"Oh," (Patreon)

Barkingthwaite replied.  "Well, if it's a matter of honor, I suppose we have no choice but to accept.  Terribly sorry, old bean.  Meant no disrespect."

"Please accept my apologies, my lord," Venatrix apologized.  "I certainly wouldn't want to put you out by refusing a gift.  This rule wasn't mentioned in any of the lore."

"Just take it," I snapped, as I apported a sack of gold and held it out to them.

"My word," Barkingthwaite exclaimed whe he saw it.

"Are you quite sure?" Venatrix inquired.  "That seems a bit -"

"TAKE IT!" I ordered.  "If you successfully complete this mission then I will have more work for you.  Consider the surplus a retainer for future assignments."

They took the gold and scampered away into the woods.

LOWFOLK!  By Fuma, they were every bit as exasperating as I remembered.  I massaged my temples and tried to remain positive about the prospect of working with them.  They were my only option at present, so I would have to make the best of it.

While I waited, I reviewed what else I would need done.

If even half of Lana's information about Zandar was accurate, she was dangerously Unseelie and quite powerful.  Her failure to return to Faerie at the same time as the other changelings indicated a rebellious spirit.  I would need a way to restrain her so that she would be unable to escape my agents once they found her.

Zandar's decision to shut herself up in a cellar for centuries showed an exceptionally grim determination.  I wasn't sure exactly what crime she was avoiding the consequences of by doing this, but it indicated that we had something in common.  It also showed that she had a familiarity with potent preservation spells.  My research into the subject had revealed that a counterspell would be required to revive her.  I would need to have my servants gather ingredients so I could prepare an elixir.  Then I would have to carefully instruct them how to use it.

I also wanted to know more about the exact state of the rabbit settlement.  Where were my Ixies?  Why had they not returned?  What happened to Rebecca and Burnside?  It would be nice if they were available to help me, and I didn't have to rely entirely on bumbling lowfolk.

I was still musing on these topics when Barkingthwaite and Venatrix returned, laden with a smallish chest full of clothes.

"I didn't request an entire wardrobe," I protested.

"This is a single outfit," Venatrix explained.  "The outer skirts and jacket were bought, as well as the shoes and a few of the structural elements, but much of the foundation I made myself."

"What in Fuma's name?" I asked as I held up a diabolical-looking restraint covered with straps and laces.

"The corset," Venatrix beamed, as Barkingthwaite bashfully turned away.  "A wonderful invention that helps ensure a proper fit for the outer dress."

"You seem to have anticipated my needs far beyond what I told you," I admitted as I examined a flexible cage made from lashed-together hoops of a strange material that flexed like a bow didn't seem to be wood.  "Are you planning to trap her in this?  Not a bad idea.  My only objection is that it seems a bit small."

"Oh no, my lord," Venatrix chuckled.  "That's the bustle.  It goes underneath the outer skirt, to fill it out and give a stylish profile.  Remember, as I explained, these fashions were invented by a spider.  It is all the rage among vertebrate femmes to simulate the appearance of a plump arachnid abdomen."

Barkingthwaite began coughing violently.  He gasped out something incoherent about his blasted pipe as he excused himself and staggered over to the other side of one of the menhirs.

"She will definitely have trouble fighting in this getup," I surmised with a smile as I looked over the assortment of clothing.  "I need to place some enchantments on it to further limit her capacity for mischief.  While I am busy doing that, I have another assignment for you.  This one will not be as easy."

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