to get home he needed to get things right. Imagining the pan filled with a rich, flaky crust he took a deep breath, picturing the golden brown pastry, warm and oven fresh as the scent of cooked dough filled the air. A smile tugged at his lips as he filled the empty pastry with round, full cherries, pits popped free, lining the dish as thick, gooey honey was spread across the top. A dusting of cinnamon sprinkled across the honey-coated fruits, the air heavy with the sweet smells before Yves opened his eyes and looked down. The tart was picture perfect, crafted delicately for the palette he was trying to satisfy.

Jacobus still sat by the fountain in the courtyard, face still set in that ever present frown. The sight of the returning chef with a plate didn't seem to so much as make his lips twitch. “Hm, you're rather quick. I suppose if one is to fail they might as well get it over with quickly.” The dark-furred bear didn't give Yves a moment to speak before picking up the tart and biting into it. For a brief moment that frown seemed to fade, Jacobus’ eyes widening slightly as he took another bite, then another, the pastry disappearing quickly until he licked his lips. The sudden reaction seemed to have even the Princeps taken aback as he cleared his throat, his frown sliding back on. “Passable, if only just. Perhaps such a novelty as a chef might be capable of...what did Avitus say, ‘lift my spirits’, should the rest of your work prove adequate.”

“Not to worry, Your Grandness, I put my best effort into my dishes. I'm sure you'll see that in due time.” Yves grinned softly, the softening of the Princeps’ frown was at least a small sign that there was some hope.

What followed that small taste test was a marked change in Jacobus’ demeanor. While meals were certainly as decadent as ever, the bear seemed to be indulging more with each passing day. The results began slowly at first, an extra helping here and there, a second dish come dessert. Once the ball began rolling downhill it picked up speed. The Priceps’ robes grew tighter as the days past, middle thickening with rich food as his formerly defined arms and legs became padded with a layer of fat. A few weeks in he was fully sporting a second chin and working toward a third, his meals having turned to a flurry of gorging in an attempt to sate the burning hunger in his belly, now earnestly filling his lap whenever he took to a meal.

Perhaps the most drastic change, besides his rapidly shifting build, was Jacobus’ attitude. While still rather glum in the first week of Yves’ employment the bear began to seem less moody as he grew. If nothing else it seemed the more weight he packed on the more jovial he became. No longer were meals simply dour occasions, they were filled with chatter and good cheer. It was astounding to hear the Princeps laughing for the first time in ages, his belly quaking and jostling in his lap. Some even remarked that it felt like an entirely different person filled Jacobus’ place, which wasn't entirely wrong given that the bear sported a belly that often invaded a room seconds before he did. Such distraction was all that was needed to mark Yves’ work complete.

The Vralstag mages quietly slipped out of Jacobus’ villa soon after, leaving one of their own in Yves’ stead, to ensure the canine chef’s work was not undone anytime soon.

“Excellently done, my friend,” Avitus grinned, stroking his beard. It could have been just Yves’ imagination, but the Archmage’s robes were looking a touch tighter around the middle. He had, after all, been a guest of honor at the many, many feasts Jacobus was throwing now. “Don't rest on your laurels just yet; Jacobus is now contented with lounging his days away in Andalus, but Gabrielus and Thraxus will be harder nuts to crack. Gabriel us is wilier than he may appear, and Thraxus is a Palamani fanatic. He’ll only respect someone truly strong.”

Yves smiled mildly, tensing his arms, roped with dense, heavy muscle now rivaling lesser Palamani’s chests in sheer girth. Being a part of Jacobus’ household had allowed him access to the Princeps’ now mostly untouched Jidou reserves, which were of a very pure, refined grade. He now towered over most of the mages, but he was defined more by his broad middle, stout, hearty and vast like a heavy oaken keg. “Well… I think I can manage that. Is he next?”

Avitus shook his head. “We’ll want to take care of Gabrielus first. He’s made his home in Nova Remera, a city filled with spies. Despite his penchant for decadence, he's the cleverest of the three. We’ll want to get to him before he figures what, exactly, caused his brother’s recovery from deep-seated depression.”

