Caliburn
Y'know, like, nya
- Location
- The Thracian Peninsula
- Pronouns
- they/them
Rated T because there's like, a single curse word and I just wanna be on the safe side.
Summary: Rouxls Kaard has taken it upon himself to appease a visitor from the western Darklands. When the dinner he has planned goes awry, however, Rouxls must think quickly to ensure that his luncheon does not go up in smoke.
Fic has been posted on Archive of Our Own if you'd like to read it there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17707652
Rouxls Kaard cautiously paced around the dinner table, his eyes trained on it, observing every minute detail to make sure absolutely everything was orderly, to guarantee that no napkin was even a nanometer out of place. It wasn’t everyday that Spade Castle saw visitors, of course, and with the King so busy as of late (as well as the Duke of Welcoming having been detained), it lay upon Rouxls’ shimmering shoulders to ensure that their special guest was not disappointed, even if he-
Ding-dong!
Rouxls tore his eyes away from the table, surprised and alert. Not only had the guest in question arrived, but miraculously, he managed to get the doorbell working again. Rouxls was under the impression that Lancer had broken it ages ago and it was in disrepair on account of the Duke of House Repairs’ imprisonment, but it seemed this wasn’t the case. Nonetheless, Rouxls dashed to the front gate and swung it open with a swift swing of his arm. Outside stood a short, bespectacled lad with seemingly-black fur and a minty-green robe-and-hat combo; was this Ralsei, the prince from the west? He looked more like a failed student of wizardry than a person of noble blood, but all the same, Rouxls knew he could not be mean to a VIP.
“Well, Mr. Kaard,” Ralsei spoke, plucky and polite, “I made it. Erm, despite your directions…” His formal tone gave way to less confident mumbling after his first sentence left his mouth, and he quickly added on, “Or lack thereof…”
Rouxls beamed, placing a hand on his chest. “Ah, young princely worm, welcometh!” He replied, enthusiastic and inviting. “I hopest thou art preparethed for an unforgettable luncheone!” Rouxls took a step back, motioning for Ralsei to enter. With a sheepish nod, the magician-prince adjusted the brim of his hat and stepped inside. After guiding the prince to his seat, Rouxls went into the kitchen to check on the dinner he was preparing…
Only to be greeted by a sight most ghastly.
A great cloud of smoke billowed from the pot which sat atop the royal stove. With a great “gaspeth,” Rouxls ran to the pot, fanned the smoke from his face, and gazed upon the blackening soupy substance within. “Oh, egads!” He proclaimed in dismay. “My roux ist roux-ined!” Woestruck, Rouxls took a step back from the chowder (which he always erroneously refers to as a roux) and gazed outside a nearby window as the weight of this sudden circumstance sunk in.
That’s when he saw it. Off past the Scarlet Forest, his eyes caught sight of the shabby stand which stood on the border of the Checker Fields and the Field of Hopes and Dreams. Rouxls had heard murmurs about that store from other servants in the castle; the old court magician, Seam (pronounced “shawm”), had moved out there many years ago, and now collected and sold various knick-knacks. Among his wares were his homemade “darkburgers”, black as char but still somewhat popular. As he gazed out toward the old mage’s seap, Rouxls’ frown became a smirk. A plan had taken shape in his head.
“But, what iffeth,” he whispered to himself, “I werest to purchase Seam’s foode and disguiseth it as mine owne cookething?” Rouxls rubbed his hands together, cackling his trademark “geh ha ha ha ha” as he did. “Delightfully jevilish, Rouxls Kaard!” Rouxls lept over to the window, cracked it open, and stuck his leg outside when the door to the dining room creaked open. Rouxls flung his head back to see Ralsei standing in the doorway, baffled by the sight of what he’d just walked in on.
“Er… Mr. Kaard?” Ralsei stammered.
