The restaurant was only a few hours from the Great Northern
Gate by foot and was often patronized by wealthy merchant princes and nobility
who oversaw the dealings of their trade caravans personally. It was well known
for tasty and exotic dishes, and served only cliental that not only could
afford their prices but also fit in with the genteel décor.
Which made Fraker sitting against one wall and tearing apart
a gravy soaked stuffed turkey with his fingers and wiping his hands on a large
shaggy war-dog completely out of place. Many nobles who didn’t recognize the
hero shook their heads and muttered to one another about how disgraceful it was
for the restaurant to serve whatever they thought Fraker was, from a giant
spawn, to a particularly ugly ogre, to a freakish mercenary. Many of the lesser
nobility present was outraged at the fact that Fraker had simply walked up,
shown his life-mark on his palm to the maître d’ and had been shown to a table
that was normally reserved for very few VIP’s.
The fact that Fraker’s Step-Mother, the Eternal Elba
Quarryn, not only owned the restaurant, but had supervised the work crew that
had built it when the very bones of Novak had been laid, had helped build it
with her own two hands, was unknown to all but the management. When the Eternal
Elba’s most favored son arrived, the staff was more than pleased to serve him,
and through him, his Step-Mother and their liege.
Most of the restaurant was taken up by a private party,
nobility of the High House of Novak, aristocrats who could trace their
bloodline to the soldiers who had marched with Eck the Anvil out of the Valley
of the Stacked Skulls to take control of the huge city. The rest was taken up
by lesser nobility, members of the Low House, who wanted to be at the party.
The House of Jarmo was celebrating the marriage of one of
their nieces to a young Count of the House of Vohnar, a marriage of heart
rather than political or economic leverage, set up and approved by the Haut Ton
itself. The bride and groom were not present for the after marriage party, but
that was customary, since a newly married couple had better things to do than
attend the whirlwind of dinners, parties, and celebrations in their honor. Most
of which concerned expanding the bloodline.
Two tables over Grand Matron Vohnar had noticed Fraker being
seated and had made the unmarried men and women switch tables with the elderly
members of the families in order to keep those members of the family who were unmarried away from the legendary hero. The family members had changed places while while a large dog had been led in to sit next to
Fraker. Now she sat, wrapped in crimson silk edged with silver shimmersilk, and
watched him eat, nodding to herself as the hero stripped the turkey to the
bones, once in awhile slipping small strips of meat to the small Peeper hiding
in the pouch on his belt. While most men a large belt pouch was the size of a
man’s hand, the pouch on Fraker’s belt was roughly large enough to fit a baked
turkey into it, leading the Grand Matron to believe that the Peeper had plenty
of room to make a nest in the pouch, and so was not being mistreated. The fact
that she could hear it purring as it rubbed its head against the hero’s linen shirt
was proof of that, as was its obvious affection toward the fearsome warrior.
The House of Vohnar remembered their debt to the Peeper’s
ancestors, and Grand Matron Vohnar would not countenance to anyone mistreating
the baby lizards, even the Favored Son of the Thorn Lord herself.
Fraker was unaware of the gray-haired scrutiny as he pushed
away the bones of the turkey after he had cracked the bones open and sucked out
the marrow then started in on devouring a bowl of Novak Fire-Clam Chowder,
relishing the heavy spices and thick and crunchy pepper kernels. He dipped the
sour-dough bread, made from naka milk, into the bowl, feeding pinches of the
chowder soaked bread to the Peeper at his waist, smiling when it sneezed after
every bite. Fraker knew that while it was tart and spicy to him the Peeper
would find it sweet to its non-human taste.
The Grand Matron turned her attention from the hero, and her
memories of having been seduced by him decades before, as the head chef and his
assistants came out of the kitchen bearing the wedding cake. It was three
layers, each layer separated from the others by thick sugar crystals carved to
look like nymphs and painted with a thin layer of frosting. Each layer was
almost a foot thick, decorated with artfully carved frosting, thin layers of
gold and silver to make designs of the sigils of the two houses intertwined,
and representing enough money to buy a nice house. The cake layers were
alternating rich chocolate and creamy vanilla, each layer separated by
strepple-berry jam and naka-pudding, with candied berries baked into the cake.
“That cake costs more than most peasants will see in a
year.” One of the younger girls, a member of the House of Jarmo, giggled to the
other maids. The Grand Matrons of both houses frowned disapprovingly at her
snide tone toward the very people who filled the coffers of the families and
made the city what it was. It was one thing to have such prejudices privately,
it was the uncouth and ill-bred who voiced them.
