areiamus

“Almost none,” was the reply. Smith looked amazed, almost too surprised to be angry. Almost.

“Well why in the Hell not?” he demanded, raising his hand to slap the reticence from the man. The gesture had its intended effect: the wretch bent lower to the ground, speaking to the inexplicable paisley designs woven into the sumptuous carpet.

“If it pleases, Mr Smith, I do not wish to tire his Eloquence with boring tales of what’s beyond-”

“You consider my interests boring, lout?”

“Not at all, sir, my most humble and millenial apologies to your Graciousness-”

“Spit it out or you’ll spit teeth!”

“Of course, my most favourably-disposed lord. I scoured every larder in the fiefdom for any trace of smoked cheese but there was not the merest morsel to be had for any price or show of arms - and little else left in those larders besides that, your Wondrousness,” the fool babbled, words spilling out in his eagerness to quit the conversation & Smith’s audience.

“The contents of a commonsfolkian larder are exactly what do bore me. And so what did those filthy little people say when you demanded a reason for my cheese’s absence, you guano-mongerer?”

“They’d eaten it all, your Excellency.”

“Nyoro~n”