Mentally scrambling for an escape from this awkward predicament, Rouxls cracked a wide smile and exclaimed, “Ah, worm boy, I was just… erm-eth…” Rouxls reached his arms out to grab the foot he had just stuck out the window. “Stretchethingest mine calves ‘pon yon windowsille! Isometricke exercise, carest thou to joinest me?” It wasn’t a very good excuse (not that Rouxls himself would admit that), but it was enough for Ralsei to let it slide. Instead, the fluffy boy halfheartedly pointed a shaking finger at the kitchen disaster Rouxls had just given up on.
“W-why is there… smoke coming from the, the stove, Mr. Kaard?”
“Oh, that be not smoke,” Rouxls proceeded to bullshit, “tis steame! Steame from the… steamedeth clammes we art having! Mmm!” Rouxls rubbed his sapphire stomach. “Steamedeth clammes!”
Ralsei’s anxious and alarmed expression slowly shifted to a sheepish smile. He stepped back and gently closed the door behind him, trusting that Rouxls had things under control. Rouxls breathed a sigh of relief and wiped a glimmering bead of sweat from his brow, content that he had fooled his naive house guest. He then turned his attention back to the window and swiftly scampered out to enact his plan, leaving his pot of “roux” to burn in his absence.
No more than fifteen minutes had passed when Rouxls walked back out from the kitchen into the dining room, carrying with him a plate of Seam’s finest burgers. As he set it out before Ralsei, he proclaimed, “Fluffy worm boy, I hope thou’re preparedest for some mouthewatering hammeburgers!”
Ralsei tilted his head and furrowed his brow as Rouxls sat down across from him. “I… thought we were having steamed clams?” He asked, uncertain.
A hearty chuckle left Rouxls’ mouth. “Nay, nay, I saidst steamedeth hammes!” He explained. “That art what I callest hammeburgers.”
Ralsei placed a finger to his chin, no less befuddled than he was before. “You call hamburgers ‘steamed hams?’”
Rouxls nodded. “Verily! Tis a… regional dialecte!”
“Can I ask what region?”
“Uh… westerne Darklands?”
“Huh.” Ralsei’s eyes wandered to the corner of the room as he thought over Rouxls’ words, before returning his focus to the gem-skinned man and saying, “Well, I’m from the old castle town past the Field of Hopes and Dreams and I’ve never heard anyone use the phrase ‘steamed hams.’” Granted, the most company Ralsei typically had was a training dummy he made in his image, but Rouxls was unaware of this.
“Notte the castle town, nay,” Rouxls replied, “tis a Checker Fields expression.”
Ralsei nodded, apparently won over by Rouxls’ shoddy lies. “I see.” With the matter settled for the time being, the two each took a burger and began eating. As he munched on the char-grilled sandwich, however, Ralsei noticed an odd familiarity to it. Having devoured half the hamburger, he paused to remark, “You know, these hamburgers are quite similar to the ones that Seam carries.”
“Nayeth, I sayeth,” Rouxls assured, “they art patentedst Rouxlsburgers! Aulde familie recipe!”
“For… ‘steamed hams...'” Ralsei squinted. He knew something was off, but the fear of coming across as rude was holding him back.
Rouxls smiled back at the boy. “Yes!”
No. Ralsei knew he had to speak up. He gathered his courage with a deep breath and opened his sandwich up, showing it to Rouxls as he said, “And you call them steamed hams despite the fact that they’re obviously grilled?”
Rouxls’ eyes went wide. A hole had been poked in his poorly-constructed narrative, and not a hole he could so easily patch. He sat there, silent, eyes shifting around the room as his stupid, toothy grin was frozen in place. He could think of an out. There had to be an out, right? “Ah…” Rouxls abruptly stood and pushed his chair back. “Excuseth me for but one seconde.”
Ralsei nodded generously and said, with no irony or frustration in his voice, “Of course.” With the western prince’s permission, Rouxls slipped back into the kitchen, now ablaze due to the unattended soup, and he immediately emerged feigning a yawn.
“Ah, welle, that was-eth wonderfulle!” Rouxls remarked. “Goode times were haddeth by alle! I amst pooped!”
