Chapter 41

  Lord Fotzen!

  “May I announce: the lady Sehr Wichtig and the Baron Elijah L. Chim?ra,” the footman introduced, bellowing so loudly, the teen felt like he had been punched in the ear.

  To hide his discomfort, he straightened his jack before taking the arm of the lady he now knew to be called Sehr.

  The butleroo had never asked for her name, and the milling crowd of lords and ladies that filled the ballroom were all whispering and looking at them as they entered, so Elijah was forced to assume she was somewhat of a big deal. Either that or they were gossiping about the human in their midst.

  “Lady Wichtig, who would you like to talk to?” Elijah asked, whispering so only she could hear.

  “We should visit Von Fotzen,” she replied, matching his low tone while smiling and waving at the onlookers, prompting Elijah to do the same. “This is his father’s house, and he owes fealty to my father,” she explained.

  She began to hop gracefully through the throng, and the sixteen-year-old was forced to try and match her movements. His legs weren’t made like a kangaroo’s, and the motion was unusual to him, but his Agility and Dexterity allowed him to make a good go of it.

  He held his free hand to his head, ensuring his captain's hat wouldn’t fly off. The torn and sun-bleached leather wasn't really in keeping with his Renaissance era, blue and gold finery, but it boosted his confidence, and he felt it gave him a degree of rugged charm.

  The gentry hopped aside, letting Sehr Wichtig and Elijah pass. The couple's target was easy to spot. A tall roo’s head poked out from a group of flocking sycophants that he seemed most disinterested in.

  When he saw the pair approach, he waded through the group of ladies, heading straight for them with a beaming, perhaps predatory, smile.

  “Lady Wichig,” he greeted with a bow, sending a wave of disgruntled murmuring through the gathered young women as they shot death glares towards Lady Wichtig and Elijah.

  “Lord Von Fotzen,” she returned with far more warmth in her voice than when she spoke to Elijah. “You seem very popular tonight,” she said, an edge of jealous hostility creeping in as she dug her claws into Elijah’s arm.

  It took an effort of will for him not to shout out – not because of the pain, he had experienced more than enough of that – but because he worried about his fine clothes being damaged.

  “I hate to correct you, my lady,” the nobleroo began, and Elijah waited for Sehr to spit in his eye, as she had done to him when he had used that term of address, but to his annoyance, she simply blushed.

  Lord Von Fotzen continued, “I am now the Marquess Von Fotzen, hence the… attention,” the marquess said, gesturing vaguely to the gaggle of ladyroos that had been gathering just out of earshot and trying their best to get his attention.

  “Oh, I’m sorry for your loss,” Lady Wichtig consoled, confusing Elijah.

  “Not to worry; my father and I never saw eye to eye. The Title I’ve inherited is about the only thing we share,” the Marquess said, his bitterness veiled by politeness.

  “I’m sorry,” said Lady Wichtig again, this time for a different reason. The turquoise tuxedoed roo shrugged, as if it were nothing to be concerned about, then turned to face Elijah.

  “You must understand at least a tenth of what I’m going through; already a Baron and at such a young age… At least I assume you are young. I know the humans of the first plate don’t live as long as us kangarookin,” said the Marquess leadingly.

  The young noble’s words seemed perfectly harmless, but Elijah was just barely able to catch onto the undercurrent beneath them. This self-righteous roo was saying that because Elijah was a baron, he only had a ‘tenth’ of the power of a marquess, he was too young for his position, and he added a dig at humans for good measure.

  At least, that’s what the teen assumed. Even though Elijah wasn’t a noble, he couldn’t help but feel offended.

  The smarmy kangaroo looked perfectly earnest, but the teen couldn’t help but be put off by him. Whether it was the flock of ladies that seemed to giggle whenever he said anything or the fact the teen’s date – who he didn’t know and who he had to bribe to accompany him – was more interested in the roo than him, there was just something about this kangarookin Elijah didn’t like.

  He responded, “I may be young, but I am perfectly capable.” His words were clipped, and his eyes were narrowed.

  The unprovoked reference to his ‘capability’ wasn’t missed by the innocently intentioned nobleroo. It resonated with his own insecurities. Taking on the mantle of marquess at such a young age was difficult; perhaps this was someone who could truly understand him.

  “Lady Witchtig,” the lord said, turning back to the young lady as she began to look left out, “I thought you would be accompanied by Lord Siber?”

  “He was late,” she said with evident annoyance.

  “And you were lucky enough to be rescued by this young lord?” Marquess Von Fotzen enquired.

  “It just so happened that there was another lord in need of company. I felt bad that the human was left all alone, so I agreed to join him,” the lady responded gracefully, stamping on Elijah’s foot when he looked about to speak up.

  “How gracious of you, Lady Wichtig,” Lord Von Fortzen congratulated, causing her to turn away with a flush.

  Once the lady was satisfied, the marquess turned back to Elijah, “And what gift did you bring? I know it is customary to leave it on the gifting tree,” he said, pointing to a short tree with many presents hanging from its branches that inexplicably grew in the centre of an enclosed ballroom, “but since I’m here, why not give it to me now?”

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  The marquessroo was excited to see what a young human lord, who was clearly trying to prove himself by sweeping in with the highest-ranked guest, would bring to an event such as this.

  Elijah, for his part, was maintaining his outward – minorly hostile – facade, whilst internally fighting a mixture of pain and panic.

  Lady Wichtig had been wearing heels and had the legs of a kangaroo; although Elijah had made no sound when she stomped on his only good pair of shoes and mangled his foot, it hurt like crazy!

  The pain, restrained by his desperate need to not fail this Trial again, addled his mind and reduced his capacity for reason. When asked what gift he had brought, Elijah frantically searched through his Inventory, desperately trying to find something, anything.

