Not Ogling at the Not a Birthday Party Ball
Story by Reserved Rodent on SoFurry
I am back. Hopefully not a one time thing, but I'm honestly surprised I got this one out. Been a long time since I've been able to sit down and stick with writing more than a paragraph or two.
This came about because of a writers challenge. I just managed to do more than simply look at this one. Admittedly, it's likely rough since it's a one day from a concept I'd been shaking around in my head the whole week to the finished project. It's had no one but me take a look at it. I ran through it once after finishing it, so there's likely some typos and errors hidden inside. But hopefully most of them are gone. If you'd like to join the writers group, you can at https://t.me/joinchat/CPoeZhclggenrOEh0yYwvg
This Week's Writing Challenge: a ruined birthday party
At least 1000 words, don't worry if you go over.
This is 2404 if the word count by my word processor can be trusted.
As the 5th son of a human Lord, Quinton Oscar has had a fairly easy life. He grew up with a anthro wolf, Kenshim, as a constant companion. He sees him as a brother, though society makes a firm separation between humans and anthros, so he has to watch what he says and how he acts in public. On the night of his 20th birthday, he does not have a party to celebrate with friends and family. Instead he has to attend another ball where he will be expected to talk with the Ladies there to try and find a mate. Sadly, things go about as well as he expects them to, if not a little worse.
Not Ogling at the Not a Birthday Party Ball
by Reserved Rodent
Quinton sighed.“You know there is no need for you to fuss so, brother.” The had made it to the front room of the attic suite his father had him staying in. It was well furnished and had private stairs to a small garden that would lead off the property as well as opening into Lord Oscar’s mansion proper. The humanoid wolf that he had grown up with as his companion and servant, though he thought of him more as a friend and part of his personal family, stopped him before he could leave, possibly concerned Quention was planning on escaping through the garden.
The Volkim’s right ear flicked as he continued straitening the human’s collar and fluffing the jabot hanging over Quinton’s chest. “You know better than that, my lord,” the humanoid wolf growled softly, brushing out some of the wrinkles the young man had already managed to get in his jacket.
“Right. Sorry. I just…” Quinton shook his head. “I hate these functions. I am old enough that I should get the choice of what I do. By the three moons, one way or another, this will be the last one of these I attend, Kenshim,” the young man grumbled.
The blue and gray furred male stepped back to look over the human’s attire as a whole. “I do, but you need to get in the mindset of being around lords and ladies who would pounce on you calling me brother, sir. I do hope you find a suitable mate this year. You deserve someone who will make you happy.”
The human looked down at his tightly booted feet on the plush carpet. “If only that were the purpose instead of father trying to find some way to gain an advantage from me. Unfortunately for him, no one wants a fifth son. I would rather spend the night chatting with you than people only interested in what I can do for their status.”
Kenshim stepped close to Quinton, using a furry finger to gently lift the human’s chin to look directly into the his hazel eyes. “Chin up. You are strong enough to get through this event. You have more value than any of your family gives you credit for. Someone will see that in you if you just believe in it and let it shine through. So go to this ball as the confident twenty year old I know you can be. Your time is too important for them to waste it with nonsense.”
Quinton stared back into the wolf’s yellow eyes for a moment before stepping back and letting out an amused huff. “How much are you practicing giving those uplifting speeches?” he asked with a wave of his hand. “That one deserves to be framed and hung in a gallery.”
“No practice required. After all our time growing up together, I know how to manipulate you,” Kenshim replied with a smirk. His left ear flicked towards the door to the suite. The Volkim snapped back to an attentive, emotionless stance. “Sounds like Brog is here to escort you to the ball. Try not to ogle him too much, sir.”
“I have never–” Quinton started before two loud thumps sounded on the door. It then opened, revealing the buff gorilla guard his father likely ordered to make sure he didn’t dally trying to avoid the ball tonight.
