Getting to Know the New Ambassadors

Some of the members of the new delegation are more secretive than others, but here's what I've managed to learn about them so far.

Pedro, the capybara, is in fact Sir Pedro.  He was knighted for his merits as a doctor.  At first glance, he seems an unlikely candidate for such distinctions: he looks like a very large guinea pig.  He's got this sort of steely-eyed glare, though, which indicates that he's a force to be reckoned with.  All of the others clearly respect him - including the panther - and he's the sort of person who doesn't say much, but always says something worth listening to when he decides to say something.  He also has a rather caustic sense of humour and remarkably cute little ears.  (I'm not going to let him see that last part.)

The only other member of the delegation I've successfully put a name to thus far is the lynx, who is, somewhat improbably, the largest cat I have.  (Go figure.)  His name is Sir Theophilus Pearl, Sir Theo to his friends; like Sir Tristan, he's a baronet.  "Pearl" is an appropriate name for him because his fur has this sort of pearlescent quality. He's been in diplomacy since he was a young kitten, and is the official head of the delegation, with appropriate gravitas, although he's more genial and avuncular than Sir Tristan.  I'm quite fond of him, actually.  He seems to be both level-headed and compassionate, and I can already tell that he and Alfredo will get along swimmingly.

I haven't learned the owl's name yet, but I suspect it's even more eccentric than Sir Theo's.  What I have learned is that he's a scholar, in the grand old tradition of half-dotty abstracted gentlemen.   Sometimes the others refer to him affectionately as "the Professor", but in fact he's not officially affiliated with any university; he's a viscount. He's quite intelligent and (of course) very wise, but a bit absent-minded.  His academic tastes are quite eclectic: officially he's here because of his work on behavioural dynamics, but he spends at least as much time musing about philosophy and he also collects rocks.  Tibby is going to love him.

The goat is not a viscount; he doesn't have a title and is the son of self-made goats.  I feel a bit bad for him.  He was sent to all the best public schools, and his behaviour is generally impeccable, and he's done quite well for himself; but... he's a goat.  Goats aren't really known for their elegance, gentility, or decorum - quite the opposite.  Every now and then he starts randomly eating something, or his speech  sounds a little suspiciously Cockney, and then he gets all embarrassed.  He must be quite brilliant - the others clearly respect him and tactfully look the other way when he starts trying to eat the carpet - but he's a little insecure.

Then there's the panther, whom I find terribly intriguing.  Black felines in general, and black panthers specifically, really take my breath away, and this particular specimen is quite splendidly beautiful.  He's also  (as I said before) very clearly dangerous.  It amuses and astounds me that he and Sir Tristan are best friends from school, because they're so very different and Sir Tristan's impeccable decorum makes him seem much older.  I'm not entirely clear on exactly what his role here is: he seems a highly unlikely candidate for a diplomatic delegation, because he's definitely a loose cannon.  (Also probably a ladies' man, so it's a good thing that he and Sir Tristan are so close.)   Possibly it has something to do with his familial connections;  he holds the courtesy title of earl, as the eldest son of a marquess.  I've yet to learn his name or the specifics of his title, although apparently his friends often call him Magick.

I haven't had much of a chance to get to know the serval yet; she and Sir Tristan are still enjoying their reunion and I'm reluctant to interrupt that.  My impression of her is favourable, both in general and as an appropriate partner for Sir Tristan.  She's very much a lady (officially, even, as the daughter of an earl), and everything she does is eminently dignified.  But she's not here merely because of her association with Sir Tristan.  Apparently she's extraordinarily brilliant and knows absolutely everything one could possibly know about policy.

This leaves the ermine.  I'm still kind of baffled about the ermine; he's so damaged, and I'm not entirely sure of their intentions in sending him off on a mission like this.  Possibly it's a clever disguise, but it doesn't really feel like one.