Copyright J.B. Norman
At long last, the night of the Guild Authority’s annual springtime gala has arrived and all of Porthaven’s finest in the field of adventuring are, rather than actually adventuring out in the field, assembled in the grand gallery of the Porthaven Civic Museum.
“Has anyone seen Matilda?” Nolan asks, looking around the gallery. “She was here. And then she wasn’t.”
“She’s over there,” Pela says, pointing to the dancefloor. “She said she needed to find somebody to waltz with.”
“Waltzing? Matilda?” Nolan says incredulously. “That doesn’t sound like something she’d do.”
“Yes, well,” Tancred says. “I do believe that’s my fault. When I mentioned the notorious difficulty of the Middlesbrooke Fliegend-Waltz, she seemed personally offended by the prospect of not being up to the challenge.”
He glances towards the dancefloor, where Matilda is in the middle of what looks to Nolan to be either a vigorous dance or an epic fight scene with her partner.
“Hey,” Pela says. “I think that’s Howard R. Morton she’s dancing with.”
“Howard R. Morton is here?” Amara exclaims, giddy at the prospect of meeting her favourite author. “Oh, I simply must get his autograph.”
She catches herself and takes a deep breath.
“Now, Amara,” she tells herself. “Calm. Poise and decorum. He’s occupied at the moment. And he’ll need a moment to catch his breath when Matilda’s finished with him.”
“Hey!” Pela exclaims, glancing up to Falcata. “Where did you get that cookie? It’s almost as big as I am!”
The Amazon points. “There’s a whole table of them over there.”
“Oh,” Pela groans at the sight of all the people around the cookie table. “I’ll never be able to get through that crowd. Being short stinks. Especially at parties.”
“Don’t worry,” Falcata assures her smaller friend. “I will help you.”
Soon, Pela is perched on Falcata’s broad shoulders as the two make their way through the crowd at the cookie table.
“Well, Nolan,” Amara says, “since Howard R. Morton is pre-occupied at the moment, shall we be social?”
Nolan stifles a sudden yelp as Amara takes his hand.
“Come meet Katherine,” she says, guiding him to one of the tables, where Kat is jealously guarding a platter of crab legs like a Dragon guards its hoard.
“Nolan,” Amara declares. “This is my very best friend, Katherine Darkstone. Katherine, this is Captain of the Lyte Brigade Nolan Lyte.”
“Can’t talk,” Kat says through a mouthful of crab legs. “Eating.”
As Nolan tentatively reaches for a crab leg, Kat glowers up at him and growls menacingly.
“Katherine,” Amara chides. “You’re not even forgetting your manners, you’re just literally being some kind of animal.”
Kat rolls her eyes and grudgingly holds out one of her crab legs towards Nolan.
“Um, thanks,” Nolan murmurs, accepting the leg.
Other than Kat’s chewing noises and the occasional crack of a crab leg being pried open, an awkward silence settles on their table.
“Goodness, Nolan,” Amara says. “Stop squirming like that. You’ve got your cravat all askew.”
“Hey, uh, Amara,” Nolan stammers as Amara adjusts his cravat, “do you want to dance? Maybe?”
“Oh, Nolan,” Amara says, sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth in concentration as she works at his cravat. “I have not once ever been able to convince Katherine to come dancing.”
“No,” Nolan says, a deep blush creeping into his cheeks. “I meant with me.”
Amara smiles at him, and that makes him blush even more deeply. “I’ve never been one for the Fliegend-Waltz,” she tells him. “But maybe once something Pelayan comes on, I could be induced to come dancing.”
Kat sets down her latest crab leg and grins knowingly across the table at Amara.
“Quiet, you,” Amara mutters.
Katherine Hortensia Darkstone be like:
Image via Tenor.
As you can probably glean from the titles, Matilda and the other members of the Lyte Brigade are the main characters in Forward, the Lyte Brigade and Charge of the Lyte Brigade.
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