“So, is he looking for a chef?” Yves asked.

Avitus’ smile faltered. “Not… exactly. You’ll be playing a slightly different role, here.”

“Just… how different?” Yves arched his brow.

The mage stroked his beard. “Well… what are your feelings on revealing clothes?”

Nova Remera was a glittering jewel along the beaches of the Centratus Sea; a rich and glorious city standing proud on a hill overlooking the coast, with tall towers, wide boulevards, handsome marble temples, and giant, domed palaces. Gabrielus’ palace was the grandest of them all, adorned in marble and gold, with statues of titanic figures littering the sprawling gardens. Gabrielus himself was indulging in the favorite part of his palace; his harem. A luxurious wing of the palace given over to every kind of debauchery, the main room of the harem was dominated by a pool of water, where Gabrielus’ various paramours waded in skimpy clothing, the water and bath oils glossing their fur, skin, and scales, and making their vary degrees of musculature glisten and ripple. The Princeps himself was sprawled across a chaise lounge; Gabrielus was, in fact, the biggest of his brothers, his black fur oiled with sweet-smelling concoctions that drew attention to the definition in his meaty arms and chest, bulging biceps digging into pecs big as the silver platters laden with decadent treats for the bear’s perusal. While a beefy fox in little more than a loincloth fed him grapes and another fanned him, Gabrielus’ eyes fell on the attendant proffering him snacks, and his brow arched.

“You…” the bear pointed. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” His eye looked up and down the attendant, undressing him with a look.

“Ah… yes, Your Mightiness…” Yves gulped. He, too, had been oiled up and forced into a loincloth wrapped around his thick thighs; the result left his arms and chest fit to put any bodybuilder to shame, and his dome of a middle looking like a polished cauldron.

Gabrielus smirked, crooking his finger. “Come closer.”

Yves shuffled forward, blushing slightly at the bear’s hungry look. To be fair, Gabrielus was not an unpleasant sight; he wore almost as little as his attendants, just with more gold and jewelry, but even that little was rung taught across his impressive, monumental build. He had a handsome face atop a bullneck, his beefy, mountainous shoulders nearly pinching his cheeks. “You stand out… most of my… friends here don’t have your type of appetite.” Gabrielus rolled over, like a mountain shifting, leaving his rippling landmass of a back on display, and some rather bulbous glutes, as well. “That makes me intrigued. Have you been sneaking snacks from my kitchen?” He winked, snatching up another of Yves’ treats.

“Oh, ah, no, I’m just… a growing boy,” the canine replied.

“Oh, you’re adorable,” Gabrielus pinched Yves’ cheek. He then looked down at the snack he was munching on. “Do you know who brought this in? It’s delectable, but I don’t remember chef being able to do this sort of thing with cheese and bread…”

“I made them, sir, Your Mightiness,” Yves said quickly, his ears flattened from having his cheek pinched.

“Mm… a dog that knows a lot of tricks. Why don’t you come to my quarters, later tonight?” Gabrielus bit into another treat. “We’ll see if I can’t teach you a new one.”

Yves forced a smile, while feverishly muttering a prayer under his breath to any deity that might be listening.

The evening came and Yves was directed to Gabrielus’ private chambers. The bear’s bedroom was luxurious, a large bed draped in luscious sheets and soft pillows, several mirrors of differing sizes as a testament to his vanity. The Princeps was lounging by a table, idly picking at a small platter of sweetcakes, a smirk tugging at his lips at the sight of the big dog.

“Ahhh, wonderful, I was beginning to think I might have to have a guard send for you. This saves me time and you any discomfort.” The ursine beast slowly stood and began lumbering toward the dog, his powerful thighs rolling around each other as his eyes moved hungrily over the newest member of his harem. “I even went to the trouble of having some sweet cakes brought up, but I see you've arrived with something in tow.”

The shepherd flushed as he rolled his shoulders, one arm lifted, carrying a platter atop his broad palm. The silver dish held a rather rich-looking cake, a slather of icing and strawberries topping that light, spongy mass. “Well, you seemed to enjoy my cooking before, I felt it was only proper that I give you a bit more to sample, Your Vastness.”