--~***~--
It took a little less than an hour for Quinton to run out of patience for the ball. Of the ladies interested in finding a mate, only two had been interested in talking with him instead of the many other men. Their interest passed over him for someone richer, more powerful, more likely to inherit something more than a run down shack with some rocky, lifeless acres set somewhere over several days journey from the excitement of the capital city… or probably any city. Quinton didn’t even know if he was going to inherit anything at this rate. His father was running out of patience with him not finding a mate, and maybe it was the alcohol, though he doubted it because he believed he had not drank enough to even make him tipsy, but he just didn’t care any more. No one here cared about him, and he was starting to feel the same way.
The first lady was beautiful to look at, but carried on and on about what everyone was wearing. He tried to listen, he really did. He didn’t want to be rude, and he didn’t think he was, but he was also incredibly relieved when she wandered off to talk with someone wearing, according to her parting words, a better pair of boots than he was. So, Quinton got himself a second drink.
The second lady had come a bit later and spoke about her charity work with helping the lower class folk have enough food and clothing. This was more interesting and something that he also had interest in doing. Most of the non-human species were forced to live in squallor if they didn’t serve a well to do human family. Unfortunately, as she continued talking about everything she was doing, it became apparent the help was more about making her look good than actually caring about anyone other than herself. It was also not those truly living in need, but rather humans who were only middle class and didn’t have enough gourmet food, in her opinion or fancy enough clothes. She got bored when Quinton had spoken of working to get the truly needy more agency. He likely lost before he even started talking about helping them have the resources to grow some of their own food. Maybe to the point that they could trade for what they needed. She walked off after calling him naive for thinking that they could ever take care of themselves responsibly.
This was when he grabbed his third and current drink.
Quinton looked over the fancy dresses and finely tailored suits and downed the last of his drink. He set it on the table he was standing near. None of what folks were wearing or talking about appealed to him. They were showing off their wealth in frivolous displays instead of using it to accomplish something worthwhile. It made him sick to the stomach.
Well, that might also be partially the drink’s fault. Maybe he did have too much. But he was done now. With all of this ball. He had shown up, talked to a few folks and been seen. His father could be disappointed he didn’t find someone to marry, but at this point, he was done trying to live up to his father’s expectations. No one, including his father wanted him. He was a backup to a series of backups and wasn’t needed. All four of his older brothers were doing well. His three older sisters were all married off to the children of other well to do Lords and Ladies. All of them were happily living the same meaningless life as his father and everyone here. None of them would care if he just disappeared. Father would probably even celebrate it.
So he was beyond ready to leave.
First, he needed to locate Brog. Shouldn’t be too hard. Brog was a large fellow.
Quinton looked around a few minutes before realizing that his guard and coach driver were not allowed into the ball. If he got to plan his own birthday celebration, not that this get together was for his birthday, but if he could, he would just be spending it with Kenshin. Hanging out and talking about things like they did as kids. Maybe Brog as well. Did the guard like hanging out and relaxing? He was polite and respectful all the time Quinton had been around him. But that wasn’t as often as he was with Kinshen. Brog had to do other guarding duties for the Lord of the house, not just make sure Quinton got to places he didn’t want to go to. Fetch was also a decent fellow. Over half of the naughty words Quinton knew came from chatting with the coach driver when there were no fussy members of the family around.
Quinton made his way outside the ball room, only stumbling once as he made his way through the foyer and out to the side of the building where the carriages were parked. Everyone’s drivers and guards would waiting there for guests to be ready to leave and head back home. He looked around, seeing three wolves, two gorillas, a tiger and a bear playing dice off in a corner. Even squinting he wasn’t sure if either of the gorillas was Brog, but everyone there appeared to be enjoying the game. Looked like more fun than the party inside. Quinton didn’t want to interrupt the game. He’d join in, but for the fact that as a Lord, his presence would likely make them all uncomfortable.
It wasn’t fair. They were able to relax and have fun together. Real fun. Real relaxation. But because of the way society worked, the only fun he could have was going to balls, which certainly was not fun for him.
