Elf Defence (Adventures in Aguillon #2) - Lisa Henry Page 0,6
and King Loth. So, you know, we have their authority. Their kingly authority. To make rules. And behead people, probably.”
“I don’t know if we have their permission to behead people,” Calarian said.
“That’s fair,” Benji said. “To be honest, I feel that’s something I’d do without their permission anyway.”
Calarian nodded. “We could depose people though, I think,” he added helpfully. “Like from their positions on the duke’s council, for example. Is depose the word I’m looking for?”
“Demote?” Lars chimed in helpfully.
“Dehead,” Benji decided.
Curdled Cottage Cheese Man might have been a potential ally when it came to sowing discord in the new duke’s court, and Benji appreciated that, but the guy was clearly a dick as well. And not the good sort of dick. He smiled at the man, and made sure he showed a few more teeth than were necessary.
The man might have been a sneering streak of misery, but he wasn’t stupid. He turned to Lars, clearly expecting to find an ally. “These men don’t know how the duchy works, Your Grace.” He was clearly aiming for pleasant but instead came off as condescending. “Surely you’d like one of your own to advise you, someone who knows our ways?”
Lars looked from the man to Benji and Calarian, and Benji did his best to look earnest and trustworthy, and not like he just wanted this over with so he could bang Calarian like a barn door in a hurricane. It must have been at least slightly convincing, because Lars said, “I don’t know, Gunther. Maybe it would be good to get a fresh viewpoint?” and beckoned them forward.
Benji stepped up to the side of the throne and Calarian flanked the other side, much to the displeasure of the man—Gunther, Benji reminded himself, not Cottage Cheese Man.
“Master Baker,” Lars said, his handsome face pulled into an expression of genuine concern. “Please tell us again what the problem between you and your apprentice is?”
“Master Baker,” Benji mouthed at Calarian, delighted. Then, in case Calarian didn’t get it, he added some gestures with some enthusiastic elbow action and that pull-and-twist manoeuvre with his hand that Calarian liked so much.
Calarian pointedly ignored him. He was probably trying to look all royal and advisory, Benji decided, and it definitely wasn’t because he was annoyed at Benji calling him out earlier over ogling Lars in leather. Benji made the gesture again, and this time it earned a slight quirk of Calarian’s lips. Not annoyed, then, Benji surmised, and refused to wonder why he cared.
The baker in question poked his apprentice, a woman in maybe her early twenties who was wearing a mischievous expression, sharply in the chest with a thick finger. “Hannah here is making my famous Tournel loaves into a laughing-stock, and she won’t stop.”
The apprentice tossed her flaming red hair defiantly. “I’m keeping things interesting,” she argued.
“This isn’t interesting! This is obscene!” The baker picked up a bag and pulled out three loaves, and Benji immediately saw the issue. He elbowed Calarian, eyes wide, and Calarian snickered at the sight of fresh, crusty loaves, lovingly shaped into penises.
Lars blinked. “Um…”
“Very creative,” Benji said smoothly. “A credit to your dough handling skills.”
“But they’re meant to be oval,” the baker snapped. “Tournel loaves are oval!”
‘Do they sell?” Calarian asked, picking up the biggest loaf and running both hands over it in a way that reminded Benji forcibly of their plans for later.
“Well, yes, but…” the baker hesitated. “It’s the principle of the thing,” he decided.
Benji personally thought it was hilarious, but he could also see the line of people waiting and he wasn’t going to pretend he was morally outraged by dick bread, so he made a snap decision. “Hannah, you’ll make what you’re told,” he said, and when she opened her mouth to object he added, “except on Fridays. On Fridays you can shape the bread how you like. As a treat.”
Hannah nodded eagerly.
Benji turned to the baker. “Does that work?”
The man looked thoughtful. “Yes,” he decided. “On Fridays she can even make her giant strudels.”
“People do love a giant strudel,” Benji agreed, “especially when it’s made by a Master Baker.” He made the hand gesture again and Calarian snickered. Even Lars gave a grin, his face lighting up, and Benji tilted his head curiously and wondered why it felt so nice to make the new duke smile.
Weird.
The baker and his apprentice gave a tiny bow and scurried off, and Calarian called, “Next!”
They spent the afternoon sorting through the problems of Tournel’s citizens, and the line