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Family Matters
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
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steamfox
Part Sixteen.
Anastasia:
“Sorry to bother you, love – oh, hello, wolfess.”
I smiled up at Westersloe. “What’s the matter, Westersloe? You look thoughtful.”
“First time for everything,” Missy muttered.
My mate gave her a glance before he said, “Just had a problem come up, and it might involve a little Statecraft.”
That made my ears swivel. Although my love disclaims all knowledge of Statecraft, he’s not that bad at it. He readily concedes, though, that as an ex-Princess I’m far more well-versed in it than he is. Sweet of him. “Statecraft? Go on, dear.”
So he started telling me about an ermine at the Leaping Trout who had been dropped there by the Eastness delegation on their way to the Royal Skunks. While he related the story, I saw Missy’s ears swiveling, and Westersloe finished by saying, “I thought about bringing this up to you, Anastasia, because I’m thinking that sending him away might anger Ambassador Yawunce – or, Fuma forfend, Gawain.”
“A moment, please,” Missy broke in. “Ermine?”
“Yes.”
“Name’s Ernest?”
“Every pot has a handle, and that’s his.”
“Waves knives around swears like a drunken squaddie?”
My mate didn’t immediately answer, I think because he didn’t like the implications of the comparison. So I jumped in. “Did you see him when you were in Eastness, Missy?” I asked.
The wolfess looked thoughtful. “The description matches, and he had been given the sack.” She shrugged. “He might have decided to try his paw elsewhere.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Thank you, Westersloe. Missy, could you go over to the Trout and bring him here to speak to me?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” and she left.
“Pffffffffffffffffffffft,” Westersloe said after she’d left.
“Thank you, love,” my dear Westersloe said, and after we had a kiss he left.
Hmm.
A chef . . .
***
Winterbough:
Pissy wolfess. Of course I’d heard her.
Note that I didn’t tell her about the ward I’d placed on Ernest’s room? Oops. How careless of me. I snickered quietly to myself as I headed to the Greytor to make sure that the Watch weren’t skiving.
“Hey, Master! Wait up a minnit, okeh?” I paused and saw Brother Cellini, and stopped to let him catch up with me. “Just had da weirdest t’ing happen.”
“Oh?”
“Jist had dat one doe, whatshername Mrs. Fletcher, see me in da Vicarage.” My expression begged details, and the turtle said, “She tells me dat on Worship Day, not dis week, but next week, I need ta keep me dumbhead Acolytes under wraps. Sez she’s got an important announcement.”
Ah. Okeh. “That probably means that the does have decided.”
“Hanh?”
“This may seem strange to you, Brother, but this is the way marriages work in Elfhame,” I said. “More or less, an otherwise unoffending young roebuck is cornered in his shop, in the field, or at his hearth by a committee of does, and is informed that he's to show up at the altar on such-and-such a date, at such-and-such a time, whether sober or not doesn't matter, and he’ll be joined in matrimony to a particular doe. Period, end stop, and the roebuck that gives any sort of back-chat on the subject is likely to be nursing sore ears and a throbbing skull not long afterward.”
“By da Lady,” and we both paused to apply knuckles to our scalps. “Is dat how youse got hitched?”
“No, but it would have been, if Anastasia hadn’t been Princess of Licksburg at the time.”
"Sheesh! Dem's da breaks fer Sixth, ain't it?"
"Looks like it, Brother."
"It's one heckuva way t'run an omnibus, dat's what I say."
My guess was that Cellini, being a proponent of Muscular Mephitism, would have preferred The Prospective Mate to take on all comers, three rounds, Persoc Tor Prize Rules. The roebucks would have gone for it, and the Ex-Prisoners to a wolf would have gone for it.
The does? Not hardly.
“It’s the way it’s been here since before Irenaeus.”
“Huh, well don’t dat beat all.” Brother Cellini headed back to the Temple and the adjoining Vicarage, and I went about my business.
***
Missy:
Pissy ______ roebuck and his ______ wards.
***
Anastasia:
Missy looked a bit sooty when she came back, her Elf-mind clamped down tightly and a look on her face that could have turned fresh milk into cheese in the blink of an eye. Accompanying her was an ermine mel with pure white fur that almost matched the white chef’s uniform he wore. “Chef Ernest Ramesie,” Missy growled, “I present the First of Eldest of Elfhame.”
“Thank you, wolfess,” I said. Missy nodded exactly once, turned on one heel and left the room, leaving me and the ermine looking at each other.
“So,” I asked, “you’re Ernest Ramesie.”
