Fishwhacked: Reign of the Walrus Witch

Chapter 2

Paistra stared at her reflection as Squirm, the court jester, attended to her. Squirm, short, dressed in motley, and his face concealed by a mask that was smiling on one side and frowning on the other, deftly kneaded Paistra's hair into a tough braid.

Paistra sighed and closed her eyes.

"..." Squirm said.

"I'm fine," Paistra replied. She opened her eyes and noticed the frilly, formal dress she was expected to wear. "Do me a favor and get me my doublet and hunting leggings, I'm not wearing that thing if I don't have to. Not like my father can get on my case about it now."

The king's council met in the throne room as the dawn broke.

A long table had been set up in front of the empty throne and adorned with whatever chairs they could find. Paistra was already seated as the others filtered in, and a plate of bread that she had baked was in the center of the table. Her informal outfit was already drawing looks of derision from the nobility.

Lieutenant Commander Wharf sat beside her, squeezing his bulky armor onto the small wooden chair. He was a spherical man who was almost never seen without a full suit of armor, even during social engagements in which it was horribly inappropriate. His outstanding military accomplishments granted him leeway from the king to not be nagged about his dress. Tufts of muttonchops poked out from under his helmet.

The Head Milliner, wearing his stack of four hats, sat on the princess's other side. He was an aged man in his scholarly robes, furiously filling out paperwork with a feather and ink. The hats on his head remained perfectly balanced as a result of the Milliner's decades of expertise.

A few lords and ladies assembled on the other side of the table, including the Lady Tuskborn, who was usually called the Walrus Witch by everyone (including herself). She was known for her devotion to Walros, the walrus god. The king had kept her around court for matters of sorcery when the controversial Sorcerer Tax went into effect. Despite there not being any supernatural concerns since, she hadn't left, so everyone just sort of accepted her presence. She did not fit the traditionally accepted description of a witch, with her leather blazer and leggings, her hair in a tight bun and a set of tiny glasses somehow resting on her nose without falling off. It was rumored she didn't even practice sorcery. The men from which those rumors originated had disappeared entirely shortly after spreading them.

"That's everyone," Wharf said. "Let's get this over with. We-" He was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Squirm, who began miming some asinine slapstick routine in the corner of the room.

"Why is he here?" Wharf asked. "This is hardly a matter that needs entertainment from the fool."

"He just sort of does what he wants. He's harmless," Paistra said. She took a loaf of bed and threw it back and forth in her hands. Wharf and the Milliner took one as well, but began eating them. "I really don't want to sit through some solemn, depressing meeting anyway. I asked for him to accompany me around today with his uplifting spirit."

"Hmm. Alright. As you all know, our King Crust the Third was found deceased this morning in his chambers. Slain by some kind of bludgeon," Wharf went on, with a full mouth. Crumbs flew everywhere as he spoke.

"My Milliners have studied his body and believe it to be... gods help us, some kind of... fish," the Head Milliner said. There was a series of uncomfortable groans from the assembled nobility.

"Oh, enough! The markings on his body clearly resemble the scales of a fish. The wound is even fish-shaped. No doubt someone trying to make some kind of... political point, or just to humiliate the man."