Tales of the Big Bad Wolf: The Red Riding Hood Arc (A Fairy Tale)

Chapter 19, Part A: The Monsters in my Backyard

As the sun dropped from sight, a sound of thrashing and rattling could be heard echoing throughout the Wolfram Estate. 

The lord of the manor had only just returned from dealing with four rather forlorn stone lions when he observed the undeniably unpleasant noises coming from the second floor of the main house.

He frowned as he took long strides down the hallway towards one of the many stairways in his home. Servants scattered in front of him, cowered behind him, and whispered. They did not know what was worse – their master’s apparent frustration or the moans from the floors above.

Maximilian Wolfram knew that things were not going according to the plans he had set forward for this morning.  As he advanced up the steps, he muttered to himself.  “The tonic will have to be concentrated much more.”

Behind him, his manservant wheezed as he valiantly tried to keep up with his youthful master.  “Sir,” Hastings huffed.  “The cook is reworking the formula already, according to new specifications.  I’ll bring it up later.”

The Count drew to a sudden stop at the top of the staircase.  “The cook fully understood the situation already?”

“He did, sir.”

“How--” the Count’s face darkened slightly.  “How did he know what needed to be done?  Was it your instruction?”

 “No, sir.”  Hastings did not blink.  “Many of them were born into the household of your youngest uncle.”

The lord’s mouth distorted into something of a grimace as he was reminded of his uncles.  It had been quite a long time since he had given them any particular thought.

He moved along the hallway wall and looked up at the portraits of these uncles, long dead and gone.  His father was probably the most serious of the entire lot of men at home.  The rest of his uncles had been loud and noisy, but the youngest had taken a peculiar wife of his own.  The children that he had raised were even more problematic as they grew older, some ferocious, others vain, and all insufferably open about their talents.  “Then why have I’ve only seen you and Smith going back and forth between these floors?”

The butler nodded. “They have guessed full well what is going on, but they lack experience, sir.  Many of them fear he may be dangerous. I’ve been unable to get any of the others to relieve us of our duties.”

His fingers clasped the handle of his cane.   It had been a long time since anyone in this household had to worry about any danger inside the home from one of the Wolves of the Northernlands.  Nor would they have.  There had been no reason to think there might have been a halfing in the house. Giles had been very careful.  Until now, that was.  

Even so, they should have understood that the man was no danger to them.  He glared at the wall, wondering how he had managed to have such insensible servants.   “They should know that he is no more dangerous than a drunken man—“ 

“He is quite strong as it is and many years younger.  Even a careless blow from him could severely injure them. And then some have fears about being scratched or bitten and being changed—“

A dark look passed over the lord’s face; it was obvious to him now that their former households had been delinquent in training the servants.  “They have read far too many stories. His condition is not contagious.”

 “I know sir. But not all of them had the benefit of Mr. Watkin’s instruction.  Only Smith and I were informed fully of what to expect.  The others did not have any reason to learn.”

Wolfram supposed not.  After all, they had come to this home long after his grandfather had passed and it had been determined that he, himself, could no longer transform.