“Skilled and thoughtful, that certainly puts you a step above the rest of my buzzing hive of boys.” One hand pressed against Yves’ middle, sliding up over the shepherd’s taut belly to his chest. Cupping the dense muscle of the dog’s pectoral Gabrielus squeezed, grinning at the squirm. His free hand reached up, sliding a finger against the icing on the cake before tasting it, eyebrows rising as he let out a soft gasp of delight. “My my, I don't even think my father’s staff prepared anything so delectable when I was growing up. You do have quite the skill. One I'm very pleased to have at my disposal.”

“Well I'm here to serve, sir. Ah, speaking of which,” the dog murmured, stepping around the bear to escape the overly eager hand. Setting the cake down he cut a rather thick slice off, offering it to Gabrielus.

The Princeps’ smirk had dampened slightly as his new ‘toy’ had pulled away, but one bite from the cake had it back as he savored the sweet flavor washing over his tongue. “Mmm, this cake is absolutely delectable...as is the cook.” Grinning softly he quickly finished the slice before moving closer to Yves. “I'll have a bit more of both.”

The large hound flushed deeply as he tried to smile, realizing his prayers earlier weren't going to be answered as he had hoped so badly.

In the week that followed the first evening encounter with Gabrielus Yves found himself being called frequently to the royal’s side during the day, often feeling something like a piece of meat being inspected while the bear complemented yet another of his culinary delights. His evenings were also dominated by the bear, calling him to those private chambers each night, arriving with a bit more to eat each time. Gabrielus’ body was looking to soften ever so slightly. Things seemed smooth until one evening.

“Do tell, my sweet dog, wherever did you come from? I don't recall personally finding you for my little hive.” The bear hummed softly as he bit into one of the thick cookies that Yves had brought with him that night.

“O-oh, I grew up here, in Nova Remera, Your Vastness,” he gasped as he felt the bear reach over and firmly squeeze his rump, his own meaty cheeks showing quite well through his loincloth.

Gabrielus smiled broadly as he presses himself against Yves, meeting nearly chest to chest with the heavy dog. “Really? Then clearly I need to take a more thorough look. I missed you somehow and I don't like missing out on such wonders.” His hand slipped over the hound’s thick hip, patting it gingerly. “Do tell, have you ever been to the Hero’s Virtue? Their delicacies are almost half as tasty as yours.”

Yves nodded quickly as he felt that hand slide up his flank, lightly thumping the tight drum of his swollen middle. “Oh yes, they're an absolutely wonderful bakery. Part of how I wound up with that.” He glanced down, or as best he could, chin bumping off his chest as he tapped the other side of his belly.

That smile on Gabrielus’ face tightened slightly, a hand moving up to cup Yves’ chin. “The Hero’s Virtue is a bath house. Anyone who lived in Nova Remera would know that, my sweet shepherd. So I'll ask again, where did you come from? I would consider your response carefully.” The arm just beyond the dog’s muzzle tensed, bicep grinding against the bear’s thick, slightly padded chest.

“I...I’m from…” Yves gulped as he looked from the bear’s arm to those eyes, lips twitching. “I was sent by the mages of Vralstag. A gift, nothing more.” He waited for a moment, the air thick with tension before the hand cupping his chin pulled away.

“A gift? Ahh, how very much like them to not say anything. So very tricky, but outwardly prostrating oneself must be considered beneath them.” Gabrielus shrugged, broad shoulders rising and falling, traps squeezing his cheeks as he smirked. “Still, just as a gift? So very simple is it?”

Yves nodded quickly, holding up another cookie to the bear, the ursine taking it without a second thought and taking a bite. “Just a gift, Your Mightiness, not all things are complicated.”

Finishing the cookie Gabrielus chuckled softly, licking his lips. “One who says things are simple often underestimate how complex life is. Still, let us not waste the evening, did you happen to bring another of those wondrous cakes?”

