The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox
- Thread starter arianedartagnan
- Start date
That would be a great idea! Except Flicker does take it back with him.
Half Moon
In the end, there is no end.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Come on. He's not going to be using it, and the Star of Reflected Brightness probably has tons of them. She's being really selfish here.That would be a great idea! Except Flicker does take it back with him.
Come on. He's not going to be using it, and the Star of Reflected Brightness probably has tons of them. She's being really selfish here.
Haha, both of those are true...but it would look really suspicious if a random turtle suddenly showed up with an amazingly luxurious, Heaven-quality casket.
Serican Empire Fashions
Here are some designs I came up with for women's fashions during Cassius' reign! The dress in the center is a ballgown that someone like Piri might wear. The one on the right is a gingko tree spirit's dress. The one on the left is more practical. It's more along the lines of a scholar's or mage's outfit.
View: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Jmi96VYwRJEwyewJlxTmijNzNX2jIvBa/view?usp=sharing
In case you can't see the image, it's also here.
View: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Jmi96VYwRJEwyewJlxTmijNzNX2jIvBa/view?usp=sharing
In case you can't see the image, it's also here.
Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Piri used to go for more fancy than cute back when she was intentionally ruining everything, huh?
Yep! She loved her pouffy Disney-princess-esque ballgowns!
Chapter 42: Never Let Humans Invent New Traditions
Chapter 42: Never Let Humans Invent New Traditions
"I see you're making friends," commented Flicker.
With no documents to flip through, the clerk didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. He fidgeted with his fingers until he laced them together inside his sleeves and held them still.
Yep, I replied before I crunched into a spoon cabbage leaf. Mmm, it was so much crisper and sweeter than the one I'd bitten in a fit of rage in the Jeks' vegetable patch. I do need allies if I'm going to keep Taila alive.
"Allies – or tools?" he retorted.
Is there a difference?
He sighed. "For you, no."
There wasn't much to add to that, so I didn't bother. Instead, we lapsed into a comfortable silence while I ate and he shuffled his feet.
At last, I took pity on him and asked between bites, How're things going up there anyway?
His voice was curt, but the speed at which he answered told me that he was grateful for something to do besides watch me chew. "Same old, same old. Souls need reincarnating. Gods need placating."
How's Glitter doing? Getting along with Cassius? The question wasn't all flippant: I needed to know if the Superintendent of Reincarnation might ally herself with my enemy.
Flicker's grimace put my mind at ease. "Glitter is experienced at the inner workings of a bureaucracy."
Whereas Cassius isn't?
"Oh, he is. He is." The clerk hesitated, as if debating whether to spread office gossip to one of the souls it concerned. "The Star of Heavenly Joy is on the verge of getting himself appointed Assistant Director of Reincarnation."
He is???
My first reaction was pure, unadulterated horror. My second was surprise that it had taken him so long.
So what's taking him so long? I asked. Did Lady Fate have another vision or something? Although I started out sarcastically, halfway through it turned into a genuine question.
"Oh, no, nothing like that," Flicker assured me. "There are just a lot of procedures that candidates have to go through before they can be formally appointed to a position like that. First of all, they have to serve for a certain period of time at the bureau in order to become eligible. That rule was instituted to ensure that officials are familiar with how their bureaus function, and that they can work with their colleagues."
I could imagine why that rule had been instituted. Doubtless, in the past, some god had wrangled a directorship for his wildly-unqualified favorite child, and said child had wreaked so much havoc that not even Heaven could overlook it. Nepotism had happened a lot on Earth too, even without my active encouragement. For all I knew, it was still happening. In fact, it probably was. I spared a moment for regret that I was no longer in any position to abet it.
By "colleagues," I assume you don't mean star sprites? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I did not get the impression that Glitter is a fan of Cassius'.
Alas, Flicker didn't let me tempt him into saying anything damaging about his boss. "As I said, the Superintendent is experienced at the inner workings of a bureaucracy and does not let her personal feelings interfere with her professional duties."
Ha. Meaning she detested Cassius but couldn't do anything besides work around him.
What other procedures does he have to go through before he can get appointed Assistant Director?
"The director of the bureau, the Kitchen God in this case, has to file a formal recommendation with the Office of the Evening Star. The Evening Star is the Director of Heavenly Affairs," Flicker reminded me, in case I'd forgotten.
How could I have? That was the god I'd wanted to appeal to when Cassius stole Glitter's seal and kicked me back down from Green to White Tier. At the time, Flicker had flat-out refused to let me try, claiming that the Evening Star would be too busy to see me and that his two Assistant Directors, She Who Hears the Cries of the World and She Who Sees the Suffering of the World, were not authorized to issue judgments on his behalf.
Most useless complaints department ever.
I assume the Evening Star is too busy to review these recommendations in a timely manner?
At least, he'd better be.
"That's part of it. But before the recommendation reaches his desk, it goes to a committee composed of all the directors and assistant directors of all the bureaus and ministries, plus some gods and goddesses who are honorary committee members, for meticulous review. They and their clerks analyze the candidate's record in order to decide whether he is suitable for the position. They also need to determine whether they can work with him in perpetuity."
That seemed shockingly sensible, for Heaven.
"If the committee recommends him for the position, then their recommendation goes to the Office of the Evening Star. After he stamps it, it goes to the Jade Emperor for His Heavenly Majesty's seal. That last step is usually, but not always, routine."
Of course. There was always the chance that your rivals would feed rumors to the Jade Emperor that you weren't suitable for the job. I hoped Cassius' enemies were hard at work.
What happens if the Jade Emperor rejects it?
"If His Heavenly Majesty declines to approve the recommendation, it goes back to the committee, which decides whether to drop it or to send it back to the submitting bureau. If they choose the latter, then in turn, the bureau has the options of either dropping it or of submitting an appeal and supplementary documentation."
I love it! I cried. I love it! I love it so much!
Flicker blinked, caught off guard. "You love the, uh – " he frowned down at the rosewood casket, trying to identify the vegetable on top – "the spoon cabbages? I'll pass along your compliments to the Star of Reflected Brightness."
Oh, yeah, those too. But I meant the appointment system! It's so…thorough.
Thoroughly convoluted, that was. There was so much opportunity for backstabbing and backroom politicking and good old-fashioned bickering that you'd never get anything done! What a miracle of bureaucracy!
Flicker, as a participant in aforementioned bureaucracy, didn't look nearly so impressed. I supposed that after so many – what, centuries? Millennia? – he'd become blinded to the awesomeness of its inefficiency.
