Sir Nealan of Queenscove was angry.

No, scratch that. Sir Nealan of Queenscove was furious.

No, it was not because his best friend had been piling his plate with vegetables. And no, it was not because his knight master had been snapping at everybody who was within 20 metres radius of her (which happened to include him, quite a lot). And no, it was not because his rear end still ached from thirteen days of hard riding (The Lioness had refused to use a boat). And no, it was not because he had not finished breakfast because his father had required to see him at that very moment. It wasn't even because he had no-one to go with to the Midwinter Ball with because all the pretty ladies were taken, but coming to think of it all the ladies was taken.

What really had made Sir Nealan furious was that all these problems had seemed to come all at once. So striding furiously towards his father's office Sir Nealan decided that at the tender age of eighteen he was sick of life.

But little did poor Sir Nealan of Queenscove know that another one was coming his way.

Lady Chrysanthium of Phoenix Hill was furious

She was almost as furious as Sir Nealan of Queenscove was at that moment on the other side of the country.

But she didn't know that, of course.

Lady Chrysanthium was never furious because of any of the reasons Sir Nealan was furious. In fact she usually was furious because it was habit of hers. Just like one would butter their toast on both sides or light exactly ten candles in their bedroom, Lady Chrysanthium would get angry every morning after she woke up for the next half an hour.

However little did the servants of the household know that the shriek that pierced the air that morning was not because of a habit but because of a sheet of parchment that was currently being ripped into miniscule pieces.

But they would know soon. After all, the servants knew everything.

Lady Keladry of Mindelan was confused.

She was confused why Cleon kept staring slightly open mouthed at the back of her shirt even though he was pretending he wasn't. She was confused why Neal had strode off without even finishing his breakfast (not to mention the vegetables she had piled on his plate earlier that morning). She was confused why Owen kept putting his elbow in his porridge. She was confused why she was feeling so confused. She was confused why Joren was being exceptionally nice today. She was confused why Faleron was singing a song about a jumping tree under his breath.

Sighing she took pleasure in the fact that Dom was still normal. Glancing at her friend she realized that he was making snowmen out of rice balls.

Maybe it was just her.

Then a rather male shriek (Can males shriek? Kel started to wonder) filled the air, bouncing off the stone walls of the castle.

Another thing to be confused about then.

Author's Note:

Hi! This is my first Protector of the Small fanfiction so pardon me if I get the dates and the ages wrong.

And please review. Constructive criticism is welcomed (unconstructive criticism is also welcomed).

Happy Bunny Day! (\)_(/)

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