Nothing like this had ever been discussed, in his training.
The Captain of the Guard tried to keep up with the young lady’s explanation, but found that he was immediately lost. Was she talking about Angmar? Who was Wefios? Oh, the Mule.... He exchanged a look with the familiar, inferring from its expression that the animal was likely the brains behind the whole operation, and might have smiled if, in that moment, they were not joined by a second pair of unexpected party-goers.
Mace stared at the talking dragon head that had just appeared in the hall, nodded mutely at the girl’s question. He had seen few dragons in his time as a soldier for the Alliance, and never one with feathers – nor, if he were honest with himself, had any of those dragons spoken aloud to the general public. But mythical familiars were odd, weren’t they? Different sensibilities. Mace cleared his throat, returned his outstretched arm to his side. The girl he’d offered it to was clearly as interested in the dragon familiar as he was.
No, scratch that. She was much more interested.
The clattering of hooves inside the castle, over its smooth stone floors and reflected by its smooth stone walls, was thunderous. The braying was even louder. Mace visibly winced, resisting the urge to cover his ears with gloved hands, and glanced around for any sign of an answering task force. Surely this racket was going to attract more than one set of vigilant ears...but none came. He shook his head, frowning grimly. Though he was grateful to be spared the burden of an explanation, the Captain was going to have to talk to the castle guards about their lack of attention.
He took a few tentative steps forward, reluctant to get between these girls and their...exuberance.
“Herm. Um. Ladies? I’m really going to have to...well, insist that we all head down to the ballroom, where the party is being held. The King would not be pleased to find that the...erm...festivities had spilled out into his halls.” He looked to the mule for some kind of guidance, expecting that perhaps he had a suggestion for dealing with his compulsive fairy.
And to think, he’d only had one glass of wine.
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