3.2

The first morning of the Festival began with the very breaking of dawn and came with all the weight of a foreign Lord’s visit. Jewel was bathed, her scales polished and her mane combed through.

The rest of her family, Bromthil and Kraok and the footmen took the hot water after her for their own baths (Jewel had no idea why, their animal scent was quite nice today but she did not comment as that was apparently rude).

Her favorite lavender oil was anointed along her scales and a wreath of flowers from the gardens along the walls was wound and set upon her head, affixed with twine to either of her horns and a little clever tie in the back to her mane so it would not dislodge during the day.

Alexander had to have his finery adjusted since his last fitting nine days before, let out around the shoulders and loosened to hang taller than it had before. A few places of wear revealed by this needed a stitch, tuck or otherwise made presentable.

Father and Mother had their own attendants to make certain their clothes were fine and impressive for the showing to the barony’s gathered subjects.

Breakfast was a rushed affair in the still-early hours of the morning and everyone (even Father) wore a guard cloth over their front in case there were any splatters that might mar their preparations.

Kraok had already been a fixture every morning since his official assumption to the rank of Knight. But today he was also fully kitted in the new leather that had been made of the Boar Hide.

Jewel thought It was very fetching stained black, all shiny and new and every metal rivet wet with fresh oiling.

It was smooth and flexible to have a minimum creak, as was proper for hunting leathers. But built considerably more for military use than just the light treatment to ward off brush and brambles.

There were even embellishments done in the pristine white of tusk ivory. Both Father’s GryphonRampant and the newly made crest of Kraok’s dynasty were prominent (a Boar and Axe naturally).

Though being fully armored for war meant he had to sit upon one of the more narrow stools out of the barracks to keep the leather fauld from bending awkwardly under his ass.

He was joined in this unique seating requirement by another knight.

For once, Lothlar was also actually eating with them instead of the footmen. Dressed in light mail with his home city’s crest in tabard over it. All told his well worn armor looked far less impressive and more frumpy than Kraok’s even though his mail was almost certainly a stronger deterrent when worn over a brigandine like it was.

The rush everyone was in, getting their morning beer and porridge down as fast as possible, left conversation sparse and mostly taken up by updates and last minute troubleshooting for the fair, various issues brought to Father’s attention by the household staff.

They cleared out breakfast and then moved on into the courtyard. Even though it was hardly a few hours past sunrise the peasantry and other attendants were already filling up the space.

A few of the minstrels were warming to the occasion with songs and ballads. A few had been written over the last day or so recounting Kraok’s exploits in the slaying of the beast.

Jewel could immediately spot those among the peasantry that were not from the local village nestled so close in the lee of Fort Rochford.

For one, they tended to stop dead and cause a fuss around them at the sight of her.

A few whispered and she heard and saw much ogling and astonished whispering.

As Muriel and Mother had instructed her Jewel did not pay their reactions any mind, She strode with her family confident and seemingly ambivalent to their stares, flanked by their footmen, Kroak and Lothlar at the head of each single file column.

Father moved at the head of the procession, Mother at his right and Alexander just a step back from her on his left. Coming up last, taking up a little more than the entire procession of their available footmen was Jewel. Her tail had grown in the last few years to the point that it simply would not fit down a procession of foot without sacrificing adequate, honorable spacing.

Jewel strode with all the regal grace and flowing elegance she could muster. Honed by many drills with Muriel and Mother’s commentary and critique.

She did not float or fly, she did not bound. But each step drifted just a bit overly long in the air.

Her coils flowed and her wings stayed furled close, but with a relaxed poise.

She bore her head tall, just above Father’s own shoulder, looking ahead as if she was the Lady of all before her instead of Father’s daughter.

So it was the family strode to the wooden stage that had been made as a dais for their seating.

All of them were appointed with seats, although hers was regrettably the same one that was used when they were hosting a feast with less familiar guests.

At least the dais was mostly timbers cut last year and hardly venerable in anything but growing in the wood as trees.

It would have made for less comfort than even the seat.

She was to lounge regally behind father, her head at his right, looming over and behind Alexander in a suitably imposing manner.

Alexander himself had a finely worked but mostly unadorned stool, Mother’s was a scaled up but otherwise comparable seat.

