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    The Little Cozy Book
    The Little Cozy Book
    The Little Cozy Book
    Ebook111 pages1 hour

    The Little Cozy Book

    By Nathaniel Webb

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    About this ebook

    Over the years, Wyngraf has published more than forty flash fiction stories on our website. Now the best of them are available in a single collection, along with four brand-new tales! In these pages, you'll find humor, romance, mystery, and adventure. You'll find wizards, warriors, dragons, and elves. But most of all, you'll find the bonds of friendship and community that make our stories truly cozy.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWyngraf
    Release dateAug 1, 2023
    ISBN9798215042441
    The Little Cozy Book
    Author

    Nathaniel Webb

    Nathaniel Webb (aka Nat20) is an author, musician, and the editor of WYNGRAF, the magazine of cozy fantasy.His novels include the geek mystery A CONVENTIONAL MURDER, the GameLit adventure EXPEDITION: SUMMERLANDS from Level Up Publishing, and the Veil of Worlds urban fantasies from Vulpine Press. His music biography MARILLION IN THE 1980s was a bestseller for Sonicbond Publishing. He has published numerous short stories and novellas in such genres as litRPG, steampunk, cozy fantasy, mystery, and sword & sorcery.As a lead guitarist, Nathaniel toured and recorded extensively with Grammy-nominated soul singer Jana Mashonee, played on Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter Beth Hart's 2010 album MY CALIFORNIA, and co-produced and played guitar on Colombian pop singer Marre's 2013 album SOMBRAS DE LUZ. His band Talking to Walls toured up and down the east coast, and their 2010 release WE WERE NOT SO TALL reached CMJ's Most Added chart.His game development credits include adventures and supplements for the tabletop RPGs SHADOW OF THE DEMON LORD and GODLESS.A graduate of Phillips Exeter Academy and Wesleyan University, where he was editor of the humor rag THE AMPERSAND, Nathaniel lives in Portland, Maine with his wife and son under a massive pile of cats. He can be found at @nat20w on Twitter, where he mostly talks about cats, writing, and obscure progressive rock.

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      Book preview

      The Little Cozy Book - Nathaniel Webb

      THE CAT AND THE CONERIAN

      FREDERICK SHEILIRA

      Aconcerned frown creased Gonnor’s brow as he sipped his ale in the darkened tavern corner. He had been to this establishment many times, but something was different this evening. What it was he could not say. That is, until a muffled meow sounded, very faintly, from somewhere behind the wall at his back. Then it was obvious.

      On every previous visit, a small, mangy orange cat had alternately lounged insouciantly by the fire or wandered grabbing scraps from beneath tables, generally ignored by the place’s patrons. Today there had been no sign of it.

      There was another small, distant meow. And another. But it seemed that only the Conerian’s sharp hearing registered these. Gonnor mulled, then got up from the table.

      Outside, around the other side of the wall, he found the cat. The outer wall was wooden, and the cat had gotten itself stuck in a gap in the lowest plank. Carefully, Gonnor pulled the edges of the wood aside, granting the cat egress. The feline showed its gratitude by immediately running back around the wall, through the open door, and back into the tavern.

      Gonnor grunted to himself in something like a laugh and came back inside himself. He returned to his table and his drink and sat there, glancing around the place. The cat emerged from under one table even as he watched, and ducked under another.

      Gonnor drained his cup and signaled for another. The place felt right again.

      BILLABLE HOURS FOR THE DISPUTED RIGHTS OF THE CHOSEN ONE

      L CHAN

      The esteemed firm of Babbitage and Esqueaken is pleased to present Your Highness Alphonse I, Regent of the Hundred Isles, warlord of our glorious campaign against the known world, billable hours for your litigation against the pretender, the false claimant against your son, in the dispute of the named Chosen One of the Kingdom. All the legal documents were gathered by a pair of our finest paralegal officers, Albert Wendel and Timotheus Zhang, with the aid of Braddus the Second, our newest research intern.

      1. Copying costs for all legal documents: 1,309 pages at the three hands of our stenographer, Uldrecht the Abomination. 150 Florins.

      2. Train fare for 3 second-class seats between the Hundred Isles and the City of Learning. 60 Florins.

      3. 3 rooms for 2 nights at the Morning Glory Tavern and Inn, City of Learning. 90 Florins.

      4. One certified true copy, Prophecy of the Chosen One of the Kingdom, Registry of Prophecies, Signs and Portents, City of Learning. 20 Florins.

