The Ballad of Adler Young

A reboot of the MSPA Forum Adventure by JW Kennedy, written with the help of MSPAFA and EagleTime members plus significant story contributions by EO Costello and Typeandkey.

[adleryoung]

“We have to do something!" Rebecca said, too frantic to think her words through. “We must intervene! A war that large with weapons that destructive would leave millions dead. We may not have the resources to get involved directly, but- but- We can launch an information campaign! We can have the public press document everything and shape public sentiment so the nations will be forced to stop when it becomes too unpopular.”

“Who will we recruit to document it?" I asked. "How will we print and distribute it?”

"Not really feasible, Sire," my Ixies replied.

"It's just lowfolk," Burnside shrugged. “If they wanna duke it out, why not let 'em? If it's true that ALL the lowfolk kingdoms are itchin’ for a fight so much, I doubt a bunch o moanin peasants'll change their minds. Sides, if the war is against everbody everwhar an the whole WORLD's a battleground, not only does that sound fantastic, but I don't reckon we’d be tellin anybody anythang they didn’t already know. I say we support one side or the other. If you want it over quick, back the side that's winnin. If it happens to be the Duchess, well then deal with her seperate when the main fightin's over. Or we could just do nothin. Ain't like any o this affects us.”

“It will affect us sooner than you think,” I said with an ominous glare. "The Duchess already has it in for me, and if she gains control of the lowfolk world, that will increase her power by unforseeable amounts."

"Victory still gonna cost her," Burnside insisted. "That's when she'll be weakest. Pick the opposin side if yer principles matter that much. Just have somethin ready in case she wins anyways."

"Which country is the Duchess's main enemy?" I asked the Ixies.

“While there are two main opposing alliances in the looming conflict," on of them replied, "both alliances have many, many nations and factions inside of them. It would require more resources than we have to even begin to make a difference. All of Europe is involved in this, and more powers beyond the continent are likely to be drawn in before it's over.”

"Where exactly is Europe?" I asked. "Perhaps I should pay their king a visit."

“I shall write an anti-war song to capture the hearts and minds of all,” an Ixie declared before anyone could answer my question.

"NO YOU SHAN'T!" the other Ixies scolded. “Even if you somehow manage to come up with something catchy, those never actually accomplish anything! One side will sing it while they go off to massacre the other!”

Suddenly Thomson cleared her throat and lifted a hoof. “I have been in deep council with Mr. Calaveras. He has told me many things, chief of which is the universal Truth that All is ham. We must proceed to the school, for there we may find in the headmaster's alembic the mystical stone that turns the stench of death into the fragrance of spring."

[adleryoung]

“Who said that, my lord?" Rebecca asked, puzzled. "The shepherd we passed?”

“He didn’t say nothin," Burnside pointed out. "He just waved.”

“No-no," I protested, shaking my head. "Seamus O'Dor. Did he say the Duchess and her Huns?”

“I wasn’t present for your conversation,” Rebecca shrugged.

“Mr. Calaveras heard," Thomson murmured. "He hears many things.”

“It was a rhetorical question aimed at no one," I grumbled. "It was a surprised outburst as I suddenly realized the significance of something Seamus said offhand earlier. Anyway, we need to have an emergency meeting RIGHT NOW!”

“Right here in the middle of the durn road?” Burnside inquired skeptically.

“I like how whimsical that sounds," Rebecca admitted, "but the traffic might object.”

“Such exchanges are best meant for dark hidden places," Thomson informed us. "Where is the nearest crypt?”

“We’ll have it over in those trees over there," I said, pointing. "Just follow me, and hurry! This is important!”

After a short amount of time, everyone was seated on comfortable chairs surrounding a small conference table in the shade of a group of trees. I apported the furniture from nowhere, without even thinking, and summoned a group of Ixie spies to join us.

“All right," I declared, slapping the table for emphasis. "Tell me everything the Duchess has been doing in my absence. And who - or what - in the Netherhells are her Huns? And what is happening on the continent that has everyone so scared? And what continent would that be, by the way?"

"She calls purt near everbody Hun," Burnside explained, "but most likely it's them son-nephews o' hers ol Seamus was talkin about. Them two like to give anybody the heebie-jeebies."

"That is a possibility," one of the Ixies admitted. "However it is more likely a reference based on lowfolk history which rather inaccurately attributes the tribal name of Hun to the residents of Vulpsylvania - modern day Fuchsland. Lowfolk politics in Europe have been souring for hundreds of years now. The Duchess of Daisies, now styling herself Herzogin Katerina von Ganseblumchen, helped make everything worse."

"But things would have boiled over without her anyway," one of the other Ixies chimed in. "The talk that has everyone so worried is talk of war. The lowfolk nations are even more fractured than Faerie is currently, without the excuse of Gaps cutting them off from each other. They have never had a single unified government (though many have tried and failed to build one). Usually they fight with each other, but sometimes even lowfolk realize it is more productive to make alliances and trade agreements."

"My grandfather, Adler the Prudent, was a master at that," I interrupted pointlessly.

"Yes, and although diplomacy is less costly in terms of lives and material, there are other costs. The convoluted web of treaties leaves no one unaffiliated, so if one state is belligerent and starts a war (and all intel indicates that Fuchsland will), all of the other nations will be compelled to join in. It will be a war on a scale that neither Lowfolk nor Faerie has never seen before."

"A fully industrialized war," the first Ixie continued. "Utilizing all the mechanical horrors the lowfolk imagination can conceive. They have no magick, as you know, but they can devise all sorts of contraptions to kill and maim each other. O'Daisies munition factories are everywhere, and they've made guns that can mow down an entire batallion in minutes."

"Not just machines, but alchemical formulae as well," the second Ixie interjected. "I know this is a sore spot for you, sire, but remember the Plague of Battles? They've concocted vapors twice as deadly, that work faster and cover more area. Instead of making them fight each other, it just knocks everyone on the battlefield stone dead in a matter of seconds."

"A few seconds of unbearable agony," the other Ixie interposed dramatically. "It burns their skin, their eyes, their lungs - anything organic that it touches begins to dissolve. The vial you dropped at Albric Tor was a trifle compared to what they've got now."

"Really?" I gasped, horrified yet also feeling strangely vindicated by this piece of news.

"And unlike you, they will have absolutely no qualms about using it," The first Ixie continued. "The Duchess is the largest supporter of the impending war, and it is an open secret that she has massive political pull in multiple nations and controls the weapons industry. She has stakes in nearly every major weapons manufacturing company. No matter who wins, she will profit tremendously. She has plans for almost every possible outcome. We don't know all of the contingencies she has considered, but one of her potential goals is to reduce the lowfolk world to ashes so that she can swoop in like a savior and rebuild everything."

"If anyone could build that unified world government, it would have to be an elf," I mused. "All right, how do we stop her?"

"Unfortunately, things are so far along now that even if the Duchess were removed from the equation there is no stopping what is on the horizon. War is inevitable. The weapons exist and are stockpiled in multiple locations. Even if we knew where ALL of the arsenals were - and we don't - it would be impossible to destroy even a fraction of them in time. The Duchess is well protected. Eliminating her would be even harder, and even if you succeeded, you might only be hastening the inevitable."

"Did Dr. Owter Cesawonki have a hand in this?" I asked darkly.

"As far as we can determine, the tod also known as Ash Marten has no stakes or involvement in the lowfolk war. He has moved all of his assets into Faerie. While he certainly approves of the Duchess’s ambition to destroy large numbers of lowfolk, what we know about him indicates that he would consider her methods crude, inelegant, and unworthy of the Unseelie legacy."

"He'd be right about that," Burnside declared, with obvious disgust. "Ain't no way to fight a war. Oughta be done with fists an blades, with a couple a knights on antback leadin the charge, an some archers in back providin cover. Not with no mechanical doodads an noxious vapors. Ain't no skill in that. Ain't no fun if you can't look yer foe in the eye an watch him die. Whut she's a-doin is a disgrace to the Unseelie name."

“Why didn’t you tell me all of this sooner??” I demanded of the Ixies.

“You didn’t ask,” they answered sheepishly. “You were so happy to finally be free, we didn’t want to spoil things with tidings that you can't really do anything about. The Duchess has been methodically laying her plans the whole time you were exiled. By the time you were freed, all our intel showed there was no way to prevent what is coming. Even if you could somehow unite Faerie in the next .. oh, six months to a year (unlikely), AND if all of your newly sworn subjects agreed to intervene in lowfolk affairs (well night impossible), you would still not have the resources nor the ability to succeed.”

“Assuming you're correct in your assessment," I scolded, "that was still a matter for me to decide. The Duchess planning the overthrow of the entire lowfolk world is something a new emperor should know about. Shame on you for not telling me immediately.”

“It was an inexcusably sentimental lapse of judgement we swear never to repeat," the Ixie said solemnly. "Now that you know, what will you do?

I look at the stunned and uneasy faces of my companions (except Thomson, who remained eerily calm as she stroked Mr. Calaveras' cranium.) “Any suggestions?”

[adleryoung]

“Miss Rebecca says oi should style me hair to cover me eyes,” Kelly elaborated.

“How'll ye see?” Mary asked, as Seamus permitted himself a slight smile.

"It was nice to see you all again," I declared, after giving Rebecca a stern look. "Rebecca and I really should be going. There is much to do.”

“Awww, already?” Kelly pouted.

“You’ll all see me again soon enough,” I replied reassuringly, tousling her hair.

“Ooncle Adler, what about the surprise?” Clyde asked, eagerly jumping up and down.

“Gracious!" I exclaimed, snapping my fingers. "You’re right! How could I forget? And what a surprise it is! Would you like to see a REAL magick trick?”

”Ooo, yes please.” They all gathered around.

I theatrically raised my hands and wiggled my fingers. “Abraca-Pocus!” I yelled dramatically. I thrust my arms downward as if to conjure something from the floor, and all the horror trinkets I confiscated earlier came tumbling out of my sleeves.

