The Pompous Baron

Story by Shalion on SoFurry

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#24 of A Bronze Rising

These visiting officials are unlike any humans the Bronze has met before.


Baron Crestwell was without a doubt the fattest human I had yet seen. His face, as round as an olive with his heavy jowls was cleanly bearded with his livid red hair. His loud outfit was vertically striped and largely purple with gold stitching and embellishments. Perhaps the man thought that dressing as a peacock would distract people from his very large, protruding gut which he kept belted tightly behind a lavender sash. Apparently, he thought to lift the weight upward by means of the sash for a more masculine appearance; I thought that it just made it stick out even more. If the clothing was overpowering, however, that was nothing to the smell of the man. He had laid over the natural smell of his body at least three dozen varieties of flower or other natural musk. Tobias had attempted to describe to me the human sensation of smell, the way that smells tended to blend together or overpower each other; what odors they were even able to detect that is. My nose always smelled everything, taking apart the scents so I "heard" every note of the olfactory symphony that was my everyday life. I didn't know how creatures could even survive without a sense of smell; humans were quite pitiable in this regard, among others. At any rate, I wasn't sure how even a sense as blunted as the human nose could find the horrendous amalgamation and overdose of perfumes emanating from the Baron to be pleasant.

"It is a pleasure to meet the delegate from Lord Dominic." I rumbled softly. I'd grown used to speaking from my throat because when I spoke clearly, the sound was usually overpowering for a human in my direct presence. Besides, Tobias had related to me that the breathy softness of my quiet voice was at once disarming in its mildness and intimidating in its mysterious otherworldliness.

The Baron emerged from his bow and stood as the Knights to his side bowed and introduced themselves. Both Knights were taller than the Baron between them though not nearly as wide. Sir Henry was a younger man, though still clearly much older than my Tobias. He was blonde with blue eyes and a strong jaw. He spoke with an accent that I hadn't heard before, but I basically nodded and agreed with what he said as I quickly attempted to decipher yet another alien presentation of the slave tongue. Sir Kingsley was the oldest of the three. He sported grey streaked brown hair proudly with a long, well brushed beard. When he spoke, his voice was clear and methodical despite his tobacco stained teeth. Sir Kingsley was quiet, and therefore dangerous. Though both men were dressed in clothing, they each had decorated swords at their sides to indicate their status.

After the introductions, a table was brought forth for the delegates as well as chairs. I continued to lounge easily on my side, occasionally stretching a leg when I wanted to remind my guests that I was more than just my animated head on my long, bronze-scaled neck. With a twitch of my finger, I invited Tobias to sit on my wrist, but my servant declined silently, remaining standing instead. Could it be that my young majordomo did not want to appear childlike in front of the important men? Perhaps he had grown up during the months he'd been away.

Somehow procuring a leather scroll case, Tobias popped off the lid and removed none other than my proclamation of sucession. It was only a little worse for wear as the young man smoothed it out over the table's surface. A waiter decanted wine for the three men from a silver pitcher as Baron Crestwell removed a sheaf of other papers from his robes, carefully untying the leather thong that bound them.

Tobias caught me eyeing the goblets of the men at the table, the bouquet rising from their contents intrigued me. However my servant delivered terrible news. "My Lord, I regret to say that we broke open the last cask of Sir Ronald's wine for this occasion. I don't think there would be enough left to more than wet your tongue."

"That's fine, Tobias. I've never had wine anyway."

Sir Henry lifted his head from the Baron's shifting of documents. "What is this? Are you saying that you've never had a drop of the shine before?" I gave the barest shake of my head. The Knight pushed his goblet away. "Then I shall not imbibe where our host cannot." Sir Henry looked across the table to his counterpart. Sir Kingsley looked up at me, my scaled head rising over the table and then back to his glass. He pushed his away as well. Only after realizing that he was the only one left who had not refused his drink did Baron Crestwell forsake his own beverage.

Sir Henry smiled and looked to Tobias. He gestured with a hand to the three large goblets. "See if you can mix these with whatever is left of the barrel. Surely we there will be a thimbleful left for Lord Ladonius." Tobias was quick to move. When his goblet had been taken away, Sir Ronald lowered his head and muttered, "What a life... forever sober. Must be hell."

I cocked my head oddly as I looked down at the younger Knight. "I wouldn't know the difference." I confessed.

Sir Henry snorted and raised a finger, "Which is exactly my point."

Tobias returned toting a small cauldron which sloshed gently with its contents as the young man walked smoothed back to us. As Tobias moved, I heard hushed conversation from the tiers around us. It had already gotten around that the dragon was to have his first taste of alcohol. I didn't know why it was such a big deal. True to Sir Henry's words, the cauldron was little more than a thimble to me. Still, I'd seen Richard often enough in his moments of weakness, his stumbling, and his slurring of speech. I wondered if the tiny concoction could possibly have the same effect on me. I was suddenly apprehensive about the whole matter. What if my thoughts were clouded, just when the discussion of Devonshire's future was about to be opened in a matter that would either so completely succeed or so completely fail that the delegates left immediately, or far more likely, would stretch on through all the long months of winter. Sir Henry looked at me expectantly as the cauldron with the village's last store of wine was delivered. I lifted it from Tobias' grasp gently between my short thumb and first finger. I sniffed it again and was amazed at the complexity of the odor, which, unlike Lord Thurman's hostile concoction of colognes, blended together harmoniously, almost like the wine was singing to my nose. I swirled it a bit and them emptied the contents onto my tongue.