So where's Cassius in this process?
"It is commonly believed that the committee of directors and assistant directors is on the verge of recommending him for the position."
Ah. I nodded sagely. So it will only take another couple hundred years for the recommendation to actually make it to the Jade Emperor.
It was a random guess, but I must have struck too close to the truth.
"Just finish your vegetables, will you?" Flicker snapped. "I really do need to get back before anyone realizes I'm missing. If we get caught, you're not going to like the results any more than I will!"
As I'd already calculated, the clerk would get into a lot more trouble than I, whereas Aurelia would either get into even more trouble than he – or float away unscathed, depending on how she wielded her politics. But it didn't benefit me to expose either of them at the moment, so I bent my head back over my salad.
Ah, what a wonderful way to end the year, with good food, informative conversation, and useful allies. As the water clock flowed towards the new year, I was looking forward to it.
The sentiment did not last.
Oh, I was pleased to see that modern-day Sericans still celebrated a multi-day New Year. The first few days were packed with prescribed visits to various categories of family and friends. On the fifth day, shops reopened to the accompaniment of offerings to the God of Wealth. And on the fifteenth, the holidays terminated with the Lantern Festival. As usual, all the ceremonies were scaled way down from what I remembered, but I was still glad to see these people making their best attempt to uphold tradition.
However, I was much, much less pleased to discover that they had added to the list of traditions.
It seemed innocuous enough at first. Early in the morning on the fourth day, Mistress Jek went into town on her own and returned hours later with a cloth-covered basket over her arm. I could smell the fresh pastries halfway across the yard, and Taila dropped the stick she was using to write "Happy New Year" and dashed for her mother.
Manners, Taila! I snapped.
She skidded to a stop, bowed, and directed a practiced, guileless smile up at Mistress Jek. "Welcome home, Mother! What is that? What didja get?!"
I sighed. We still had a ways to go.
Unfortunately, Mistress Jek had grown lax when it came to parental supervision during the holidays, and she failed to correct her daughter. "Fox cakes!" she grinned. "It's the Fourth, 'member? I had to stand in line for hours, but I got 'em. HEY!" She raised her voice in that old bellow. "THE FOX CAKES ARE HERE! COME EAT WHILE THEY'RE STILL HOT!"
Double sigh. Once the holidays ended, I was going to have to re-teach a lot of lessons.
Off in the distance, I heard the boys' excited voices.
"Ma's back!"
"Fox cakes! Fox cakes!"
"Race you! Winner gets the biggest one!"
A clatter of footsteps, like a pack of deer demons.
"Hey! No fair! You pushed me! PA! CAILUS PUSHED ME!"
"Boys, boys, no pushin'." The exhaustion in Master Jek's voice could have rivaled Flicker's.
The stampede soon reached the yard, with Cailus in the lead, Nailus hot on his heels with his fist clenched on the back of his brother's tunic, and Ailus and their father following at a more dignified pace.
"CAILUS! NO PUSHING! NAILUS! LET GO OF YOUR BROTHER RIGHT THIS INSTANT! BEFORE YOU RIP HIS CLOTHING!"
Mistress Jek did not sound at all tired, even though she was the one who'd made the trek into and back from town and stood in line for hours, apparently, to purchase a basketful of pastries. After her sons calmed down, she whipped off the cloth and tipped the basket forward to show off – two ivory-colored blobs with a red, four-legged creature painted on top.
She'd stood in line all morning for that?
"Now," she asked dramatically, "who wants to bite her head off?"
What barbaric question was this? Bite whose head off?
A chorus of "ME! ME!" from the three younger children answered her. Ailus, the oldest child, stood back and grinned at his little brothers and sister.
"I wanna bite her head off!" shouted Cailus.
"No fair!" Nailus yelled back. "You got to last year!"
"Well, there're two! You bite one, I bite one!"
"NOOOOO! No fair!" Taila's face was turning red with rage. She reached up, trying to grab one of the pastries first. "I WANNA BITE PIRI'S HEAD OFF!"
The scuffle continued for a while after that, but I barely registered Mistress Jek cuffing her children for acting like savages, berating Cailus for being too old to fight with his little siblings over the first bite, and then handing one fox cake each to Nailus and Taila.
Fox cakes.
People ate pastries decorated with foxes on the fourth day. Four: the number that sounded like "death."
On the fourth day of the New Year, children fought to be the ones to bite off the fox's head. No, not just any head. Piri's head. My head.
What kind of tradition was this?!
STOP! I roared.
The humans all froze, Cailus with the crudely painted fox's head right between his teeth.
In the goddess' name, I command you to stop!
Mistress Jek was the first to drop to her knees and prostrate herself, followed by Taila, Master Jek and Ailus, Nailus, and finally Cailus.
"Wha-wha-what have we done wrong, emissary?" quavered Mistress Jek.
This barbarous behavior is unworthy of the goddess' chosen one! I stabbed a forefoot at Taila.
The girl had managed to prostrate herself with her palms still cupped around her fox cake.
Hunting down and killing foxes! Symbolically biting heads off foxes! You know better than that!
From the Jeks' blank expressions, they didn't actually know better than that – but did know better than to question me.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a fox! Any more than there is with being a human or a turtle or a cat or a snake or a duck or an ox! Foxes deserve decency and respect just like every other living creature! Do not make a game of their demise!
Shamed, they bowed their heads further. (Except Taila and Cailus, who were more concerned with protecting their pastries.)
"Yes, emissary," murmured Mistress Jek. "We're sorry we upset the most merciful goddess. We'll never do it again."
Good. I glared at each of them in turn, not that they could see me.
"Should we – " Master Jek sounded pained, but forced out the question anyway. "Would it please the goddess for us to…not eat the fox cakes?"
Whimpers rose from the children, although none of them dared object.
Now that I'd calmed down, I surveyed their bowed heads and sighed once more. It wasn't the children's fault that their ancestors had developed this disgusting tradition of painting foxes on top of pastries and making a game of biting their heads off. And depriving these four children of their dessert wasn't going to change the general attitude towards foxes or bring back all the ones who'd been murdered.
Not to mention, I might get negative karma for spoiling the kids' big day.
The goddess is ever merciful, I pronounced. She would want the little ones to have their treat.
That was certainly true – Aurelia would have no objection to Taila biting off a fox's head in effigy.
Sighs of relief whooshed out of the Jeks, followed by a chorus of heartfelt "Thank you, thank you, emissary!" which I accepted graciously.