There were ghost pens, wooden dullahan heads, miniature pumpkin lanterns, snow-globes of haunted houses, plaster bones, rubber ghosts that moaned eerily when you squeezed them, packets of fake blood, imitation severed fingers .. every spooky novelty gadget Eltsac Mailliw could imagine. They tumbled out for several seconds until a sizable pile was at my feet. Had I really taken that many? The boys gasped and applauded while Kelly laughed. Rebecca covered her mouth as she snickered at my antics. As soon as it was clear that the flow of toys had stopped, the children dove in and excitedly started sifting through the pile.

"Come on, toots," I said as I grabbed Rebecca by the hand and impishly dashed out the front door before Mary could protest. "It's time to skedaddle!"

I threw in a "woo woo" and a couple of "nyuks" for good measure as we dashed down the path away from the house. What else were eccentric uncles for?

We reconvened with the rest of the group and I informed them that there had been a change of plan. We would have to make a trip to Hoardblemish to check on things there. It wasn't far, and the weather was pleasant, so I proposed that we walk. The fresh air and sunlight would do us all some good - especially Thomson. I summoned some Ixies to relay the new itinerary to Meadow and Typantronn III.

A few wonderfully uneventful hours later, we were walking the road towards Percysthorpe. Rebecca was humming a cheerful dirge, Burnside was sharpening her knives, and Thompson was exchanging hushed secrets with Mr. Calaveras. Birds were twittering in the trees along the road, and occasionally a sheep bleated in the fields beyond. I gazed at the horizon and suddenly froze in my tracks.

“WAIT!" I exclaimed. "Did he say The Duchess and her Huns??”

[adleryoung]

“Now, Mary, moy sweet," Seamus schmoozed as persuasively as he could. "Delight o' me loife, the brochure makes it clear the school has good security."

"Don't be tryin yer charm on me, Seamus O'Dor," Mary sniffed haughtily.

"But sure, me pet," Seamus persisted bravely, "a castle full o wizards can provide better security than our little cottage in the country. Plus… the lads have been talkin about all the trouble brewin on the continent, with the Duchess an her Huns. It doesn’t sound like it’s goin away at all, at all.”

“Oh pish to all that," Mary scoffed. "It'll all fizzle out into nothin, you mark moy words. Oi have a way o knowin these things.”

I could barely conceal my disappointment as I observed Seamus and Mary arguing. Seamus was rightly supportive of broadening Kelly’s horizons, but Mary was being a stereotypical overprotective mother. Femmes! No amount of reason or discussion would crack through her hormonally fueled emotions at this point. If I wished, I could simply force the matter. There was little either of them could do to stop me from taking Kelly away right this minute… But after the heartfelt confession I just gave them, that would be a step backwards. It would be disrespectful to Vernier's memory, and they would probably never trust an elf again. It would be far more advantageous to stay on good terms with these lowfolk. Seamus was on my side already; the seed had been planted. Kelly didn’t need to go right this minute. I still needed to visit the school and gauge whether or not Zandar could be trusted to be in the same building with my daughter. Time would inevitably move in a direction that would convince Mary. Instead of constantly questioning it, I needed to relax and trust to Fuma's Luck.

I was startled out of my thoughts and back into the moment by the sight of the normally stoic Seamus turning toward me, looking every bit like the typical henpecked husband.

"Adler me boyo," he groaned. "We've lost the day. Toime to retreat, bedad, an formulate a new strategy."

“Ye also leave the privy seat up AN ye snore!" Mary yelled as Seamus scurried out of the kitchen. "So don’t you tell me-”

“Well," I declared loudly as she turned her glare upon me. "I thank you both for your hospitality, and I thank you for hearing me out. I can see that you have a lot to discuss, and I myself also have matters that require my attention. I think it is about time that Rebecca and I hit the road while there is still daylight.”

“Really?" Mary asked, taken aback. "That’s it? You’re not goin' to try to bewitch us or steal her away in the night?”

“No tricks," I said, holding up my hands in surrender. "This is Kelly's home, and here she shall stay until you consent to let her go. I will leave it in Fuma’s hands. What happens next will be up to her. And you.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Mary muttered, seemingly appeased.

We followed Seamus out of the kitchen, back into the parlor, only to see Kelly covered in Rebecca’s favorite style of witchy makeup. Clyde was obviously on the verge of uproarious laughter, while little Rory seemed perplexed. Rebecca beamed proudly at her handiwork.

“Look, ooncle," Kelly grinned at me. "Oi am The Noight Incarnate.”

I froze, as Seamus glanced nervously back at his wife.

Mary tilted her head in critical appraisal. “Well, oi have to admit she doesn’t look loike a Belfast whore, but it’s a little early for All-Hallows-Eve, isn’t it?”

[adleryoung]

"Well, er, you see, the thing is," I floundered, my mind racing. The look of betrayal on both of their faces cut much deeper than I thought it would. I had every right to be outraged! They were mere lowfolk, and they basically asked me, the rightful Emperor of Faerie, point blank if I was an elf here to take their adopted daughter - MY daughter - away. What nerve! I could still sidestep most of what they were asking, and walk or pook out of here in high dudgeon, but… When I looked into their faces I couldn’t help but see Vernier looking back at me. This was Vernier’s family and they raised my daughter well, even better than I could have hoped. So even though it went against every elfly principle to deal openly with them, it felt even more wrong not to do so. I was going to have to be honest. (Within reason, of course.) I finally stopped waffling and spoke up.

“The essence of Mary’s supposition is true. I am not a blood relative to either of you, and I have been here solely to check in on Kelly’s well-being. However, I represent no one but myself. It was I who left Kelly on your doorstep. I am the rightful king of the elves."

"Rightful?" Seamus asked suspiciously.

"There have been a great many complications recently with the royal succession," I explained. "But elves do not lie. I am the legitimate heir to the throne."

"The fair folk are tricky," Mary stated to her husband, "but sure, they won't tell a baldfaced lie. If he says he's the king, it must be true."

"I pray that you can forgive me for the deception," I continued, "but I swear to you that my evasiveness was for Kelly’s protection as well as yours. Kelly, your adopted daughter, is the Princess of Faerie. The empire is currently in shambles and it is my responsibility to rebuild it. It's not an ideal environment for bringing up a little girl. There is a great deal I am trying to accomplish and there are many who would resort to less than honorable methods to stop me. Even if I had all of the resources I wish I had, Kelly couldn’t remain with me, for her own safety - and her mother is… let's just say, an extremely dangerous femme."

"Sounds loike she could have kept her wee one safe," Mary pointed out darkly.

"Are you familiar with the term Unseelie?" I asked. The O'Dors both gasped and stepped back. "I've been inaccurately accused by my critics of being Unseelie, but Kelly's mother is the real thing. Letting her raise the child would have ensured that she became a monster. Now, I don’t know fully what role Kelly has to play in Fuma’s plan, but your husband is right that Fuma will find a way for her to do it. It is best that she strengthen her abilities in preparation for when that time comes. I understand the importance of family, and I would never seek to rob you or Kelly of that. I am not planning on taking her away from you forever. I'm not even planning to take her with me. The haunted city in the story I told the children? That's the current state of the imperial capital. I wouldn't bring Kelly there. She will be going to a school situated just inside the old summer palace."

"It's actually in Faerie?" Seamus asked.

"Accessible through a Gate in the town of Percysthorpe," I stated. "Although the school itself is in Faerie, almost all of the faculty and student body are lowf- I mean, mortals from your world. Your ancestor, Vernier, was a very close confidant of mine. She was kind, practical, and wise. It would be an insult to her memory to treat my daughter’s adopted family like a resource to be left behind. If you despise me for my conduct in your lives, that’s fair enough, but I promise that I never intended any heartache for you or your family. This is Kelly's home. Here's where she will return on holidays. I am not stealing her away to live in Faerie, because to be honest, most of Faerie is uninhabitable right now.”

"We mustn't tell the lass that she's a fairy princess," Seamus muttered. "Sure, twill go straight to her head."

"We'll be tellin her nothin," Mary declared, "an she'll not be goin anywhere."

"But macushla," Seamus protested gently, "surely the King o' the Elves knows best."

"Oi appreciate yer honesty, Adler," Mary continued, "but everything ye've said just further convinces me that here's the best place for Kelly."

[adleryoung]

I recounted my thrilling and occasionally irritating tale of how I explored an ancient, dead city and enlisted the aid of some bumbling youths to discover that the hauntings were all a ruse! The story went on for a long while, and my narrative was so compelling that Seamus and Mary sat down to listen in.

"Such roobish yer fillin their heads with," Mary muttered at one point, with a shake of her head and a half smile - but she stayed and listened to the rest.

That was when I first realized that lowfolk were surprisingly suggestible - I mean, really good listeners! As long as they’re being entertained they will give you their undivided attention and believe almost anything you say! (Lucky for you that elves do not lie!) Telling stories based on my adventures was surprisingly easy, and fun! If I didn't have an empire to run, I could see myself doing this as a regular activity. But I'm getting ahead of the plot here.

“Moy favorite bit," Clyde announced when I finally concluded my narrative, "was when that spalpeen of a fox got all of his bones broken for bein' stupid.”

“Aye," Seamus agreed with a paternal puff on his pipe. "That’s an important lesson. Sure'n foolishness must be punished.”

"Else they’ll never learn,” Mary added.

"They'll never learn," all of the children repeated with a solemn nod.

“Well, Adler me boyo," Seamus proclaimed, suddenly slapping his knees and standing up. "That was a foine yarn, to be sure. Ye should consider writin stories for a livin. But now, could me an' the woife discuss somethin with ye in the kitchen? Kelly, help Miss Rebecca watch yer broothers.”

Rebecca put down her booklet and rubbed her hands with sudden glee. “Kelly, would you like for me to give you a little makeover with some makeup?”