Father had a fully backed and carved chair. One of the finer works, although not his favorite (he kept that one at the dining table).

Kraok had another simple stool to father’s right, suitable for use while in full armor, Jewel sniffed slightly and confirmed that it had indeed come from the barracks but was at least different from the one he used during breakfast.

He was mirrored to Father’s left with another barrack’s armor stool seating Lothlar, which was humorously the same stool used by Kraok during the morning meal.

Maybe she should enquire with father if the armory needed more stools.

The procession turned and as one sat in their assigned places upon the dais, the canvas top ready to offer a welcome shade for when it came around for the summer’s baking noon-sun.

Although at present Jewel welcomed the walls of her home, as they were keeping the early morning light out of her eyes.

It was not a moment after they were seated that Alexander struggled with a yawn, only just smothering it.

Jewel had to agree, despite the admonishment she wanted to give her brother. The hour was quite too early to be quite so presentable and even earlier for how long they would have to attend the peasants here.

Mother was probably going to be quite drunk by the afternoon, despite keeping to the watered down wine and small beer given the way she tended to go parched in the sun even shaded as they were.

Jewel wondered if Mother would end up in a singing round with the village and minstrels this time?

Their arrival had been fanfare enough, Jewel thought. No one in the courtyard had missed the chance to gawk at them (mostly her). But just in case the Crier for the day (another boy Jewel did not recognize) called out with a solid but clear voice.

“Presenting your Lord, Liege and Baron, Jonathan the Third of House Rochford!”

Good pipes on him! He cut the murmur of nearly a four hundred gathered peasantry and the forty some mix of attending footmen, Minstrels, Vendors and general staff present.

All below the rank of knight bowed, which was everyone not already seated on the dais.

Jewel kept her face placidly serene and neutral. Frowning while up here presented the wrong mein for a Lady.

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Smiling might give others a hint of mischief or idiocy.

But there was a specific expression that you could let your muscles take which was not quite relaxed but also not overly tense.

Muriel had drilled her and Alexander on their own variations exhaustively.

Mother and Father seemed to simply be able to take it up without a moment’s thought.

The silence was punctuated by summer bird song and a cool morning wind.

Even the Minstrels silenced.

And then Father’s voice carried out sonorous and deep as he used for public address, he stood from his chair, striding forward on the Dais so all could see him, take in his stature.

“We are gathered here to honor a service to my house and to you my subjects, the valiant defense of my son.”

He nodded to Alexander who schooled his face, this part had been the most difficult of the preparations, it had taken two days of practice before they found something that did not make Alexander burst into unseemly tears.

“...and the slaying of a terrible monster, a threat to us all.”

On cue the footmen marched from behind the dais, eight of them bracing the poles which bore the terrifying skull of the boar.

In death it was somehow even more terrifying than life.

Even missing two of its four tusks, the scale of the thing made portions of Jewel’s hide carefully obscured from the peasantry tremble in fright.

The jaws were seemingly big enough to swallow a man whole, stripped of the heavy jowls and muscles; the impression was that it could have even made a go at devouring Jewel and her formidable bulk entirely.

The image made her jaw give phantom twinging aches at the memory of how she had accomplished similar results by forceful dislocation.

The gathered peasantry that had not already been spending well over fifteen days stripping, butchering and treating the remains of the Terror Boar recoiled as was appropriate to the visage.

The footmen procession carried it to the front of the dais and then with a practiced kneel they brought it down to rest on the packed dirt of the courtyard.

Father gestured to all of them.

“Today we celebrate the Slaying of the Terror Boar, and the Man, The Knight, who struck it through the heart.”

On his own cue Kraok stood in his fine new armor and approached father to kneel in allegiance.

Father’s hand was already raised to rest on Kraok’s head.

Just as practiced for the last three days.

“Rise and be known by all the people of Rochford! Rise and be recognized, Sir Kraok Boarslayer! Knight of Rochford!”

That drew some murmur and attention away from the boar skull that ominously stood before all the peasants, dwarfing even the burliest of them.

A few of the less polite peasants had ignored most of father’s speech and gone to poke and prod. Run their fingers over its teeth and tusks, even a couple children took to trying their knives on its skull and Jewel had to hold with every fiber of her being to not laugh when the simple iron implements chipped against the solidity of its bone.

