Thurs Threads – week 98


“Their reckoning will come.” Lord Valmont’s voice dripped with malice, and his chin dripped with grease from a game hen he had just torn in twain with his teeth. The king didn’t notice at first, since his good ear was currently focused on the whispers of the comely young wench draped over his enormous lap, but no one could dismiss Valmont for long, not when he was that shade of red.

The king thought of possible responses – he could ignore the Wolverine of the West, but that was like ignoring the fire when you rolled into it. He could demand justice for whatever Valmont was angry about, but whatshername in his lap had a twin sister. He decided to play the fool, because he was the only person in the kingdom who could get away with such an affront , and a good poking of the dragon would be nice foreplay for the poking later that evening.

“Yes! Next Tuesday soon enough for you?”

Valmont sputtered. “Tuesday? We’re going to invade England on Tuesday? The Channel is clogged with ice! Our ships would sink!”

“Who said anything about England? I assumed you meant whoever had tailored that doublet. You look like a stuffed rutabaga!”

The laughter was raucous, and the wench did something with her tongue that made the king think the time for poking had come. That was when he heard the scraping of metal and saw the point of Valmont’s sword at his throat.

“No, sire. Yours.”


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