On the fritz Lord Vileburn walked slightly ahead of Elizabeth, who discovered that she was much hungrier than she had realised, and that she was more light-headed -- almost dizzy -- as well. The corridors of the Palace of St. James were wood-panelled throughout most of the building, though the quality of panelling, and the choice of wood, varied as they travelled downwards towards the kitchen, and they muted the lighting in the corridors making her feel a little as though she was walking through a dream. "This way," said Lord Vileburn as a junction as she was about to turn left. Instead he guided her to the right, and a moment later opened a low door, clearly one of the originals from two hundred years ago when people were, on average, shorter, and they walked into a small, square dining room. The walls were still wood-panelled, though there were portraits of people dressed in fancy robes hanging as well, and the lighting was subtle, diffuse, and invisible, a clear sign that it was magical rather than electrical. The table was long enough to seat eight comfortably, and there were chairs at the edges of the room that suggested that up to fourteen people might seat themselves if they didn't mind a bit of a crush. There was one other door, which Elizabeth surmised must lead to the kitchens. "Sit," said Lord Vileburn, pulling a chair out. It was wooden but upholstered with generous cushioning and she found it comfortable. For a moment she sat rigidly upright, then tiredness overwhelmed her and she leaned forwards, her elbows on the table in defiance of all good manners. "The dining hall is on the fritz," said Lord Vileburn, "so I thought we'd use this one for now." Elizabeth nodded, and then her brain caught up with her ears. "What?" she said. "Oh good," said Lord Vileburn, an impish grin appearing on his face. He pulled out a chair on the same side of the table as her and sat down. "I was starting to think you'd fallen asleep with your eyes open." Elizabeth started to laugh but it turned into a yawn so wide and deep that she heard her jaw crack. "Right," she said, when she had her voice back under control. "I'm not quite comatose yet. Why are we really here?" "Well," said Lord Vileburn, "I was a little concerned that you might fall asleep on your plate, if I'm utterly honest, but mainly because I was told to bring you here." "What?" Elizabeth thought about this. Who could order a Lord Magical to do things? As the answer occurred to her Lord Vileburn rose to his feet, his arm tugging her elbow so she stood also, and the King walked in through the second door, carrying two large copper platters laden with slices of cold meat, piles of hot, fragrant stuffing, warm bread and gravy-boats of sauce. "Lunch, anyone?" he said innocently.
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On the fritz
Lord Vileburn walked slightly ahead of Elizabeth, who discovered that she was much hungrier than she had realised, and that she was more light-headed -- almost dizzy -- as well. The corridors of the Palace of St. James were wood-panelled throughout most of the building, though the quality of panelling, and the choice of wood, varied as they travelled downwards towards the kitchen, and they muted the lighting in the corridors making her feel a little as though she was walking through a dream.
"This way," said Lord Vileburn as a junction as she was about to turn left. Instead he guided her to the right, and a moment later opened a low door, clearly one of the originals from two hundred years ago when people were, on average, shorter, and they walked into a small, square dining room.
The walls were still wood-panelled, though there were portraits of people dressed in fancy robes hanging as well, and the lighting was subtle, diffuse, and invisible, a clear sign that it was magical rather than electrical. The table was long enough to seat eight comfortably, and there were chairs at the edges of the room that suggested that up to fourteen people might seat themselves if they didn't mind a bit of a crush. There was one other door, which Elizabeth surmised must lead to the kitchens.
"Sit," said Lord Vileburn, pulling a chair out. It was wooden but upholstered with generous cushioning and she found it comfortable. For a moment she sat rigidly upright, then tiredness overwhelmed her and she leaned forwards, her elbows on the table in defiance of all good manners. "The dining hall is on the fritz," said Lord Vileburn, "so I thought we'd use this one for now."
Elizabeth nodded, and then her brain caught up with her ears. "What?" she said.
"Oh good," said Lord Vileburn, an impish grin appearing on his face. He pulled out a chair on the same side of the table as her and sat down. "I was starting to think you'd fallen asleep with your eyes open."
Elizabeth started to laugh but it turned into a yawn so wide and deep that she heard her jaw crack. "Right," she said, when she had her voice back under control. "I'm not quite comatose yet. Why are we really here?"
"Well," said Lord Vileburn, "I was a little concerned that you might fall asleep on your plate, if I'm utterly honest, but mainly because I was told to bring you here."
"What?" Elizabeth thought about this. Who could order a Lord Magical to do things? As the answer occurred to her Lord Vileburn rose to his feet, his arm tugging her elbow so she stood also, and the King walked in through the second door, carrying two large copper platters laden with slices of cold meat, piles of hot, fragrant stuffing, warm bread and gravy-boats of sauce.
"Lunch, anyone?" he said innocently.
Greg - still really liking Elizabeth. Intrigued to see where this meeting with the king goes.
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