Producing his pocketknife, Master Jek hacked the cakes in half through the foxes' backs, then passed each child a piece.
I winced at the sight, but it seemed like the best I was going to get.
A/N 1: Thanks to everyone for comments and suggestions, especially Jaertin!
A/N 2: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Blacklark57, Celia, Charlotte, Hookshyu, James, Lindsey, Michael, Pred Head, and Anonymous!
"I see you're making friends," commented Flicker.
With no documents to flip through, the clerk didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. He fidgeted with his fingers until he laced them together inside his sleeves and held them still.
Yep, I replied before I crunched into a spoon cabbage leaf. Mmm, it was so much crisper and sweeter than the one I'd bitten in a fit of rage in the Jeks' vegetable patch. I do need allies if I'm going to keep Taila alive.
"Allies – or tools?" he retorted.
Is there a difference?
He sighed. "For you, no."
There wasn't much to add to that, so I didn't bother. Instead, we lapsed into a comfortable silence while I ate and he shuffled his feet.
At last, I took pity on him and asked between bites, How're things going up there anyway?
His voice was curt, but the speed at which he answered told me that he was grateful for something to do besides watch me chew. "Same old, same old. Souls need reincarnating. Gods need placating."
How's Glitter doing? Getting along with Cassius? The question wasn't all flippant: I needed to know if the Superintendent of Reincarnation might ally herself with my enemy.
Flicker's grimace put my mind at ease. "Glitter is experienced at the inner workings of a bureaucracy."
Whereas Cassius isn't?
"Oh, he is. He is." The clerk hesitated, as if debating whether to spread office gossip to one of the souls it concerned. "The Star of Heavenly Joy is on the verge of getting himself appointed Assistant Director of Reincarnation."
He is???
My first reaction was pure, unadulterated horror. My second was surprise that it had taken him so long.
So what's taking him so long? I asked. Did Lady Fate have another vision or something? Although I started out sarcastically, halfway through it turned into a genuine question.
"Oh, no, nothing like that," Flicker assured me. "There are just a lot of procedures that candidates have to go through before they can be formally appointed to a position like that. First of all, they have to serve for a certain period of time at the bureau in order to become eligible. That rule was instituted to ensure that officials are familiar with how their bureaus function, and that they can work with their colleagues."
I could imagine why that rule had been instituted. Doubtless, in the past, some god had wrangled a directorship for his wildly-unqualified favorite child, and said child had wreaked so much havoc that not even Heaven could overlook it. Nepotism had happened a lot on Earth too, even without my active encouragement. For all I knew, it was still happening. In fact, it probably was. I spared a moment for regret that I was no longer in any position to abet it.
By "colleagues," I assume you don't mean star sprites? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I did not get the impression that Glitter is a fan of Cassius'.
Alas, Flicker didn't let me tempt him into saying anything damaging about his boss. "As I said, the Superintendent is experienced at the inner workings of a bureaucracy and does not let her personal feelings interfere with her professional duties."
Ha. Meaning she detested Cassius but couldn't do anything besides work around him.
What other procedures does he have to go through before he can get appointed Assistant Director?
"The director of the bureau, the Kitchen God in this case, has to file a formal recommendation with the Office of the Evening Star. The Evening Star is the Director of Heavenly Affairs," Flicker reminded me, in case I'd forgotten.
How could I have? That was the god I'd wanted to appeal to when Cassius stole Glitter's seal and kicked me back down from Green to White Tier. At the time, Flicker had flat-out refused to let me try, claiming that the Evening Star would be too busy to see me and that his two Assistant Directors, She Who Hears the Cries of the World and She Who Sees the Suffering of the World, were not authorized to issue judgments on his behalf.
Most useless complaints department ever.
I assume the Evening Star is too busy to review these recommendations in a timely manner?
At least, he'd better be.
"That's part of it. But before the recommendation reaches his desk, it goes to a committee composed of all the directors and assistant directors of all the bureaus and ministries, plus some gods and goddesses who are honorary committee members, for meticulous review. They and their clerks analyze the candidate's record in order to decide whether he is suitable for the position. They also need to determine whether they can work with him in perpetuity."
That seemed shockingly sensible, for Heaven.
"If the committee recommends him for the position, then their recommendation goes to the Office of the Evening Star. After he stamps it, it goes to the Jade Emperor for His Heavenly Majesty's seal. That last step is usually, but not always, routine."
Of course. There was always the chance that your rivals would feed rumors to the Jade Emperor that you weren't suitable for the job. I hoped Cassius' enemies were hard at work.
What happens if the Jade Emperor rejects it?
"If His Heavenly Majesty declines to approve the recommendation, it goes back to the committee, which decides whether to drop it or to send it back to the submitting bureau. If they choose the latter, then in turn, the bureau has the options of either dropping it or of submitting an appeal and supplementary documentation."
I love it! I cried. I love it! I love it so much!
Flicker blinked, caught off guard. "You love the, uh – " he frowned down at the rosewood casket, trying to identify the vegetable on top – "the spoon cabbages? I'll pass along your compliments to the Star of Reflected Brightness."
Oh, yeah, those too. But I meant the appointment system! It's so…thorough.
Thoroughly convoluted, that was. There was so much opportunity for backstabbing and backroom politicking and good old-fashioned bickering that you'd never get anything done! What a miracle of bureaucracy!
Flicker, as a participant in aforementioned bureaucracy, didn't look nearly so impressed. I supposed that after so many – what, centuries? Millennia? – he'd become blinded to the awesomeness of its inefficiency.
So where's Cassius in this process?
"It is commonly believed that the committee of directors and assistant directors is on the verge of recommending him for the position."
Ah. I nodded sagely. So it will only take another couple hundred years for the recommendation to actually make it to the Jade Emperor.
It was a random guess, but I must have struck too close to the truth.
"Just finish your vegetables, will you?" Flicker snapped. "I really do need to get back before anyone realizes I'm missing. If we get caught, you're not going to like the results any more than I will!"
As I'd already calculated, the clerk would get into a lot more trouble than I, whereas Aurelia would either get into even more trouble than he – or float away unscathed, depending on how she wielded her politics. But it didn't benefit me to expose either of them at the moment, so I bent my head back over my salad.
Ah, what a wonderful way to end the year, with good food, informative conversation, and useful allies. As the water clock flowed towards the new year, I was looking forward to it.
The sentiment did not last.