Unsure of what to do but go along with Rouxls, Ralsei pushed his chair away from the dinner table and stood. “Ruh, right, I should be- LEAPING LIZARDS!” With eyes wide like the plates they ate off, Ralsei pointed to the fire raging in the kitchen. “What is happening in there!?”
Without thinking, Rouxls answered, “The Darke Fountaine’s eruptioneth.”
Ralsei opened his mouth, but no words came out. Shaking his head rapidly in disbelief, he managed to sputter out, “The Dark Fountain’s eruption? A-at this time of year, at this time of day, i-in this part of the Darklands, localized en-entirely within the castle kitchen!?”
Rouxls simply nodded, a nervous grin smeared across his face. “Yes.”
Ralsei’s baffled countenance settled, and he finally accepted Rouxls’ persistent stream of falsehoods. “Can- can I see it?” He inquired.
Rouxls’ reply was an abrupt, “No.” The two shared a moment of uncomfortably awkward silence before Ralsei started for the castle gate, Rouxls trailing behind him.
As the two reached the front gate and Ralsei stepped outside, a bratty voice cried out to Rouxls. “Lesser dad!” Screamed the Prince of Spades, Lancer. “The castle’s on fire!”
With a sigh, Rouxls leaned outside and looked up at the second-story window Lancer had called out from. “Nay, you irritating whelp,” he responded, “that just be-eth the Darke Fountaine.” Rouxls looked back to Ralsei with a smile not unlike the one he’d greeted the lad with.
“Well, Mr. Kaard,” Ralsei said, adjusting the brim of his hat again, “you’re an… odd fellow… but I must say, you ‘steameth’ a good ‘hamme!’”
With an earnest smile, Ralsei gave Rouxls a farewell wave before heading back out west. Though he paused to look back as Lancer cried for help and the flames began to pour out the castle windows, an overeager thumbs-up from Rouxls was enough to send him on his way. As the mage-prince departed, pride welled up in Rouxls’ heart. An inferno was engulfing the castle behind him, yes, but hey, at least the luncheon went pretty well.
Summary: Rouxls Kaard has taken it upon himself to appease a visitor from the western Darklands. When the dinner he has planned goes awry, however, Rouxls must think quickly to ensure that his luncheon does not go up in smoke.
Fic has been posted on Archive of Our Own if you'd like to read it there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17707652
Steamedeth Hammes
Rouxls Kaard cautiously paced around the dinner table, his eyes trained on it, observing every minute detail to make sure absolutely everything was orderly, to guarantee that no napkin was even a nanometer out of place. It wasn’t everyday that Spade Castle saw visitors, of course, and with the King so busy as of late (as well as the Duke of Welcoming having been detained), it lay upon Rouxls’ shimmering shoulders to ensure that their special guest was not disappointed, even if he-
Ding-dong!
Rouxls tore his eyes away from the table, surprised and alert. Not only had the guest in question arrived, but miraculously, he managed to get the doorbell working again. Rouxls was under the impression that Lancer had broken it ages ago and it was in disrepair on account of the Duke of House Repairs’ imprisonment, but it seemed this wasn’t the case. Nonetheless, Rouxls dashed to the front gate and swung it open with a swift swing of his arm. Outside stood a short, bespectacled lad with seemingly-black fur and a minty-green robe-and-hat combo; was this Ralsei, the prince from the west? He looked more like a failed student of wizardry than a person of noble blood, but all the same, Rouxls knew he could not be mean to a VIP.
“Well, Mr. Kaard,” Ralsei spoke, plucky and polite, “I made it. Erm, despite your directions…” His formal tone gave way to less confident mumbling after his first sentence left his mouth, and he quickly added on, “Or lack thereof…”
Rouxls beamed, placing a hand on his chest. “Ah, young princely worm, welcometh!” He replied, enthusiastic and inviting. “I hopest thou art preparethed for an unforgettable luncheone!” Rouxls took a step back, motioning for Ralsei to enter. With a sheepish nod, the magician-prince adjusted the brim of his hat and stepped inside. After guiding the prince to his seat, Rouxls went into the kitchen to check on the dinner he was preparing…
Only to be greeted by a sight most ghastly.
