A Man of War

Mudge was part Ogre, part Man, and mostly Annoying.

But he was a fairly decent cook.

At least if you didn’t ask where the ingredients came from.

He hadn’t bothered to shave. Had forgotten to brush his teeth since his ma died while he was still a baby, and if he’d ever cut his hair nobody could tell. His clothes didn’t fit. He had a greasy-looking apron tied about his waist.

And he smelled of cupcakes.

“Toast,” I grouched at him as he lumbered into the dining room. “I want toast. And jam.”

“Alright, alright,” he grouched back. He was never very good with the whole servant-master relationship. “Keep yer wig on. Ladies?”

The three girls were seated around the long dining table and were staring at the big chef in the same way a mouse might look at Noodle. With abject horror.

I understood their sentiment.

Poppy promptly fell asleep and Clover grabbed her head before it could hit the table.

“Toast for everyone, please,” I ordered for them. “But bring a variety of condiments.”

Mudge loomed over the snoring girl. “Bit delicate, is she?”

“Cursed.”

“Oh.” He nodded wisely. “My ma was cursed.”

“She was?” Violet forgot her fear enough to look interested.

“Yeah. Had a wart the size of an apple on her nose. Said it blocked her sinuses something awful. She-”

“Thank you very much for your insight, Mudge,” Grimsby said, appearing out of thin air to drop a plush velvet pillow under Poppy’s head. He smiled at Clover and stepped away. “I’ll set the table.”

Mudge lumbered off, mumbling to himself about his ma’s warty nose or something.

“Did you all sleep okay?” I asked.

“Fine, thank you, Mister Taran,” Violet said.

“Grimsby, can you-”

“I’ve already arranged for some interior decorators to arrive after breakfast, sir.”

I scowled at him. “Good for you. I want to-”

“I’ve brushed your coat, sir. I imagined you wanted the Wibbly Tweed one.” He didn’t even have the decency to look smug about it. “A carriage has been prepared.”

My fists pressed hard into the table.

How dare he?

How dare he presume I wanted the Wibbly Tweed!

“Maybe I want the dragonskin coat,” I said through my teeth.

“Sir?” He looked confused. “If sir wishes to wear the dragonskin coat, I could most definitely… wipe it down. But I would assume sir would want to leave a more lasting impression?”

Rage boiled in my belly as he carefully set plates and cutlery before me.

Damn the man.

He knew I needed to wear the Wibbly Tweed. I had no choice but to wear the Wibbly Tweed.

“I wouldn’t wear that around the Mage Guild,” Clover said. “The Headmaster hates Wibbly. I heard his family was exiled from Wibbly.”

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“Yes,” I heaved a heavy sigh. “Well. I shall wear it anyway. Grimsby, please ensure you brush my Wibbly Tweed coat. I shall wear it out today.”

“Of course, sir.” He paused. “I’ve also taken the liberty of having Mudge prepare a large batch of chocolate chip biscuits for you.”

“Thank you,” I hissed as he disappeared without a sound. Not even a swish!

Damn the horrid little lich forever!

I took a moment to calm my temper before turning back to see Poppy lifting her head with a yawn. “Did I miss something?”

“No,” Clover said. “You woke up in time for breakfast, I think.”

“Oh! That’s convenient.”

“Will you be out for long, Mister Taran?” Violet asked. I guessed they were feeling awkward in a house they didn’t feel was theirs

“Most likely, I’m afraid. But I think I should be home for dinner.” I smiled at her reassuringly. “Grimsby’s interior decorator friends will no doubt want to discuss things with you. You’ll be spending your day talking about curtains, and cushions and other things I have no understanding of. Tomorrow, I’ll take you up to the library.”

“We can’t see it today?” Clover asked.

“It’s on the ninth floor, but please don’t try to go inside,” I said. “I’ve got some rather enthusiastic wards on the door which I need to tune you all into first. I don’t have time for that today, or I’d do it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The only warning I had before slices of toast were deposited onto my plate was a light hush of air. Hardly any warning at all. Naturally, I flinched as the lich leaned over me to put a small jar of jam beside my plate.