Oh, I was pleased to see that modern-day Sericans still celebrated a multi-day New Year. The first few days were packed with prescribed visits to various categories of family and friends. On the fifth day, shops reopened to the accompaniment of offerings to the God of Wealth. And on the fifteenth, the holidays terminated with the Lantern Festival. As usual, all the ceremonies were scaled way down from what I remembered, but I was still glad to see these people making their best attempt to uphold tradition.
However, I was much, much less pleased to discover that they had added to the list of traditions.
It seemed innocuous enough at first. Early in the morning on the fourth day, Mistress Jek went into town on her own and returned hours later with a cloth-covered basket over her arm. I could smell the fresh pastries halfway across the yard, and Taila dropped the stick she was using to write "Happy New Year" and dashed for her mother.
Manners, Taila! I snapped.
She skidded to a stop, bowed, and directed a practiced, guileless smile up at Mistress Jek. "Welcome home, Mother! What is that? What didja get?!"
I sighed. We still had a ways to go.
Unfortunately, Mistress Jek had grown lax when it came to parental supervision during the holidays, and she failed to correct her daughter. "Fox cakes!" she grinned. "It's the Fourth, 'member? I had to stand in line for hours, but I got 'em. HEY!" She raised her voice in that old bellow. "THE FOX CAKES ARE HERE! COME EAT WHILE THEY'RE STILL HOT!"
Double sigh. Once the holidays ended, I was going to have to re-teach a lot of lessons.
Off in the distance, I heard the boys' excited voices.
"Ma's back!"
"Fox cakes! Fox cakes!"
"Race you! Winner gets the biggest one!"
A clatter of footsteps, like a pack of deer demons.
"Hey! No fair! You pushed me! PA! CAILUS PUSHED ME!"
"Boys, boys, no pushin'." The exhaustion in Master Jek's voice could have rivaled Flicker's.
The stampede soon reached the yard, with Cailus in the lead, Nailus hot on his heels with his fist clenched on the back of his brother's tunic, and Ailus and their father following at a more dignified pace.
"CAILUS! NO PUSHING! NAILUS! LET GO OF YOUR BROTHER RIGHT THIS INSTANT! BEFORE YOU RIP HIS CLOTHING!"
Mistress Jek did not sound at all tired, even though she was the one who'd made the trek into and back from town and stood in line for hours, apparently, to purchase a basketful of pastries. After her sons calmed down, she whipped off the cloth and tipped the basket forward to show off – two ivory-colored blobs with a red, four-legged creature painted on top.
She'd stood in line all morning for that?
"Now," she asked dramatically, "who wants to bite her head off?"
What barbaric question was this? Bite whose head off?
A chorus of "ME! ME!" from the three younger children answered her. Ailus, the oldest child, stood back and grinned at his little brothers and sister.
"I wanna bite her head off!" shouted Cailus.
"No fair!" Nailus yelled back. "You got to last year!"
"Well, there're two! You bite one, I bite one!"
"NOOOOO! No fair!" Taila's face was turning red with rage. She reached up, trying to grab one of the pastries first. "I WANNA BITE PIRI'S HEAD OFF!"
The scuffle continued for a while after that, but I barely registered Mistress Jek cuffing her children for acting like savages, berating Cailus for being too old to fight with his little siblings over the first bite, and then handing one fox cake each to Nailus and Taila.
Fox cakes.
People ate pastries decorated with foxes on the fourth day. Four: the number that sounded like "death."
On the fourth day of the New Year, children fought to be the ones to bite off the fox's head. No, not just any head. Piri's head. My head.
What kind of tradition was this?!
STOP! I roared.
The humans all froze, Cailus with the crudely painted fox's head right between his teeth.
In the goddess' name, I command you to stop!
Mistress Jek was the first to drop to her knees and prostrate herself, followed by Taila, Master Jek and Ailus, Nailus, and finally Cailus.
"Wha-wha-what have we done wrong, emissary?" quavered Mistress Jek.
This barbarous behavior is unworthy of the goddess' chosen one! I stabbed a forefoot at Taila.
The girl had managed to prostrate herself with her palms still cupped around her fox cake.
Hunting down and killing foxes! Symbolically biting heads off foxes! You know better than that!
From the Jeks' blank expressions, they didn't actually know better than that – but did know better than to question me.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a fox! Any more than there is with being a human or a turtle or a cat or a snake or a duck or an ox! Foxes deserve decency and respect just like every other living creature! Do not make a game of their demise!
Shamed, they bowed their heads further. (Except Taila and Cailus, who were more concerned with protecting their pastries.)
"Yes, emissary," murmured Mistress Jek. "We're sorry we upset the most merciful goddess. We'll never do it again."
Good. I glared at each of them in turn, not that they could see me.
"Should we – " Master Jek sounded pained, but forced out the question anyway. "Would it please the goddess for us to…not eat the fox cakes?"
Whimpers rose from the children, although none of them dared object.
Now that I'd calmed down, I surveyed their bowed heads and sighed once more. It wasn't the children's fault that their ancestors had developed this disgusting tradition of painting foxes on top of pastries and making a game of biting their heads off. And depriving these four children of their dessert wasn't going to change the general attitude towards foxes or bring back all the ones who'd been murdered.
Not to mention, I might get negative karma for spoiling the kids' big day.
The goddess is ever merciful, I pronounced. She would want the little ones to have their treat.
That was certainly true – Aurelia would have no objection to Taila biting off a fox's head in effigy.
Sighs of relief whooshed out of the Jeks, followed by a chorus of heartfelt "Thank you, thank you, emissary!" which I accepted graciously.
Producing his pocketknife, Master Jek hacked the cakes in half through the foxes' backs, then passed each child a piece.
I winced at the sight, but it seemed like the best I was going to get.
A/N 1: Thanks to everyone for comments and suggestions, especially Jaertin!
A/N 2: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Blacklark57, Celia, Charlotte, Hookshyu, James, Lindsey, Michael, Pred Head, and Anonymous!
Oh it's Guy Fawkes Piri Night, on Death Day too.
Oooh, I'm excited you caught the four/death reference! I was trying to decide which day they'd celebrate Piri's death, and Day 4 just seemed appropriate.
How many years has it been since fox!Piri died? It seems like time passes differently in Heaven than on Earth (or maybe the gods just routinely take multiple years to anything.)
It's been over 500 years since fox-Piri died. Time passes the same on Heaven and Earth - it's just that the gods take forever to do anything because they bicker so much. Plus they have forever, so they're in no rush.
Took Japanese in high school. Most weebs would recognize it too, I would say.
Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Personally, I think it'd be fine if they were Piri Cakes instead of Fox Cakes. But I'm sure she would disagree with me. 
I forgot that Japanese has the four/death pun like Chinese! It's always fun to find similarities between the two languages.
Personally, I think it'd be fine if they were Piri Cakes instead of Fox Cakes. But I'm sure she would disagree with me.
Haha, Piri Cakes sounds good to me!
Half Moon
In the end, there is no end.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Mmm, pear cakes.
I think Piri's becoming less spiteful. Not that she's noticed yet.
Yep! Piri is slowly becoming less mean and spiteful! She's going to be shocked when she figures it out.
Oooh, yes, that would be awesome!
Off the top of my head, maybe you could turn this pear cake into a sheet cake, cut it into a fox shape, and maybe ice it? (I've made this recipe before, but in a bundt pan.)
Chapter 43: The Whistling Duck Seneschal
Chapter 43: The Whistling Duck Seneschal
Up at the castle:
The day after the Lantern Festival marked the end of the holidays, Anasius the whistling duck spirit carried his account books into Baron Claymouth's study for their yearly review of barony finances.
"We're doing well, my lord," reported the seneschal. "If you would like, we could even increase the capitation tax by a copper."
For the past few years, the weather had been good, and the peasants had produced a surplus of rice and wheat to sell to other fiefs.
"Mmmm," said the baron. He traced his finger down the page as he pored over the numbers, balancing his needs against his peasants' inevitable complaints. "That's acceptable. Do it."
Anasius made a note for himself, then went through each of the categories of taxes, tolls, rents, fees, and fines in turn. Barony revenue came not just from the capitation tax levied on every adult resident, but also from property and inheritance taxes; tolls on bridges and roads; rents on homes, shops, and market stalls; fees for using the official mill, well, oven, brewhouse, and bull; licenses to peddle goods; mandatory festival gifts presented to the baron by his vassals; and more. Fines for offenses such as public drunkenness and disorderliness added up, too.
Annoyingly, even though the baron owned the pasture, woodland, and meadow, tradition allowed the peasants to use it practically for free. Anasius hadn't come up with a way to raise that fee yet without alienating everyone – which was never a safe option. But that didn't mean he didn't track their usage patterns.
"Timber exploitation went up last year," he informed the baron.
"Oh? Did Master Gravitas expand his business?"
Anasius shook his head. "No, although there's talk of him taking an apprentice this year. The second Jek boy."
The baron raised his eyebrows. "The Jeks haven't applied for permission to apprentice their son to the carpenter, have they?"
Anasius consulted his records. "No, although last year they did apply to apprentice him to Master Gian the basket maker. Apparently that contract fell through. I'll keep an eye out for a new application." And the special fee that the baron charged for registering new contracts. "But in fact…it appears that it was the Jeks who increased their use of the woodlands last year."
"So their son could practice woodworking before they approached Master Gravitas?" The baron looked more perplexed than displeased.
Anasius consulted the reports he'd received. "For…property improvements, actually. Apparently they built…a pigsty and a chicken coop? And…new furniture?"
"So they were having their son practice woodworking to improve his chances of getting the apprenticeship!"
"Perhaps," agreed Anasius, "but why a chicken coop?"
The whistling duck spirit was old enough to remember when chicken coops were necessary to protect hens and their eggs from foxes. But the pests hadn't been a problem in the humans' living memory.
The baron frowned as he tried to remember who all his peasants were. "The Jeks…the Jeks…that sounds familiar. Aha! Mistress Jek was born a Lom, wasn't she?"
Although he was the Loms' lord, his forefathers had learned not to tangle with the sharp-tongued, eccentric family. Let them have their delusions of grandeur about their supposed connection to the long-defunct imperial family. So long as they paid their taxes, tolls, rents, fees, and fines on time, and didn't incite their neighbors to revolt, he got what he needed.
"Assess their property improvements and raise their rent accordingly," the baron directed.
"Yes, my lord," said Anasius.
He'd go in person, he decided, so he could check if the other rumors about the Jeks were true.
At Honeysuckle Croft:
The sight that greeted the seneschal as he approached Honeysuckle Croft was so bizarre that he couldn't begin to process it. The cottage itself looked nicer than usual: Master Jek had obviously patched and whitewashed the walls for the holidays, but that wasn't out of the ordinary.
What was out of the ordinary was the miniature house next to the cottage, built from the excessive quantity of wood that the Jeks had cut in the woodlands. As Anasius gawked at the contraption, a hen fluttered out of a square opening near its roof, landed on the ground, and started pecking.
Behind the cottage, he glimpsed a wall built from pieces of rock, which must be the pigsty.
When he turned off Persimmon Tree Road and walked into the yard, he saw something even more baffling: a little girl on her hands and knees with a sharp stick, mumbling to herself as she dragged it through the dirt.
"Puella…matri sui…malum…dat…."
What was a peasant child doing talking about a girl giving her mother an apple in Classical Serican?
The peasant child scooted backwards, revealing characters scratched into the ground that read, "Puella matri sui malum dat." They were all clumsy – and all correct.
Without noticing Anasius, she went on muttering to herself, "Puella…matri sui…malas – no, wait, what's the plural of malum?" And, closing her eyes, she rattled off the noun's declensions in the order that every scholar memorized: "Malum, mali, malo, malum, malo, malum, mala, malorum, malis, mala – mala! Puella…matri sui…mala…dat. There!" She dropped the stick and sang, even more nonsensically, "Mr. Tuuur-tle! I'm doo-one!"
No response.
Confused, the seneschal and the girl both looked around. "Mr. Turtle?" they asked in unison.
At the sight of a visitor, the girl's eyes flew wide. Leaping to her feet, she flourished an elaborate bow that was completely at odds with her dirty hands and thin, patched clothing. "O, good morrow sir! I most humbly beg your pardon for my inattention! Do you desire to see my parents?" And she swept one graceful arm around to gesture at the cottage.
"I…I…." Anasius had no idea how to respond.
This unnatural creature in front of him was neither a spirit transformed into the shape of a human child, nor a human child possessed by a demon. But now he could see why her neighbors thought she was one.
At the sound of their voices, a frizzy-haired woman with a broad, coarse face appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron and blinking in the sunlight. When she spotted Anasius, her posture changed at once. Her chin came up, her spine went as straight as Baroness Claymouth's, and she, too, executed a showy bow.
"Seneschal Anasius! 'Tis an unexpected pleasure! Truly this day hath been blessed by Heaven. Please, be welcome!"
