FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Tranquil Waters: The Lead Crown Ch 4.6 Malcom

As usual, Malcom awoke before the sun. He had slept in Dr. Brownell's sitting room, seated in what must have been a generations-old rocking chair. To his right, curled up near the smoldering coals in the fire place was Berro, already awake, but very much enjoying the faint warmth still coming from the hearth. The large, feral wolf was laying on his back, belly exposed to the cinders, forelegs held close to his chest. The Prince chuckled, "Careful, Gut... you might go all tame."

"Uf."

Drawing himself up out of the chair, Malcom stretched, letting each vertebra pop before he arched his tail, eliciting two more soft cracks. The Prince flexed either leg, rolled each ankle, and clenched each toe before repeating the movements with his arms. By the time he had limbered up he settled down by the window and opened the shutters to catch the first rays of light as the sun finally crested the horizon.

Berro trotted over to his side and sat down, resting his large head on the window sill beside Malcom's elbow. The Prince reached over to rest a paw between his companion's shoulder blades; Berro's tail tapped out a quiet, three-beat rhythm on the wooden floorboards.The soft footfall of the two story cottage's owner descending the stairs didn't escape the Prince's ears, "Good morning, Dr. Brownell."

She passed through the sitting room on her way to the kitchen, acknowledging him politely, but without any great pomp. "Your Highness."

Berro's ears raised as he glanced after the mouse, "Owr?"

Malcom smiled, giving the wolf a hearty pat, "No, Berro... I don't think she's going to be making breakfast... probably just some--" he fell silent when he heard the sound of a slab of meat hitting a hot metal pan, "...coffee."

The Prince said nothing more as he stood up from his spot by the window, closing the shutters before he walked toward the kitchen after the hostess. He stood at the entryway, a small, open arch in the wall that separated kitchen from sitting room. The mouse wore a utilitarian pair of trousers and a loose tunic, but also had on an apron, destroying the otherwise masculine appearance she had obviously meant to cultivate. Malcom smiled at the conflicting clothing, but said nothing.

Dr. Brownell eventually looked over her shoulder, "Your friend from the otters... the one with the paint--"

Malcom offered up the warrior's name, "Kunsoti."

The Doctor flicked an ear, not bothering to turn around from her place at the stove, "Son-of-the-Tide? Well, that's certainly quite a name to live up to."

The Prince took a step into the kitchen, then shot a glance at Berro, who had just attempted to do the same. He shook his head and motioned back to the sitting room, "Go."

The large wolf snorted, and about,faced, returning to his spot by the fire with a decidedly dejected grunt, "Hrhf."

Malcom leaned against the wall beside the opening once Berro was safely removed from the food situation, "How is Kunsoti, Doctor?"

She began moving what appeared to be a thick slab of bacon with a metal spatula as she skillfully cracked egg after egg after egg into the iron skillet, "His wounds are healing well and he should be able to travel in the next day or two."

Malcom smiled, "You are very skilled, Christina. Thank you for your help."

The mouse turned around for the first time since they started talking; he saw the faintest hint of a blush in her ears, "You are Prince Malcom, your Highness... I can't think of a single person in Vallara who wouldn't help you if you asked for it."

The Prince took a step closer, holding out a paw, "I was not talking about other people, Doctor-- it was YOU that took us in and helped, and that, whether it should be expected or not, is something I wish to thank you for."

His hostess turned from the stove and obediently placed her paw in his. The indecision on her face was clear that she didn't quite know what to expect. While Malcom's first inclination would be to kiss it, he realized that she was not a lady of the court, and obviously had concerns about being treated as a woman; he instead chose to clasp it, and give her a firm shake. "Thank you." he announced.

Her smile gave him the impression that he had taken the correct course of action. "You are welcome, Prince Malcom. It is my duty as a physician, but my pleasure as a loyal supporter of the good you continue to do for us."

The Wolf let out an easy chuckle, "I do what I can... but, truth be told, the every day dedication the people of Vallara show to kin and country is what I most admire, and how I shape my own dealings."

The Doctor half laughed, and half sighed, "Your Highness, if half the men in the world were even as half as good with words then it wouldn't be a half-bad place. There are others in my care who could learn from you."

