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Family Matters
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color by 
Major Matt Mason
Part Twenty-seven
Matt:
I was in our quarters aboard the Musashi when the ship’s comms officer advised me that Tali was on the line, and of course I accepted the call immediately. “Hiya, Sweetie!” I said as soon as her image appeared on screen.
Tali grinned back. “Hello, you big honeybear. Listen, the Master just got a rocket from his liege-lord, Prince Roland.”
“Prince Rol – oh, yeah, the fat one. What’s the problem?”
“Not a problem, per se. The Master told me that the King’s interested in taking you up on an invitation you made.” Her eyes narrowed. “What was that?”
“Oh. Nothing big, darling – just a tour of the Musashi.”
The look on her face was priceless, and I made a note to make it my phone’s default background screen. “And Low was okay with this?”
“Yep.”
“Well, if she’s all right with it . . . anyway, the Prince wants to meet with you to sort some things out. Seems the entire Royal Family wants to come along.”
I put a paw to my forehead. “Didn’t think they’d all want to come. Okay, I’ll talk to Low. Tell the Master to relay to Prince Roland that I’ll be in front of the Palace, in the same uniform – “
“Was that the one that resembles Low’s?”
“Yeah.”
My darling purred. “Gotta love a man in uniform.”
I grinned. “Mid-afternoon. Got it?”
“No problem, sweetheart.”
***
Winterbough:
After having Prince Roland scry me, and relaying his message to Tali, I besought my mate to have a chat with her about Windimere. I knew that she was in her own office in the Annexe, but I wasn’t certain if she was communing with certain of the [Doe-Moot] regarding the upcoming Second Challenge, which was due to start at noon.
So I waited, and sure enough, I saw several of the [Eldest] leaving the office, with Belladonna Sumac in tow. Last-minute Council of War, I surmised, and I walked up to the door and gently knocked.
Nippy answered the door. “Yes, Master?”
“I should like to speak with my wife,” I said, “If she’s not busy. It’s – well, it’s rather important.”
“One moment, Master.” She closed the door, and after a few moments reopened it. “Her Highness will see you, Master.”
“Thank you, Nippy,” I said as I walked inside.
Anastasia looked up at me as I walked in. “What’s the matter? Did Una fall off that ram and break her neck?” I shook my head, and she looked vaguely disappointed. “What’s the problem then?”
Nothing for it, then. I sat down and said, “Earlier this morning, I had a conversation with Windimere. She’s heard about Ooo-er, Tessie, and Missy, and,” I sighed, “she’s wanting to know if I’ll have venery with her.”
“Oh. Oh my.” My wife looked thoughtful. “Stella said that Windy had been happy to hear that those three had gotten pregnant – I’m not going to even try to think about how Missy managed it; it makes my head hurt – and Stella said that she looked sad about it.” She stood up and sat down in my lap. “What do you think about it?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re the one she wants to have venery with.”
“I’m thinking of you, love.” Her ears swiveled. “Specifically, how upset you were before Dotto was born.”
“I had my reasons.”
“I understand. Hence my reluctance.”
Anastasia gave me a kiss as she stroked my ears. “Thank you. But it won’t be a problem.”
“Huh?”
She smiled. “You know that Stella and Sixth have always been very interested in Windimere.”
Don’t I know it. They’ve known her since they still had spots, and they both speak Draconic fluently. “So?”
“Well, Stella told me a while back that dragons like Windimere can determine if their children will be male or female,” Anastasia said. “Something about making sure the egg is one temperature or another.”
“That’s . . . interesting.”
She gave me another kiss. “Yes. And you have my permission, Westersloe.”
“Thank you, Anastasia. I’ll tell her, but we need to get these Challenges out of the way first.”
“Agreed.”
***
Roland:
The Master’s return scry message said that Colonel Mason would appear outside of the Palace at “mid-afternoon,” so I instructed members of the Royal Guard to meet him and bring him to one of the smaller rooms in the Palace. I would meet with him alone, as my brother the King was having a rest and my nephew and his mate were attending some function or other.
Around the third hour past noon a bear matching Colonel Mason’s description was seen apparating in front of the Palace, and he was escorted to me.
“Your Highness,” Colonel Mason said, after giving a short bow and saluting. “Colonel Mason reporting.”
Lowfolk he might have been, but he was courteous. “Stand easy, Colonel. Please have a seat,” I said after returning the salute. “You were told why I asked to meet you?”
