December 14 is the birthday of such luminaries as 11th-century Emperor of Japan Go-Suzaku, noseless Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe, Lithuanian basketball player and coach Saulius Štombergas — yes, the Saulius Štombergas.
And, of course, me.
Sincerely, J.B. Norman.
So, naturally, I’ve got birthdays on my mind today. And, well, since Amara is my favourite character, I guess it’s her birthday now, too.
[Though, for what it’s worth, I’m not necessarily declaring that Amara’s birthday is also the Realmgard equivalent of December 14.]
“So,” Kat ventures as she and Amara make their way back to the Lyte Public House. “How ‘bout that Opera? The Singing Goat, huh? Man, what a five hours that was.”
“Yes,” Amara says, cautiously eyeing her best friend. “Well, it is one of the most famous opera buffa there is.”
“I mean, hey,” Kat continues, “it definitely delivered what it promised.”
She frowns.
“For. Five. Hours.”
“You’re up to something, Katherine,” Amara declares. “You would never willingly offer to go the Opera with me.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kat mutters.
When they arrive back at the pub, Sally Lyte is standing guard at the door.
“No!” she says. “You can’t go in there yet!”
“Whyever not?” Amara asks.
“Um…” Sally stammers, her eyes shifting back and forth. “Uh. Nolan… spilled the, um, acid?”
She makes a valiant attempt at looking gravely up at Amara.
“Very dangerous,” she declares. “You can’t go in yet. But don’t worry. They’re fine. They’re all fine. Here. Now. Thank you. How are you?”
As Sally continues her attempt to keep Amara out of the pub, Falcata steps through the door.
“Amara,” Falcata declares. “You are needed in the dining room.”
“I take it that means Nolan’s acid spell is cleaned up?” Amara asks.
“…Yes,” Falcata answers, seeing Sally nod desperately up at her.
Amara steps into the pub’s empty dining room.
“Surprise!” the other members of the Lyte Brigade call, popping out of their various hidey-holes.
Tancred steps out from behind a curtain. Pela sets aside the larger silver cloche she’d been hiding under on one of the tables. Matilda and Nolan come out from the kitchen carrying the cake.
“Oh,” Amara says. “A surprise party! How darling! Though, I must admit I had my suspicions.”
Kat rolls her eyes.
“It was their idea,” she says. “I just wanted to jump you and stick you in a big burlap sack.”
“And what would that accomplish, Katherine?” Amara asks.
“Well, you would have been surprised, right?” Kat mutters.
“Touché, Katherine.”
She turns to Falcata.
“And I take it they decided to make you the one to come get me to simplify things,” she notes.
“Yes,” the towering Amazon says. “We decided that it would be easiest if I didn’t have to hide, so I was chosen to come get you.”
“H-happy birthday,” Nolan stammers as he approaches Amara. “Um, your dress looks nice.”
“Well,” Amara says, making the most of the excuse to start preening. “One needs must look one’s best for the Opera. And for one’s birthday, I suppose.”
“Hurry up!” Sally says, hopping onto one of the chairs at the table where the cake has been set. “I want cake.”
A tiny birthday hat has been provided for Count Bunnyescu.
Kat and the Lyte Brigade settle down at the table and start cutting the cake.
“Happy birthday!” Sally says, sliding a slice of cake towards Amara. “If it was Nolan’s birthday, we’d tell him he looks like a monkey.”
“And that he smells like one, too,” Matilda adds. “Of course, we could always just still do that any day of the year.”
“Hey!”
But, seriously, Happy Birthday, J.B. Norman!
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