61

"So, who have we here, Captain?" Fig adjusts his glasses and looks you up and down.

"This is Bandochel, Goodman Fig," the Captain says, "a fool in the Duke's employ, now gifted to His Majesty the King with his most gracious compliments."

"Yes, but what do we do with him?" says the steward with a pleasant twinkle in his eye. "Apart from dispatching him any time a rogue ape needs containing?"

The Captain launches into a brief description of your merits. Spare no embellishment, sirrah. You strike a casual pose as you're discussed. After all, His Grace considered you one of the prized gifts presented by his train.

"Truth be told, the youth is not especially distinguished. You may put him onstage or in the scullery for aught that His Grace should care. As with any fool, you'd do well to watch him closely, for this one is more than inclined to irreverence," the Captain says with a daunting look.

He goes on to put in a word for you as not overly inclined to licentiousness or bawdy parties.

You try to keep your expression from slipping as the Captain draws his less-than-glowing depiction to a close. His Grace may have considered you a gift, but it seems not everyone has a taste for you in the same way.

At the conclusion, Fig blinks several times before clearing his throat. "Well, well…time will tell if the name you build for yourself here matches the one you entered these walls with."

Onward