3.1

Jewel looked around at the courtyard. The last few days had seen the mostly empty space transformed.

Canvas shades had been set up to spare their subjects from the baking sun.

A dais had been erected for herself and her family. There, they could be presented before their subjects.

All the usual paraphernalia for training had been cleared and stowed away from wandering peasant fingers.

And there was already a minstrel troupe arranging a main stage and plotting out routes for sections of the shaded courtyard. Practicing juggling, musical instruments or the wording of tales.

In one case, a very clever thing was being done with wooden carved figures that Jewel was very interested in seeing later.

She had heard quite a row between the entertainers to make sure that their particular instruments would not be ‘clashing’ from being overly close in the space - unless both performers came to an accord on harmony and topic of play.

There had also been grounds that were normally used for Alexander and the footmen’s training, now set aside for a few knightly games of sport, probably to be attended mostly by the footmen and a few of the more adventurous visitors. Jewel had heard wrestling and archery were likely to be an event in the days to come.

But nothing with live steel or even training weapons was to be used on one another.

The smell of smoked wild boar sausage layered over everything as even before the festivities the household staff and visitors worked to prepare and stock.

That was Jewel’s favorite part of the upcoming events, the flavor was unique and already she had heard discussion on how the plain meat of the monstrous Terror-boar had been remade using lesser pigs and spices.

Jewel did not think they had actually succeeded as much as was claimed.

The natural bite, aromatic nuances and peppery undertones of the genuine meat were utterly delicious to Jewel. And not just because she got to devour the flesh of the animal that had left her aching and sore clear through the hay harvests!

Certainly a good effort was done with the spices but the imitation just lacked something, at least when she’d sampled it from the kitchens.

She would miss the Terror Boar sausage, and she honestly considered that perhaps maybe she might be convinced to hunt some smaller boar. If she could find any that matched its flavor. Just to keep the family larder stocked in these treats of course!

Breakfasts and evening meals had been flush with the juiciest slabs of bacon since the hunt. And Kraok had attended as an honored guest and knight to all the family meals, instead of as a guard among the footmen.

He seemed rather unsure and embarrassed by his rise in rank. But that had settled out after Father and Lothlar began drilling him on his form, making sure he had kit proper for his new station commissioned and other sundry.

And all of that while Mother managed the staff for disposing of the incredible tonnage of carcass.

The sheer size of the boar and its many uses had been bewildering.

Jewel had understood that much could be done with an animal but when it was this big the industry of it really brought a clarity that did not come with smaller games.

They had tried many things to preserve and prepare the absolute abundance of meat so it would not go to waste, but the household favorite (especially Jewel’s) was the lean-meat smoked sausage stuffed in the boar’s own intestine.

What the staff and local villagers were already calling Kraoska.

And Jewel was going to miss it.

Another novel snack involved the bone marrow stewed out and left simmering over the last fortnight and made available to all the demesne for their abundance in big iron pots. That had been a savory treat and nuance added to the pottage! When every scrap of flavor had been sapped the remaining bones themselves were worked over.

The ground up and boiled empty bones, according to the headman of the village, had the right taste for feeding the soil. So the ground meal of such was parceled and portioned for every acre of the Barony.

The heart was soaked in brine and vinegar, Pummeled soft and then baked in honey and served in a feast honoring the Countess’ acknowledgement and ratification of Fathers choice in knighting Kroak. The decree granted him a landed title within the Rochford barony. She even endorsed him as fit for a title beyond Father’s lands if Kraok could find a marriage for it.

The skull and tusks were being kept in Father’s possession in trust for Sir Kraok as a start for the wealth expected of his station. It might be sold off or fashioned by artisans into gear or other artifacts.

The brain had been drained and made into a liquor or something that delighted the tanners working its hide, and was said to have given both suppleness and strength even to mundane pig hide when worked in it.

The praise placed upon the leather by the armorers that had made Kraok’s kit was near unceasing.

Of course the best portion of the hide went to armor for Sir Kraok. And that would be debuted at the Festival’s start. The rest was still waiting for craftsmen to claim it and might even be bundled and sold if enterprising traders came through, or it’d be given in tithe payments to the Countess.

The sheer density and strength of the skull had been so great that, despite all the blows it had taken in the battle, it was still wholly intact!

Jewel had been quite shocked by how undamaged it was once the skin and flesh had been stripped and mostly eaten in many curious kitchen experiments by the household. After cleaning and polishing it, they could not scratch it! Even with the working tools needed to extract two of the tusks there was still not a mark upon it!

And the tusks were very fine white ivory after they were cleaned. Exceptional in length and quality on their own and then there were four which was unusual and brought much speculation that there might be a Wild Wyrm Lair hunt to be taken to find from whence the monster had come.

All told it was a great bounty Father was gifting to Kroak to start his career in knighthood.

The skull and tusks would be presented during the fair, cleaned up for viewing at the start of the Celebration which was done ostensibly to honor Kraok’s service and the now-legendary hunt.

But also to verify for the skeptical just how much of a threat the Terror Boar had represented.

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Jewel and Alexander would of course be required to attend on the dais for that, and then expected to move amongst the peasantry in the Courtyard for the rest of the fair days.

It was especially important, according to Muriel, for Jewel to take this opportunity to be seen and interact with the peasantry who lived further out in the Barony. The local villagers were quite comfortable with her, but this would be the first time for many of the farther flung peasantry to meet the lord's daughter since she had been officially adopted.

Which was exciting, yes.

But also worrying.

She still remembered a few of her first impressions with the village when she was younger.

The lavender oil that was thrown in her face by a frightened child (which she really quite liked actually and thanked the horrified mother for, In fact that family was now the primary source for her lavender bathing oil).