Not wanting to disturb the actual fun going on, but still wanting to be away from the ball, Quinton turned away and started walking down the drive to the city proper. He got halfway to the exit when a hand settled on his shoulder.
“Lord Quinton, are you okay?” Brog’s voice rumbled.
The human turned to look up at the guard. “I…” Quinton started, then stopped. There was nothing Brog could do to fix what was wrong tonight. Quinton was not even sure how to identify what was wrong. He felt he would just be whining about how he didn’t like attending fancy parties Brog was not allowed into for his birthday.
But Quinton also knew the guard was trained to observe and read folks. Brog had to know something was wrong. It wasn’t appropriate to spill out all his pain, real or imagined, to the gorilla and expect him not to consider him less competent. He might even be ordered to tell his father, who would see it as further proof of his weakness.
“I maybe should have refrained from taking that third drink, but there is nothing in there for me and I would like to go home. I apologize if I interrupted you enjoying your time with the others.” Quinton nodded over to where the dice game was still going strong and stumbled a little.
Brog caught him, both by steadying him with a hand on his shoulder and also because the human fell against his chest.
“Easy now, sir. Fetch and I were just chatting and waiting for you, so you didn’t interrupt anything we can’t pick up again later. It’s a shame things didn’t go better for you. Let’s get you back to Lord Oscar’s estate safe and sound so things don’t get worse.”
“I’m not sure how much longer I will be welcome there, Brog,” Quinton admitted then immediately wished he could take back. He pressed his face against the leather armor protecting the guard’s chest. He wanted to hide from the world. The scent of sweat and leather as well as the solid presence of the larger male were comforting. The human felt like it might be safe to stay where he currently found himself.
Brog didn’t say anything for some time. Quinton wasn’t sure if it was seconds or hours, but it was likely just a minute or two. After a short time, though, the gorilla’s large hand moved to rub the human’s back several times before the guard answered.
“Best to talk with Kinshim about how to handle that. Fetch and I will get you back to him, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you. You are too good to me,” Quinton mumbled into Brog’s chest.
Brog leaned back and gently used a large finger to raise Quinton’s gaze to meet his brown eyes. “With your father, it’s a job, but with you, we’re happy to watch your back. Now lets get you back home before someone who might take offense sees you so up close and personal with me.”
“Oh! Good point.” Quinton tried to take a step back almost falling backwards.
The guard caught him and put an arm across his shoulders. “I got ya. You can lean on me all you need to, but we should be walking to the coach instead of standing like that in the shadows.”
“Right. I mean, disappointing, but I don’t want to cause trouble for you. And, I am glad I am not just a job to you.”
“Well, you are one of the few humans who looks at me like I’m someone worth knowing instead of just a convenient weapon to protect them,” Brog whispered keeping Quinton steady as they walked towards the coach.
“I was not ogling,” Quinton muttered.
Brog chuckled, giving a light squeeze to the human’s shoulder. “Not all the time, no.”
Quenton’s face grew warm as he blushed. “Just when I thought nothing cold make tonight worse.”
“Don’t say that. I’m not upset. Kind of nice to be appreciated that way.”
The moon supplied just enough light for Quentin to see Fetch perk up when he noticed their approach. The black, brown and white furred canine was mostly hidden until he brightened the light level of the lantern hanging on the front of the coach. It was then easy to see him climb up to take a seat on the driver’s box. His large round ears turned as the got to the coach’s door.
“Straight back to the estate,” Brog said as he opened the door and lowered the step for Quentin. “Let’s take him in the garden side rather than the front door.”
“Right,” Fetch replied. “No need addin’ insult to injury by havin’ the maids start gossipin’.”
“Is it that obvious tonight was a disaster?” Quinton asked as he was helped up into the coach.
“Not sure if strangers would pick up on it, but to us who know you, well, just sayin’ you look like you got kicked in the –”
“Fetch, there’s no need to be crude,” Brog grunted, climbing in to join Quinton on the forward facing seat.
“Notin’ crude about balls. All three of us got ‘em,” Fetch grumbled as Brog pulled the coach door shut.