“Yes’m,” came a laconic, almost sullen reply.
“And you’ve come from Eastness?”
“Yes’m.” I raised an eyebrow. ‘Barely suppressed rage’ appeared to best describe his posture and attitude. Hmm.
The door opened, and Nippy came in to gather up my tea things. Ernest turned to look at her, his mouth open to say Stars knew what –
And he stopped.
Nippy paused.
The pair of them, ermine mel and ermine femme, just gazed at each other.
I could detect a great deal of Elf-mind flying between the two, but I was unable to catch any of it.
What drew my attention away from the tableau was the fact that Nippy was, without breaking eye contact with him, deftly retrieving and placing all the used tea things onto their tray. She finally straightened up, the tray in her paws, and turned toward me. Ernest immediately also turned to face me, but a lot of the tension appeared to have gone out of him.
“Will that be all, Ma’am?” Nippy asked.
“Er, yes, thank you Nippy.” She left the room and I directed my attention to the mel. “Tell me, Mr. Ramesie, what was your last place of employment?”
“An it please you, Ma’am, I was the head chef at the Teahouse of the Rising Sun, in Eastness City,” Ernest said, with a far more deferential tone that he’d had previously.
It made me wonder what was going on.
“Why did you leave your former employment?”
The ermine drew a sigh, and when he let it out I saw his paws clench. “I have a temper, Ma’am, and Elves Don’t Lie. It was my employer suggested that I seek my fortune elsewhere.”
“’Elsewhere’ being Elfhame?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Hmm.
There were a lot of question marks here. But still, a chef . . .
Let me explain. When I was growing up in Licksburg, my unlamented father had some fine chefs, and up until the damned bankers took over I had my meals prepared by some of the best cooks in the country. I think a few of them had some sympathy for me, because after the bankers controlled everything I thought I’d kill for an orange.
After moving to Elfhame, I have [Little Toy] and some others to prepare meals, but part of me still yearns to have a proper chef.
“Have you a resume with you, Mr. Ramesie?”
He shook his head. “No, Ma’am.”
“I see. Mr. Ramesie, in the absence of a resume I will instead set you a task.” He looked at me quizzically. “You will prepare dinner for me and my Household tonight. The dishes must be tailored for the various furs who share my table.”
“Yes, Ma’am, thank you,” the ermine said. “If I may ask, who will be present?”
I smiled. “Roe deer – I will assume that you can cook for herbivores?”
“Absolutely, Ma’am.”
“Good. The remainder of the guests will include wolves, at least one fox, and an otteress.” He blinked at that, pursed his lips, and nodded as if he were already drawing up a menu. “Can you do it?”
“I will need to see the larder, Ma’am, in order to see what I have to work with.”
“Excellent.” I picked up the bell by my seat and rang it, and Nippy came in. “Nippy, please show Chef Ramesie to the kitchen, and let [Little Toy] and the others know that he’ll be cooking dinner tonight.” I gave the ermine mel a smile. “I hope that I won’t be disappointed.”
“I’m pleased to be in Service, Ma’am,” he replied, and followed Nippy out.
Yes, I’d caught the emphasis, and it made me wonder.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
steamfoxPart Sixteen.
Anastasia:
“Sorry to bother you, love – oh, hello, wolfess.”
I smiled up at Westersloe. “What’s the matter, Westersloe? You look thoughtful.”
“First time for everything,” Missy muttered.
My mate gave her a glance before he said, “Just had a problem come up, and it might involve a little Statecraft.”
That made my ears swivel. Although my love disclaims all knowledge of Statecraft, he’s not that bad at it. He readily concedes, though, that as an ex-Princess I’m far more well-versed in it than he is. Sweet of him. “Statecraft? Go on, dear.”
So he started telling me about an ermine at the Leaping Trout who had been dropped there by the Eastness delegation on their way to the Royal Skunks. While he related the story, I saw Missy’s ears swiveling, and Westersloe finished by saying, “I thought about bringing this up to you, Anastasia, because I’m thinking that sending him away might anger Ambassador Yawunce – or, Fuma forfend, Gawain.”
“A moment, please,” Missy broke in. “Ermine?”
“Yes.”
“Name’s Ernest?”
“Every pot has a handle, and that’s his.”
“Waves knives around swears like a drunken squaddie?”
My mate didn’t immediately answer, I think because he didn’t like the implications of the comparison. So I jumped in. “Did you see him when you were in Eastness, Missy?” I asked.
The wolfess looked thoughtful. “The description matches, and he had been given the sack.” She shrugged. “He might have decided to try his paw elsewhere.”