"Oi don't want to see her painted up loike some Belfast whore!" Mary exclaimed over her shoulder as Seamus herded us out of the room.

“Now then," Seamus said, once we were in the kitchen and the door was closed. "Mary has some concerns which oi'm hopin ye can put to rest.”

“It seems too early to send Kelly off on her own," Mary declared. "She’s so young yet! She's lived a sheltered loife. All our children have.”

"There is no age limit," I explained confidently after having briefly scanned the brochures a while ago. "More important than age is aptitude. No matter how young, a student needs only to have ‘the gift’ and a willingness to learn.”

"No matter how old, as well," Mary pointed out. “No need to rush. There's also the tuition.”

“Tis not an outrageous proice, dear," Seamus stated gently. "Sure, we can absorb the cost. No proice is too great to give our family the best, an Kelly has special talents that must be honed.”

“You never need to worry about money," I declared. "I am a benefactor of the school, and I am willing to cover the full cost of tuition, lodging, supplies, and necessities.”

“Marciful heavens!" Mary exclaimed. "You’d really be willin to pay for Kelly’s education?”

“I am fortunate enough to have a .. somewhat sizeable fortune. Plus, that’s what eccentric uncles are for.” I gave Seamus a sly wink and he nodded knowingly.

“What about her prospects?" Mary continued. "Learnin magick is all well and good, but where does it lead? What koind o' husband can she get? Or will she woind up .. a workin girl? There aren’t many advertised jobs involvin the aetherial. What if the magick economy dries up or she can’t get a position anywhere?”

I stood there blinking for a second, unprepared for this question. Fortunately Seamus came to the rescue.

“The pamphlet said the school offers all the standard academic courses in their curriculum. Mathematics, history, economics, home-management, the works. Sure'n they're fully accredited, legitimate, an transferable to any respectable educational institution. Hoardblemish promises their graduates won't end up destitute with no prospects.”

“It just seems so dangerous, sendin our daughter off to do this," Mary persisted. "She’ll be crossin the threshold into some great unknown that'll swallow her oop. Sure, Kelly is gifted, an that's why puttin her out there could draw unscrupulous forces to her. It could make her a target. At least here we can protect her and keep her safely hidden in cozy obscurity.”

Before I could say anything, Seamus gently took his wife by the shoulders and spoke to her in a soothing voice. “Mary, me love, oi understand yer worries, but Kelly won’t be our little girl forever. Ye said it yerself, she’s gifted. Oi would even go farther an say she has a destiny. There are larger things goin on here that you an oi are not privy to. Sure'n there's a grand narrative at play, an if not at the school then it will foind her here. The best we can do is make sure she is prepared when it happens, an happen it WILL. That’s how these stories always go. An the trainin she will receive at the school will better prepare her than any amount o' cozy obscurity ever will.”

Mary looked at the floor, seemingly lost in thought.

“A Grand Narrative?” I repeated, looking at Seamus.

“The King of Elves gave us his daughter to raise," he admitted with a shrug. "Sure'n that sounds loike a Grand Narrative if ever oi’ve heard one.”

Mary looked up and let out a long sigh. “Oi suppose… oi suppose you’re roight. This day had to come eventually. We can’t keep her here forever. It would be selfish… Oi just thought oi'd be READY … or, that ye'd just come an whisk her away in the noight, loike in the old tales. Comin here an askin me to my face to send her off to some school, it's strange … oi'd even go so far as to say it's cruel."

"What is it yer on about, ducky?" Seamus asked, clearly baffled.

"This is it!" Mary declared, pointing at me. "When the elves come to claim the changeling they left behind! He's their representative! Surely ye've caught on by now!"

"Are ye daft?" Seamus asked, now visibly alarmed. "That's yer dear old broother Adler."

"He's not my broother!" Mary exclaimed. "For a while oi thought he was YOURS, but the more oi thought about it, oi realized he isn't kin to either of us at all, at all! Twas an elf trick! He's been hangin' around to keep an eye on the lass, is all."

Seamus slowly turned and stared at me. "Is it true?"

[adleryoung]

"I'm terribly sorry," I stammered. "It's just that I haven't thought about the school in a while, and seeing these brochures reminded me of a number of things I have to do. Didn't mean to ignore you. I was simply lost in thought."

"Tut tut," Seamus tutted. "Think nothin' of it, Adler me lad. Tis all part o' bein the wacky but lovable Eccentric Uncle. Tis a classic family archetype in all me favorite situational comedy stories that arrive biweekly in the post. Ye should really consider readin the ‘Sufficient Domicile’ series. Sure, tis quite good at repackagin the family lessons everyone already knows in a way that seems new."

“That actually sounds like fun," Rebecca enthused. "May I have a look?”

“O' course," Seamus beamed, pulling a slim chapbook out of his jacket. "Oi have the latest number right here for ye to peruse at yer leisure.”

“You just carry those around with you everywhere you go?” I asked skeptically.

“Aye,” Seamus replied with a hint of pride.

"All right," I blinked. “Er… You were trying to get my attention a moment ago?”

"Roight, roight!" Seamus exclaimed. "This pamphlet ye gave me has some good information in it. Sure, it moight sway me wife, but oi may want ye to play salesmel if she needs extra convincin'. Could ye keep the youngsters occupied while oi present this to Mary? CHILDREN!!" he bellowed before I could respond. "COME INSIDE AN' SIT WITH YER UNCLE ADLER AN' FUTURE AUNT - sorry miss, what was yer name?"

"Rebecca," Rebecca answered, looking up from the chapbook with a wide-eyed innocent expression.

"REBECCA!" Seamus finished.

"But we're not -" I objected, but he had already turned and headed into the back of the house, as the children stampeded in through the front door.

"All yours, Uncle Adler dear," Rebecca chuckled as she settled into an armchair in the corner and opened the book in front of her face.

“So… Ye mentioned a gift for us?” Clyde asked as the youngsters gathered around me on the settee.

"Did I?" I replied playfully. "I recall saying there would be a surprise later. How surprised would you be if I showed up empty-handed with nothing for you at all?"

"AWWWW," Clyde groaned.

"Surely ye didn't do that, Ooncle," Kelly giggled.

At first I was a little hesitant to fork over the pile of horror souvenirs, but on further refection, why not? Seamus said it himself: I filled the necessary family niche of the lovable, eccentric uncle. And what else were uncles for if not giving bizarre and slightly frightening gifts?

"I see that you are not so easily fooled," I continued with a wink. “As a matter of fact, I DID bring something, and it comes with a story. You see, I've just come back from an adventure in an entire haunted CITY!”

“Woah! No way,” Clyde breathed in amazement.

“Yes way,” I nodded solemnly. “Now, get comfortable and I’ll tell you all about it.” I pulled a pen out of my Elfintory and used it to conjure an image of a ghost. The children gasped in awe. “And there will be a special gift if you sit quietly and listen to the whole thing. Now, it all started when I was picking through the rubble left by a great battle that was fought a long, long time ago..”

[adleryoung]

Confound it! I rubbed my temples in embarrassment and frustration. I had done it again! I'd gotten so wrapped up in Eltsac's preposterous horror show, and the complex Statecraft of an empire that technically didn't even exist yet, I forgot about everything else! Even if I hadn’t bungled the time slip and Kelly was still a child, I should have been planning ahead to coax her adopted parents into letting her study magick. Even if the school didn’t have official pamphlets, a letter from the headmaster would have worked wonders! Now, not only was I late, but once again I was unprepared and making a fool of myself. I reached my hands heavenward and silently asked Fuma why these things always happened to me.

“My lord, are you okay?" Rebecca asked me via Elfmind. "You look like you are having a conniption."

If only I could apport some pamphlets! Even a student activity leaflet would do! I had been able to apport things in the past without knowing their exact location or even what they specifically were, but I still had no idea exactly how I did it. I gritted my teeth in silent beseechment as I tried to visualize some part of the school. It was in the old Persoc Tor palace, which I knew reasonably well … but where would the promotional brochures be? The last time I saw it, they were still cleaning out the place and moving in! It had probably changed drastically since then! I couldn't stand here with my arms in the air forever! Seamus was staring at me!

With a sigh of defeat, I lowered my arms and was about to explain that I had nothing but I would bring something soon, when I noticed to my surprise that I was in fact clutching a fistful of glossy brochures.

“Oi see ye came prepared," Seamus exclaimed, as he reached out for one. "Foine bit o' prestidigitation there as well. Very dramatic. Oi suppose they teach that at the school? Ye really are on top o' things, aren’t ye? It’s like oi always say to moi Mary: That Adler really has his stuff together, bedad. That's a fella with a cool head on his shoulders.” He politely took one of the several pamphlets from my outstretched hands.

For a moment I was elated by my good fortune, but then I became silently annoyed. Why couldn't I do that whenever I wanted to? It would have solved so many problems if I could just apport whatever I needed from wherever it was at any time. I glanced at the remaining brochures in my hand and did a double take. One of them advertised a course of “Body Magick” for students that were legal adults. I quickly slipped that one into my Elfintory so as to not shock Seamus. He was studying the pamphlet he took, and much to my relief did not seem to notice. I opened another of the brochures and pretended to scrutinize it while my mind raced.

Body magick, eh? That could mean one of several things, but my gut feeling was that Headmaster Hoardblemish had followed my advice and hired my estranged wife and sometime sworn enemy to teach at the school. I couldn’t be 100% sure unless I checked in … but my hunch said she was there. Having that crazy femme around Kelly could be dangerous, but it could also be a way of extending an olive branch to Zandar. I would need to ascertain whether she had mellowed out at all. I couldn’t have her massacring entire villages in front of my impressionable daughter. It would set a bad example. Dammit! I was going to have to delay my sojourn into Faerie until I could get all of this sorted out. I would need to send some Ixies to both Meadow and Typantronn III, to tell them there was a change of plan. The Ixies would be fine with it, but Meadow would doubtless be severely annoyed. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped…

“Adler, me boyo, are ye feelin well?” Seamus asked, rather loudly.

