Elf Defence (Adventures in Aguillon #2) - Lisa Henry Page 0,41

him.

“Council meeting,” Calarian reminded him, tying the laces of his shirt into a neat bow. “Then more of this.”

Calarian strode out of the room, and Benji and Lars trailed after him. Somewhere though, in their trip through the passageways and down the stairs, they switched positions so that when they reached the council room, Lars was in the lead. Broad-shouldered, proud-faced Lars, looking like he knew exactly what he was doing. Benji and Calarian flanked him, half a step behind.

The council room was just off the main hall of the castle, and it contained a large, long table. Twelve councillors, both men and women, sat around the table. Most of them were happily picking at platters of cheese and pickled onions and talking quietly amongst themselves, but Gunther was also there. Gunther’s cottage-cheese face was as sour as usual, and his lip curled into a sneer as Lars entered the room.

“Ah!” a beefy woman with ropes of plaits curled up on her head like cinnamon rolls exclaimed. “Duke Lars! The monster is dead, is it true?”

“Yes,” Calarian said firmly, when it looked like Lars didn’t know how to answer. “You’ll forgive the duke for his modesty, I’m sure. He doesn’t like to blow his own trumpet.”

Benji opened his mouth to say something about how he and Calarian liked to blow Lars’s trumpet, but Calarian elbowed him in the ribs. So he said, instead, “Duke Lars was very heroic up there in the mountain caves. Where there were no independent witnesses.”

“Absolutely heroic. Ran into danger without hesitation,” Calarian added. “We definitely won’t have any more problem with monsters or trolls from now on.”

There was a flurry of approving nods and some scattered applause from the council, and Lars took his seat at the head of the table. “Right. Let’s address today’s business,” he said decisively, and Benji was struck by how well Lars played at being a duke. Maybe they’d fucked him full of confidence, he mused. He was fairly sure he didn’t imagine the twinkle in Lars’s eye when he said. “I have pressing business later today.”

Pressing his dick into Benji's arse, hopefully. Calarian elbowed Benji again, and Benji blinked and surreptitiously wiped his mouth. He might have been drooling just a little bit.

He and Calarian took seats on either side of Lars, and Benji inspected the selection of snacks approvingly. One thing he’d really missed in the Swamp of Death was cheese, and Tournel did not disappoint in that regard, although he had definite questions as to why so many varieties seemed to be riddled with holes. He helped himself to a wedge of soft cheese and gave a hum of approval when he bit into it. Maybe Tournel wasn’t as completely awful as he’d first thought—it had Lars, after all, and nice cheese, and gingerbread. Of course it was still a bastion of backwards feudalism and as such was ripe for revolution.

It occurred to Benji that maybe the council meeting was a good place to start sowing the seeds of dissent, or at least challenging the status quo. Except, he felt too good right now. He was freshly fucked and full of cheese and feelings, and he didn't want to spoil the glow with politics.

Maybe he’d just listen.

It didn’t take long at all for him to hear something that caught his attention.

“Ahem,” said the cinnamon roll woman. “Well, first order of business, I suppose, is that I’ve had three different complaints this month that people haven’t received their stipends.”

Lars looked worried.

“What stipends?” Calarian asked.

“Oh,” said the woman. “Well, Duke Klaus used to pay every citizen of Tournel a monthly stipend of three silver pieces.”

Benji spat out a mouthful of cheese. “Each?”

“Yes,” said the woman. “Well, the former duke was rather vigorous throughout his life, and exceedingly fertile, and rather than trying to figure out how many children in Tournel were his, and pay for their needs, he felt it was just easier to pay everyone. Round up the difference, you know? Besides, it didn’t seem right not to pay the families that didn’t have Klaus as a father.”

Benji felt a wave of admiration for Duke Klaus and his stamina. Lars had certainly inherited it. So had most of the town, probably, if the cinnamon bun woman was right. He could believe it. His thoughts drifted to Gretchen.

“That seems fair.” Calarian nodded, and his forehead creased thoughtfully. “Although it’s not that generous, given that the cost of housing is probably through the roof. All that carved scrollwork must cost