A great cloud of smoke billowed from the pot which sat atop the royal stove. With a great “gaspeth,” Rouxls ran to the pot, fanned the smoke from his face, and gazed upon the blackening soupy substance within. “Oh, egads!” He proclaimed in dismay. “My roux ist roux-ined!” Woestruck, Rouxls took a step back from the chowder (which he always erroneously refers to as a roux) and gazed outside a nearby window as the weight of this sudden circumstance sunk in.
That’s when he saw it. Off past the Scarlet Forest, his eyes caught sight of the shabby stand which stood on the border of the Checker Fields and the Field of Hopes and Dreams. Rouxls had heard murmurs about that store from other servants in the castle; the old court magician, Seam (pronounced “shawm”), had moved out there many years ago, and now collected and sold various knick-knacks. Among his wares were his homemade “darkburgers”, black as char but still somewhat popular. As he gazed out toward the old mage’s seap, Rouxls’ frown became a smirk. A plan had taken shape in his head.
“But, what iffeth,” he whispered to himself, “I werest to purchase Seam’s foode and disguiseth it as mine owne cookething?” Rouxls rubbed his hands together, cackling his trademark “geh ha ha ha ha” as he did. “Delightfully jevilish, Rouxls Kaard!” Rouxls lept over to the window, cracked it open, and stuck his leg outside when the door to the dining room creaked open. Rouxls flung his head back to see Ralsei standing in the doorway, baffled by the sight of what he’d just walked in on.
“Er… Mr. Kaard?” Ralsei stammered.
Mentally scrambling for an escape from this awkward predicament, Rouxls cracked a wide smile and exclaimed, “Ah, worm boy, I was just… erm-eth…” Rouxls reached his arms out to grab the foot he had just stuck out the window. “Stretchethingest mine calves ‘pon yon windowsille! Isometricke exercise, carest thou to joinest me?” It wasn’t a very good excuse (not that Rouxls himself would admit that), but it was enough for Ralsei to let it slide. Instead, the fluffy boy halfheartedly pointed a shaking finger at the kitchen disaster Rouxls had just given up on.
“W-why is there… smoke coming from the, the stove, Mr. Kaard?”
“Oh, that be not smoke,” Rouxls proceeded to bullshit, “tis steame! Steame from the… steamedeth clammes we art having! Mmm!” Rouxls rubbed his sapphire stomach. “Steamedeth clammes!”
Ralsei’s anxious and alarmed expression slowly shifted to a sheepish smile. He stepped back and gently closed the door behind him, trusting that Rouxls had things under control. Rouxls breathed a sigh of relief and wiped a glimmering bead of sweat from his brow, content that he had fooled his naive house guest. He then turned his attention back to the window and swiftly scampered out to enact his plan, leaving his pot of “roux” to burn in his absence.
No more than fifteen minutes had passed when Rouxls walked back out from the kitchen into the dining room, carrying with him a plate of Seam’s finest burgers. As he set it out before Ralsei, he proclaimed, “Fluffy worm boy, I hope thou’re preparedest for some mouthewatering hammeburgers!”
Ralsei tilted his head and furrowed his brow as Rouxls sat down across from him. “I… thought we were having steamed clams?” He asked, uncertain.
A hearty chuckle left Rouxls’ mouth. “Nay, nay, I saidst steamedeth hammes!” He explained. “That art what I callest hammeburgers.”
Ralsei placed a finger to his chin, no less befuddled than he was before. “You call hamburgers ‘steamed hams?’”
Rouxls nodded. “Verily! Tis a… regional dialecte!”
“Can I ask what region?”
“Uh… westerne Darklands?”