“Wazza-wha?” I replied sagely, looking up from the brochure I had been staring at.

“My lord," Rebecca explained via Elfmind, "you were doing that thing again where you were so deep in thought that you can’t hear anyone. It's endearing in a monarch, but Seamus has been trying to get your attention for several minutes.”

[adleryoung]

"What kind of bad feeling?" I asked, nervously eyeing the prophetic skull. "Anything specific?"

"No," Thomson replied mysteriously. "Just a general feeling of inevitable impending doom."

"That's normal," I sighed with relief. "Let's depart."

We slipped through the Gate and picked our way through the tulgey wood until we reached the O'Dor home.

"Can I come with you, my lord?" Rebecca wheedled. "PLEEEASE? I would SOOO much like to meet the Princess."

"Anybody's goin' with him, it'll be me," Burnside grunted. "Imperial bodyguard."

Thomson simply stared blankly and stroked Mr. Calaveras.

"Burnside, stay here with Thomson," I ordered. "I don't expect any danger, but keep your ears open. Rebecca, come with me. But first, let's change your outfit into something a little more conservative."

I magicked my own clothes into a lowfolk-style suit and, with the most normal of my retinue on my arm, I approached the house.

"Hoy, Ooncle Adler," Clyde O'Dor hailed me. "Who's the babe?"

"She's lovely, Ooncle," Kelly grinned as she suddeny appeared next to me. "Sure'n is this our new aunt?"

Blast it! The children were all older than they should have been, and there was a toddler I hadn't even met yet! I must have miscalculated the time slip while trying to get everyone through the Gate.

"Rebecca is not your Aunt," I floundered. "She's just a, er, friend and traveling companion."

"Ohhh, oi see," Kelly giggled.

"What is it ye've brought us from yer travels?" Clyde asked hopefully.

BLAST! I hadn't thought of this either! All I had was an assortment of horror souvenirs from Eltsac Mailliw's Albric Tor gift shop, which I had absentmindedly stuffed into my Elfintory. Would any of them be appropriate to give to a lowfolk child?

"That's a surprise for after," I said uncertainly.

"Adler," Seamus O'Dor hailed me from the doorway of the house. "Sure an oi'd like to talk with ye before Mary sees ye. Come inside."

"Glad I am to see ye finally settlin' down with a noice femme," Seamus began, after we entered the front parlor. "Tis not good for a mel to be alone, at all at all."

"She's not-" I started to explain.

"Tis been a while since ye called on us last," Seamus continued. "All the cubs are gettin older, bedad. Kelly'll soon be makin a foine figure of a femme, an well .. Mary still doesn't want to admit it, but the lass has uncanny talents. Readin' moinds. Predictin' the future. Foindin' lost articles. Her talent should be cultivated, but sure that's not afther happenin round here. At one toime ye mentioned a special school."

"The Hoardblemish Academy," I nodded.

"That's a fine instituion!" Rebecca declared. "My own girls were the first class there!"

"Ye were married before?" Seamus asked quizzically.

"Rebecca ran a camp for awkward young ladies," I interjected quickly. "When Hoardblemish opened, she transferred them there."

"Have ye any promotional materials for this school?" Seamus asked hopefully. "Somethin oi can be showin the missus to help persuade her to let the girl go?"

I didn't have any promotional materials for the Academy. I didn't even know how things were going at the school! There was another loose end! Should I go check in with Professor Hoardblemish? Did I have time? Or was it more important to secure diplomatic ties with nearby parts of Faerie first? And what sort of trinkets could I give these children before I departed?

[adleryoung]

“Well, uh," the privet stammered. "I guess you should visit your seedling, I mean daughter first, make sure she’s safe and healthy. And, maybe you don’t need to decide on which destination in Faerie should visit first right away? Perhaps… Perhaps you could send a few of your companions to scout out both locations for you so you can make a fully informed decision when you are finished with your fatherly responsibilities… If you think that’s a good idea, I mean…”

“That’s a fantastic idea, Privet!" I exclaimed. "You’ve got a good head on your shou- uh, you’ve got a good root system! I see a promising career ahead of you.”

“Aw, shucks,” the privet rustled modestly.

“We shall go with the privet’s idea!” I declared to the others, and then waited for their response.

“Um, sure," Meadow agreed after an awkward silence. "But you’re the only one here who speaks tree. So…”

"Do you mean to tell me," I scowled, “that the Mouse Queen, fabled champion of Seeliness, cannot understand the Voice of the Forest?"

"I never learned it, okay?" Meadow sighed.

"We will have to remedy that," I declared firmly. "The Voice used to be every elf's birthright, and now the one who is most proficient with it is a Vulpitanian villain. But now's not the time for that. There is much to do! I believe we should split up.” I froze for a moment, realizing with horror that that was the meddling youth’s favorite thing to say. “Ahem. What I mean is that I and a few others should go visit my daughter Kelly. At least two of you will go to scout out the two locations; one to Athstead and the other to the Marshy Region. Meadow, as a very capable and Seelie agent, it falls to you to go reconnoiter this Marshy Region and see what kind of danger those tribal elves are in. I have a feeling something dark is afoot, so you are the only one I trust to go in alone.”

“It feels odd to separate again after just having been reunited," Meadow admitted, "but I understand your thinking. Depending on the situation there, I may not be able to return to you right away. Do you have something we can use for remote communication?”

“Why yes," I said, with sudden excitement. "I have just the thing!"

With a quick bit of Gramarye, I gathered some bark and leaves and shaped them into the form of two ale tankards attached by a string to the base of each. Another simple spell linked them magickally, and a borrowed blade from Burnside cut the string in half. I handed one of the mugs to Meadow.

"MUMBLE MUGS!" I proclaimed. "Pull the string taut, then speak into the mug. Your voice will be carried to the other mug, no matter how far apart they are! Even works across the gulf between worlds! Hold it up to your ear to listen. It's simple, efficient, cheap to make, and bypasses all of the fiddly thaumaturgy required for scrying orbs."

Meadow stared at the Mumble Mug in awe for a long moment. "Did … you invent this?" she asked, clearly awestruck. "It's almost ingenious."

"Sadly the original idea was not my own," I admitted humbly. "But I perfected it!"

"All right," she said, tucking the Mumble Mug into her Elfintory. “To get to the marsh from here, you have to spin five times widdershins, then hop backward three steps on your left foot, and step through the Gate with one long stride. Got that? Now, that leaves the question, who will you send to Athstead? Surely not the Raccoon. She will probably massacre everyone there just for fun.”

“Don’t knock it til ya try it, lil miss tin-cans," Burnside sneered. "I wouldn’t go there anyways. As the imperial bodyguard it's ma job to guard the imperial body.”

“I wasn’t planning on sending her,” I protested, as visions of carnage drifted through my mind. Burnside was definitely not the one to send on a scouting and diplomatic mission. I couldn't send the others, either. Thomson was still unwell, and Rebecca was too inexperienced.

“My lord," Rebecca piped up after a few seconds of watching me scratch my head in perplexity. "Why don’t you have your bug servants investigate Athstead?”

Of course! I snapped my fingers. How could I forget about them? It had been a while since I last saw my faithful Ixies. Where were they while I was being chased by a lunatic with a mace?? I focused my Elfmind and called out to them.

A moment later, a familiar looking be-helmed Ixie (along with two others) was hovering in front of my face.

"Typantronn?" I asked.

"Typantron III, sire," she replied, snapping off a salute. "Ready and able to do the bidding of the imperial crown, SIR!”

“Well, your demeanor is certainly more professional than the first Typantronn's,” I observed.

“It shames me to my core that our predecessors were such undisciplined cretins, sir. I can assure you there will be no lollygagging, sugar sucking, aphid gambling, or boondoggling on my watch, SIR!”

“Just penny-stocks!” the other two giggled impishly.

“Come on, you guys!" Typantronn III whined, breaking her crisp demeanor. "Don’t embarrass me in front of great-great-grandpa!”

“Yes, well," I coughed. "I have a mission for you. I need a small discreet squad to go to Athstead and scout the place for intel. Find out everything that could be useful in opening diplomatic relations with the residents of the town. Also, I know by now how Fuma's Luck works; there is sure to be some kind of catastrophic trouble there that we’ll need to fix. Find out what it is. Once you have all the information you can get, meet me at my daughter’s home. Understood?”

"Sir, yes SIR!!" Typantron III barked, saluting so hard she knocked her helmet askew.

“A mission! A mission! We’ve got a mission!” The other Ixies squealed and giggled as they turned and buzzed away.

“Girls! Stop that!" Typantronn III yelled as she trailed behind them. "We’re supposed to be professional spies! Seriously, quit it!”

“Every time I meet them, your ladybirds just keep getting cuter and cuter,” Rebecca gushed as she watched them go.

“Mr. Calaveras has a bad feeling about this…” Thomson muttered as she cradled the skull in her arms and gently stroked its cranium.

[adleryoung]

A little while later, the femmes and I gathered just outside of the Scrying Tower, in readiness for our expedition. I turned to address Meadow and everyone listened.

“Now we've got some time to go on an excursion," I began. "The trees will continue cleaning up the fields around Albric Tor, but I don't want them trying to clean the city itself. They're too likely to tear up the streets and buildings with their roots. We'll save that task for when Eltsac Mailliw is fully healed, which gives us some time to do something else. Now then, Meadow, as you said earlier, there are two places we can reach directly from here using the Gate. The first is Athstead, the Birthplace of Irenaeus, where I once went on a quest in which I received a vision from Fuma and gained her blessing of Luck. The second is a marshy region of Faerie where a community of Seelie elves have returned to living according to the Old Ways of our tribal ancestors. You told us that Athstead is suffering from a depressed economy due to their limited farmland and the scarcity of any sort of outside trade due in no small part to the sad fact that very few elves know how to use the Gates. The marsh community that you mentioned is living in the shadow of a monastery that has forsaken the worship of our blessed Lady Fuma and instead is the headquarters of a cult that worships a giant fish that I may know all too well.”

