Sela mustered to guard mount to see a full complement of guards at the Riverfolk Company shack. He didn’t start getting nervous until he spotted a second complement waiting in formation inside.
“Sela, you’re late! What’s the matter, otter got your tongue?”
The sergeant’s joke made the group ripple with guffaws until a sharp glance brought them all to attention, silent again.
“You were doing so well, I was going to put you on the baron's detail,” the sergeant said, eying him up, “but instead you’ll be following around some ambassador. Their chief of staff is waiting over there. Make us proud.”
The sergeant waved a hand to a creature shrouded in purple, hood drawn up over their head. The only thing that Sela could see was a large, protruding under-fang, and warm breath billowing in the chill harvest air.
Sela snapped a crisp salute, and queued up for his club and belt.
The logistics sergeant, a beaver, nodded to Sela. He wore all the newest gear, and his brass buttons shone like he’d been up all night polishing them. “I’m really sorry about this one, mate, but the sergeant heard you’ve been practicing with the sword a lot. He thinks you’re going off to be a ranger at the end of the season, so he’s giving you the worst posting.”
“Understood,” Sela said. “I may do just that if I keep getting these posts.”
Sela winked to the dumbstruck beaver, and made for the mysterious ambassador’s chief of staff.
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***
Sam stood by as Chip got into his flow state. She already knew that he wasn't to be disturbed once he got in the zone, but now he baked fish and rough puff pastry-encased vegetarian fish with his tins with abandon. Through their new bond, she could feel his steady confidence as she tried to help stem the tide of orders coming in.
'I'll have one savory and one sweet," said a rabbit in a top hat, patting a lady on his arm. "You can pick whichever your heart desires."
"Ah, yer lordship sire, enjoy my Britpops, we took a lot of time to make these here pops look and taste good, we did," Uncle Brit said, handing the two items by the stem. Sam was always amused by the show Uncle Brit put on for customers.
"Has the Baron had one yet?" the lady mused, munching on her stem gingerly. Sam held out an arm with a few of the favorite spices that other rabbits had told her worked well together.
"Well, I did make me Britpops to impress the Baron," Brit said. "We need the Baron’s blast furnace to expand our operations."
The rabbit nodded, seemingly pleased with his purchase.
"You should call these the Baron’s Blast Furnace Britpops then," the lady rabbit said, finishing her fish stick.
"That's one way about it, miss," Brit replied.
Sam tried to hide a smile at the rabbit's joke.
"Why lady Bun," the gentlerabbit said, "I do believe that you've made a joke there now, haven't you? For myself, I think I would rather call it the Baron’s Britpops in the Bid for the Blast Furnace."
Uncle Brit nodded in front of the cart. Chip was a bundle of nerves in the back of Sam's mind, and she turned to see him waiting impatiently for another order. He'd been making sweet and savory pops in equal amounts. Word had spread about his rough puff pastries. Apparently, though a lot of rabbits and mice didn't eat fish, they loved to eat things in the shape of fish. It tickled their fancies.
Uncle Brit took a piece of chalk and underneath the giant sign he wrote:
MR. STEAL YOUR PEARL
TODAY'S SPECIAL: BARON BRITPOP BLAST FURNACE (in sweet or savory - vegetarian available)
Fish-on-a-Stick