But the older amongst the outsiders considered Kraok with knowing eyes. Rochford had not a proper Knight other than the technicality of Lord Rochford himself in close to two generations.

They of course still paid for the full Knight’s fee of all the fields of the barony to the Countess Bathory, but there had mostly been head men and mayors of the villages to manage those affairs too distant for direct supervision by Father.

But a Knight of Rochford meant a manor house would be either reclaimed from current residents, restored up from ruin or possibly even built whole cloth if none was suitable in the chosen lands Father had marked to give to Kraok.

It probably was at most a year away before he was ready for the administrative task and fully settled.

For one, he would need to be brought back up to a standard in letters and stewardship.

The skills of a Footmen sometimes hunter were simply not sufficient for a Knight.

Time to settle all affairs and make all parties comfortable with the tidings and new arrangement. But even then, he was to be the liege of up to a hundred of those present if all things went well.

That was newsworthy to the clever eyes watching Father. The trip was already worthwhile for the considerate faces Jewel saw in the crowd. She could not quite smother the entirety of her smile for Father’s next reveal though.

“In the coming days of merriment you will hear the tale told by our minstrels and your fellow subjects until I’m sure everyone is quite sick of it.”

Father gave them the slight hint of his joke in his voice.

A few automatic chuckles and some genuine ones followed on cue, Jewel was pleased there was more of the later then the former.

Father was a good lord.

“But this is not just a day to celebrate the bounty I give to only those that serve my house in battle against terrible monsters. Today is a festival for more! For yes the great Terror Boar was mighty, and vast.”

He stood up tall with a wide grin.

“But it was also quite delicious! And as your Lord and Baron, I take pride that I guard you from more than mere giant beasts and the depredations of bandits. Not just the threat of invasion or subjugation by cruel masters.”

Everyone was quiet in the air, even the birds in the distance silent.

“I know we are entering into the hunger’s season before the wheat harvest. I know and in my responsibility as lord this last season before the haying I did open my granaries to those of my immediate demesne in need.”

Those who were not so local turned to their fellow subjects and received nods and grins, which rippled out through the visitors turning suspicious but hopeful eyes to Father as he waited for the slight murmur to finish.

“In life the Terror Boar was a beast and a monster, a threat to all, my son included. But in death it is a boon! And one I share with you!”

He gestured with a hand and one of the footmen came up to him with the tied bundle of Kraoski Sausage, a leather pouch almost the same size as the sausage that Jewel knew was filled with a mix of grain and bean for pottage, a small round of hard sheep cheese from their very own reserve, and a clay urn filled with a mix of ash and ground bone powder. Good for probably an acre of land or several plots of garden.

“As your lord and Baron I declare every household of my subjects is owed a portion of this bounty! Come forth and affirm your loyalty, state your place in my land and receive your due!”

And with that he returned to his seat and awaited the first petitioner.

It was going to be such an ordeal. Making sure that every household got what he declared was owed.

And Father was going to be stuck here handing them out all day and tomorrow, possibly even the day after if it was slow going.

However the first few appointees had already been selected and gotten into position for their gifts at the start of Father’s speech.

Trusted headmen or their chosen heir representatives from the villages, influential freemen with important trades, farmers with particularly strong ties to the other peasants and the like.

It was to make sure that the most loyal got the genuine Kraoski as there was not actually enough from the fabled boar itself to portion to every household of the barony.

But enough that there was that every village certainly could get a dozen or so of the genuine article.

Father just had to make sure that they went to those most deserving.

For the rest whether the tardy that were slow to affirm their loyalty to father? Or were simply just late to the festival, such as not arriving until tomorrow?

Well they would get the inferior attempts to duplicate the wonderful flavor of the Terror Boar smoked sausage.

It would be just as filling for the belly through the hunger’s season. But not quite as much an explicit treasure.

Jewel watched the procession of Subjects affirming their loyalty to Father, stating the place in his barony of their household and the land they worked or craft they practiced in his name.

She was glad that her and the family only had to be present for the first day of this.

Poor father had to be here for the entire festival potentially!