“Yes," Meadow nodded. "Yes, I did tell you all of that.”

“She did, my lord," Rebecca nodded cheerily. "We were all present.”

“Is there a reason why you explained it all again word-for-word?” Burnside asked.

“Well, uh," I floundered. "It seemed important to reiterate it, you know. Bring everyone up to speed. Someone might have forgotten.”

“I remember," Thomson confirmed. "It was only a day and a half ago. But in another way it seems like ages ago. It feels good to get out of that grimy bathrobe. What luck that we found a trove of Floozy clothes.”

"I'd have been surprised if we didn't find any," Meadow sniffed, "considering how many Floozies Estmere kept around. With all of the outfits available, why did you choose that one?"

"It's comfortable," Thomson shrugged.

There was an awkward pause as they all turned to me with expectant looks. “Well, good,” I nodded with regal authority. “It is time for us to decide where we shall go first. Athstead seems like the prime choice for our first destination: A well established settlement with historic ties to the empire would be a good ally that will owe us a favor after we help them. We may need all the help we can get for whatever evils are plaguing the elves in the Marshy Region. However, if the fish god this cult worships is the one I am thinking of, their peril may be more dire than we know. Time could be of the essence. So perhaps we should go there first. Or, since whatever's happening there has been happening all this time without us, we could go see Kelly first, and THEN choose a destination in Faerie.”

“Well then, where do YOU think we should go first?” I asked, turning and pointing.

“Are you asking me?” the Shrub guard rustled nervously. "I'm just a privet."

[adleryoung]

Some time passed. I tried not to cringe as I observed Eltsac Mailliw in a full body cast, lying on a makeshift hospital bed and being attended by a Shrub field medic.

"Well then," I said, clearing my throat. “I’m sure we can all agree that things got a little out of hand back there. It escalated quickly. It really went up a notch. Even I myself got carried away in the heat of the moment. However, as I am a believer in Thorwald's Law, letting the punishment fit the crime and leaving justice in the hands of Imperial authorities, letting the Folly Gang break every bone in your body was clearly out of line. For this you have the heartfelt sympathy of the current acting emperor of Faerie.” I turned to the lowfolk youths. “Now what do you say?”

The Folly Gang shuffled their feet like a group of scolded school children and muttered, “Sorry…”

“Merthy thaketh, Thlovenly,” Folly-La croaked solemnly. The youths nodded in sad agreement.

Eltsac moaned unintelligibly.

“Do we need to apologize too, my lord?” Rebecca asked.

“No," I replied. "Ms. Thomson, as the party primarily wronged by Mr. Mailliw, was entitled to a few swings. You kicking him was an act of moral outrage by a member of the emperor's personal entourage, so that too is permissible.”

“I just like hurtin' people!” Burnside declared proudly.

“Elves do not lie," I glowered at her, "so asking you to sincerely apologize would be futile. By imperial decree, the three of you do not need to apologize. For attacking Eltsac Mailliw. Today," I added hastily, to prevent the decree from being interpreted to mean that they never had to apologize for anything ever again.

“I don’t think that actually needed to be an official decree,” Meadow opined.

"The emperor has spoken," I stated. "It can't be taken back now."

"Just be careful," Meadow said, giving me a Meaningful Look.

"Of course…" I muttered, wondering if I would come to regret bringing the Mouse Queen on staff. I turned back to the horribly injured fox on the table. “Eltsac Mailliw, your crimes are as follows: Squatting on imperial property, desecration of the dead, attempted assault of imperial subjects, attempted assault of the Imperial Person, vandalizing imperial property, driving an imperial employee to madness, and setting up an entertainment venue without proper licensing and authorization. How do you plead?”

Eltsac groaned in agony.

“Very well, I'll take that as a plea of No Contest. In light your crimes, I will now decide your punishment. I would first sentence you to be severely beaten, and er, conveniently that's already accomplished. Since your punishment has been meted out, your penance will be to clean up every piece of your horror displays and aid in the reconstruction of the city once your, ah, once your entire skeleton mends. Now then, the crown recognizes that you are an elf of rare artistic vision and incredible dedication to carrying out a project on a grand scale. It is a fine thing to support the arts, so if you impress me I may consider contracting you to redesign the imperial dungeons, to make them appropriately terrifying so that enemies of the empire will think twice before, uh, being enemies of the empire." There was a long awkward silence. “All right, Eltsac, don’t do it again without proper authorization. I shall leave you in the tender care of the Shrub Knights’ finest healing artisans.”

“Which way is the elbow supposed to bend?” the Shrub medic rustled in confusion. "Which fertilizer is best to use on fox? When is the best time to prune?"

“Let us all take our leave," I announced with regal finality. "There is much we must attend to.” I turned to go and everyone followed me, except for the medic's assistant, who came rustling in with some anatomical charts and a watering can clutched in its branches.

A few minutes later, we were all gathered around the Folly Gang’s Conundrum Contraption.

“That sure was a great Conundrum you helped us solve, Mr. Randall,” Ralph declared jovially.

“I’m sure you would think so,” I grumbled.

“The levels of technology you elves have boggles the mind," Maeve gushed. "I wish I had more time to study it.”

“It’s not technology," I reiterated for the umpteenth time. "Magick is real.”

"Man," Slovenly exclaimed, rubbing his belly. “All that canned elf food Folly and me ate sure was, like, delicious, but it’s like, nothing compared to my famous Mile High Everything In The Pantry Sandwich, man.”

“Merthy thaketh, Thlovenly!” Folly barked in agreement. All the lowfolk laughed.

“How are you so thin?” I wondered aloud. Slovenly was too busy guffawing to answer.

“I had a lot of fun,” Phoebe chirped vapidly.

“I had a lot of fun too," Rebecca grinned. "I’m so glad I met you all. Right, my lord?”

“It was an… Experience,” I admitted, keeping my expression blank.

“I’m plumb disappointed nobody died," Burnside shrugged. "But at least I got to hurt somebody!”

“I wish nothing but suffering on the tod that destroyed my mind,” Thomson muttered darkly while rubbing the dome of Mr. Caleveras’s skull.

“I still have no idea what’s going on," Meadow shrugged, "but at least it seems to be resolved.”

“Yes!” I exclaimed a little too loudly while clapping my hands together. “And now it’s time for all of you lowfolk youths and your talking ant to go home. Outside of Faerie. Very, very far away from me.”

I tapped my foot impatiently as the lowfolk piled into their eyesore of a carriage. The engine started with a bang and a belch of smoke, and Ralph steered the rattling machine out of the alleyway. I was prepared to guide them towards the city entrance and then to the scry tower, but Ralph immediately drove the machine into another alley directly across from the one they were parked in.

“That’s a dead end!” I shouted angrily. Hearing no response, I stomped into the alley to harangue the youths at closer range, only to see that they had vanished. The alley was empty, without a single trace that they had ever been there.

“My lord," Rebecca whispered behind me, "should we look for them?”

“No! No," I replied, shaking my head. "They're gone. That's good enough. I don’t want to know where they went, or how. Let’s just get out of here.”

[adleryoung]

Apologies for the delay. Imagine, me having to apologize to a bunch of lowfolk, but there we are. My official chronicler didn't show up yesterday. He says he got busy working on something called "effin' eye yay" which must be some dumb lowfolk sport, and forgot it was Monday. Claims the "time change" threw him off. This sounded like utter balderdash until I looked it up. Apparently this civilization (and I'm being very generous calling it that) sets their clocks ahead an hour in the spring, and then back again in the fall. These lowfolk are insane! If all of them do this, then it's entirely possible that this buffoon really did forget what day it was. He said he "drew a doodle" yesterday as if that was something I should congratulate him for, despite Monday being the day to continue my Ballad! Lana Lynne was supposed to organize and streamline his business, but clearly this is beyond even her abilities. (Somebody remind me, I need to talk to her.) It pains me that my daughter still considers this clown to be worthy of her affection. At least I can take solace in knowing that she will outlive him. When the time com - oh, he's here. FINALLY! Let's continue the story! Everyone's waiting for the idiotic conclusion to the Dullahan Incident. They want to know whether I survived or not!

…

I closed my eyes and waited for oblivion. The dullahan would probably put my body on display and use my ghost as a horror attraction. This wasn’t the way I wanted to go, but somehow it wasn't a surprise.

The dullahan's shriek of triumph turned into a yelp of surprise when, with a loud scraping of stone on stone, the floor beneath it began shifting. With a mighty heave from below, the flagstone directly beneath the creature tilted upward, throwing the monster off balance. It stumbled backward and stepped on one of the small round stones that were scattered everywhere by Slovenly and Folly's high-speed entrance. The mace and severed head clattered across the floor as the dullahan's feet slipped out from under it. There was a strange bird-like sound as the dullahan stumbled backward and flipped over to land neck-stump first inside a rain barrel that was inexplicably behind it.

“Is somebody touchin ma rain barrel??" Burnside bellowed from the other room. "I need that for later!”

I blinked in surprise. So then, it looked like the dullahan was affected by the meddling youths’ idiocy after all!

“Oh, there you are," Meadow said as she poked her head out of the newly revealed secret entrance in the floor. "We’ve been looking for you for hours. Can you play that song again? Also, why are you tied up?”

Thomson clambered out of the floor entrance and rushed to my side. “My rescuing light of royalty!" she exclaimed while clutching me a bit harder than the situation called for. "Mr. Calaveras told me you were in great danger! I’ve come to rescue you and face my fears! I failed to save you last time, but I will rewrite the present’s history and save you in the past’s now! This vile necropolis holds no terror for me henceforth!”

“I gave her a pep-talk,” Meadow explained as she picked at the ropes entangling me. “What happened here?”