“And tastes better than most of them will ever smell.”
Another girl laughed, this one from the House of Vohnar, unaware that the
Matrons of the houses had heard her and made mental note. The young women
didn’t know it, but the marriages that they’d be considered for had just
dropped dramatically in status and importance until they learned some manners
and decorum. Both young women had spoken such many times, and currently the
ladies of the houses who sat on the Tons would not even consider them for
marriages to anything more important than the second or third wife of a city
accountant, much less someone as important as a commoner.
“In honor of the union of the members of your noble houses,
the House of the Love of Feast would like to present you with this humble
token, a sign of respect from Foreman Elba to two such important houses who
have never forgotten their roots and duties.” The maître d’ announced waving
the four assistant cooks carrying the massive cake on an engraved and bejeweled
silver platter. The head cook walked alongside the cake, beaming with pride as
the cake was his invention, a creation that had earned him a permanent stipend
from the Eternal Elba and he had been allowed to inscribe the recipe and
cooking directions into her cookbook himself. Those who knew the Eternal knew
that her cookbook was more precious to her than even her spellbook and was
protected and preserved with more numerous and powerful magics than most had
guarding their vaults.
“Naka pudding to remind us of the humble roots of those who
crafted the bones of our great city, strepple-berry jam to honor the work of
the Kobolds, chocolate to remind us of the darkness of the Lich King rule,
vanilla to remind us of the purity of life itself. “ The Head Cook stated as
the massive cake was set onto the table. With a flourish he tossed a sprinkle
of glittering sugar onto the cake and proclaimed “TA-DAH!”
Fraker had just glanced up as the sugar flew through the air
to land on the cake as everyone had begun oohing and ahhing appreciably over
it. He realized with a sinking sensation that the Peeper that had decided to
take possession of his belt pouch had its mouth hanging open and was making the
muffled cough sounds of Peeper laughter.
The cake shivered for a second before tiny lizard heads
popped out of the cake, their long necks allowing their heads to stick out an
inch or two from the frosting, the thick frosting atop their heads like white
hair. Their heads were cocked at an angle, their little eyes open, their ears
flared out, and their natural smiles wide. A dozen were on the lowest layer,
six on the middle layer, and a bronze and silver erupting from the top layer.
“TA-DAH!” They all squeaked out.
“Aw, ox-biscuits.” Fraker murmured as everyone at the table
began screaming in surprise. The Matriarchs and Patriarchs of the family began
laughing uproariously, the children shrieking with joy and laughing, and the
adults exclaiming in horror.
The Peepers burst from the sides of the cake, swarming out
of cake covered in frosting, their stomachs plumped out so many of them waddled
ungainly, and immediately streaming under the tables all in one direction.
Toward Fraker.
As the hollowed and ruined cake slowly and stately collapsed
upon itself, Fraker could feel the little clawed feet trample over the top of
his boots, and knew where they were going. Back into the basket. A glance down
showed that the lid was slightly cocked, allowing a large enough space for the
Peepers to get out, and the leather thong used to latch the lid had been chewed
through. He saw the silver Peeper lead the way, tossing the bejeweled gold
pepper shaker into the basket before she squirmed in after it.
Chairs and tables were upending, dishware shattering on the
floor, silverware flying through the air, and people were scrambling to get out
of the way, many of them shouting in confusion or screaming in fear. At the far
side of the restaurant an elderly gentleman with a magnificent and aggressive
white beard thrust himself to his feet, raising his engraved and inlaid cane,
and shouting a word of power. The table’s edge disintegrated as the arcane
master’s defenses sprang into being, the razor sharp shards of metal appearing around
him in a glittering whirling cloud, blue and purple fire covering his skin
which turned a dark gray with a pebbled and rough appearance. As his arcane
defenses leapt into place his beard bristled and crackled with sparks of arcane
energy.
The bronze Peeper was last into the basket, and Fraker saw
it carrying a jewel encrusted silver salt shaker. It tossed the shaker into the
basket and climbed in, and the lid was pulled back into position almost before
the bronze lizard’s tail had slithered into the safety of the basket.
