Your reminder that this is Arundel Appleby Country, Hogan:
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Copyright
J.B. Norman
Kat grabs Amara by the arm and begins hauling her away.
“What are you doing?” Amara exclaims. “I haven’t finished my hair! My make-up! I can’t go out like this! I’m not decent!”
“You made me go the Art Gallery,” she declares. “Now, we’re doing something I want.”
“Katherine, I am not watching you eat an entire roast chicken by yourself,” Amara notes.
“We can eat after,” Kat says. “But if we don’t hurry, we’re not going to be able to find a good seat for the wrestling.”
The colour drains from Amara’s face.
“Wrestling?” she repeats. “Katherine, why in the world do you think I’d want to watch big, sweaty men trying to fold each other into pretzels?”
Kat looks over her shoulder. “Why did you think I’d want to stare at paintings all day?” she counters.
“Touché,” Amara mutters.
Kat leads Amara to Porthaven’s main square, where a large crowd has gathered around the wrestling ring raised in the middle of the square. Amara glances over to her friend and finds Kat grinning giddily like a little girl on her birthday.
“This is going to be great,” Kat exclaims, happily bouncing on her heels. “Edvardus Colossicus said he was going to throw Baron von Bad Guy into the harbour. He’s had it coming ever since he ruined Lady Lisette’s birthday cake.”
Amara stares blankly. “His name is Baron von Bad Guy?”
Kat nods. “Yeah. And he’s, well —”
“A villain, I take it?” Amara asks.
Kat nods.
“Powers save me,” Amara mutters as she rolls her eyes.
When her eyes are finished rolling, they settle on the man in the centre of the ring.
“Oh,” she says. “That is a very large man.”
“That’s the Muscular Sovereign, Wilhelmus Ferox,” Kat explains.
“And is he a villain?” Amara asks.
“No. He’s a little unhinged, but the crowds love him,” Kat explains. “Just wait until he hits the top-rope elbow drop.”
Amara points to the wrestler pushing his way through the crowd to approach the ring. “And who is that, Marquis de Evil?”
“No. Marquis de Evil is a different guy,” Kat says. “That’s Aristocratic Arundel Appleby.”
“His fashion sense is striking,” Amara mutters.
“Don’t be fooled,” Kat warns. “He’s one of the bad guys.”
“But he’s so elegant!” Amara protests. “How could he possibly be a villain?”
“You’ll see,” Kat answers simply.
“I must be in Porthaven,” Aristocratic Arundel Appleby says as he steps into the crowd. “I could smell you louts all the way from Goldharbour. And you’re all dressed like starving beggars.”
He meets Amara’s eyes.
“Especially you, Elf-Girl,” he sneers. “Is that a dress or a tablecloth? You are, however, at this very moment the luckiest woman in the world. Your poor, inelegant self gets a glimpse of true elegance and grace: me!”
“How dare he!” Amara growls. “I will not stand for this… this calumny!”
Amara pushes her way to the edge of the crowd and looks up to the ring. “You there, Muscular Sovereign,” she calls. “I have a request.”
She levels a slender, manicured finger, quivering with indignation toward Aristocratic Arundel Appleby.
“He called me inelegant! Destroy him!”
Amara rolls her eyes.
“Katherine, why do you insist on bringing me to these ridiculous events?” she asks.
“Well, we can stop going to Wrestling when you stop taking me to the Opera,” Kat answers.
Amara is silent for a long moment.
“No deal,” she mutters.
“Look, just try to enjoy yourself,” Kat urges. “Luscious Lucretia and Penny Dreadful are fighting over who gets to be Countess Dirigible’s next lady-in-waiting. “But first —”
Amara flinches and grabs Kat’s arm. Kat winces as her best friend’s manicured nails dig into her flesh.
“Katherine!” Amara hisses. “It’s him! That dastard who called me inelegant. That fiend! Who is he fighting and how can we ensure that they utterly destroy him?”
Amara watches the approach of Arundel Appleby to the ring, neither forgiving nor forgetting their previous encounter — his scathing invective against the good burghers of Porthaven, his likening of Amara’s dress to a tablecloth.
And worse, most egregiously, most villainously, most unforgivably, the very suggestion — the merest implication — that Amara Gemina Valda of all people could ever be inelegant.
“He’s not a bad guy anymore,” Kat explains. “Yeah, he was visited by three ghosts the night before Wintermorn that showed him the error of his ways. He’s not Aristocratic Arundel Appleby. He’s Altruistic Arundel Appleby now. He bought a Wintermorn goose for every orphanage in town.”
“B-But,” Amara stammers. “He called me inelegant! That’s unforgivable!”
“Amara, look!” Kat urges. “He’s handing out gold coins to the crowd! If he were still a bad guy, he’d be kicking them and telling them how bad they smell!”
“It’s you!” the newly Altruistic Arundel Appleby exclaims as his gaze falls on Amara.
He slowly strides forward.
Amara shrinks back from him. “Stay away from me, you brute! You may have deluded the crowd into thinking you’re a changed man, but you can’t fool — Are you crying?”
The muscular patrician nods.
“I-it’s just that I remember how awful I was to you the last time,” he says tearfully. He blushes deeply. “I’m mortified to think that I could have been so crass towards such a fine, upstanding young woman.”
“Oh?” Amara asks sceptically.
“I called you inelegant!” he wails.
“Don’t remind me,” Amara says.
“What I fool I was!” Arundel Appleby continues. “T-the truth is, I t-think I was jealous. That one so young could be so utterly, resplendently, peerlessly elegant and refined! Why, it put me to shame!”
“Yes, well,” Amara mutters bashfully, “I’m glad you’ve realised the error of your ways.”
Altrusistic Arundel Appleby falls to his knees before Amara. “My lady, paragon of fashion and elegance,” he sobs. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Amara thoughtfully waggles her nose. “Well, I do suppose it’s unbecoming of a lady to hold a grudge,” she says. “Consider yourself forgiven, Messer Appleby.”
Altruistic Arundel Appleby respectfully kisses Amara’s hand. “Truly, there is no more elegant or magnanimous woman in the whole world of Terrace,” he declares.
At this, Amara’s demeanour changes almost as the wrestler’s does.
“Three cheers for Altruistic Arundel Appleby!” Amara exclaims. “Champion of the people and all-around wonderful man!”
“…No.” Kat mutters.
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