“Everything we’ve just endured is too stupid and annoying for me to explain," I sighed. "Stick around for the ‘unmasking’ and you’ll find out.” I turned and shouted to the room in general, “Is everyone still alive?”

“Like, I’m hungry, man,” Slovenly moaned from somewhere across the room.

“Merthy thaketh, Thlovenly,” Folly added, and all the youths laughed.

“I’m fine," Rebecca called, "but your statue is broken.”

“Can I keep its head and pelvis?” Burnside asked hopefully.

“No!!” I exclaimed, wriggling free of the last of my ropes. With Meadow's help I pulled Phoebe, Ralph, and Maeve out of the tangled rubber sheet, and in a matter of seconds everyone was gathered around the dullahan, watching as he helplessly kicked his feet in the air. We grabbed the dullahan’s ankles and flipped him over into an awkward sitting position with the barrel firmly lodged around his torso and shoulders, keeping his arms pinned to his sides.

“Our trap was a flawless success!” Ralph proclaimed triumphantly.

“No it wasn’t,” I countered.

“And now it’s time to see who this headless specter really is!” Ralph grabbed the tip of the dullahan’s billowing neck-flame and the illusion shimmered under his hand. He pulled, and a cloth mask enchanted with a glamer came away to reveal an elderly fox.

“Of course!" Maeve exclaimed. "It was- Who is this?”

“I am the semi-known and semi-renowned genius of horror, Eltsac Mailliw!" the fox declared, in a smooth Upper Vulpitanian accent. "And I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling-”

“Hold on, hold on!” I interrupted. “What was your endgame here?? Why did you try to tarnish my image and portray me as a despot if you were trying to keep people out of the city?? Propaganda is pointless if nobody sees it.”

“What?" Eltsac blurted in an offended tone. "Propaganda?? You mean my statue? No, that’s nothing so base as propaganda! I was simply honoring the founder of this feast of horror I’ve concocted. His actions are what inspired me, and he created this wondrous space for me to shape and mold with my grim artistry!”

“Feast of horror?" I repeated, confused. "Grim artistry? What are you talking about?? Why would you be making art if you’re trying to keep people out??”

“Keep people out?" Eltsac barked. "No-no! I want people to come here! I made this entire spectacle for people to see, to be awed by, and to soil their pantaloons in pure terror! I’ve spent years setting up every street and every block of this dead city to be the perfect atmospheric painting of dread and fear!”

“What in Fuma’s name are you blathering on about??" I snarled. "Are you a Vulpitanian agent or not?”

“Certainly not!" Eltsac sniffed with an air of wounded pride. "The Republic’s government could never hope to afford my services. Also, they never answered any of my grant requests. I am a free agent, a visionary, a genius unappreciated by my fellow countrytods. While they all waste their time playing juvenile pranks on each other, I answered a higher calling. Surely you've heard of my legendary drama 'The Horripilator' presented in patented Scare-O-Rama, which played to much acclaim for three whole days on the Boulevard in Persoc Tor! Instead of infantile squeals of of giddy, childish laughter I brought the world screams of terror! I have made many attractions in my day, and this city is my magnum opus! I spent more than a century secretly crafting this masterwork you see around you! No one knew what I was doing, nor were I was. This plan was too monumental, too vast in scope for uncultured minds to comprehend. Only a true connoisseur of horror could appreciate the breadth of my vision! Have you ever seen a haunted house attraction? Well, this haunted CITY puts them all to shame! You’ve seen what I have built; you've scurried in abject fear through these streets, so you can attest to my brilliance. My cursed city attraction will bring thousands- no, MILLIONS of elves from all around Faerie to experience this masterpiece of free-range horror! Think of it! An entire haunted city to explore! Every street a new shuddersome thrill! Every alley a new ghoulish sight to see and be chilled by! Ever since I found a back-way into this city while I was scouting for inspiration, I knew this was my next calling, my life’s work!”

“It was a brilliant plan," Ralph smirked, "but you didn’t count on us-”

“No it wasn’t a brilliant plan!!” I yelled. “Who’s going to visit your haunted city attraction?? You didn’t tell anyone about it!! Did you think people would just show up with no advertising?? Have you been wandering this empty city for over a century, just expecting tourists to drop in??”

“Word of mouth is the best advertising there is," Eltsac declared knowingly. "Once a few people show up, they’ll spread the word. It’s flawless advertising that costs nothing. You, for example. You’re here, and now you can tell all your friends what a delightfully terrifying time you had here.”

“Albric Tor is isolated!" I screeched, starting to hyperventilate. "It's inaccessible! Sealed off by the Queen's geas, and until recently, covered by a blanket of deadly fog! We’re the first people to visit in HUNDREDS of years! It’s amazing that you even managed to get here! Come to think of it, how DID you get in here?? Also, You don’t have any banners up! Anyone that does show up will think the city is genuinely haunted and run away! Ghosts are REAL in Faerie! You should know that! You live here! And, and .. if you thought we were customers, why did you chase us around with a mace??”

“You snuck in without paying,” Eltsac stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And regarding the back way I found- er, uh .. actually, it’s been so long that I forgot. But this place is the capitol of the empire! People are sure to show up once the empire reforms. I’ll be swimming in visitors then! My dullahan dolls and ghost pens will be flying off the shelves in the gift shop! You’ll see!”

“HOW IS THE EMPIRE GOING TO REFORM IF THE CAPITOL CITY IS A HORROR ATTRACTION??” I roared furiously.

“Oh,” Eltsac muttered as a glimmer of realization began to dawn on him.

“Oh? OH??" I mocked. "Is that all you can say? After all the time and resources you’ve thrown into it and all the trouble you caused us, that's it??”

“I’ll need to reassess my strategy," Eltsac stated with a resolute nod. "I’ll put it in my logbook, which contains every step of my master plan and strategy.”

"He's telling the truth," Thomson interjected. "And not just because he's an elf."

I looked over to see Thomson thumbing through a book with a prominent title clearly visible: My Master Plan by The Dullahan a.k.a. Eltsac Mailliw.

"Where did you get that," I asked quietly, my eye beginning to twitch.

"I spotted it underneath a pallet over there," Thomson gestured vaguely. "When you've been alone as long as I have, new reading material is more precious than gold - so I fished it out. The plot isn't very compelling but the worldbuilding is thorough, and it checks out with everything Mr. Mailliw said."

I remembered having said sometime earlier that I might have to punch someone. I turned to Eltsac and looked him right in the eye. “I’m going to punch you,” I informed him calmly.

“Wha-” Eltsac asked before I socked him in the eye, sending him backwards.

Thomson dropped the book, her hands shaking as she pointed at the Vulpitanian horror empresario on the floor. “Do you mean to tell me that all this time, all the horrors I’ve seen, all the screaming I’ve heard, all the times I’ve been stalked and chased in the dark, THAT WAS YOU?? I lost my mind over a THEME PARK??” She dove to the ground and began pummeling the fox.

“You drove Miss Thomson crazy and made her live in a hole for centuries!" Rebecca scolded. "You’re a bad tod!!” She delivered a righteous kick to Eltsac's ribs, breaking the rain barrel into splinters.

Burnside cackled joyously as she smashed a broken piece of wood from the trap over the fox’s head.

The Folly-La Gang began singing their theme song as they piled on, beating Eltsac Mailliw senseless.

[adleryoung]

My mind raced. With Slovenly and Folly's enhanced speed I had no hope of intercepting them, and I didn’t have the time to weave a gramarye to give myself super speed as well. Time slowed down as the hapless pair approached the palace entrance. Everything seemed to move at a crawl, except for Slovenly and Folly, who were moving at normal speed. I feebly lunged forward, my limbs flailing as if I was wading through molasses while I called out in impotent panic, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

In their panicked state the two idiots dashed into the entrance without a thought, seemingly forgetting the trap they themselves had helped to make. Predictably, they began slipping and stumbling on the round stones covering the floor. “WOOOOAAAAAH!!” Slovenly yelled.

“OH NO!" Ralph exclaimed in completely sincere shock. "Who could have predicted this??”

It all happened in the blink of an eye, but it seemed to go on forever. Slovenly and Folly stumbled forward right into the trip wire. Somehow Folly somersaulted up into the air and landed on Slovenly’s shoulders as he crashed face-first onto the serving cart. Their momentum immediately transferred to the cart and it leaped forward, its speed multiplied by the gramarye Rebecca and I had put on it. As the cart shot forward like a cannonball, it struck a crack in the floor and one of its wheels came flying off. Despite the magick trying to force the cart to move in a straight line, the laws of physics ultimately prevailed. With a wild trail of sparks flying up from metal dragging against stone, the cart began to deviate to the right.

Burnside clapped her hands and laughed uproariously.

The dullahan stood in the palace entrance and observed the spectacle within, scratching its billowing neck flame with its severed head in apparent confusion.

Because the cart had veered too much to the side, it crashed into the wooden frame instead of passing under the hooks hanging in the center. The flimsy, ancient wood splintered like toothpicks, and a mass of ropes with hooks dangling from the ends wrapped around Folly, Slovenly, and the cart. This should have stopped the cart's progress, but because of the magicks we had applied to counter that expected effect, it actually picked up speed.

“All of our careful planning, laid to ruin!" Maeve wailed. "I can’t believe this happened!”

The dullahan carefully tiptoed around the stones covering the floor, and casually stepped over the tripwire.

Somehow the hooks and ropes dragging behind the cart caused it to correct its course as it approached the pressure plate. However the cart’s excessive speed caused it to roll over the plate and fly past before the sheet of rubber could land on it and its riders. This was supposed to be the end of the whole ridiculous process, at which point the cart would stop. Instead the rubber landed on the hooks dragging behind the cart.

"My lord!" Rebecca shouted. "We have to do something!"

I realized that I didn’t have to move in slow motion any more, and broke into a sprint.

The dullahan stepped into an alcove to watch the chaos from a safe distance.

