Manticore Rampant

Ch 5 - Wild Geese and Where to Chase Them

"Conduct a thowough search of the palace. I want those wetched wascals found and bwought diwectly to me."

"Yes, sir!" The captain of Lord Hirschnopple's personal guard saluted, and with a click of his heels, turned to leave.

"Oh, and Yobson?"

The guard turned back again. "Sir?"

 With detached interest, Hirschnopple watched the butler who had served the Nanny and her guests carefully clearing away the glittering tea service the party had used. "Leave me a couple of guards, would you? Pweferably two of your least, ah...cosmetically endowed ones."

"Sir?" 

The aristocrat sighed. "You know, captain, I don't understand why it is I so often need to wepeat myself to you. It's most fwustwating. Anyone one would think I was wegaling you in a foweign language, wather than wun-of-the-mill, wegular old Irmish."

The captain quite often thought that, but had long since recognised the wisdom of keeping the fact to himself. "Yes, sir. Sowwy...uh, sorry, sir."

"Hmm." Hirschnopple regarded him through narrowed eyes. "Consider yourself on thin ice, captain. Now, what I want is a couple of uglies. I  want the two members of your squad with faces most capable of curdling milk. The ones able to make small children cwy with nothing more than a look. Do you compwehend?"

With a sense of relief, Yobson realised he did. And had just the guards for the job. "Yes, sir," he replied. "Smark and Felubble, attend to Lord Hirschnopple. The rest of you, come with me." And with a final hurried salute, he made his escape.

"Oh, yes." Hirschnopple regarded the faces of the two guards left to him. "Yes, indeed. That's the stuff. You two are just the ticket. Twuly gwuesome."

While Smark appeared unmoved by this assessment, Felubble—lower lip protruding further by the second—was unable to resist a good sniff.

"Oh, gwow up, for goodness' sake. A face like a bucket of goblin bums is pwactically an asset in your line of work. You should be gwateful. Now, the two of you gwab hold of that butler."

While they did so, Hirschnopple sauntered over to the table and picked up the gleaming silver teapot that formed the focal point of the service. He gave the stunned butler, standing pinioned between the two soldiers, a friendly smile.

"Hello there, my good man. I wondered if perhaps you might be so kind as to help us with our enquiwies. Tell me, who was it the Nanny was taking tea with, just now? And, pway tell, what did they discuss?"

Although clearly shaken, the grey-haired man lifted his chin. "I'm frightfully sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I'm unable to be of assistance. A butler simply does not listen and tell. As I'm sure a cultured gentleman such as yourself must be aware, discretion is one of our most crucial attributes."

"Yes, no doubt." Hirschnopple flopped into one of the armchairs and held up the teapot. "And so, quite clearly, is being a dab hand at polishing the silverwear. Just look at the sheen on this little beauty. Quite bwilliant."

The butler blinked at him. "I...thank you, sir." 

"Yes, excellent work indeed. And I can't help but feel it would be a weal twagedy to see such work"—with a mischievous smile, he placed a fingertip on the pot's flawless silver surface—"smudged. Don't you think?"

The old man went pale. "You wouldn't."

Hirschnopple raised an eyebrow. "Twy me."

A rivulet of sweat ran down the butler's forehead. "I can't tell you," he gasped, as he struggled in vain to free himself. "It wouldn't be right. I simply can't."