Numerous insults and oaths of curse taken to one god or another when they thought she wouldn't hear.

A few comments comparing her to their livestock.

And other things said about her personage and figure she wished she could remain unaware of.

Mother and Father’s displeasure had interceded for some of it. But Muriel had made lessons out of going into the village and speaking to her subjects as well.

Familiarity was apparently key.

Getting to know their troubles and even attending to a few of their disputes before the problem reached a point Father needed to intervene.

It took a year before she was mostly accepted. But the coldest seasons were especially fruitful.

Apparently offering to warm a hearth on nothing but stone and spent ash so they could save on firewood went a long way for most people in winter.

Jewel had only been able to do so for a few houses a day, but the village headman had been helpful in showing her to those that were the worst off in firewood and food stores.

These days, she was welcome from fields to forests, tannery to smithy and all sundry places between in the demesne and village.

But tomorrow the Boar Festival would begin in earnest, and the courtyard would be filled with more than those people who would wave and welcome her.

She had never helped any of these new people resolve a dispute by interrogating the earth where a fence post had been a decade ago.

Or warmed their homes against the bite of winter.

Or cleared snow to a shed for them.

Or came with grain or even milled flour to make bread when larders were bare.

It would probably be the muttered frightful words all over again, and the insults and the scented oils to the face!

She just knew that they would all hate her-

“Oiy! Little Lady! No brooding!”

One of the butcher workers, Jewel, was not sure exactly who, she wanted to say his name was something to do with salt, or maybe field sowing? Commoners had such terribly boring and repetitive names and half the time you just had to guess some random noun or verb related to their profession and you were golden.

Before she could proclaim how she was certainly not brooding as she was a lady, the man tossed an entire Kraoska at her underhanded!

“Here I’ve got a treat for ya!”

The precious sausage was sailing through the air in an arc that would miss her face if she was inattentive.

But then the delicious Kraoska would get in the dirt!

Her jaws were snapping on the peppery spice-filled delight of smoked pork and springy casing before it even began to dip from the apex of its arc.

And since it had found its way into her mouth anyway, she proceeded to chew and absolutely did not utter any overly pleased and unlady-like noises.

It was as perfect as all the other’s she had eaten!

But truly, Jewel tried to scowl at the incredibly friendly but unfortunately totally plain butcher type man in his leather smock and high heeled wooden clogs. She wanted to admonish him, but the traitorous smoked sausage would simply not let her lips make a frown or her brows furrow.

Still she tried to make her displeasure known without opening her mouth (lest she lose some of her involuntary snack). These were for the fair guests! Not for distracting Jewel with their delicious smoky perfection from her totally justified concerns!

She glared down at the man and chewed furiously, but being one of the villagers that was now quite comfortable with her he just grinned happy as can be, arms behind his back, bracing him so he could avoid a crick in his neck without breaking eye contact with the towering lady dragon.

“Sod off on that, Little Lady - it's doing you good and would have gone to waste, I swear. That one was a bit manky!”

Jewel was unconvinced, as she could taste the pure pristine quality of the sausage.

But since she could eat totally spoiled meat and just get some interesting hints of sourness, the household staff (and apparently the villagers too now) had taken to using that excuse when they wanted to sneak her treats.

Jewel encouraged it when she was five but she wasn't such a spoiled hatchling anymore! Jewel would be ten this winter!

She was no child!

“I swear little Lady, I swear! It would have had to go to the dog! But you were looking in need of a mite more cheering then ole Bonecrusher there.”

Jewel spared a glance to the dog as she continued to chew the illicit pork. And indeed, there below at the butcher’s feet were hopeful eyes of what was certainly a bear-hound cross of some kind.

Laying amiably by the side of the butcher’s heavy oaken table, where she presumed he was going to slice portions for those that wanted their sausage today instead of to take home.

The hound’s deep black eyes spoke to the endless optimism of all dogs that despite the assured fact that Jewel was indeed going to finish chewing this mouth full and swallow it for herself she surely did not have too.

Sparing affronted glares between dog and owner both Jewel finally huffed heavily (through her nose, no morsel would escape her jaws) and reluctantly swallowed the wonderfully flavorful smoked boar sausage before it started to lose its flavor from chewing.

“A pleasure to help avoid the waste, fair butcher. But I worry for your stock if something spoilt made it all the way from the smoke house to your stand?”

She eyed the numerous hanging sausages of all sizes.

Jewel had already tried quite a few of them during the presentations to Father and the family so they could pick which would stay in the family larder and which would be parceled to the representatives of each village and other households.

It was all a cumbersome affair, for however incredible the quantity of meat from the boar it was significantly less when split among the thousand-four hundred and some subjects that worked and lived among the villages across the barony.

Even if you only accounted for the last statements, citing there being only about seven hundred and forty able-bodied men of proper strength and age to cut hay, it still was not going to be that much of a parcel per guest had they stuck to only the flesh of the Terror Boar.

Father had called for boar hunts across the forests when it seemed the larders would only be able to give a token Kraoska for every able bodied man of the Barony.

And from that came the inferior imitations.

So she really should not have any more of these precious meats.

Jewel had honestly already eaten more of the boar and its wonderful spicy pork then any of her subjects were going to be able to.

Quite a few were going to have to accept the inferior imitations some of the kitchen staff had made with a mix of garden herbs and the household's sparse store of pepper and coriander.

But then again.

“Well, I suppose since you found the one which snuck by we best check to make sure that there are not any others unfit as gifts representing Father and his generosity.”

After all, maybe there were some sausages that were poor-eating for commoners.

It was after all Jewel’s duty to make sure they did not take ill from Father’s gift.