“Huh.” Ralsei’s eyes wandered to the corner of the room as he thought over Rouxls’ words, before returning his focus to the gem-skinned man and saying, “Well, I’m from the old castle town past the Field of Hopes and Dreams and I’ve never heard anyone use the phrase ‘steamed hams.’” Granted, the most company Ralsei typically had was a training dummy he made in his image, but Rouxls was unaware of this.
“Notte the castle town, nay,” Rouxls replied, “tis a Checker Fields expression.”
Ralsei nodded, apparently won over by Rouxls’ shoddy lies. “I see.” With the matter settled for the time being, the two each took a burger and began eating. As he munched on the char-grilled sandwich, however, Ralsei noticed an odd familiarity to it. Having devoured half the hamburger, he paused to remark, “You know, these hamburgers are quite similar to the ones that Seam carries.”
“Nayeth, I sayeth,” Rouxls assured, “they art patentedst Rouxlsburgers! Aulde familie recipe!”
“For… ‘steamed hams...'” Ralsei squinted. He knew something was off, but the fear of coming across as rude was holding him back.
Rouxls smiled back at the boy. “Yes!”
No. Ralsei knew he had to speak up. He gathered his courage with a deep breath and opened his sandwich up, showing it to Rouxls as he said, “And you call them steamed hams despite the fact that they’re obviously grilled?”
Rouxls’ eyes went wide. A hole had been poked in his poorly-constructed narrative, and not a hole he could so easily patch. He sat there, silent, eyes shifting around the room as his stupid, toothy grin was frozen in place. He could think of an out. There had to be an out, right? “Ah…” Rouxls abruptly stood and pushed his chair back. “Excuseth me for but one seconde.”
Ralsei nodded generously and said, with no irony or frustration in his voice, “Of course.” With the western prince’s permission, Rouxls slipped back into the kitchen, now ablaze due to the unattended soup, and he immediately emerged feigning a yawn.
“Ah, welle, that was-eth wonderfulle!” Rouxls remarked. “Goode times were haddeth by alle! I amst pooped!”
Unsure of what to do but go along with Rouxls, Ralsei pushed his chair away from the dinner table and stood. “Ruh, right, I should be- LEAPING LIZARDS!” With eyes wide like the plates they ate off, Ralsei pointed to the fire raging in the kitchen. “What is happening in there!?”
Without thinking, Rouxls answered, “The Darke Fountaine’s eruptioneth.”
Ralsei opened his mouth, but no words came out. Shaking his head rapidly in disbelief, he managed to sputter out, “The Dark Fountain’s eruption? A-at this time of year, at this time of day, i-in this part of the Darklands, localized en-entirely within the castle kitchen!?”
Rouxls simply nodded, a nervous grin smeared across his face. “Yes.”
Ralsei’s baffled countenance settled, and he finally accepted Rouxls’ persistent stream of falsehoods. “Can- can I see it?” He inquired.
Rouxls’ reply was an abrupt, “No.” The two shared a moment of uncomfortably awkward silence before Ralsei started for the castle gate, Rouxls trailing behind him.
As the two reached the front gate and Ralsei stepped outside, a bratty voice cried out to Rouxls. “Lesser dad!” Screamed the Prince of Spades, Lancer. “The castle’s on fire!”
With a sigh, Rouxls leaned outside and looked up at the second-story window Lancer had called out from. “Nay, you irritating whelp,” he responded, “that just be-eth the Darke Fountaine.” Rouxls looked back to Ralsei with a smile not unlike the one he’d greeted the lad with.
“Well, Mr. Kaard,” Ralsei said, adjusting the brim of his hat again, “you’re an… odd fellow… but I must say, you ‘steameth’ a good ‘hamme!’”
With an earnest smile, Ralsei gave Rouxls a farewell wave before heading back out west. Though he paused to look back as Lancer cried for help and the flames began to pour out the castle windows, an overeager thumbs-up from Rouxls was enough to send him on his way. As the mage-prince departed, pride welled up in Rouxls’ heart. An inferno was engulfing the castle behind him, yes, but hey, at least the luncheon went pretty well.
