"Polish the commemorative turnip?" he read aloud.
"Ah yes, the turnip. It's bronze, actually. Commemorates the great turnip harvest of 1742 when the village survived a particularly harsh winter on nothing but turnips and determination."
"There's a bronze turnip?"
"There's a bronze turnip. It's the land steward’s pride and joy. He claims it's historically significant."
"A bronze vegetable is historically significant?"
"Welcome to Hollingford, Mr. Fletcher, where we take our root vegetables very seriously indeed."
"And someone needs to polish it?"
"It tarnishes. Especially around Christmas when the weather is damp. An unpolished commemorative turnip would be a village disgrace."
"I'm beginning to understand why Fletcher fled in the night."
"With only two candlesticks? After dealing with the geese, I'd have taken at least four. And the good brandy."
"He did take the brandy."
"Well then, he showed more restraint than I would have."
Alaric stood, setting the list on his desk. "When do these tasks need to be completed?"
"Oh, did I not mention? We start immediately. The pine bough expedition leaves in twenty minutes."
"Twenty minutes? I haven't even finished reviewing the accounts."
"The accounts have been accumulating errors for three years. Another day won't make much difference. The fair, however, is in two days, and those pine boughs won't fetch themselves."
"Can't someone else fetch them?"
"Everyone else is busy with their own tasks. Besides, you're tall. You can reach the good branches."
"That's your reasoning? I'm tall?"
"You're tall and you have no other observable skills related to Christmas preparation, so we might as well use your height for something productive."
"I have many Christmas-related skills."
"Name one."
"I can... identify inferior mince pies."
"By wearing them?"
"That was unintentional."
"Most of your involvement in our Christmas preparations has been unintentional, and yet here you are."
"Here I am," he agreed, not entirely sure why he was agreeing to any of this. He was the Duke of Wexmere. He had people to fetch pine boughs for him. People who had people tofetch pine boughs. He certainly didn't traipse through woods in December like some sort of festive forester.
And yet.
"Fine," he heard himself saying. "I'll fetch your pine boughs. But I draw the line at polishing vegetables."
"We'll see about that. The turnip has a way of growing on people."