Anasius recoiled. "What is this, woman? Do you mock a representative of the Baron?"
The woman froze, horrified. "No! Honored Seneschal!" The ridiculous, antiquated phrasing vanished, replaced by stumbling attempts at apology. "Never! I'd never do anything like that! How could I dare? I just – I just – "
"You just think it's funny to make fun of your visitors? What are you playing at here? Why is she writing?" Anasius stabbed an accusatory finger at the sentences in the dirt.
"I – that – " The woman scuttled over and started scrubbing out the characters with her shoe.
A little late for that.
"Did you apply for permission to build that chicken coop? Did you apply for permission to build that pigsty? Did you apply for permission to operate a school on these premises?" With each question, the woman cringed and shrank in on herself. "And you have the gall – the consummate gall – to mock me? The Baron will hear about this!"
Spinning on his heel, Anasius stormed out of the yard.
"No – no! Honored Seneschal, wait, please!" The woman scrambled after him, clutching at his arm. "Please don't report us to the Baron!"
Anasius yanked away, nearly making her fall. "Let go."
"Please, there's a reason! A good reason! It's not a joke!"
He kept striding down the road, forcing her to run alongside him. "And what is this 'good reason'?"
"It's just – I just – I'm so sorry, but I can't tell you! I'm not allowed to tell you!"
"Not allowed to tell me?" Anasius halted, suspicious. "Who gave that order?"
"I – I can't say…."
"Was it the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek? The Green Frog? Sir Black Pine?" Anasius listed neighbors who might be plotting to expand their own fiefs at Claymouth's expense. "I warn you, the penalty for betraying your lord is – "
"No! No!" She shook her head, frantic. "It's nothing like that! It has nothing to do with – " She gulped, lowered her voice, and mumbled something that possibly ended with "on Earth."
"With what on Earth? Speak up."
"With…affairs on Earth," she mumbled at the dirt. "It doesn't have anything to do with affairs on Earth. I can't say anything more. I'm sorry."
For a moment, Anasius was rendered speechless. Yes, the Loms had always had been arrogant, but this was taking presumption to a whole other level. "So you're trying to tell me that Heaven commanded you to do all this?"
She shook her head again, casting wild glances up at the sky. "I'm not saying anything! I'm not saying anything! I'm not allowed to say anything!"
"Hmmm." Well, she wasn't a transformed spirit or a possessed human either, so maybe the Lom family insanity had manifested late in Jek Lom Vannia. Taking pity on the madwoman, Anasius dropped his interrogation. "Very well then. I will report your property improvements to the Baron. You can expect a rent increase this year. Good day, Mistress Jek."
With a curt bob of his head, he strode off, heading for Black Sand Creek. He needed to have a word with his uncle.
On the banks of Black Sand Creek:
Stripey rested on the riverbank adjoining the Green Frog's fief, planning out his schedule for the upcoming year. There was the usual round of holidays and festivals, of course, which brought travelers and merchants (i.e. targets) into the barony. Business had been good last year, and he wondered how best to advertise that when recruiting this year.
Not that the Claymouth Barony or Black Sand Creek Water Court could support any more outlaws – not unless their economies grew at a faster rate. Perhaps it was a sign that the ducks should start expanding into the Green Frog's fief. They could target theatergoers and art patrons, or insist on a cut of the pickpockets' take. Stripey had already put out feelers towards the petty thieves' queen, but the rat demon wasn't easily intimidated.
A cat spirit might do better than a duck, he mused. Maybe I could hire a negotiator from Master Gravitas.
"Uncle Stripey! I need to talk to you! It's urgent!"
A squawking storm of wings and feathers crashed down next to him.
Stripey chortled as his nephew righted himself. Anasius spent far too much time in human form these days.
"I told you to change back more often," he chided. "Next thing you know, you're going to forget how to fly! Or swim!"
Anasius ignored that and squawked, "We can talk about that later. I'm on business for the Baron."
Stripey stiffened. He threw out his chest and arched his neck proudly. "And he sent you to threaten us?"
"Threaten – ? What? No!" Catching himself, Anasius also threw out his chest and arched his neck. In a lofty voice, he proclaimed, "Baron Claymouth is far too wise a statesman to allow such grave conflicts of interest to arise. No, I am here on another matter entirely."
Stripey rolled his eyes Heavenward. "Then drop the high-and-mighty act and tell me what the Baron wants."
Anasius shuffled from one webbed foot to the other. "Well, you visit Caltrop Pond often, right?"
"Ye-ees? Does the Baron want me to mediate noise complaints between His Majesty and his neighbors? Because I can already tell you that's going to be a waste of time. The Baron's welcome to hire me anyway, of course."
Anasius was actually too distracted to take offense at Stripey's tone. "No, no, it's not that. It's…um, Caltrop Pond is close to Honeysuckle Croft, so you must pass by it often, right? And your friend Bobo works there? Have you noticed anything, uh, strange about her employers?"
Ah. The whole barony had been gossiping about the Jeks – and now the Baron was finally investigating.
Stripey shrugged. "Please don't tell me you believe those silly rumors, Anasius. Fox demons stealing the Jeks' bodies? Please."
Anasius shook his head. "I don't mean that. Obviously they haven't been possessed. I checked already."
"You did?" Stripey was alarmed. What would happen if Anasius found out about Rosie and the goddess?
"Of course I did. But possessed or not, they've made a number of changes to Honeysuckle Croft without notifying the Baron. They're also teaching their children to read and write. And Mistress Jek claims that it's on orders from Heaven! That worries me."
Stripey faked a snort. "What, do you think they're planning to overthrow the Baron?"
Anasius' voice stayed grim. "Stranger things have happened. And the Loms do claim imperial descent."
Stripey sighed to himself. He really should have let Rosie tell him more about the goddess and her plans, instead of leaving in a huff on New Year's Eve. "Look, Anasius, I don't understand what the Jeks are doing either, but I assure you that they have no intention of leading an uprising. They're…weird. But harmless. Leave them be, and you'll stir up a lot less trouble."
"Hmmm. You're certain?"
"I can check on them regularly if that would put your mind at ease."
"That would, in fact." Anasius thought for a moment. "Well, I'm going to have to report the housing improvements to the Baron, at least. He'll probably fine the Jeks and raise their rent."
"Ouch." Stripey winced, thinking of Bobo.
"It can't be helped."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Just keep him from investigating further."