  Had he been more reasonable, he may have tried to talk his way out of it, or tried to fob off the responsibility on the blushing lady at his arm, or otherwise tried to not give up one of his limited items, but as it was, he could barely keep from grimacing in pain.

  With what might have been a smile, Elijah extended his hand, a bottle of wine materialising in it.

  Marquess Von Fotzen took it with reverence.

  “This is, if I don’t miss my guess, a 1322 vintage from the kingdom of Camelot!” he exclaimed, drawing the attention of some of the mingling guests who hadn’t already been trying to listen in.

  At this, even Lady Wichtig seemed surprised. She reevaluated her dance partner as she spoke:

  “I can’t say I know much about the history of the first plate; my studies were more focused on the third, but wasn’t Camelot destroyed more than a century ago? That bottle’s in surprisingly good condition.”

  “Indeed,” the Marquess agreed, marvelling over the liquid, “It must have been kept in your family’s Inventory for generations to still be in such a state.”

  Elijah couldn’t help but grimace this time. He had really been looking forward to drinking that; now that he knew how special it was, he couldn’t help but feel robbed by that self-important prick.

  “Something like this shouldn’t be wasted,” the Marquess said, gesturing at one of his servants who came over with three crystal glasses. “Come now, let's share it!”

  Perhaps Marquess Von Fotzen wasn’t so bad.

  The wine tasted crisp with fruity notes. At least that’s what Lady Wichtig had said, and Elijah agreed. As he was sixteen, he had only ever drunk wine at weddings and Christmas, and as far as he could tell, it all tasted the same.

  Lord Von Fotzen said some equally pretentious rubbish while swirling his glass that the teen didn't listen to. Only when he was asked about his family did he finally tune back in.

  “So, does your family own a vineyard? They clearly have quite the taste in wine,” asked the Marquess.

  “Please! When I met him, he was dressed like a pauper; I doubt he even owns a pig farm,” Lady Wichtig butted in, the wine having clearly gone straight to her head.

  “Lady Wichtig, it is a long and difficult journey from the first plate to the third. Baron Chim?ra would have had to cross the entire second plate! I don’t personally know any, besides perhaps some adventurers that would even try.”

  The lady shrank back at the scolding; she knew she had been out of line, but by the dirty look she shot Elijah, he couldn’t help but feel she somehow blamed him for her misstep.

  Before questions could start to be asked that he couldn’t answer, Elijah responded to the Marquess’ original question:

  “My family does not own a vineyard.”

  “Of course not,” the tipsy lady scoffed under her breath, but the teen ignored her and continued:

  “We are known for our musical prowess,” he lied. It wasn’t true, but since he could play a couple of instruments, it was a claim he could actually defend.

  “Patrons of the arts,” the Marquess said, his kangaroo eyes lighting up, “I myself have sponsored a number of promising musicians; the group that are playing tonight were all hand-picked by me.”

  “Really?” Elijah responded with enthusiasm, “The quartet who serenaded the entrants were exquisite; their intonation was perfect, and their cohesion divine, ” he complimented.

  “Do you play yourself?” Marquess asked, with clear excitement.

  Lady Wichtig was annoyed that the two men were getting along without her, and she downed the rest of her glass with a pout.

  “Violin, viola, or cello? Not with any degree of skill. But piano… I’ve written a thing or two,” Elijah responded with feigned modesty.

  “Really,” the Marquess responded. “We have a grand here that was delivered just yesterday; nobody’s played it yet.” He looked outside, judging the height of the sun. “There are still a few minutes before the dancing is set to begin; perhaps you could show us your skills?”

  “Yes, and make it original. I don’t want to be bored by the same old rubbish everyone plays,” the lady added bitterly. Elijah didn’t understand women, but this was a challenge his pride wouldn’t let him ignore.

  Before he knew what was what, he was sitting behind a grand piano, surrounded by a crowd of nobleroos, eager to hear what he could come up with.

  The teen debated just playing something from his repertoire; it would be the smart decision. He doubted the people here would know he hadn’t invented a piece by Beethoven, Mozart, or Schubert. But something about Lady Wichtig’s words had gotten under his skin.

  He would make something up – here and now!

  Elijah started fast, his fingers following a pattern as they ripped up and down the keyboard. The second the first note rang out, the muttering of the audience ceased, and everyone was drawn in.

  When he completed the pattern three times, over three octaves, he regretted starting at such a high tempo. He needed something, a bridge to tide him through. Thinking quickly, he stole a passage from J.S. Bach’s toccata and fugue, transposing it from D minor to C minor.

  Then he repeated it, changing it so that he could transpose again to G, the dominant of C.

  Now that he was in the new key, he could repeat his original pattern yet again, this time in G minor.

  He ripped through it, with no regard as to where he was headed next.

  All too soon, he had run out of keyboard yet again and needed something new to steal from. This time, his inspiration came from C.P.E. Bach’s Solfeggietto in C minor.

  With dramatic octaves, he ran through the section which transposed the piece yet again, this time to F minor. Now that he was in yet another new key, he blazed through his original pattern again, the meantone temperament of the instrument giving each new key a different character.

  This time he didn’t just steal but modified a section of the same piece, running through the circle of fifths with seventh chords to end up back at C minor to repeat the original pattern one final time.

  Elijah closed himself off to the world as his fingers moved like lightning. His focus narrowed so that his mind was occupied by nothing but music.

  Suddenly, it was over. He landed on the last note and lifted off, letting it ring out. Only then did he come back to himself. He looked up. Everyone was silent.

  Doubts started to creep into his mind as anxiety began its assault. Had he done something wrong? Did he make a mistake? Was this not the sort of music the kangarookin liked?

  

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