“Yes. Commander Hartoh said that you and the rest of the Royal Family wanted a tour of the Musashi?”
“Correct. The King brought up the subject this morning.”
He looked slightly surprised, perhaps at the speed of His Majesty’s decision, but nodded. “First, may I speak freely, Your Highness?” I gave him leave, and he asked, “Am I correct in guessing that there is a question of trust in our intentions?”
“Yes. I feel safe in telling you that my nephew, the Crown Prince, is reluctant to see His Majesty depart the capital to visit your ship.”
“That’s understandable,” he said, and I felt my ears swivel slightly. “This is the most delicate point in what we call a first contact. The question as to whether or not either side is willing to take a chance. And, I’m sure, you have security concerns.” I nodded again and he said, “I have two options that I’d like to discuss with you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Options?”
He matched the movement. “Options, Your Highness.”
***
Winterbough:
For a number of reasons, not the least of which was that the weather in the Vale had clouded over to a threatening degree, the second Challenge was moved indoors.
Owing both to the popularity of the Challenge, and the fact that it involved cookery, something directly relevant to the home-and-hearth aspect of the Lady, proceedings were moved to the Temple in Greytor-village.
As expected, the building was full up; as was not untypical when fun was in the offing, a lot of non-Mephitists were present, on the upper floor of the gallery. In point of fact, they may have had the best view of what was going on. From their high vantage point, they could see to both wings of the sanctuary, near the Altar. One wing each had been given over to the Challengers, who were busily engaged in making final preparations to their offerings. In this case, offerings to Sixth, though there was a definite religious undercurrent.
A table had been set up in front of the altar, with chairs behind it facing the congregation. Three places had been set: one, obviously, was for Sixth, and at his insistence, two more places had been set. One was for his half-brother Dotto, who was busily checking to make sure the table settings were just right. The other seat was occupied by his foster-sister Sturmhilde. Stormy, being keenly interested in all things involving cookery, was squirming slightly in her seat, fighting the urge to trot over to each of the Challengers to see what they were up to. She did, however, have the traditional respect for other cooks' space, so she seems to have kept her place, however reluctantly.
My own place was in the Master's Pew, off to the right, in front of the roebucks of the Vale. Bung, from [The Sheaf of Arrows], had sent over a few kegs of porter, and my fellow deer were happily refreshing themselves from them. The sudden outbreak of holidays, owing to the Challenges, had certainly been to their liking. There were already whispers as to whether or not any Challenges would be issued for the paw of the Heiress of Elfhame.
Whispers, mind. They may have been mad, but they weren't crazy. That sort of chat was just begging for fireballs from my mate.
Speaking of which, she was seated among the [Doe-Moot] on the left-paw side of the Temple. The does were quietly confident, as well they should be, since Belladonna Sumac was leading one-to-nil, and she'd obviously had the backing and advice of the [Eldest] with respect to her Challenge-offering.
Many of them, though, were glancing over to the screen set up in one of the wings, behind which clatterings and clinkings could be heard, produced by Una Sawyer, who was working alone. One of the ex-Prisoners, who'd come down from the gods to sneak a tankard of porter, speculated that the roe-doe was making porridge.
I had my doubts as to the accuracy of that analysis, and suspected more than a little nostalgia on the wolf's part.
Estvan was a bit miffed at not being invited to sit at the table up front, and had to content himself with eating garishly-hued yellow peppers. Why he was dressed outlandishly, even by his standards, with an embroidered cape, I couldn't even begin to speculate.
Brother Cellini, assisted by his various Acolytes, had a Low Service -- that is to say, one without a Holy Recreation. Just as well, given what had happened a week before with the rocks and Reagent. There was still a streak of black on Cellini's shell from where he'd stood too close.
The sermon was on a rather predictable topic, that of home-and-hearth (see above), and how love can be expressed through a good meal. Much applause from the roebucks on that point, and loud cheers from the ex-Prisoners, who found that line of chat very much to their liking. Especially Ranulf, who had the benefit of not one, but two, Wanderers that had decided Talent in cookery.
Among other things, if the stories could be believed. Given that the pair of them were with cub again, they could.