“Grimsby,” I hissed.

“Sir?”

“Where’s my milk?” I bared my teeth in a triumphant smile. I’d finally caught him! “I need milk with my toast.”

“Right here, sir,” he said, pulling a jug out from behind his back and starting to pour it into my glass.

I leaned back in my chair with a disgusted grunt as he moved on to serve my three guests.

Foul creature.

Clover dropped her knife as she reached for some butter. As it fell to the ground, I waited for the sharp clang of metal hitting tiles. But the wretched butler was there and snatched it out of the air, deftly avoiding colliding heads with her as she twisted in her chair.

“Wow!” Poppy exclaimed. “You’re so fast!”

“Miss is too kind,” he said, placing the fork on the table beside Clover’s arm. “I’m no longer in my prime, so I am much slower than I used to be.”

“It looked terribly fast to me,” she said. “Wasn’t it, Violet?”

“Oh, yes!” She blinked. “I didn’t even see you move!”

Grinding my teeth, I spread butter on my toast with an aggressive rasp of the knife.

“Mister Taran?”

“Please. Just call me Taran.”

“Taran.”

“Yes, Clover?”

“Is there anything we can do for you?” She looked to Violet, who was nodding. “We talked about it, and we’re not sure what we should do. We have some coin we could pay rent with at least.”

“Rent?” I frowned deeply. “I’m not a Landlord, Clover. They’re leeches. Other than Grimsby, none are more vile than Landlords. They belong in the void. There’s no other place for them.”

“Grimsby?” Poppy blinked nervously at me. “What’s wrong with Grimsby?”

“He knows too much,” I said, lowering my voice. I glanced at my last piece of toast and wondered if I should have marmalade on it instead. I glanced up the table to the little pot of marmalade near Clover, who was spooning it onto her own slice.

I decided to wait for her to finish.

“Maybe we could do some cleaning?” Violet offered, causing Clover to wince.

“No need for that, Miss,” Grimsby said, putting down a small pot of Marmalade in front of me and earning another tight scowl. “The cleaning duties are covered very well. You are guests of sir, so please don’t trouble yourselves.”

The girls looked at me.

I was still scowling at him.

I waved the knife in his general direction, before nodding; “He’s right. You’re my guests.”

I wasn’t sure if that made them any more comfortable, but I had a lot to do so quickly finished my breakfast and excused myself to get ready.

In my room, I packed a little spatial bag with some items I thought I might need.

Two fresh handkerchiefs, a couple of books I hadn’t read yet, an extra pair of socks, and a hammer.

With a sour twist of my lips, I also put in the jar of biscuits Grimsby had left on my desk for this purpose. No doubt there was a second batch being made for the girls.

On my way out, I knocked on Violet’s door and heard a frightened squeak.

“Coming!”

The door opened just a little and her hand shot out.

I put her panties in them and left quickly to let her preserve her dignity.

Then I made my way downstairs to where Grimsby waited by the door with my coat.

Wibbly Tweed is a lighter yellow-to-brown tweed with an admittedly pleasant rough zigzaggy pattern. The thick wool would keep me very warm on a cold day.

Even on a warm one like this, it would have its uses.

“Your carriage is outside, sir.”

“Thank you, Grimsby,” I sighed. Some days you have to admit your defeats and move along. “Have you-”

“Your cane, sir,” he said, handing it to me.

“Wretched monster.”

“Thank you, sir.” He opened the door for me. “I do wish you the best of luck for today, sir.”

“Hmph.”

The carriage took me all the way to the Mage Guild’s headquarters. The enchanted walls surrounding it allowed only one point of entrance.

I gave the carriage driver a few coins and strode towards the gates, my back straight, my shoulders broad, and my jaw set firmly. I would brook no shenanigans today!

The guard looked me up and down as I approached.

“Can I help you, sir.”

“I wish to speak to the Headmaster. It is a matter of much urgency.”

“Right, sir,” he said, smiling broadly and with the kind of warmth usually exuded by vampires. “Have you filled in Form 38-C and had it stamped by a Department head from Division 12 or 4?”

“So,” I said calmly. “It’s to be war, is it?”