Of course she could come in here. It was nonsense to try to say she was 'too young' when she seriously felt older than her mother sometimes. Even older than her father (but don't ever call him that because he will try to eat you). Her governess, Gosling, often said that she was young in years but growing older in mind every day. Celandine certainly thought so, for she could now weild a sword as good as any of her mother's warriors. She could weave her way through the Serpent's Dance, rise with the Eagle's Flight movement and follow every feint within hours of first being shown it. Learning lessons - why she had already mastered tea ceremony within a couple of days, then she had learnt all the correct names for the high dignatories in almost every country, and knew how to formally dress herself for any occaision. Indeed, she had now got smaller versions of some of her mother's dresses, and thought she wore them better (so long as she stuffed socks down her top).

So why should she not be allowed in here? It was one of those places called a 'pub,' apparently reserved for old, fat men who liked to gawk at prostitutes. But this was where her mother had begun, in a place like this, and when she was close to her age as well. So why was not Celandine allowed in?

Apparently something to do with that strange substance called 'alcohol' that mother allowed her the smallest of sips of with a-

Celandine turned as she heard the delightful plucking of strings. Blinking, and pausing she saw that a man was sitting on the ground playing an instrument called a fiddle. Celandine knew the name mostly because old Margaret who worked in the kitchens back at the home fortress had one. She was a toothless old woman who smacked her gums in a foul manner and spoke in a weird way of ancient stories of 'how she was once the best courtesan known for miles.' Really, the young faun just liked her fiddle and sat through the stupid, boring tales until Old Margaret took it out.

There was a young man sitting and playing music. Putting her head to the side Celandine tottered over, leaving the entrance to the pub for now. Clop, clop went her little hooves on the cobbles, and with a smile on her face she went over. Some people were already there - a little crowd, but since she was only five she could squeeze under legs and around larger (usually older, but not necessarily) people.

Putting herself between the crowd and the man she sat down on the ground, crossing her legs. She placed her hand on her steel scimitar and gently moved it to the side as she did so, like a proper warrior should. Then she listened, and as the music went on and more people started to join she began to nod her head in perfect time. It took a while but after a small little while she was knocking on the ground, softly and so soundlessly, with a knuckle, but keeping in perfect time with the fiddler.

Catching eyes with him as he switched tempo she smiled, keeping up the beat.