      5. One planetariumist’s report on the alignment of the stars on the birthdate of your son as provided by the Endless Orrery, City of Learning. 50 Florins.

      6. Dinner for 2, De Poulet Bouilli, voted #1 Must Try restaurants by QuestAdvisor, City of Learning. 80 Florins.

      7. Dinner for 1, Morning Glory Tavern, City of Learning. 4 Florins.

      8. Dirigible fare for 3, economy-class seats between the City of Learning and the Temple in the Clouds. 105 Florins.

      9. Airship pirate ransom insurance excess for ransoming out 2 paralegal officers and 1 research intern. 300 Florins.

      10. Temple fees for 1 human sacrificial ceremony for the Summoning of Lars, god above all and elector of the Chosen One of the Kingdom. Performed by Chief Priest, the RH Alcox. 200 Florins.

      11. Death gratuity for the family of Braddus the Second. 500 Florins.

      12. Urgent scrying session with the Chief Clerk at the Palace, for Palace employment records of one RH Alcox and Palace records of the Prophecy of the Chosen One. 15 Florins.

      13. Booking of the Honeymoon suite at the Grand Respite (voted #1 accommodations in all lands north of the equator in QuestAdvisor for 2 years running), Temple in the Clouds. 180 Florins.

      14. Submersible fare for 3, 2 economy class and 1 first class, for underwater transit via Greatwhale to the Hundred Isles. 129 Florins.

      Total payment due: 1,903 Florins. Plus prevailing tax of rate of 13 per centum, 2,150 Florins.

      The firm offers our congratulations for the decision by Honorable Judge Feldstein the All-Seeing, avatar of the Goddess of Justice. The prophecy was correct, to the letter, in foretelling that the Crown Prince is the Chosen One. We note it was not within your original intent that our research uncovered the Crown Prince’s true parentage, nor that it be made public in the Courts. It must be of some comfort to Your Highness that these same curious circumstances appear to be fulfilling the famously oblique means by which the Chosen One saves the Kingdom. The firm regrets that we must recuse ourselves from acting for You in any other legal matters, in particular your request for representation in the matter of Your Dethronement, as we have been already retained by the Queen in the matter of the dissolution of Your marriage to her.

      We further regret our inability to extend preferential payment terms to Your Highness, given Your time limited access to the Royal Treasury. Let us know if we can be of service in any other way.

      Yours,

      Babbitage and Esqueaken

      UP BY THE GRYPHON

      JONATHAN OLFERT

      On a good day, Bluet could fluff his fur out until he was wider than he was tall. Tonight an unseasonable rain had slicked him down to nothing. He kept his paws tucked in his armpits as he darted between the shelter of blooming cherry trees.

      The path hugged the bank of a sloshing stream, frightening in the dark. Bluet shoved wet fur out of his eyes and darted across a slippery footbridge toward the one speck of light in sight: a window.

      The tidy, tall-peaked cottage presided over a dock and a flourishing garden. Bluet’s stomach growled. Cold or not, the bedraggled mouse slipped over the picket fence to stuff his face with snap peas.

      Hello? Who’s there? Light shifted around the corner: someone bringing a lamp or candle to the door.

      Bluet tossed the pea-pod scraps behind the flourishing rutabaga and circled around outside the garden—fast. The raindrops were coming down hard.

      Here! he squeaked.

      A hedgehog raised a candle in the doorway. He leaned out, clutching his nightcap despite the innate anchoring of his spikes. His long nightshirt resembled a pincushion. What do you… what?

      The hedgehog, apparently, was sleepy. Bluet ducked in under the corner of the front door’s overhang. Evening, sir! Could I, maybe—

      Bluet sneezed concussively. He barely exaggerated.

      The hedgehog’s name was Toby, because of course it was. Only someone named Toby could win county’s biggest pumpkin three years running. He gardened assiduously and bartered the excess for mead and acorn-flour bread and tiny luxuries. He bundled Bluet up in an armchair with a knit blanket and kindled the fireplace. Better light showed Bluet a plain little cottage—nothing shiny, nothing of interest.

      Toby, thankfully, was not chatty. Enfolded in the throw blanket, Bluet couldn’t think straight. He might have said something inconvenient about why, exactly, he’d been out in the rain tonight.

      The hedgehog stopped puttering and ladled out two mugs of cider brewed from last year’s dried apples. He settled down in another armchair and put a blanket over his knees. Warming up? he asked, slurping aggressively. Bluet, you said?

      Bluet nodded, burying his face in his mug. "Can’t thank you enough. I got lost in the cherry woods, and then

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