Elf Defence (Adventures in Aguillon #2) - Lisa Henry Page 0,65
and it was awful.” All eyes swung to him. “Well, it was!” he said, “I had to deal with a monster and trolls and Gunther and responsibility with no warning whatsoever, and now I’m stuck in meetings instead of out on the hillside with my cows, and it's a lot of work is all I’m saying.”
Gretchen snorted. “Please. If it was difficult, you wouldn’t have been able to do it.” She fixed him with a scathing, contemptuous look only a sibling could manifest, and then she shrugged and grinned. “It seems to me that the position of duke should be a mainly ceremonial position with figurehead status while the day to day running of the town is undertaken by people who actually know what they’re doing. Really, Benji’s right and Tournel is already self-governing. Let’s face it, the last duke spent most of his time bouncing around the town from bedroom to bedroom.”
The council nodded at that, and Benji noticed that Helga had a faint blush and a faraway look in her eyes. Duke Klaus really must have been something.
“Because when you think about it,” Gretchen continued, “the duke just needs to sign the papers for new housing and general improvements once a month, make sure nobody’s skimming the books again, and wave and hand out candy canes in the holiday parade.” She leaned over and prodded Lars in the chest. “Honestly, if an idiot like you can manage it, anyone should be able to.”
“You try it then,” Lars said, and poked his tongue out at his twin. “See how you like it.”
“I’d do a better job than you,” Gretchen shot back. “How hard can it be, being a duke?”
“Or a duchess,” Helga said, with a raised eyebrow and a pointed stare at Gretchen. “It sounds like you’re volunteering.”
The commander brightened at that. “I’d vote for you,” he said. A murmur of agreement ran around the room.
“Oooh yes,” Benji said. “You’d be a wonderful duchess.” His heart belonged to Lars and Calarian, but his eyes still had a soft spot for Gretchen, and she’d look magnificent in a coronet, all proud and goddess-like. He sighed happily as he imagined it.
“Oh.” Gretchen’s eyebrows raised. “Um.” She fidgeted in her chair, looking uncustomarily off kilter. “I’d have to ask my wife. We make all our decisions together.”
“Perfect!” Calarian exclaimed. “Someone who’s willing to consult before going ahead with a proposal, that’s exactly what we want.” He blinked at the councillors. “I mean, what you, the people of Tournel, want. Since Benji and I are envoys and really don’t have anything to do with your internal ducal politics.”
“Apart from that time you installed a whole new duke,” the commander said. “Speaking of which, that’s another thing we need to address. We can’t just have outsiders coming in and undermining the line of succession like that.”
“We can’t,” Gretchen agreed, straightening up in her seat. “But also, if they hadn’t stuck their noses in and made Lars duke, what do you think the odds would be that Gunther would be in charge right now?”
“Mmmm,” said the commander. “What you’re saying is that by disregarding every law of Tournel, they actually did a good thing. Accidentally.” He looked ambivalent for a moment, his expression wavering uncomfortably between acceptance and disapproval, and then he let out a long sigh. “Well, it’s a tricky one, isn’t it?”
Benji opened his mouth to suggest some kind of medal ceremony and more free gingerbread, but Calarian caught his gaze and shook his head.
“We’ll have to think on it,” Helga said, and the assembled councillors murmured their agreement. “In the meantime, Lars Melker, haven’t you got cows to herd?”
Lars sighed in relief, his massive shoulders sagging, and smiled brightly. “That sounds wonderful.”
“Do you think I should get leather shorts?” Benji asked Calarian an hour or so later as they meandered across a hillside meadow behind a herd of clanking cows. “You and Lars have leather shorts. But also, your kneecaps look funny, so I don’t know.”
“My kneecaps do not look funny.” Calarian pouted, and then checked his kneecaps.
“They do a bit,” Benji said. “To be fair, I think most people’s kneecaps look funny. I don’t know, though. Lars somehow sort of makes the whole thing work. You just look like you’re playing dress ups.”
“It’s called cosplaying,” Calarian said, sniffing, “and that’s not what I’m doing.”
He picked up his pace, leaving Benji hurrying to catch up.
“Sorry!” Benji said. He slid his hand into Calarian’s. “I really am.”