"Zer humans don't often involve me in zheir politics, Havelock; zer verevolves tend to give more satizfyink verdicts."
"So you have no political experience whatsoever?"
"Not so! I said zhey don't often involve me, impertinent boy."
"I'm sorry, madam, I did not mean to offend you - I was merely inquiring."
"…And I am sorry for shoutink. Also, I zhink Margolotta should be sufficient in zer circumstances, Havelock; I am not your aunt."
"I am not going to pursue that mental image."
"As zhey say - zhat vay lies madness. But, I digress! I have, on zer occasion, mediated betveen peasants. Vonce, I even declared a public holiday - how is zhat for traditional politics, and vorkink viz zer masses, eh?"
"A public holiday?"
"Yes. It vas a long time ago, vhen I vas a lot younger, and, I must confess, razzer arrogant. A young man vas caught stealink sveetmeats and flowers and, for some reason, zer villagers decided that I should be zer von to declare his punishment. He pleaded vis me, sayink zhat he stole zhem for his vife's birthday, to put a smile on her face - I still remember his vords, even now - but zer punishment for stealink vas death, and I could not spare him for sentiment. His romanticism touched me, zhough, and so I told him zhat every hundred years, on his vife's birzday - zer fourteenzh of February - zer village of Bonk vould celebrate his great love for her."
"Very touching, I'm sure."
"You zhink? He told me to piss off. Zhat is humans for you, zhough; zhey believe zhat zer Disc stops movink zer moment zhey leave it. No offence."
"None taken. Although, we are not particulary permanent, so you cannot entirely blame us."
"I suppose. Anyvay, I am ashamed to say zhat I had him killed on zer spot for his rudeness. Not zer most diplomatic of actions, I realise, but I never had to deal viz zheir petty squabbles again."
-x-x-x-
Lady Margolotta ran the tips of her fingers over the ivory Thud pieces that occupied her side of the board, her expression strangely clouded as she examined the layout of the miniature trolls and dwarves.
She played the trolls this time. She picked up one and turned it over in the palm of her hand, before replacing it. Thud was such a complex game; any fool could win it, but it took true consideration to really play it. One almost forgot that it was a mere frivolity.
But it wasn't anymore, was it? She wasn't sure if it ever had been.
"Good afternoon, Igor."
After all these years, it still surprised Igor that she could hear him enter. She imagined he found it rather irritating, as Igors were renowned as the best creepers, and smiled to herself, still regarding the Thud board.
"Is that package for me?"
"Of courthe, Mithtreth."
"How exciting." She murmured, then turned, finally, and took it from his mismatched hands, a catlike gleam of delight in her burgundy eyes. It was small and carefully wrapped, and at once Ladyship knew who it was from; only a man with Drumknott's precision could create a bow quite that symmetrical. She was half tempted to leave it unopened to show Miss Healstether, who appreciated such things, and incidentally rather appreciated Drumknott too.
But the curiosity was too much. She tugged gently at the string of the parcel, then pulled the paper off carefully, setting both aside for her fastidious librarian who, no doubt, would find use for them again.
"Igor?"
Igor halted in the doorway, "Yeth, Mithtreth?"
"Do you know what the date is today?" she asked, unable to entirely swallow her smile.
"The date, Mithtreth? It'th the fourteenth of February. RudeBugger'thWifeDay."
"Thank you, Igor."
Ladyship ran her crimson nails over the beautifully ornate box in her hand, before lifting the lid and, after a moment of deliberation, selecting a small, heart-shaped chocolate with a caramel centre to place delicately in her mouth. She closed her eyes briefly, savouring it. Then she replaced the lid, hugged the box to her chest and smiled her radiant smile in a rare moment of girlish delight.
You could not deny that Lord Havelock Vetinari had an exceptional memory.
-x-x-x-
"The post, my Lord."
Lord Havelock Vetinari glanced up from his paperwork as the clerk passed him the various articles. "Ah, thank you, Drumknott."
He leafed through the letters with what appeared to be mild disinterest, and then said in a voice that hovered on the border of sarcasm, "You wish to say something, Drumknott?"
The young man flushed, "The parcel, sir."
"The one that was hidden inside the Uberwald package, with the dainty wrapping and the ribbon that sits impressively equidistant from each side of the box, an effect only a woman who likes, say, new ring-binder designs, could achieve?" he smiled, more than amused, at his rather reddened head clerk, "Alright, Drumknott; I will satisfy your uncharacteristic curiosity."
The perfectly folded wrapping was removed to reveal a plain, thin wooden box. It contained twenty small discs of Uberwald's finest 85% cocoa dark chocolate with a larger, white chocolate disc sitting in the middle.
"…Chocolates, my Lord?"
"And from dear Lady Margolotta," Vetinari murmured, "You remembered to send that last package for her?"
"Of course. If Mr Lipwig has managed to maintain the postal service's usual speed, she should receive it today." Drumknott affirmed, a little put out that his organisation had been questioned.
"Capital." The Patrician paused, then rested his steepled fingers against his lips, regarding the box of chocolates thoughtfully, "Drumknott, do you know what day it is today?"
"Tuesday, my Lord."
Well, it was a little-known Uberwaldian holiday, very few born-and-bred Morporkians knew of it.
Perhaps… "Drumknott, what is your position on introducing new public holidays?"
Drumknott frowned slightly, "I wouldn't advise it, sir; they do disrupt the palace's efficient schedule horribly."
Vetinari held back a laugh for the sake of Drumknott's confusion. Or maybe not.