Lord Archimedes Fowler was a good man, betrothed not entirely willingly to the daughter of the second largest grain farmer for the castle. Fowler Farms having gained a monopoly on dairy and egg production. The single most lucrative business of any of the modicum noble families. Together, Fowl and Lillybelle their family farm industries would be in charge of more than half of the castle food supply. Apart their last names only gained them Modicum lord and lady status. Together, their fortunes would buy their way to high status. Find the best prospective marriage arrangments for their younger siblings, with access to a larger dating pool.
Fowl's bride to be, Lillybelle was age appropriate, and a pretty little thing. She was quiet, and seemed to sincerely enjoy managing her family accounting records for their grain farm industry. She had experience navigating the human commerce world to ensure that their independence farms could always produce efficiently. Something the Fowler family did not have much experience with, to their current, secret detriment. Fowl was a studious, and measured sort of fellow, with a particularly kind heart, especially in comparison to those Atticus had so far crossed paths with in the castle. Atticus was certain the two would have long, prosperous if maybe boring traditional life together. He wished them well. Truly.
Atticus's third week in the castle had not brought him any closer to figuring out how to find the servant he sought, or even narrow down what type of employment she must occupy. The week was over, and excitement was in the air. Fowl was having his stagg night. Heading into the largest human city they could enjoy on a weekend trip. To human strip clubs, and decadent restaurants. Atticus was sincerely surprised when Fowl had invited him along for the adventure, having only known each other such a short time.
Though upon the actual start of the event, Atticus considered as the group rode into the city, chauffeured along the long drive in a party bus with drinks, music and lights more appropriate for an after hours club than a daylight drive. Regarding the peer's Fowl had grown of age with, maybe his inclusion was not so much a pity invite, as a hope to have someone sane for company.
Major heir Brett Michelson seemed as though he wasn't beholden to typical expectations, he had brought a small terrarium holding three snails on a bed of moss with a tiny ceramic mushroom for decoration. It had a handle. A grown man had brought a terrarium on a stagg weekend. Atticus had to assume there was a political motive, well beyond his ability to understand happening with Brett's involvement in this weekend.
Fowl's brother had come along as well, Cornelius Fowler. Very much the same as his brother's sensibilities, but even more reserved. The two brothers close, cared for each other. Though they had very little in common interest wise. Fowl had the life of duty. Corny was the spare. Free to do as he pleased, mate and marry whom he pleased more or less. Gifts in life Corny's older brother did not think were appreciated nearly enough.
Last were Reneir and Quwent, two wolves who only seemed to bring out the worst in each other. While offering nothing else. Meeting Quwent at least let Atticus know who had ruined the tapestry in the unused hallway. Atticus believed good sex needed privacy and time. Neither were to be found in a hallway. Quwent was already under judgment the moment Atticus had identified his scent. Atticus appreciated effort, and the tapestries in the old wing were certainly irreplaceable artwork and craftmanship. Atticus wasn't educated, he wasn't ignorant either. When he was interested, he was very interested in a subject. Humans were creative and made beautiful, laborious things.
As the hours passed in Quwent's company, Atticus grew more and more bothered by the other man's presence. Fowl seemed of similar mind, and the two often found themselves trying to avoid Reneir and Quwent. Brett and Corny stayed in the bus at most of the stops. Corny at least was certainly using his time in the city to pursue his own interests. Fowl was a thoughtful groom to be, constantly checking on both his brother and Brett. Getting an appetizer or take away from a few bars when it seemed like neither might have eaten enough for the length of time they had been on the bus.
At the last stop of the evening, the group had a private room, with a private show. After the first dance. Fowl leaned over, deep in his cups. "Thank you for coming." He raised his glass in a weak cheers to clink against Atticus's own. Belching behind a closed hand, he whispered. "I fucking hate Quwent." A sentiment Atticus could not agree with more at this point in the evening. Quwent was rude, entitled, and handsy in the worst and most unwelcomed ways.
If Fowl was past drunk, Quwent was near antiseptic there was so much alcohol in his body. "I saw Est-Estel-Esti-ya again." Quwent slurred as he flopped down on the bench Fowl and Atticus were sharing. Nearly sitting on Atticus's lap in the process. Shooting a look at Atticus like it was his fault they had touched thighs. Add homophobic to the list of faults to find in Quwent.
"Leave Estella alone Quwent." Fowl growled at his friend with more venom than Atticus had ever seen before from the rather placid lord. Atticus's interest was piqued. Estella was a rather fetching name his dragon thought. Listening in as well on the conversation for the first time this evening.
Quwent made a sound of disagreement in his throat. "Maybe I'll just buy her, then I could fuck that tight ass she wouldn't let me have." Atticus was caught by complete surprise as Fowl punched Quwent, square in the face, full force. The stupid, wolf shifter falling to the floor with several bones in his face broken.
Fowl stepped over the heaped man. Atticus right behind him. Lord Fowler only turned around long enough to command Reneir to manage Quwent on his own. "Take this card, you can get a hotel room for the two of you, and breakfast. Text my number the hotel you choose. Then delete all my contact info. A car will pick you up at 10am from your hotel to take you back to the castle. Do as I say precisely, and return my card and I will consider your position. Defy me and I will ruin you and your entire family Reneir." Reneir nodded,face pale.
Reneir knew his rank, knew his place. Fowler was above Quwent. Would be even more elevated after his wedding. Atticus was literally a descendant of the king. Reneir had a large family to protect. He was going to do as he was told.
On the drive to their hotel for the evening, Fowl told Atticus all about the former lady of the castle, who's father had been executed a traitor. For wanting to welcome the new, small dragon population on Earth. Alric the traitor's daughter Estella forced into peasant life with her mother. Only for her mother, to sell her into slavery to the crown to save her own skin and leave the continent for a new life.
A delicious dark fairy tale. The scandals that had been unearthed tonight. Atticus was more than pleased with his decision to come along. He had learned so much. Gained favor from the man who would be the richest under the king soon enough. His own stocks doing well in the human world. Three weeks and Atticus was starting to feel like the earth had stopped spinning too fast under his feet for the first time since his mother had died.
As Atticus had tucked the very, very drunk lord Fowler into his bed, the other man had whispered. "It isn't fair, Esti was the smartest and best of any of us." Puking over the side of the bed and passing out. Atticus had done a more than reasonable job cleaning up after his friend, making sure he was rolled into the recovery position before heading to his own bed. Sleeping until just before checkout time. Willing to put the fine onto Lord Fowler's tab.
One large paper bag loaded with breakfast sandwiches, a matching bag filled with clamshell packages holding fresh fried breakfast potatoes were taken onto the bus along with lots of water and juice, the stagg party, less two members made their way back to the castle. Reneir had stuck to his word, and texted Fowl five minutes past the expected castle drop time that he and Quwent had arrived. Fowl's credit card returned to his chambers and left with the valet.
Fowl left the message read, but not responded to. Reneir needed to learn to make better choices. Time spent sweating how his life could be without favorable friends was warranted in this situation.
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Indebted
ParanormalThe Dragon court under the now ancient King Magnus is a dangerous and ruthless place to grow up. A fact Estella has learned in painful detail. It's hard to recover from your father being labeled a traitor to the crown, and executed on the whim of yo...