While the bear continued to press day after day about Yves’ reasons for being there he didn't seem to make any headway. It did distract him enough from his swelling form, the one proud, defined body beginning to become padded with soft fat. It was just over a week after the minor interrogation that Gabrielus found himself looking in the mirror, lightly pressing on his pot belly, fingers sinking into the heavy layer of mass.

His inspection was interrupted by the shepherd’s arrival. Yves had been taking in quite a bit of Jiduo, essentially picking up what was being ignored by the Princeps and it showed. While upon his arrival Gabrielus had dominated even the large dog in mass that gap had been closed. Yves met the bear in height, his shoulders wide enough that he stepped through the door sideways, his chest brushing the frame before he pulled in a cart loaded in treats. His middle, the ever present symbol of his own appetite, was a solid boulder of mass resting below the shelf of his chest.

“Sorry I'm late, Your Vastness, just a bit of trouble in the kitchen,” he bowed his head slightly.

The bear grunted before shaking his head. “It's fine, it won't be necessary tonight. I've been...far too indolent as of late and it's taking its toll. While these evening excursions have been highly...entertaining they'll be ceasing until this,” he smacked his soft belly, which in turn made his doughy chest shake, “is taken care of.”

Yves’ ears flicked back for a moment. Jacobus hadn't picked up on any real change in his body, or didn't seem to care if he had. If Gabrielus stopped now then he’d have to start all over again and who knew if it would work a second time. No, he'd sunk too much time and endured enough humiliation and discomfort in being a member of the bear’s harem. If anything else he could use Gabrielus’ own tactics against him.

Moving up beside the bear he lightly pressed one strong hand against that soft belly, rubbing slowly. The shepherd could feel Gabrielus tense up before the bear let out a soft groan. “It isn't so bad, Your Mightiness. Certainly none have been making a complaint about it,” not that anyone would dare if they thought it.

The bear panted before shaking his head. “No, it is unbecoming of a Princeps to allow himself to slip so far from his strength.” Even as he spoke he couldn't help staring at the small cakes that Yves had brought with him. Cupcakes he called them, they were absolutely delicious.

“You haven't strayed, you're still strong, sir. You've simply expanded your horizons through experimentation. Please, why not just try one? If you truly don't wish to have another...well we can cross that bridge then.” Picking up one of the cupcakes the shepherd drew closer, his bulk overshadowing the bear as he moved the cupcake closer.

Gabrielus wrinkled his nose, trying to recoil from the offered confection, but the truth was the smell was already drawing him in. It was sweet, the scent making his mouth water. He knew he shouldn't eat it, he couldn't let his body go so far. But the looming dog blocked any escape and it was just too much for the bear to pass up.

As Gabrielus took the first Yves knew his task was complete. The bear’s resistance melted away like warm butter. The days to come were filled with the Princeps indulging freely in the dog’s culinary prowess. His body reacted well to his newfound freedom, the softness of his belly expanding, the once tight, rippling abdominals replaced with a large bowl of wobbling jello. Once fitting loincloths could no longer contain his wide, swaying rump, something that seemed to entrance the bear. What was even more astounding was the rest of the harem seemed to be following suit, sampling Yves’ handiwork. Powerful, trim bodies were quickly being replaced by doughy fat without the Princeps’ urgings to stay fit. It even seemed as though the bear encouraged his little hive to expand as he had, given that his hands-on behavior only seemed more frequent as he fattened.

Yves and the mages made their quiet exit in the waning hours of a massive feast that left Gabrielus’ household too bloated to notice them leaving. The huge shepherd, now looming over the mages, leaned back and sighed with relief, now in considerably more conservative clothes; or at least, ones that fit.

He looked down to Avitus, stroking his beard; the cat had indulged to a point where his excess weight was no longer hidden by his billowing robes, and he had fared better than most of the other mages. “Well, two down, and one to go. Maximinus won’t take this sitting down, however.”

Yves tensed his arm, muscle swelling up larger than Avitus’ augmented waist. “Well, when I’m done with him, it’s all he’ll be able to do.”