“Hmm,” I said. “Thank you, Westersloe. Missy, could you go over to the Trout and bring him here to speak to me?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” and she left.
“Pffffffffffffffffffffft,” Westersloe said after she’d left.
“Thank you, love,” my dear Westersloe said, and after we had a kiss he left.
Hmm.
A chef . . .
***
Winterbough:
Pissy wolfess. Of course I’d heard her.
Note that I didn’t tell her about the ward I’d placed on Ernest’s room? Oops. How careless of me. I snickered quietly to myself as I headed to the Greytor to make sure that the Watch weren’t skiving.
“Hey, Master! Wait up a minnit, okeh?” I paused and saw Brother Cellini, and stopped to let him catch up with me. “Just had da weirdest t’ing happen.”
“Oh?”
“Jist had dat one doe, whatshername Mrs. Fletcher, see me in da Vicarage.” My expression begged details, and the turtle said, “She tells me dat on Worship Day, not dis week, but next week, I need ta keep me dumbhead Acolytes under wraps. Sez she’s got an important announcement.”
Ah. Okeh. “That probably means that the does have decided.”
“Hanh?”
“This may seem strange to you, Brother, but this is the way marriages work in Elfhame,” I said. “More or less, an otherwise unoffending young roebuck is cornered in his shop, in the field, or at his hearth by a committee of does, and is informed that he's to show up at the altar on such-and-such a date, at such-and-such a time, whether sober or not doesn't matter, and he’ll be joined in matrimony to a particular doe. Period, end stop, and the roebuck that gives any sort of back-chat on the subject is likely to be nursing sore ears and a throbbing skull not long afterward.”
“By da Lady,” and we both paused to apply knuckles to our scalps. “Is dat how youse got hitched?”
“No, but it would have been, if Anastasia hadn’t been Princess of Licksburg at the time.”
"Sheesh! Dem's da breaks fer Sixth, ain't it?"
"Looks like it, Brother."
"It's one heckuva way t'run an omnibus, dat's what I say."
My guess was that Cellini, being a proponent of Muscular Mephitism, would have preferred The Prospective Mate to take on all comers, three rounds, Persoc Tor Prize Rules. The roebucks would have gone for it, and the Ex-Prisoners to a wolf would have gone for it.
The does? Not hardly.
“It’s the way it’s been here since before Irenaeus.”
“Huh, well don’t dat beat all.” Brother Cellini headed back to the Temple and the adjoining Vicarage, and I went about my business.
***
Missy:
Pissy ______ roebuck and his ______ wards.
***
Anastasia:
Missy looked a bit sooty when she came back, her Elf-mind clamped down tightly and a look on her face that could have turned fresh milk into cheese in the blink of an eye. Accompanying her was an ermine mel with pure white fur that almost matched the white chef’s uniform he wore. “Chef Ernest Ramesie,” Missy growled, “I present the First of Eldest of Elfhame.”
“Thank you, wolfess,” I said. Missy nodded exactly once, turned on one heel and left the room, leaving me and the ermine looking at each other.
“So,” I asked, “you’re Ernest Ramesie.”
“Yes’m,” came a laconic, almost sullen reply.
“And you’ve come from Eastness?”
“Yes’m.” I raised an eyebrow. ‘Barely suppressed rage’ appeared to best describe his posture and attitude. Hmm.
The door opened, and Nippy came in to gather up my tea things. Ernest turned to look at her, his mouth open to say Stars knew what –
And he stopped.
Nippy paused.
The pair of them, ermine mel and ermine femme, just gazed at each other.
I could detect a great deal of Elf-mind flying between the two, but I was unable to catch any of it.
What drew my attention away from the tableau was the fact that Nippy was, without breaking eye contact with him, deftly retrieving and placing all the used tea things onto their tray. She finally straightened up, the tray in her paws, and turned toward me. Ernest immediately also turned to face me, but a lot of the tension appeared to have gone out of him.
“Will that be all, Ma’am?” Nippy asked.
“Er, yes, thank you Nippy.” She left the room and I directed my attention to the mel. “Tell me, Mr. Ramesie, what was your last place of employment?”
“An it please you, Ma’am, I was the head chef at the Teahouse of the Rising Sun, in Eastness City,” Ernest said, with a far more deferential tone that he’d had previously.
It made me wonder what was going on.
“Why did you leave your former employment?”
The ermine drew a sigh, and when he let it out I saw his paws clench. “I have a temper, Ma’am, and Elves Don’t Lie. It was my employer suggested that I seek my fortune elsewhere.”
