‘Wonderful. Make yourself comfortable’. She flicked her tail vaguely towards a pile of books.

‘At least get yourself out of that armour. You must be roasting in there … sorry, dragon humour.’ She snorted two plumes of smoke.

‘Oh well, your funeral. Sorry, more dragon humour. No need to introduce yourself; even I have heard of Gareth, the Knight of the Mouse.’

’It’s not a mouse.’

’What’s that? Speak up.’

’It’s a marmot.’

‘I can’t hear you.’

’It’s not a mouse, it’s a marmot! Marmots form meaningful bonds. Each takes a shift on watch for predators for the good of the nest. Did not Saint Ignatius say of the marmot, “Braver animal you shall not find, nor one with fluffier beh—” … they’re very noble’.

’I’m sure they are,’ rumbled Jenny. ‘Now, who is this lord of yours that I supposedly gobbled up?’

‘Duke Devon the Just.’

‘Oh, him I ate.’

’They’re monogamous.’

‘What?’

‘I wanted you to know, before I slay you, that marmots mate for life. Most animals don’t, but loyalty matters to marmots. And to me.’