I got up, (Patreon)

dusted myself off, and began to think about what I needed to do to get ready for the Duchess's visit.  Surely she would be coming soon, now that she knew I was still alive and trapped in Albric Tor.

Hmm ... come to think of it, she might be slightly upset with me for making the Boy Dukes cry.  It was probably some sort of magickal force from her which forced me back to my scry tower.  It would probably be best to arrange the fanciest Royal Reception I could manage, in order to soothe the Duchess's vanity and potentially improve her mood.  I would need food - some of my famous stew would surely do the trick - and music, and it wouldn't hurt to make myself taller with some Glamour spell while I was at it.

To make stew, I would need ingredients!  I could go tell Ethel that Jerry was disposed of, and ask her to bring me some food as a reward!  My fur stood on end and I tingled with delight at the prospect of scrying Ethel again.

I stuck my head into the tree-shaped crack and whisked my thoughts toward Ethel's house.

When I got there, Ethel was consoling Trudy, who was in tears.  What a kind and caring sister Ethel was!

"He's gone," Trudy sobbed.  "And he didn't even leave a note.  He took the money and a few days' provisions."

"He's a bastard, Trudy," Ethel murmured comfortingly.  "You need to forget about him.  I saw him leaving.  He headed out to Percysthorpe."

"AGAIN?" Trudy wailed.

"I'm sure he's with that hawk hussy now, ruffling her feathers," Ethel hissed angrily.  "At least until she kicks him out.  You need to be strong.  When he comes slinking back this time, you tell him NO.  He can't just keep using people like this.  Don't let him back in the house."

"AHEM," I said politely.

"WHO'S THERE?" Trudy squeaked.

"So you can hear him too..." Ethel murmured.  "Last time it claimed to be your elf, Lord Randall."

"Sure'n who else would it be at all, at all?" I replied.  "I bring ye good tidings, me fair lasses.  That scurvy villain Jerry'll trouble ye no more!"

"How did you do it?" Ethel asked suspiciously.  "Where's the body?"

"No body as yet," I chuckled.  How adorably cunning she was!  "But the lad has fallen into the clutches of a man-eating villainess."

"It wasn't Lady Hawk, was it?  Because he's gone over there and 'married' her twelve t-"

Suddenly I was yanked away from Ethel's room and snapped back into my scry-space!

What in the Netherhells was going on?

I peeked into the crack again ..

.. and saw Matholwch sticking some strange shaggy object into a hole just outside the circle of stones.

"Aunt-Momma sure belted the Prince a whallop, didn't she?" Matholwch grunted.  "Yessir, ol' Adler'll be out for hours after one o' Aunt-momma's prize whallops.  An' when he wakes up he won't be a-scryin' nowhere outside his lil' ol' circle here, will he?"

Bodb made a sound that might have been a malevolent chuckle, or it might have been a sneeze.

"Yep, he's gonna be in for a surprise," Matholwch continued.  "Just like he surprised us by still bein' alive an' all.  How you figure he survived the Plague o' Battles?"

Bodb coughed wetly.

"You reckon?  Shucks, I wouldn'a thought that lil' runt had it in him.  Hey, this here hole ain't deep enough.  Get back over here with that shovel."

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