Manticore Rampant

Ch 4 - Nefawious Schemes

The door burst open to admit two spear points, followed moments later—somewhat more cautiously—by the appearance of two helmeted heads. After a brief but thorough perusal, the guards to whom the heads belonged barked a simultaneous, "Clear!" and darted through the doorway, before drawing themselves up to attention on either side. More armour-clad pairs followed in similar fashion, flanking the original two, until the reception chamber was completely lined with men. Only then did their apparent leader see fit to saunter into the room.

In his velvet and lace finery, it was clear the plump young man was no soldier, yet he nevertheless radiated the assured arrogance of one accustomed to command. With a lazy smile, he took in the scene.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? Could it be some sort of get-together? A meeting or a confab, perhaps? Possibly something of a"—wispy blonde eyebrows waggled above his pale blue eyes—"secwet wendezvous?"

Once again comfortably seated, the Nanny smiled back at the newcomer before taking an indelicate slurp from her cup, making him wince.

"Why, hello there, Farty. Care for some tea?"

The smile wavered. "I weally must insist you addwess me as Lord Hirschnopple, Nanny. The title, after all, has been mine ever since the cuwious and twagic and completely unexpected passing of my father. And is weally nothing more than my due—particularly fwom a servant such as yourself."

"Oh, come now, Farty. I've known you since you were knee-high to a snotling, running about playing knights and knaves with Vazor and all the other little knobbly-kneed nobles. Surely you wouldn't expect the woman who wiped your nose, and changed your trousers when it all got a bit too exciting, to call you lord? I recall some other nicknames, if you'd prefer? Let me see, there was Poop—"

"Enough!" Hirschnopple stamped a silver-buckled shoe. "You know vewy well how I should be adwessed."

"Very well, Farty it is." The Nanny waved her cup at the men surrounding the room. "Still playing at soldiers, then?"

"Playing? Oh, I think not. When it comes to the secuwity of the wealm, I can assure you I don't play, Nanny. I'll have you know I take the matter vewy sewiously." The young lord looked around at his troops with evident complacency. "Particularly given my spi-...that is to say, my friends here in the woyal quarters tell me former members of the disbanded Irmshield have been seen cweeping about the place. And natuwally, given your position as a longstanding and valued member of the woyal household, I am of course also concerned for your safety. As those malcontents can have no good weason for being here, they're quite clearly up to something. And it would be dweadful to think anybody in the palace might be aiding and abetting them in their nefawious schemes. Don't you agwee?" He gave the old woman a pointed look. "Now, perhaps you'd care to explain what is going on here?"

"I should think that's quite obvious, Farty." She gave the young lord a demure smile. "I'm having some lovely morning tea."

"Well, yes. I can see that for myself. But who is it you are having tea with? That is the question."

The Nanny looked in turn at each of the three empty chairs around the table. As if on cue, the bum-shaped indentation still borne by the padding where Hobe's sturdy nether regions had rested slowly rose back into shape. She shook her head sadly.

"Oh, dear. I know you were a great one for imaginary friends, Farty—after all, beggars couldn't be choosers—but don't you think it might be time to grow out of that little game? Quite clearly, I'm not having tea with anybody. No, it's just little old Nanny. Tea for one. But as I mentioned, you're welcome to join me. The pastries really are very good."

Hirschnopple's eyes narrowed. "I see. Just you, is it? If that is the case, tell me this"—expression triumphant, he jabbed a beringed finger at the table—"why are there thwee other cups?"