Burnside, realizing that the dullahan was standing next to her, jumped away instinctively. As she leaped into the passageway, a stray rope wrapped around her ankle, yanking her off her feet and towing her behind the runaway cart. “Aw, come on!” she whined.

As the cart continued to build up speed, the rubber sheet being dragged by the hooks began to catch air and billow up like a sail. For a second I hoped this would slow the contraption down, but instead it lifted the cart into the air, while somehow still maintaining its speed and trajectory.

“That’s not how flight works!!!" I protested indignantly. "We didn’t magick it to do that!!”

The cart flew around the room, knocking everything over and completely trashing the place. Burnside and Slovenly screamed helplessly as they spun around in the air. The ant squawked “MERTHY THAKETH, THLOVENLY!!!” and for once, nobody laughed.

“Hold on!" Phoebe declared. "I’ll fly up and undo the hooks!”

“Stop!" I warned. "That’s an idiotic idea-” Before I could finish, Phoebe flapped her wings and went airborne. She completely missed the ropes, and was immediately enveloped in the billowing rubber sheet which wrapped around her like a net.

So, I thought, that part of the plan would have actually worked.

“AHHHH!" Phoebe screeched, muffled by the entangling rubber. "Who could have foreseen this??”

The sudden weight in the makeshift rubber parasail disrupted the cart’s inexplicable aerodynamics, and it went careening into the ground. The three remaining wheels broke off, and a shower of sparks sprayed in the cart's wake as it scraped and swerved wildly across the stone floor. The sparks ignited some of the ropes, and the rubber sheet - with Phoebe still trapped inside - went tumbling away. Ralph and Maeve picked this moment to grab at the cart in an attempt to slow it down, but the sheet containing Phoebe crashed right into them, trapping all three in the clinging rubber. Rebecca managed to successfully grab the cart as it skidded past, but instead of slowing it down, she was yanked off her feet and taken along for the ride.

The cart careened into the next room which contained the talking statue. There was a resounding crash, followed by the mechanical voice announcing “I like my femmes the way I like my bones. DEAD AND CRUNCHY!”

I rushed forward to untangle the lowfolk from the rubber sheet, but suddenly a massive wad of ropes and hooks slammed into me from above. They must have come loose and fallen more slowly than the rubber sheet with Phoebe inside it. WHICH MADE NO SENSE!!!

I struggled to get out of my bonds, but somehow the ropes and hooks had landed in such a way that they completely tied me up with seemingly unbreakable knots. BLAST THOSE MEDDLING KIDS AND THEIR IDIOTIC AURA OF IDIOCY!

Then I noticed the dullahan looming over me, gloating as it raised its mace. How come the Folly Gang's stupidity didn't affect it? There was no point speculating now. My end was near. The worst part of it was that my death would be recorded in the Hall of Ancestors as the dumbest way anyone had ever died in Faerie’s history! Future generations (assuming there were any) would point at my monument and laugh!

… Mercy Sakes, Slovenly! How will Adler get out of this one? Tune in next week for the final episode of this thrilling caper! And now for a word from our sponsors…

[adleryoung]

I wanted this whole fiasco over with as soon as possible. I decided to go along with the youths’ foolish plan because, beyond all reason, Rebecca and Burnside were supporting it. The path of least resistance would be the quickest and easiest one. Maybe, when everything inevitably went wrong, the dullahan would be distracted long enough for me to do something clever. Maybe…

I was familiar enough with the contagious idiocy surrounding the Folly Gang to guard my mind from it. However, quite distressingly, I was constantly assaulted by invasive ideas; ridiculous, foolish ideas that never in my life would I have considered before. Even at my lowest, most inept point, I would have scorned the stupidity of these ideas. They really were that bad.

For example: I contemplated starting a band, wearing garish costumes, and traveling the world going on musical adventures. I shook my head and dismissed that idea, but immediately I began to think the way to live up to my magickal heritage was to paint myself green, wear a silly helmet, and a find a surly fat lowfolk man to haunt and grant wishes in order to teach him moral lessons. NO! PREPOSTEROUS! What an insult to elfhood! Perhaps I should stick with solving Mysteries. I could get hold of one of those newfangled antless carriages and magick it so it could talk and make hilarious facial expressions. This mechanical abomination could be my sidekick while I traveled the world and solved every mystery I came across! I could name it Haste Coupe! No, no, NO!! That was just stupid. It would be better to stay true to my roots, living in the woods and stealing picnic baskets from the royal forester. Perhaps I could team up with a shark who was versed in the comedic stylings of old Persoc Tor performers of bygone days. We could do hilarious routines to throw off our pursuers while we sang songs and solved mysteries, and if I really got into a pinch, I could clobber my foes over the head with an oversized lute…

I realized with a sudden start that the whole time I was battling these intrusive thoughts, I had been working to help build the Folly Gang’s trap, almost as if I was in a hypnotic trance .. or under a spell. An ice-cold feeling of dread began creeping down my spine. Was this how it worked? Was this how the Folly Gang ensnared unsuspecting people into their moronic shenanigans? Were they doing it on purpose? Doubtful; they didn't seem clever enough, and probably weren’t even aware of the effect. Did this mean some larger player was operating here? Who could it be? This was both hammy and barbaric, and beyond even the darkest villainy of the Unseelie! How long did the effect last? Were its victims permanently reduced to idiocy? By Fuma, I hoped not! I silently prayed that it would stop when the “Conundrum” was resolved. Stop… STOP?? My creeping feeling of dread turned to full-blown horror as I realized that the entire time I had been internally mulling this over, I never once considered stopping for even a moment!

“Okay!" Ralph declared at last. "The trap is finished!”

Everyone in the Folly Gang cheered with unrestrained, almost manic glee.

“Oh, thank Fuma!!” I sighed with relief. The strange feeling evaporated from my body in an instant. I guessed it was probably nothing after all. “Wait. How long have we been at this? It can’t be finished already. What about magicking the cart and all the other things that won’t work?”

“We already did that," Rebecca cheerfully informed me. "You helped me with fine-tuning my gramarye. It was very instructive.” She beamed happily and waved her notebook.

“I did?” I asked, confused. "I don’t remember any of it." I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts, trying to resist the insidious spell, that I must have succumbed without realizing. The whole day (and it must have taken all day) was a blur. Ah well. I shrugged. This just meant it would all be over soon.

“I cain’t wait to see the carnage when this whole thang comes crashin' down," Burnside chuckled. "Who do you thank'll get creamed first? The goat? The bear? Ma money’s on the ant!”

I gave an exasperated sigh at Burnside’s shameless display of sadism. As satisfying as it would be to let the Gang’s plan fail so I could give them a well earned “I told you so,” I could not in good conscience let them get themselves killed. At least not in my presence… “Slovenly, Folly, come over here," I ordered. "I’m going to give you a temporary magickal boost of speed so you don’t get mashed into paste.”

“Like, groovy, man," Slovenly said as he slouched toward me. "Thanks a million.”

“Merthy thaketh, Thlovenly!” Folly concurred.

“I’m going to assume that means thank you," I retorted as I applied the necessary gramarye. "All right you two, stay sharp. Don’t do anything stupid. That’s asking a lot, I know, but at least try. And please, please, for the love of Fuma, bring him in the first time so we can finish this and I can send you all home and pretend this never happened.”

Slovenly and Folly nervously left the palace and inched their way across the plaza. From the palace entryway we watched them timidly creep around the corner of the next street.

Less than a second later, we heard a pair of terrified shrieks and the two came sprinting back with magickally improved speed.

“Already??” I exclaimed. Folly and Slovenly were approaching much faster than I had anticipated. Were they both professional marathon runners? It was well within the realm of probability that the ant could be fast, but that lanky, lazy goat did not have the physique of a trained athlete. In their panicked state they were both sprinting at supersonic speed directly toward the palace entrance. I realized with rapidly growing certainty that the catastrophe I had predicted earlier was about to happen. “Oh no.”

[adleryoung]

"Please enlighten us," I said, once everyone was back in the entry hall, "on this brilliant plan of yours.”

“Well, Mister Lord Randall Sir," Ralph explained giddily. "It’s a genius strategy of utilizing our surroundings and what he have available to us. We all pitched in on this and we’re really proud of it. First, we scatter a bunch of rounded pebbles at the entrance of the palace, which will cause the dullahan to slip and stumble. A few feet past the pebbles we’ll set up a trip wire that will - and this is the clever part - cause the dullahan to trip.”

“Tell him about the serving cart, Ralph," Phoebe squawked while her whole body vibrated with excitement.

“Right!” Ralph nodded. “The dullahan will land on a serving cart we’ll get from the palace kitchen, and that will carry him forward. As the dullahan is traveling forward at high speed he will move through a framework of ropes and hooks that will dis-armor him. After he is stripped of his gear, the cart will ram into a road block-”

“Technically a hall block,” Maeve interjected knowledgeably.

“The cart will ram into a hall block," Ralph continued with an affirming nod. "His momentum will send the dullahan flying across the room. He’ll land on a pressure plate that will trigger a mechanism to drop an entire sheet of that inflatable rubber stuff on top of him, thus completely trapping him and solving this mystery once and for all. And we’ll lure him into this trap by sending Slovenly and Folly out as bait. He will chase them, and they will lead him into the jaws of our iron-clad, fool-proof trap. It can't fail!”

All of the lowfolk youths began clapping after Ralph’s stalwart presentation.

“And then, like, we eat, man!” Slovenly cheered.

“Merthy thaketh, Thlovenly!” Folly-la chattered while excitedly dancing around. All of the youths laughed uproariously.

