Silver Insanity

The news is, all in all, not good - the orc army has sped up (though its members don't seem entirely happy about this), and is likely to arrive tomorrow evening.

Maya sighs and informs Michael about the news. "Look at it this way, at least the orcs will be tired. Unfortunately they'll also be in a really foul mood."

"We'll just have to hold out until the levy can get here, then. I've sent a few scouts out to see if we can drop an avalanche on them - but I'm not hopeful; the slopes aren't right for that," responds Michael.

Continued from Chapter VIII.

Willoughby, standing behind Michael with Ametrine on his shoulder, closes his pocketwatch with soft click, and sets it back in his pocket.

"Hmm. That's most unfortunate news, Michael," he says. "What would you prefer to have for dinner?"

Michael is a sufficiently grizzled veteran to not actually jump, he is fairly clearly startled.

"Mr. Willoughby! When did you get back?"

Upon hearing the click of the pocket watch Maya growls, and starts to lunge to the attack at the sudden appearance of an unknown, then stops mid leap, realizing he's supposed to be here. "Careful who you startle." Maya's lips twitch in aggravation.

Willoughby turns to Maya and bows-- but only very slightly, because a dragon is perched on his shoulder. "My apologies, madam. I am Mr. Willoughby, the head butler of the Greywind estate. I am here in my capacity as a servant, and I intend to assist in the defense of the northern pass, however peripherally. I shall take care to make a more conventional entrance in the future."

He then turns to Michael. "It is a great pleasure to see you again, Michael. I have arrived at 3:47 TK, according to my pocketwatch. This translates to a transit time of roughly five hours and twenty-two minutes following my departure from the southern gate via carpet. Ms. Lauren is safe, and is headed towards the capital to ascertain the status of the Lady Eleanor, in the company of one Mr. Twill."

"My companion, by the by, is Ametrine: lemonade enthusiast, gingerbread connoisseur, serpent wrangler and all-around superb fellow. I count myself fortunate to have met him."

Willoughby lesiurely cracks his knuckles, white gloves as spotless as ever. "Now then," he concludes, "shall we discuss strategy and menus?"

_____
*I have no idea how time works in this setting, so I'm just making things up as I go. Corrections are welcome.

Maya's annoyed look is replaced by confusion. "Butler? I thought you were in charge of this place? Or does butler now have another meaning as well now? Why are words always changing?" She then stands erect and proudly: "I'm Maya, this is Fang (gesturing to a large winter wolf.) Fierce, my other pack mate, is still scouting the orcs. She will warn us when they start getting close."

Fang simply snorts.

Maya to Fang: "Fang back to Fierce, inform her of the situation here, and warn us when the army begins the last leg of it's journey. I want to know when they're coming the second they start."

Fang snorts again and departs.

Maya to Michael: "I'm going to need to borrow some Javelins for helping with the flyers."

Ametrine takes off from Mr. Willoughby's shoulder and hovers two feet above it. "Ooh! What can I do to help?" he asks.

"At this present moment, you could assist me in serving the army dinner," Willoughby says amicably. "Or not, if you choose. I imagine that they're in need of refreshment, in any case. I will discuss our course of action afterwards, Michael."

He turns to Maya. "Thank you for the assistance you have rendered the Greywind estate. I shall see to it that your achievements are suitably recognized. As far as my position is concerned... I am a butler, a head of staff. Butlers are often confused with valets, which are personal assistants. I often serve as a valet as well, but it is not my primary duty. I am not, as you put it, in charge of this place, but my advice is somewhat influential. If there is some service I can render you, you need only ask, madam."

At some opportune moment, Willoughby talks to Ametrine softly: "It would best for me to evaluate the troops, and our supply levels, directly. I can accomplish this easily by serving them dinner. I imagine Michael realizes this; he's experienced in this general sort of thing."

Willoughby reinserts his monocle and bustles off in the direction of the troops.