And Stripey took great pleasure in watching his nephew's clumsy flight back across the river. Too bad Anasius didn't fall into the water – it would have been a hilarious opportunity to see if the duck spirit still remembered how to swim.
A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Blacklark57, Celia, Charlotte, Hookshyu, James, Lindsey, Michael, Pred Head, and Anonymous!
Up at the castle:
The day after the Lantern Festival marked the end of the holidays, Anasius the whistling duck spirit carried his account books into Baron Claymouth's study for their yearly review of barony finances.
"We're doing well, my lord," reported the seneschal. "If you would like, we could even increase the capitation tax by a copper."
For the past few years, the weather had been good, and the peasants had produced a surplus of rice and wheat to sell to other fiefs.
"Mmmm," said the baron. He traced his finger down the page as he pored over the numbers, balancing his needs against his peasants' inevitable complaints. "That's acceptable. Do it."
Anasius made a note for himself, then went through each of the categories of taxes, tolls, rents, fees, and fines in turn. Barony revenue came not just from the capitation tax levied on every adult resident, but also from property and inheritance taxes; tolls on bridges and roads; rents on homes, shops, and market stalls; fees for using the official mill, well, oven, brewhouse, and bull; licenses to peddle goods; mandatory festival gifts presented to the baron by his vassals; and more. Fines for offenses such as public drunkenness and disorderliness added up, too.
Annoyingly, even though the baron owned the pasture, woodland, and meadow, tradition allowed the peasants to use it practically for free. Anasius hadn't come up with a way to raise that fee yet without alienating everyone – which was never a safe option. But that didn't mean he didn't track their usage patterns.
"Timber exploitation went up last year," he informed the baron.
"Oh? Did Master Gravitas expand his business?"
Anasius shook his head. "No, although there's talk of him taking an apprentice this year. The second Jek boy."
The baron raised his eyebrows. "The Jeks haven't applied for permission to apprentice their son to the carpenter, have they?"
Anasius consulted his records. "No, although last year they did apply to apprentice him to Master Gian the basket maker. Apparently that contract fell through. I'll keep an eye out for a new application." And the special fee that the baron charged for registering new contracts. "But in fact…it appears that it was the Jeks who increased their use of the woodlands last year."
"So their son could practice woodworking before they approached Master Gravitas?" The baron looked more perplexed than displeased.
Anasius consulted the reports he'd received. "For…property improvements, actually. Apparently they built…a pigsty and a chicken coop? And…new furniture?"
"So they were having their son practice woodworking to improve his chances of getting the apprenticeship!"
"Perhaps," agreed Anasius, "but why a chicken coop?"
The whistling duck spirit was old enough to remember when chicken coops were necessary to protect hens and their eggs from foxes. But the pests hadn't been a problem in the humans' living memory.
The baron frowned as he tried to remember who all his peasants were. "The Jeks…the Jeks…that sounds familiar. Aha! Mistress Jek was born a Lom, wasn't she?"
Although he was the Loms' lord, his forefathers had learned not to tangle with the sharp-tongued, eccentric family. Let them have their delusions of grandeur about their supposed connection to the long-defunct imperial family. So long as they paid their taxes, tolls, rents, fees, and fines on time, and didn't incite their neighbors to revolt, he got what he needed.
"Assess their property improvements and raise their rent accordingly," the baron directed.
"Yes, my lord," said Anasius.
He'd go in person, he decided, so he could check if the other rumors about the Jeks were true.
At Honeysuckle Croft:
The sight that greeted the seneschal as he approached Honeysuckle Croft was so bizarre that he couldn't begin to process it. The cottage itself looked nicer than usual: Master Jek had obviously patched and whitewashed the walls for the holidays, but that wasn't out of the ordinary.
What was out of the ordinary was the miniature house next to the cottage, built from the excessive quantity of wood that the Jeks had cut in the woodlands. As Anasius gawked at the contraption, a hen fluttered out of a square opening near its roof, landed on the ground, and started pecking.
Behind the cottage, he glimpsed a wall built from pieces of rock, which must be the pigsty.
When he turned off Persimmon Tree Road and walked into the yard, he saw something even more baffling: a little girl on her hands and knees with a sharp stick, mumbling to herself as she dragged it through the dirt.
"Puella…matri sui…malum…dat…."
What was a peasant child doing talking about a girl giving her mother an apple in Classical Serican?
The peasant child scooted backwards, revealing characters scratched into the ground that read, "Puella matri sui malum dat." They were all clumsy – and all correct.
Without noticing Anasius, she went on muttering to herself, "Puella…matri sui…malas – no, wait, what's the plural of malum?" And, closing her eyes, she rattled off the noun's declensions in the order that every scholar memorized: "Malum, mali, malo, malum, malo, malum, mala, malorum, malis, mala – mala! Puella…matri sui…mala…dat. There!" She dropped the stick and sang, even more nonsensically, "Mr. Tuuur-tle! I'm doo-one!"
No response.
Confused, the seneschal and the girl both looked around. "Mr. Turtle?" they asked in unison.
At the sight of a visitor, the girl's eyes flew wide. Leaping to her feet, she flourished an elaborate bow that was completely at odds with her dirty hands and thin, patched clothing. "O, good morrow sir! I most humbly beg your pardon for my inattention! Do you desire to see my parents?" And she swept one graceful arm around to gesture at the cottage.
"I…I…." Anasius had no idea how to respond.
This unnatural creature in front of him was neither a spirit transformed into the shape of a human child, nor a human child possessed by a demon. But now he could see why her neighbors thought she was one.
At the sound of their voices, a frizzy-haired woman with a broad, coarse face appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron and blinking in the sunlight. When she spotted Anasius, her posture changed at once. Her chin came up, her spine went as straight as Baroness Claymouth's, and she, too, executed a showy bow.
"Seneschal Anasius! 'Tis an unexpected pleasure! Truly this day hath been blessed by Heaven. Please, be welcome!"
Anasius recoiled. "What is this, woman? Do you mock a representative of the Baron?"
The woman froze, horrified. "No! Honored Seneschal!" The ridiculous, antiquated phrasing vanished, replaced by stumbling attempts at apology. "Never! I'd never do anything like that! How could I dare? I just – I just – "
"You just think it's funny to make fun of your visitors? What are you playing at here? Why is she writing?" Anasius stabbed an accusatory finger at the sentences in the dirt.
"I – that – " The woman scuttled over and started scrubbing out the characters with her shoe.
A little late for that.
