A servant opened the heavy oak doors, having to pull with her whole weight before the doors could slide backward. It was obvious to the two waiting men as it was to the servant that the owners of the house had never had to open their own door. As such, they were ignorant to its unfriendly and irritating to use manner.
The Admiral leaned in to catch a glimpse of the inside of the house, eager to grasp on any details that might help his cause. He noticed the gleaming wooden staircase and the crystal chandelier. Two bronze hunting dogs adorned the bottom of the stairs as if to guard the entrance into the inner sanctum.
"Good evening." said the servant. Ross noticed how there was a thin sheen of sweat covering the elderly woman's forehead. He could hear various noises in the background, the loudest being the clinking of silverware and high, nasal laughs.
"Good evening." Ross smiled, "My name is Admiral Ross van, Bahn. My apologies at our intrusion, but I expect the Mayor has been awaiting us."
"Admiral?" the woman asked, surprised. "I'll have to check with the Mayor." She looked over the duo and raised a suspicious eyebrow at the dog.
"My personal aide and our animal support. Poor bugger was hurt in the heat of battle. You'll have to excuse the hound's presence. I'm afraid I'm quite soft-hearted when it comes to animals."
After this, they were let in the house and led into a nearby guest room. The Admiral traipsed over and sat down on the couch, resting his legs on a small glass table.
"Somebody will be right with you." said the servant and left the room in a hurry.
"Glass!" Ross exclaimed and whistled, while still in earshot of the servant who stopped for a second before shutting the door.
"Is that smart, sir?" Patrick asked, throwing a worried look after the servant. He tried to put the dog on the couch, but Ross re-positioned his legs to cover the whole couch.
"It'll give the servants something to tell the Mayor. And really, these types love devil-may-care attitudes. Quit your worrying and pour me a drink." He waved his hand vaguely toward the bar in the corner of the room.
Patrick set the dog down, and finding a glass and some water, he filled the glass and pushed it in front of the dog. The animal opened an eye, and while he still looked a bit dazed, Patrick's spirits were uplifted to see that the hound lapped gratefully at the water.
The young man then moved to serve the Admiral, choosing what looked to be the most expensive and higher class drink, whatever that was, and pouring it into a glass. Ross shook his head when the drink was delivered and took a sip before groaning and muttering something about poor tastes.
After waiting for a few awkward minutes, a butler entered the room. He was dressed in the same style of simple clothing as the other servant, but this one had the house crest above his heart, plus a large mustache that made him look cat-like in appearance.
"My deepest apologies for the wait. If you would just follow me, gentlemen. You may leave your pet, young sir, I will be back shortly to provide the dear animal with some dinner." the butler said, his accent slipping in a few parts, which seemed to make the Admiral very happy indeed.
The Admiral got up and shook the man's hand enthusiastically. "Happy to meet you, my good man." He then made a show as if he had forgotten he still held the glass filled with brown liquor. "Silly me. Nearly spilled on you." The object of conversation now broached, he was free to continue. "By the by, do you know what drink the Mayor may be particular towards?"
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"I believe the Mayor leans towards reds. If you will follow me, gentlemen." said the mustached man.
The butler led the way out of the room, but before they left, Ross turned to Patrick and asked him to grab the biggest and most expensive bottle of wine he could find.
"Hold it at your back. Don't let the butler see it or he might take it back," he whispered, conspiratorially." And Patrick did, having a hard time balancing as they went up the stairs, and holding a hand behind his back. He was grateful that the Admiral was talking the butler's ear off, purposefully distracting the man and making himself appear as some down-trodden buffoon.
Mayor Lyndon sat on a fur-covered chair that was pushed up close to the fireplace. She ignored the butler's greeting as they walked in, and kept warming her hands on the fire. She managed to make them feel like intruders with nary a glance.
The logs crackled and spat up red ash into the chimney. Mayor Lyndon stood and with a wave of the hand, deftly dismissed her servant. "Good evening, Admiral. Was my town everything you wished it to be?" Ross frowned for a second as if perplexed by the fact that he could possibly make a mistake. He had expected a fat aristocrat already past his heyday, perhaps fat and happy after a large dinner, hopefully mid-way through his cups. Now he was expected to deal with this lady, not very decrepit, and exuding an air of something that could be competence and intelligence.
"My troops appeared to be positively taken with the town. My only fear is they might want to relocate here." said the Admiral, still standing, politeness dictating to wait for an invitation.
"Well," the Mayor said softly while grasping the cup of tea resting on the armrest. "I do not envy you having to break their battle-weary hearts. New Fenrig, in stark opposition to its name, is an old place, used to the stillness and the quiet."
"Yes, Ma'am." said the Admiral. "I will try my utmost to keep that peace between all the good citizens of the Empire."
"We are all good citizens, here, and our roots reach back to the Empire, and all those that sit in its center." The Mayor spoke, swirling her tea around in the cup, and clanking the spoon on its sides louder than necessary.
Ross was growing tired of the verbal jousting. He had tried it out, as it had been a good change of pace from the regular hum-drum of shouting orders, but he had taken all he could.
The Admiral walked to the side of the room, found a chair sitting by the window, and pointedly dragged it back, placing it near the fireplace. He then threw a thunderous look towards Patrick.
"Sit down somewhere." He almost screeched, and then to the Mayor, "It is your duty as a citizen of the Empire to provide aid wherever you can."
"Old words, written in rotten parchment by now. It would do you well, Admiral to remember how far away we are from the throne, and how alone you are on my island." the Mayor kept on, unperturbed, sipping at her tea when the mood took her.
"Listen--"
"One barely floating ship. A few drunk sailors. An Admiral with an unwashed uniform and a stray child bringing a dog into my home. These, my dear, are not things that I will ever fear. If you wish to use threats, then you might as well drop the pretense." She put the teacup down and loudly clapped her hands.
The sound of heavy boots stomping hurriedly rolled under the door. Ross entertained the thought of taking the Mayor hostage, but decided against it, for the time being. Instead, his eyes going cold and harsh he motioned to Patrick as the two interlopers raised their hands in surrender.
Armored guards in golden breeches and purple overcoats burst in, rifles with their bayonets set on the end, pointed at their enemies.
"Any harm to me or the boy will be taken as an action against an agent of the state. I believe the punishments on that are quite medieval, and they never stop at just the guilty. Keep that in mind, if you cherish your families and don't want them to die horribly." the Admiral said.
The guards stopped, seeing his uniform and the marking on the collar, the shoulders, and around the wrists.
"Ma'am?" One of the guards asked the Mayor.
"Oh, escort them back onto the street, and make sure they go on their way. I hope you have learned something from this Admiral. I do not wish a repeat of tonight's embarrassing performance."
As they were walked back through the house, weapons pointed at their backs, they heard the Mayor laugh, "I do so hope you enjoy the wine."