Fraker nudged the basket with his boot, pushing it more
behind him, and watched as chaos enveloped the entire restaurant. Two
spellcasters were duking it out with magic, flinging complex and deadly magics
at one another as they guarded themselves at the same time. Two warriors, each
bearing the marks of martial holy orders, were rolling around the floor,
cutlery in their hands, each fully intent on killing what they were convinced
was a sneak attack by a member of a hated rival church. The older man had
summoned up guardians from the stone of the floor itself, the eyes of molten
rock watching for any threat to the bearer of the magnificent beard that had
summoned them. The Head Cook was still standing where he had been presenting
the cake, his expression one of horror, and his face and clothing covered in
frosting. From the looks of it, Fraker figured that the lizards had almost
completely hollowed out the cake layers, leaving only enough of the bottom
layer to support their weight and pillars of cake to support the layer above.
It required long minutes, and threats of the Hammers being
called into the restaurant, to calm things down and restore order to the dining
room. Almost a dozen people had been badly injured, and healers from the Church
of Kaa Iron Eye had been called in to treat the injuries. Several people had
left, furiously stomping out amid threats of legal action and refusal to pay
their bills, and the maitre-d had been forced to allow many of the patrons to
not only receive the meal they had ordered for free, but also receive a
reservation and another free meal.
Finally everything was settling down, with the tables,
chairs, and dinnerware being replaced. People were returning to their meals,
the Patriarchs and Matriarchs of the two noble families had restored order
among their families under the watchful eyes of the two Grand Matrons, and the
old man was grumpily accepting a cup of hot mint and pepper-oil tea after
dismissing his miniature stone guardians, his aura of power still faintly
simmering around him. His beard, of course, had been completely aloof to the
near-brawl that had enveloped the dining area, instead swaying and bushing with
authority and magnificence mere mortal concerns could never approach.
Fraker had scooped up his basket as everything calmed down
and was moving toward the exit, muffled peeping and squeaking coming from
within the basket as the Peepers celebrated their victory in making off with
two containers of yummy treats, the salt and pepper as sweet as honey to their
taste buds. The Peeper in his belt pouch was still watching the crowd with
bright eyes, his head swiveling back and forth to take everything in.
“Ahem.” The sound was dry and acerbic, drawing Fraker’s
attention immediately.
In front of him the tall, thin, and dapper maitre-d was
staring up at Fraker with a disapproving expression on his narrow face. The man
was obviously not intimidated by a man who had spent decades on the battlefield
and fought his way out of the Halls of the Dead. Nor was he intimidated by the
fact that Fraker stood a good three feet higher than him, and massed enough to
make at least four of him.
The Peeper ducked back into the belt pouch with a small
chagrined peep as Fraker stopped dead in his tracks before the maitre-d.
“Were those young ones in your care, sirrah?” The man asked,
one hand on his hip and the other motioning at the basket.
“Uh… no?” Fraker said, feeling sweat bead on his forehead.
“Really?” The man asked, narrowing his eyes as if he was
looking at a deadbeat diner. “May I ask what is in the basket?”
“Umm… severed heads?” Fraker lied, knowing he was starting
to blush.
“Is that so? Do the heads still live and are still making
noise, milord?” the maitre-d wondered, then glanced down at the Peeper that was
peeking out of the pouch. It made a squeak and ducked back in. “May I look in
the basket, Lord Fraker, or did you gather the heads for your Step-Mother in
order for her to interrogate them?”
Fraker resisted the urge to mop his brow, twisting one foot
back and forth slightly. “Um… no?”
“And why not, Milord?”
“They’re, uhh… sleeping! Yeah, they’re asleep, and I
wouldn’t want to wake them!” Fraker blurted out.
“The severed heads are sleeping, or are you claiming that
the young ones you denied were in there are sleeping?” The maitre-d raised one
eyebrow, and Fraker hung his head. “They are in your care, aren’t they,
Milord?”
“Yes, I’m taking them to a village for my Step-Mother.”
Fraker admitted.
“For shame, Milord, your Step-Mother would be ashamed of you
lying like an errant schoolboy holding a sweetbun behind his back.” The
maitre-d chided, and Fraker knew he was flushing deeply.
“I’m sorry.” The legendary hero murmured. “Don’t tell my
Step-Mother.” The massive man half-pleaded.
“I’m sure we can come to an arrangement, Milord.” The
maitre-d said, then stepped to the side and waved at the door at the back of
the dining area. “Step into my office, Lord Fraker, and we’ll discuss ways to
handle this unfortunate incident and uphold your honor, your Step-Mother’s
honor, and the honor of this establishment.”
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