"Did you apply for permission to build that chicken coop? Did you apply for permission to build that pigsty? Did you apply for permission to operate a school on these premises?" With each question, the woman cringed and shrank in on herself. "And you have the gall – the consummate gall – to mock me? The Baron will hear about this!"
Spinning on his heel, Anasius stormed out of the yard.
"No – no! Honored Seneschal, wait, please!" The woman scrambled after him, clutching at his arm. "Please don't report us to the Baron!"
Anasius yanked away, nearly making her fall. "Let go."
"Please, there's a reason! A good reason! It's not a joke!"
He kept striding down the road, forcing her to run alongside him. "And what is this 'good reason'?"
"It's just – I just – I'm so sorry, but I can't tell you! I'm not allowed to tell you!"
"Not allowed to tell me?" Anasius halted, suspicious. "Who gave that order?"
"I – I can't say…."
"Was it the Dragon King of Black Sand Creek? The Green Frog? Sir Black Pine?" Anasius listed neighbors who might be plotting to expand their own fiefs at Claymouth's expense. "I warn you, the penalty for betraying your lord is – "
"No! No!" She shook her head, frantic. "It's nothing like that! It has nothing to do with – " She gulped, lowered her voice, and mumbled something that possibly ended with "on Earth."
"With what on Earth? Speak up."
"With…affairs on Earth," she mumbled at the dirt. "It doesn't have anything to do with affairs on Earth. I can't say anything more. I'm sorry."
For a moment, Anasius was rendered speechless. Yes, the Loms had always had been arrogant, but this was taking presumption to a whole other level. "So you're trying to tell me that Heaven commanded you to do all this?"
She shook her head again, casting wild glances up at the sky. "I'm not saying anything! I'm not saying anything! I'm not allowed to say anything!"
"Hmmm." Well, she wasn't a transformed spirit or a possessed human either, so maybe the Lom family insanity had manifested late in Jek Lom Vannia. Taking pity on the madwoman, Anasius dropped his interrogation. "Very well then. I will report your property improvements to the Baron. You can expect a rent increase this year. Good day, Mistress Jek."
With a curt bob of his head, he strode off, heading for Black Sand Creek. He needed to have a word with his uncle.
On the banks of Black Sand Creek:
Stripey rested on the riverbank adjoining the Green Frog's fief, planning out his schedule for the upcoming year. There was the usual round of holidays and festivals, of course, which brought travelers and merchants (i.e. targets) into the barony. Business had been good last year, and he wondered how best to advertise that when recruiting this year.
Not that the Claymouth Barony or Black Sand Creek Water Court could support any more outlaws – not unless their economies grew at a faster rate. Perhaps it was a sign that the ducks should start expanding into the Green Frog's fief. They could target theatergoers and art patrons, or insist on a cut of the pickpockets' take. Stripey had already put out feelers towards the petty thieves' queen, but the rat demon wasn't easily intimidated.
A cat spirit might do better than a duck, he mused. Maybe I could hire a negotiator from Master Gravitas.
"Uncle Stripey! I need to talk to you! It's urgent!"
A squawking storm of wings and feathers crashed down next to him.
Stripey chortled as his nephew righted himself. Anasius spent far too much time in human form these days.
"I told you to change back more often," he chided. "Next thing you know, you're going to forget how to fly! Or swim!"
Anasius ignored that and squawked, "We can talk about that later. I'm on business for the Baron."
Stripey stiffened. He threw out his chest and arched his neck proudly. "And he sent you to threaten us?"
"Threaten – ? What? No!" Catching himself, Anasius also threw out his chest and arched his neck. In a lofty voice, he proclaimed, "Baron Claymouth is far too wise a statesman to allow such grave conflicts of interest to arise. No, I am here on another matter entirely."
Stripey rolled his eyes Heavenward. "Then drop the high-and-mighty act and tell me what the Baron wants."
Anasius shuffled from one webbed foot to the other. "Well, you visit Caltrop Pond often, right?"
"Ye-ees? Does the Baron want me to mediate noise complaints between His Majesty and his neighbors? Because I can already tell you that's going to be a waste of time. The Baron's welcome to hire me anyway, of course."
Anasius was actually too distracted to take offense at Stripey's tone. "No, no, it's not that. It's…um, Caltrop Pond is close to Honeysuckle Croft, so you must pass by it often, right? And your friend Bobo works there? Have you noticed anything, uh, strange about her employers?"
Ah. The whole barony had been gossiping about the Jeks – and now the Baron was finally investigating.
Stripey shrugged. "Please don't tell me you believe those silly rumors, Anasius. Fox demons stealing the Jeks' bodies? Please."
Anasius shook his head. "I don't mean that. Obviously they haven't been possessed. I checked already."
"You did?" Stripey was alarmed. What would happen if Anasius found out about Rosie and the goddess?
"Of course I did. But possessed or not, they've made a number of changes to Honeysuckle Croft without notifying the Baron. They're also teaching their children to read and write. And Mistress Jek claims that it's on orders from Heaven! That worries me."
Stripey faked a snort. "What, do you think they're planning to overthrow the Baron?"
Anasius' voice stayed grim. "Stranger things have happened. And the Loms do claim imperial descent."
Stripey sighed to himself. He really should have let Rosie tell him more about the goddess and her plans, instead of leaving in a huff on New Year's Eve. "Look, Anasius, I don't understand what the Jeks are doing either, but I assure you that they have no intention of leading an uprising. They're…weird. But harmless. Leave them be, and you'll stir up a lot less trouble."
"Hmmm. You're certain?"
"I can check on them regularly if that would put your mind at ease."
"That would, in fact." Anasius thought for a moment. "Well, I'm going to have to report the housing improvements to the Baron, at least. He'll probably fine the Jeks and raise their rent."
"Ouch." Stripey winced, thinking of Bobo.
"It can't be helped."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Just keep him from investigating further."
And Stripey took great pleasure in watching his nephew's clumsy flight back across the river. Too bad Anasius didn't fall into the water – it would have been a hilarious opportunity to see if the duck spirit still remembered how to swim.
A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, BananaBobert, Blacklark57, Celia, Charlotte, Hookshyu, James, Lindsey, Michael, Pred Head, and Anonymous!
I'll keep that in mind as I write! Anasius is a pompous jerk because he considers himself the Number 2 guy in the barony.
Almost inaudible Georgeist grumbling.
Aurelia's plots are stirring up quite a bit of trouble.
The baron is happy about any excuse to raise taxes.
Yeah, this was not something Aurelia expected to happen!
Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Would she have if she found out that she sent Piri?