Thursday October 19th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the viscount.

Yup.

Had a pretty fun day with Miles. Did some shopping and hung out at the bakery this morning, had a Skype chat with my parents, walked around the farm, and hung out on Main Street for a little bit this afternoon.

He put on quite a show in my favorite coffee shop. The intention was to go in, grab a coffee to go, and then go for a walk in town. But he started off with showing a tiny piece of leaf that he'd found on the sidewalk to about seven different people. Then he decided the best thing ever would be to take off his toque and have an older gentleman put it back on for him.

Over and over and over again.

Eventually convinced him to leave. He kept wanting to go back in though. That was around the time I decided it was time to head home.

Mine:

"Sire."

"What is it now?"

"The Viscount of Rusted Bridge has come to see you."

"Again? Can that man not take a bloody hint?"

"Apparently not, sire, no."

"Did he say what he wants?"

"No, but I believe it is safe to assume that he's found another way to stake his claim as a duke, sire."

"Yes, it does seem like he's given up on earl and marquess, doesn't it? Fine, show him to the Grey Room."

"Shall I have tea prepared?"

"Only if it has been sufficiently poisoned."

"Of course, sire."

5 comments:

Greg said...

Miles sounds like he was having fun. Although I'm sure he was very disappointed that after he'd finally found a personal dresser you left without them... that's just inconsiderate of you!
I rather like the sound of the Viscount of Rusted Bridge -- even his land sounds like he's not very important -- and I'm slightly sad that he's going to be dead the next time we meet him. Still, the liege-lord seems like a down-to-earth chap, so maybe we can have more of him and his rulership? Oh, and I like the touch that the room for poisonings in the "Grey room".

[Double post. Sorry, sorry, sorry.]

Greg said...

[Triple. Damn this character limit -- I can't even count words to get it right]
The viscount
The note, signed 'Viscount Glory' had been left under Hermione's pillow while she slept so she'd given it a lot of consideration. The spells that she warded her bed with were strong enough that the other four girls in the dormitory had found their beds pushed together at the far side of the room and complained that they had nightmares about magical guardians watching them hungrily while they slept. Hermione had responded by saying that they were clearly weak-minded and unfit to be students at the school, and the matter was now in the hands of the school therapist, the (literally) skeletal Madame Pumpkin. The note-placer had somehow avoided all her wards and protections, and just to leave her a note asking her to meet Viscount Glory in the Alchemy dungeons. Alone.
"As if I'd bring anyone else along," mused Hermione. She waved her wand absently and the plate of food that Ronnie Weasel had just placed in front of Harry levitated up and floated over to her place setting. "But why go to all this effort when you could just email me?"
"What?" said Ronnie, beginning the task of putting another plate of food together for Harry. They currently didn't trust him with anything sharper than a spoon after Hermione had lost her temper and obliviated him six times in a row, and the food for tea tonight was mostly things that needed to be cut up before eating. "Bloody lobster," he muttered to himself.

Greg said...

The Alchemy dungeons were quiet and smelled of ditch water and blood (Hermione noted that another class must be learning to make the Boggarty potion) and, to her surprise, already occupied when she turned up fifteen minutes early.
"Who the hell are you?" she snapped, her wand out, her feet set at 30 degrees to each other and her hips poised for the pelvic thrust that was a key part of the Timewarp spell. A figure dressed in robes so shabby and worn that they could have been a shroud after fifty years of burial, turned towards her and extended a thin hand that seemed to be green and white.
"Viscount Glory, Miss Mangey," hissed a voice that sounded like a snake with laryngitis.
"You're Mouldybones!"
The figure sagged sadly, but continued to hold its hand out. Feeling slightly awkward, Hermione shook it and was surprised that it didn't feel like an articulated skeleton but was warm and firm, almost comforting.
"What are you doing here?" she asked
"I work here," said Mouldybones, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been the Lecturer for Murder and Mayhem for nearly twenty years now."
"You teach the Killing Curses?" Hermione's eyes widened.
"Ha." Mouldybones laughed, though it sounded like an asthmatic's death-rattle. "Any properly cast spell is a Killing Curse, Miss Mangey. Consider ExpectoSectum which you attacked Miss Nomer with only last week. Wasn't that intended to kill? Consider Levicorpus, your favourite levitation spell. If you levitate someone fifty metres off the ground and then turn the spell off, is that not intended to kill? Consider the second spell you learned in this school, Aquabollus. If you cast a spell that instantly boils all the water in a container on a human being, is that not intended to kill?"
"That last one might only be intended to cook," said Hermione thoughtfully. "So what are the Killing Curses then?"
"They the ones that will get you arrested, tried and killed if you cast them," said Mouldybones. "If you try obliviating a member of the Wizard Council you'll discover that that's a Killing Curse. Just as an unrelated example."
"I see," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Good to know. But... why did you want to meet me?"
"So you learn something," said Mouldybones. "So you know that the people at this school who are teaching you and training you and preparing you for an epic battle with the evil Mouldybones, the biggest threat to Wizardry since the Dark Wizard Baldybonce, are also teaching, training and preparing Mouldybones. Politics, Miss Mangey, is not taught at this school but is an essential lesson to learn if you wish to graduate."

morganna said...

He's the vicious viscount of viscosity -- cross him and you will die slowly of mucous-filled lungs.

Marc said...

Greg - yes, he was not at all interested in leaving behind all of his new best friends.

Thanks! And hey, who knows? Maybe my viscount is more resourceful than he sounds...

Hah, don't worry about the extra posts to get all your writing in. I will always be pleased to see more of your writing.

Your time warp reference is fantastic. The whole thing is great, and it's obviously a treat to finally meet Mouldybone, but that one line still stands out for me :D

Morganna - a salute of approval for managing to get all the v words so far into one, concise prompt response. Well done!