I stared in sheer disbelief at the torrential river of idiotic drivel that had just washed over me. I tried to compose myself to speak, but my mind was struggling to even put into words how stupid all of that was. “What- You- That- This- WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?? None of that made any sense whatsoever! How could you even begin to think any of that would work? First of all, sending Slovenly and Folly out alone is a terrible idea! We just got finished being chased around town by the dullahan. HE HAS A WEAPON! He can just use his mace to cave Slovenly’s head in! Secondly, scattering round stones right at the entrance of the palace, an entrance that has steps that put the floor at eye-level as you approach, would be completely noticeable and only an idiot would fall for it! And even if the dullahan was fooled and stumbled around, what makes you think he would move in the direction of your tripwire? He could fall to the side! Or more likely, just regain his footing and step around the stones! Even if he did hit the tripwire, he would have to be moving at a monumental speed for the cart to roll forward more than a foot or two! Plus those carts have casters! They won't roll in a straight line without someone deliberately steering them. If, even though he won’t, but IF he did go careening down the hall, the framework of ropes and hooks tugging at his armor would just stop his inertia! He’d come to a full stop at the first hook! If the laws of nature suddenly stopped working and he somehow DID get all his armor stripped off AND continued moving at a breakneck speed, when the cart hits the road block-"

“Hall block,” Maeve reminded me.

"Hall block, WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL IT, he will not be launched in the air and go flying across the room! He’ll slide off the cart and go skidding across the floor! The odds are astronomically against him landing in the precise spot to trigger this pressure plate … and you also want to make a complex mechanism in the ceiling?? You're going to hoist a huge load of rubber up there so it will drop on the dullahan? Do you know how much that stuff weighs? How much time are you planning on spending making this thing? Where are the materials coming from? This whole set up will take AGES! We’ll waste hours of our lives making a trap that won’t even work! AND FINALLY! Since you want to send Slovenly and Folly into the ant-lion’s den to lure the dullahan to this trap, what makes you think they won’t just fall victim to this trap themselves? Will they stop or dodge in time while running? If the dullahan sees them jump to the side, he’ll either follow them, thereby ALSO evading the trap - or else he'll realize something is amiss and break off the chase! This whole thing is needlessly complicated and has too many steps that are too likely to fail! The more steps a plan has, the more room it has to go wrong! Here’s a better idea: Counting your ant there are a total of eight of us. We can easily overpower the dullahan if we coordinate our efforts. He’s armed, but so is Burnside. She and I are trained fighters that have seen combat before. We go out and find the dullahan, and since we are absolutely sure he is fake, we can stand and face him like any normal adversary. When we find him, Burnside and I will distract him. While he is dealing with us, everyone else can jump him all at once and overpower him. When he is pinned on the ground, we can disarm him and start pulling his costume off. This plan is simpler, smarter, and unlike yours, has a chance of actually working.”

The Folly-La Gang all stared at me with wide eyes. I could see a glimmer of understanding sparking within them. They were about to have an epiphany! Suddenly their eyes glazed over in unison, and their mouths opened and closed like landed fish. I permitted myself a tiny triumphant smirk as I waited for one of them to admit, "Golly, Mister Randall, you're right."

“Okay, so we should start construction immediately," Ralph declared instead, as if I hadn't said anything at all. "I’ll go gather the round stones.”

“I’ll start building the pressure plate,” Maeve announced.

“I’ll get the ropes and hooks,” Phoebe twittered excitedly.

“Like, Folly and me will go to the kitchen and get the cart, man,” Slovenly proposed, licking his lips.

“Merthy thaketh, Thlovenly,” Folly-la concurred, as he skittered around underfoot.

“Oh boy, oh boy!” Burnside cackled maliciously, rubbing her hands together. “This here is just TOO good. I can't wait to see how it all goes wrong. Lemme go cut up some sheets o’ that inflatable rubber fer yall!” She whipped out a knife and scampered off to help.

“It may not be the best plan, my lord," Rebecca said, soothingly. "But maybe we can help make it work with some elfly magick? It would be good practice for me. Plus, if it does work, the spectacle would be really fun to see.”

I looked at Rebecca with slowly dawning horror. The Folly Gang’s buffoonery was spreading! This was exactly how it happened last time! Full-grown adults who should have known better got swept up in the madness and wound up playing along with the most preposterous idiocy! Was there some kind of aura around these lowfolk that made people abandon all sense??

“Fine!” I barked, throwing up my hands in surrender. “Let’s do it! I’ll even help! Why not? Who cares if there are other, faster, safer ways to do this!? Would you like me to sing a song while we work??”

“There’s no need,” Ralph explained pleasantly. “We’ve got you covered.”

The lowfolk youths began singing their trademark song while they set to work on their moronic trap: “Fa-la-la-la-la, Where art thou?”

I covered my ears and groaned helplessly.

[adleryoung]

Unable to resist my curiosity, I pushed the button.

The imposing statue began to move around in a stiff, jerky manner. The arm holding Estmere’s fake head slowly bobbed up and down in a lazy attempt at showing off a war trophy. The arm holding the Plague vial started to move, but the elbow didn't bend, making it look like a crude schoolyard mockery of avians flapping their wings. The head (of me,not of Estmere) began slowly turning left and right as the mouth opened and closed. As I watched, I realized that no, the mouth was NOT moving. The lips and jaw remained stationary, while the teeth clacked open and closed in a very weird-looking gnashing motion. Was this supposed to be scary? I began to feel insulted, not so much by the statue itself as by how cheap and fake it looked compared to the very realistic dullahan that had been chasing us.

Suddenly a voice emanated hollowly from somewhere within the statue. It spoke in a thick Vulpitanian accent: “I hate happinetz und protzperity! Mass death is all zat can slake mine NEFFERENDINK BLOOTLUST! BLARGHeRAWR!!!”

“That sounds nothing like me!” I protested. Despite the flattering portrayal of my strapping elfly physique, this thing was clearly intended as an insult. Whoever built this entire weird setup had devoted a lot of time and resources to turn the city into a giant maze of horrors, but then had gone as cheap as possible for the construction of my statue, which should have been the centerpiece of the whole show. Someone would pay for this outrage! “Those foxes are definitely behind this," I declared. "It reeks of their blatant Unseelie propaganda! But why? Why set this up here if they’re trying to keep people out? This doesn’t make any sense! Now I understand why the Folly-La youths were drawn here. Senseless idiocy wrapped in pointless mystery is like a siren’s call to them.”

”Death to all who oppose me!" the statue proclaimed. "FEMMES UND KINDER FIRST!!”

“I know a little about these Vulpitanians from what Burnside told me," Rebecca muttered, shaking her head at the statue's outburst. "But the, ah, ‘colorful’ language she used made me doubt her objectivity. I understand they are long-time enemies of the Empire. Does this seem like something they would do?”

”I luff der smell of plague in der mornink!" the statue announced. "Smells like PLAGUE!!”

“Well, yes and no," I explained. "It's typical for their schemes to be needlessly complicated and overly elaborate, but they are not known for grotesque horror nightmare-type stuff. They usually prefer juvenile pranks, and a type of cheesy espionage involving cloak-and-dagger tactics that seem to be done as much for the fun of doing them as for concealing or obtaining any actual information. Once, I very easily uncovered a plot of theirs that involved a ghost and later a zombie that was meant to cover up the assassination of one of their own agents .. at least I think that's what it was about. It's hard to understand the point of a Vulpitanian spy operation even when it's fresh in your mind, and this happened a long time ago. I never knew for sure why they did it the way they did, and honestly I don’t think they knew either.”

”I drink blood und eat zufferink!" the statue gloated. "I also burp DESPAIR!!”

“A ghost and a zombie?" Rebecca exclaimed. "Wouldn’t that just draw even more attention to the agent's death?”

”I vill use der marrow of all good volk as der tile grout for mine floors of SLAUGHTER in mine palace of MURDER!!” the statue boasted.

“That’s why the plot was so easy to uncover,” I explained. “The more I think about it, the more I am astounded they were such a thorn in the Empire’s side for so long. Did you know that their national game is something called Frontgammon? The board is sealed inside a briefcase so none of the players can see it. There may not be an elf alive today who actually knows what a Frontgammon board looks like. You roll dice and move according to rules you make up as you go, but you have to keep track of everything mentally. A game can go on for hours until one player can declare victory, or - as happens more often - a player earns defeat by forgetting some detail of the game and making an illegal move (meaning a move you cannot justify by any ruse or crafty argument) according to the current state of play. I actually got pretty good at it, and was able to force one of their best players to a draw.”

”Let der people come to me zo I can KILL ZEM," the statue cackled mechanically, "und LAUGH at zeir veepink KINDER! Zen I’ll KICK zem mit mine FEETS OF EVIL!!”

“Well, hopefully that means they won’t be difficult for your new Empire to deal with,” Rebecca said, suitably impressed by my tale of Frontgammon prowess.

”If - und zis is ein BIG if," the statue babbled. "If I ever did bathe, I vould bathe in TORMENT und ZUFFERINK! Und I vould use zoap made of ANGVISH!!”

“Never underestimate a Vulpitanian," I cautioned. "At least a quarter of the time their idiocy is a ruse to put you off guard.”

”Commemoratif shirts und mugs are available in der gift shop," the statue announced. "Der gift shop of SLAUGHTER!!”

“Burnside, will you stop that!” I snapped, finally noticing that she was standing there and pressing the button repeatedly.

“But he says the purdiest thangs,” she giggled girlishly. “I like this version o' you. You oughtta keep it for press conferences an diplomatic summits.”

“Of course you would think so,” I grumbled. Burnside tried to push the button again, but I lunged forward and yanked it out of the stand.

“Aw… You broke him,” she whined petulantly. "He was handsome, an a sweet talker! Still handsome, I reckon…"

Before I could scold her further, I heard the Folly Gang call out from the doorway.

“Mister Lord Randall!" Ralph declared. "We’ve got a brilliant plan on how to catch this Dreadful Dullahan!”

"Like, who's the statue of, man?" Slovenly asked. "Like some ancient elvish war hero?"

"He cuts quite the imposing figure, whoever he is," Maeve observed.

“You have a plan, do you?” I prompted, steering them back out into the entry hall and away from discussing the monument. “Well, let’s not keep the Conundrum Experts waiting."