All of which was the preliminary to the Main Event, to use terminology that would appeal to the Vicar of Elfhame. Namely, the presentation of the Challenge-offerings.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color by 
Major Matt MasonPart Twenty-seven
Matt:
I was in our quarters aboard the Musashi when the ship’s comms officer advised me that Tali was on the line, and of course I accepted the call immediately. “Hiya, Sweetie!” I said as soon as her image appeared on screen.
Tali grinned back. “Hello, you big honeybear. Listen, the Master just got a rocket from his liege-lord, Prince Roland.”
“Prince Rol – oh, yeah, the fat one. What’s the problem?”
“Not a problem, per se. The Master told me that the King’s interested in taking you up on an invitation you made.” Her eyes narrowed. “What was that?”
“Oh. Nothing big, darling – just a tour of the Musashi.”
The look on her face was priceless, and I made a note to make it my phone’s default background screen. “And Low was okay with this?”
“Yep.”
“Well, if she’s all right with it . . . anyway, the Prince wants to meet with you to sort some things out. Seems the entire Royal Family wants to come along.”
I put a paw to my forehead. “Didn’t think they’d all want to come. Okay, I’ll talk to Low. Tell the Master to relay to Prince Roland that I’ll be in front of the Palace, in the same uniform – “
“Was that the one that resembles Low’s?”
“Yeah.”
My darling purred. “Gotta love a man in uniform.”
I grinned. “Mid-afternoon. Got it?”
“No problem, sweetheart.”
***
Winterbough:
After having Prince Roland scry me, and relaying his message to Tali, I besought my mate to have a chat with her about Windimere. I knew that she was in her own office in the Annexe, but I wasn’t certain if she was communing with certain of the [Doe-Moot] regarding the upcoming Second Challenge, which was due to start at noon.
So I waited, and sure enough, I saw several of the [Eldest] leaving the office, with Belladonna Sumac in tow. Last-minute Council of War, I surmised, and I walked up to the door and gently knocked.
Nippy answered the door. “Yes, Master?”
“I should like to speak with my wife,” I said, “If she’s not busy. It’s – well, it’s rather important.”
“One moment, Master.” She closed the door, and after a few moments reopened it. “Her Highness will see you, Master.”
“Thank you, Nippy,” I said as I walked inside.
Anastasia looked up at me as I walked in. “What’s the matter? Did Una fall off that ram and break her neck?” I shook my head, and she looked vaguely disappointed. “What’s the problem then?”
Nothing for it, then. I sat down and said, “Earlier this morning, I had a conversation with Windimere. She’s heard about Ooo-er, Tessie, and Missy, and,” I sighed, “she’s wanting to know if I’ll have venery with her.”
“Oh. Oh my.” My wife looked thoughtful. “Stella said that Windy had been happy to hear that those three had gotten pregnant – I’m not going to even try to think about how Missy managed it; it makes my head hurt – and Stella said that she looked sad about it.” She stood up and sat down in my lap. “What do you think about it?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You’re the one she wants to have venery with.”
“I’m thinking of you, love.” Her ears swiveled. “Specifically, how upset you were before Dotto was born.”
“I had my reasons.”
“I understand. Hence my reluctance.”
Anastasia gave me a kiss as she stroked my ears. “Thank you. But it won’t be a problem.”
“Huh?”
She smiled. “You know that Stella and Sixth have always been very interested in Windimere.”
Don’t I know it. They’ve known her since they still had spots, and they both speak Draconic fluently. “So?”
“Well, Stella told me a while back that dragons like Windimere can determine if their children will be male or female,” Anastasia said. “Something about making sure the egg is one temperature or another.”
“That’s . . . interesting.”
She gave me another kiss. “Yes. And you have my permission, Westersloe.”
“Thank you, Anastasia. I’ll tell her, but we need to get these Challenges out of the way first.”
“Agreed.”
***
Roland:
The Master’s return scry message said that Colonel Mason would appear outside of the Palace at “mid-afternoon,” so I instructed members of the Royal Guard to meet him and bring him to one of the smaller rooms in the Palace. I would meet with him alone, as my brother the King was having a rest and my nephew and his mate were attending some function or other.
Around the third hour past noon a bear matching Colonel Mason’s description was seen apparating in front of the Palace, and he was escorted to me.
“Your Highness,” Colonel Mason said, after giving a short bow and saluting. “Colonel Mason reporting.”
Lowfolk he might have been, but he was courteous. “Stand easy, Colonel. Please have a seat,” I said after returning the salute. “You were told why I asked to meet you?”
