Revolting Relations

Chapter 3/Part 1 ~ A Taste for Fashion

 "Perhaps we should take a vote?" Dame Aubergina suggested, twiddling her thumbs through another quiet night. The emptiness of the thronestool had to be addressed. Three dozen dinners had gone by without a trace of Lady Kabech, Alphonse or any of the cohort they had travelled with, except for Lady Kabech's horse, which would have been wiser to remain lost.

"Nobody has put themselves forward, and I think I can speak for all of us when I say none of us shall," replied the young lady, Soyle, earning nods from the other aristocrats arranged around the fungal palace's great pod. "If any of us are caught in that thing when she comes back, we'll be in the tannery with Bertroot."

Over a hundred had gathered in the interest of their own relevance to the society, yet nobody had the ambition to seize the empty seat. And no-one had addressed the bird in the room, either.

He was a large fellow compared to any of them, generally regular in shape except for the grey feathered wings and tail, and red, talon feet. Also, the skin of his face and arms was as dark as burnt stew, making the white of his eyes disconcertingly apparent as he scanned the assorted aristocracy.

The birdish fellow had appeared the night following Lady Kabech's departure, and had not uttered a sound since. All any of them knew was that he was an Ambassador from Amphelius, thanks to a written label pinned to the drapery he wore. On one occasion, Aubergina had seen him sizing up some of the palace curtains, probably searching for a change of outfit.

Whispers started to circulate, and every so often, eyes would dart to their feathered guest. First came murmurings of blame, then came the ideas. Soyle was the first to make a move. Standing up, she lifted her purse from her bustier and procured a small toffee. She then lured the Ambassador to the seat with her unique talent for making old sweets seem to be the most appealing morsels in the world.

"This can be your seat now. You've been here so long, I can hardly believe no-one has offered you a stool at our table!" Soyle said. She roused some applause from the aristocracy as the Ambassador sat.

"Much thanks," he said.

The toffee dropped, and so did jaws. If their guest could speak their tongue, any number of scandals might spread.

The Ambassador cleared his throat and cooed more appropriately, with a smile that indicated that he would maintain the charade of ignorance if they all did the same. The slip was cordially forgotten, and any guilty glances conspicuously ignored.

"Someone, bring our friend his bag of seeds so he can get nice and comfortable," Soyle said to a loitering servant, then picked up her toffee, brushed off a hair, and offering it again.

The bird accepted it, gave it a nibble, then wrapped it in its paper and passed it back. Soyle returned it to her purse to await its next victim, then resumed her own seat so proceedings could continue. However, her coy glances to the Ambassador did not slip Aubergina's notice. Fortunately, when his seeds arrived, they had his full attention.

"So that is settled. Are there any objections to our new appointment for head of state?" said one of the younger fellows, rising from his stool.

It was shame Baron Goord followed with his need to complicate things. "What are we to call this feathered fellow? We can't refer to him as Lord Bird and expect to be taken seriously. The common folk will think we have gone mad and appointed an owl!"

The Ambassador hooted twice, then nodded gravely. Cheeky bugger.

"He needs no name. All that matters is that the seat is occupied and we all agree that it is," said Aubergina.

"But what if someone asks?" Goord persisted.

"It is occupied, nothing more. That is all anyone outside this pod need know," she replied, thankful that the fellows around the Baron stopped him from blubbering again. "Now, onto dinner and supper. I felt the asparagus has not been at its best lately, so I motion that we replace it with a carrot dish."