“’Elsewhere’ being Elfhame?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Hmm.
There were a lot of question marks here. But still, a chef . . .
Let me explain. When I was growing up in Licksburg, my unlamented father had some fine chefs, and up until the damned bankers took over I had my meals prepared by some of the best cooks in the country. I think a few of them had some sympathy for me, because after the bankers controlled everything I thought I’d kill for an orange.
After moving to Elfhame, I have [Little Toy] and some others to prepare meals, but part of me still yearns to have a proper chef.
“Have you a resume with you, Mr. Ramesie?”
He shook his head. “No, Ma’am.”
“I see. Mr. Ramesie, in the absence of a resume I will instead set you a task.” He looked at me quizzically. “You will prepare dinner for me and my Household tonight. The dishes must be tailored for the various furs who share my table.”
“Yes, Ma’am, thank you,” the ermine said. “If I may ask, who will be present?”
I smiled. “Roe deer – I will assume that you can cook for herbivores?”
“Absolutely, Ma’am.”
“Good. The remainder of the guests will include wolves, at least one fox, and an otteress.” He blinked at that, pursed his lips, and nodded as if he were already drawing up a menu. “Can you do it?”
“I will need to see the larder, Ma’am, in order to see what I have to work with.”
“Excellent.” I picked up the bell by my seat and rang it, and Nippy came in. “Nippy, please show Chef Ramesie to the kitchen, and let [Little Toy] and the others know that he’ll be cooking dinner tonight.” I gave the ermine mel a smile. “I hope that I won’t be disappointed.”
“I’m pleased to be in Service, Ma’am,” he replied, and followed Nippy out.
Yes, I’d caught the emphasis, and it made me wonder.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Deer
Size 1280 x 584px
File Size 108.4 kB
Listed in Folders
as an ex-Princess
I've encountered boarders-aweigh-specialist sailors -- who even seem to resent being called "sailor"s, at least in most languages -- and they always tittered in a certain mel-ly way when I'd address myself with the "ex". They also appeared to have persnickety self-imposed rules surrounding projectile weapons and the word "sir", but did not mind their tongues in most other regards. My mate could trust them with me, by the way, just not his money.
“Name’s Ernest?”
"That detail has Importance."
“Every pot has a handle, and that’s his.”
"In the additional sense that 'empty ones make the most noise'?"
Pissy ______ roebuck and his ______ wards.
All I managed to spot was a telltale jot, a.k.a. the letter "Jay". There were lackey robins around, too, something like two lively mels, a seemingly dead one with a crowbar and a bomb, and one fem with oddly colorful spectacles.
“I’m pleased to be in Service, Ma’am,” he replied,
The ermine mel allowed me a peek upon one of those capital letters, and I could see a sunken city Deep down filled with life, glowworms, and Running, all enclosed within the hull of some kind of ship.
(Also... respectfully, my tardy soph-omor-isms for Ch.s 13 & 14 at https://www.furaffinity.net/view/49.....#cid:168157793 & https://www.furaffinity.net/view/49.....#cid:168157825 respectively; my on-time entry at https://www.furaffinity.net/view/49.....#cid:168157850 .)
I've encountered boarders-aweigh-specialist sailors -- who even seem to resent being called "sailor"s, at least in most languages -- and they always tittered in a certain mel-ly way when I'd address myself with the "ex". They also appeared to have persnickety self-imposed rules surrounding projectile weapons and the word "sir", but did not mind their tongues in most other regards. My mate could trust them with me, by the way, just not his money.
“Name’s Ernest?”
"That detail has Importance."
“Every pot has a handle, and that’s his.”
"In the additional sense that 'empty ones make the most noise'?"
Pissy ______ roebuck and his ______ wards.
All I managed to spot was a telltale jot, a.k.a. the letter "Jay". There were lackey robins around, too, something like two lively mels, a seemingly dead one with a crowbar and a bomb, and one fem with oddly colorful spectacles.
“I’m pleased to be in Service, Ma’am,” he replied,
The ermine mel allowed me a peek upon one of those capital letters, and I could see a sunken city Deep down filled with life, glowworms, and Running, all enclosed within the hull of some kind of ship.
(Also... respectfully, my tardy soph-omor-isms for Ch.s 13 & 14 at https://www.furaffinity.net/view/49.....#cid:168157793 & https://www.furaffinity.net/view/49.....#cid:168157825 respectively; my on-time entry at https://www.furaffinity.net/view/49.....#cid:168157850 .)
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