“Yes. Commander Hartoh said that you and the rest of the Royal Family wanted a tour of the Musashi?”
“Correct. The King brought up the subject this morning.”
He looked slightly surprised, perhaps at the speed of His Majesty’s decision, but nodded. “First, may I speak freely, Your Highness?” I gave him leave, and he asked, “Am I correct in guessing that there is a question of trust in our intentions?”
“Yes. I feel safe in telling you that my nephew, the Crown Prince, is reluctant to see His Majesty depart the capital to visit your ship.”
“That’s understandable,” he said, and I felt my ears swivel slightly. “This is the most delicate point in what we call a first contact. The question as to whether or not either side is willing to take a chance. And, I’m sure, you have security concerns.” I nodded again and he said, “I have two options that I’d like to discuss with you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Options?”
He matched the movement. “Options, Your Highness.”
***
Winterbough:
For a number of reasons, not the least of which was that the weather in the Vale had clouded over to a threatening degree, the second Challenge was moved indoors.
Owing both to the popularity of the Challenge, and the fact that it involved cookery, something directly relevant to the home-and-hearth aspect of the Lady, proceedings were moved to the Temple in Greytor-village.
As expected, the building was full up; as was not untypical when fun was in the offing, a lot of non-Mephitists were present, on the upper floor of the gallery. In point of fact, they may have had the best view of what was going on. From their high vantage point, they could see to both wings of the sanctuary, near the Altar. One wing each had been given over to the Challengers, who were busily engaged in making final preparations to their offerings. In this case, offerings to Sixth, though there was a definite religious undercurrent.
A table had been set up in front of the altar, with chairs behind it facing the congregation. Three places had been set: one, obviously, was for Sixth, and at his insistence, two more places had been set. One was for his half-brother Dotto, who was busily checking to make sure the table settings were just right. The other seat was occupied by his foster-sister Sturmhilde. Stormy, being keenly interested in all things involving cookery, was squirming slightly in her seat, fighting the urge to trot over to each of the Challengers to see what they were up to. She did, however, have the traditional respect for other cooks' space, so she seems to have kept her place, however reluctantly.
My own place was in the Master's Pew, off to the right, in front of the roebucks of the Vale. Bung, from [The Sheaf of Arrows], had sent over a few kegs of porter, and my fellow deer were happily refreshing themselves from them. The sudden outbreak of holidays, owing to the Challenges, had certainly been to their liking. There were already whispers as to whether or not any Challenges would be issued for the paw of the Heiress of Elfhame.
Whispers, mind. They may have been mad, but they weren't crazy. That sort of chat was just begging for fireballs from my mate.
Speaking of which, she was seated among the [Doe-Moot] on the left-paw side of the Temple. The does were quietly confident, as well they should be, since Belladonna Sumac was leading one-to-nil, and she'd obviously had the backing and advice of the [Eldest] with respect to her Challenge-offering.
Many of them, though, were glancing over to the screen set up in one of the wings, behind which clatterings and clinkings could be heard, produced by Una Sawyer, who was working alone. One of the ex-Prisoners, who'd come down from the gods to sneak a tankard of porter, speculated that the roe-doe was making porridge.
I had my doubts as to the accuracy of that analysis, and suspected more than a little nostalgia on the wolf's part.
Estvan was a bit miffed at not being invited to sit at the table up front, and had to content himself with eating garishly-hued yellow peppers. Why he was dressed outlandishly, even by his standards, with an embroidered cape, I couldn't even begin to speculate.
Brother Cellini, assisted by his various Acolytes, had a Low Service -- that is to say, one without a Holy Recreation. Just as well, given what had happened a week before with the rocks and Reagent. There was still a streak of black on Cellini's shell from where he'd stood too close.
The sermon was on a rather predictable topic, that of home-and-hearth (see above), and how love can be expressed through a good meal. Much applause from the roebucks on that point, and loud cheers from the ex-Prisoners, who found that line of chat very much to their liking. Especially Ranulf, who had the benefit of not one, but two, Wanderers that had decided Talent in cookery.
Among other things, if the stories could be believed. Given that the pair of them were with cub again, they could.
All of which was the preliminary to the Main Event, to use terminology that would appeal to the Vicar of Elfhame. Namely, the presentation of the Challenge-offerings.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Brown Bear
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File Size 255.5 kB
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