Malcom's chuckle turned to a laugh; he knew precisely the target of Dr. Brownell's comment, "And I had been left with the impression that you and the scholar got along so well."

She slid the eggs off of the skillet and flipped the bacon, "Courtesy, manners, and an obvious appreciation for blatantly obvious sarcastic wit-- do your fair attributes know no end, Prince Malcom?"

The Wolf offered a courtly bow in return, "I do what I can, Chirstina."

The mouse rolled her eyes theatrically and slid the slab of bacon onto a cutting board before filling the greasy skillet with two spoons of stock and a knob of butter, "If you would like to gather your companions I almost have breakfast ready for you... I think a hearty meal in your stomachs will do you some good."

Not one to turn down hospitality, Malcom simply nodded and went to retrieve the otters that came with him. Waterside and Lilly-on-the-Waves, the group's healer returned to the kitchen with him while Son-of-the-Tide remained resting on the cot; Waterside promised to return to the warrior with a plate of food. Malcom stood ahead of the otters in the entryway, one leg stretched out to block Berro's path.

The doctor already had the table set for four with food in place. She had the apron set on the counter beside the stove and stood behind a chair. She smiled, carefully speaking out the proper greeting, "Oani, hamahni."

Each of the otters bowed, responding to her greeting in the People's Tongue while Malcom did so in Lehsunian, "Thank you for your hospitality, friend Christina."

Without missing a beat, the mouse motioned to them all, then the table, "You make my home warmer for being here."

Malcom smiled, glancing to the otters and translating for them. They both smiled and nodded in return, taking the offered seats. The Wolf sat after the otters but before their hostess, "You are familiar with the tribes folk's ways?"

Christina took a seat, "Some. My mother spoke their language and my father worked often with them, so I picked up a little..."

Lilly-on-the-Waves touched the Wolf's paw to get his attention. She motioned to a small glass jar on the kitchen counter and spoke in the tribal tongue, "Li ahn Odensetti."

The mouse smiled, repeating the herb's name in Lehsunian, "Summer's Star... yes, I do."

Malcom looked from the healer to the doctor, "Many of the tribes use Summer's Star as--"

Christina picked right up, nodding, "As a pain killer and a wound closer... I know. I learned about it from my mother, who learned from them."

The wolf sat back in his chair, setting his fork down, "What about the University remedies? I would have thought--"

Dr. Brownell poured everyone a glass of reddish-purple juice, "I use both. They each have their benefits."

Malcom chuckled, "Healer and Doctor... I must say that you've chosen a fine combination of professions, Christina."

The mouse maintained an even expression though the faintest tug of a smile threatened her otherwise perfect deadpan, "You say that now, but just wait until you get my bill for services rendered, your Highness."

Malcom nodded in good form, then reached down to his hip pouch and pulled out a sack of coins. He set it on the table, and slid it to his hostess, "Speaking of payment, I believe this should cover your fees for my party, and for the group that came from the Yew Tribe village."

Christina's smile disappeared, "Your Highness, It was just in jest when I said--"

The Wolf's smile grew and he finished off the last bit of egg on his plate, "And I was not. You render a valuable service, Doctor Brownell... you deserve every last Crown."

The mouse's eyes opened wider when the bag's cord came undone and a small pile of Crowns spilled out onto the table, "I... I don't know what to say..."

Malcom gingerly wiped at his muzzle with a napkin then stood, "First you can start with 'thank you', and then, hopefully I could trouble you for directions to the town Magistrate's residence... I'm looking to speak with him before the day officially starts."

Dr. Brownell simply nodded, "Thank you."

The Wolf nodded in return, "You're most welcome... and the Magistrate? I'm afraid I need to be brief as this is in regard to the growing concern of the Church's men-at-arms in town, and I would prefer to resolve the issue before it creates bloodshed."

The mouse stood, "Oh... of course!"

Ten minutes later Malcom was on the street, a highly detailed map sketched quite skillfully on one of the mouse's cloth napkins, "Doctor, healer, and catrographer," he mumbled mirthfully to himself, "Is there anything she CAN'T do?"