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]

“Thomson is right!" Rebecca declared. "If you hobble your security, something horrible is bound to happen! What if there is a, whaddaya call it, Vulpian Hit Squad?"

"Vulpitanian," Thomson corrected.

"A Vulpitanian Hit Squad," Rebecca continued, "disguised as disaffected students could be plotting a lethal trap for you this very instant! What if- what if they build an ingenious box trap baited with something you simply cannot resist? And if you try to neutralize the trap with a stick, it will trigger an even bigger box! And then a trap door! You’re completely undefended! The entire world could be plotting your downfall!”

I stared at Rebecca and wondered if there had been something in the soap she used. She was being far more irrational than usual. Before I could chide her for her hysterics, Thomson interjected.

“All of those things are very unlikely to happen," she explained, while stroking Mr. Calaveras' cranium. "I was merely wondering, what is the point of keeping her on as a bodyguard if you are going to prevent her from fulfilling her purpose. If one of your employees is acting out more than you can bear, you should just fire her. Perhaps up until now you had no one comparably lethal to do the job, but now that I am here there is no need to resort to Burnside if she annoys you.”

I switched my quizzical stare to Thomson. She was being completely lucid and sensible all of a sudden. Surely there was some mind-bending ingredient in all of those fruity soaps in the bathroom. Thank Fuma I had the foresight to use my own secret stash from my Elfintory! (Skunk fur requires special care that most soaps simply can’t provide.) I glanced at Burnside to make sure she was out of earshot, and observed her with a pot on her head, trying to have a conversation with a gloomy-looking student who clearly wished to be elsewhere.

“First of all," I said, shaking my head, "I have spent much of my life without a bodyguard and I am still alive. I mainly offered Burnside that position to distract her from trying to maul me to death with her confused ideas of love .. which she very nearly did anyway. Secondly, Burnside is a walking, talking, semi-intelligent weapon of mass destruction. Do you know how she survived the Plague of Battles? By being so bloodthirsty that the Plague had no effect on her beyond causing her to have what she called 'a real good time.' If I didn't retain her here in my service where I can keep an eye on her, where would she be? And what atrocities would she be committing? Thirdly, you two are not giving me nearly enough credit. You honestly think I'm dumb enough to handicap my personal bodyguard? I assure you, despite her current bumbling, my geas will not affect Burnside's ability to attack and defend. By way of demonstration: Thomson, try to punch me. Sock me in the jaw-”

Before the words were even out of my mouth, Thomson's fist was swinging towards my roguishly handsome face, almost as if she had been waiting all this time for a chance to suggilate someone.

Before Thomson's hoof could connect, she was suddenly tackled to the ground and there was a knife to her throat.

"Any last words, Floozy?" Burnside snarled.

"I do believe you've gotten better," Thomson murmured in frank admiration. "That was amazingly fast."

A group of students gathered around and began chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

“Okay, good job, Burnside!” I exclaimed quickly, before she decided to complete the kill. “Good demonstration, you’ve made my point. Go back to making friends.”

“Tee-hee! Acrobatics are fun,” Burnside giggled as she hopped off Thomson and tried to skip away, promptly tripping and falling into a box full of banana peels. The students dispersed, muttering in disappointment.

“You’re right, Mr. Calaveras," Thomson said as she got up and dusted herself off, "that was very enjoyable.”

"All right, I know Burnside’s an Unseelie, psychotic, deranged mass murderer," Rebecca admitted, "and saving the rest of the world from her is the reason I let her stay with me, too … but permanently robbing her of her autonomy seems mean. If you stick with this, won’t you be almost one-tenth as bad as she is?”

“This isn’t going to be permanent," I protested. "It probably won’t even last for the whole time we’re at the Hoardblemish Academy. This is a temporary disciplinary action, plain and simple. I’ll change her back to normal as soon as she learns her lesson. Every time Burnside acts out in spite of my warnings, I will punish her in a creative and entertaining way. Think of it like this: If my life were a fictional story, or for example a play being acted out for the amusement of the common rabble - which is absurd, I know, but bear with me for the sake of the analogy - if my life were a bit of lowbrow entertainment, then Burnside's punishments would be inane and ridiculous things the audience would yell out for the actors to do. Interactive theatre, I think they call it.”

“Interactive?" Rebecca repeated, cocking her head. "OH! Can I pick one? Burnside used to do so many things back at the coven that would really get me steamed. She would chew with her mouth open, belch without saying excuse me … and every time I found a nice mel she would lure him away and threaten to slit his throat so she could have venery with his leftovers. She might have actually done it a few times too; I'm not sure. Oh, and she would track mud in the cabin-”

“May I pick some punishments as well?" Thomson asked. "I’ve only known her briefly, both before and after my entombment, but this is something I definitely want to get in on. Plus, her accent is really annoying.”

“-She went through a phase that lasted for years," Rebecca continued, "where she would call me Hoppy-Hops, which is a SLUR among rabbits-”

“Uh-” I floundered, slightly stunned by how quickly Rebecca and Thomson changed their attitudes, but it was best not to question Fuma’s luck. “Sure, why not?”

“-And she does this horrible thing with her nails while everyone is trying to eat-” Rebecca continued.

I suddenly spun around and pointed dramatically at no one in particular. “Maybe I’ll even let YOU pick one of Burnside’s punishments! What do you say?”

“Uh- Punishment?" Headmaster Hoardblemish flustered as he stepped around the corner. "Detention is usually enough…”

“And she kept using my best witchy costumes as knife-cleaning rags, which is why I had to wear that stupid Robin Hood getup!” Rebecca continued, getting gradually louder.

[adleryoung]

"It feels wonderful," Thomson sighed loudly, "finally being clean after so long."

"You go ahead and use all of the shampoo," Rebecca called. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of your long-awaited opportunity. Besides, I think I might be able to make do with these extra suds…"

Later, as the femmes were toweling off and using cantrips to dry their fur, Burnside twisted her towel up and snapped Rebecca on the behind with it.

Rebecca yelped and responded in kind, resulting in a spirited, rambunctious towel fight, replete with giggling and squealing, running and leaping around the washroom like Wild Elves of the Long Ago.

"Cease this frivolity at once!" I demanded, as I emerged from my cubicle with a towel wrapped around myself. "Stop before it becomes Cavorting, or even (Fuma forefend!) Frolicking! Burnside, cut that out! Your antics are nowhere near as charming as you seem to think they are.”

"Heads up, yer highness," Burnside cackled as she whipped her towel toward me.

Adoyret Sam's training had not been for nothing! I grabbed the tip of the towel in midair before it could touch me. I glared at Burnside with the most withering glower I could muster.

"Quick reflexes," Burnside remarked, seemingly unfazed by my stern look. "Lookin mighty good in that there towel, Adler honey. How bout a little venery to blow off the last of our excess energy? A bathroom's the best place for venery - ya can git dirty an' clean at the same time!"

“Remember when I said if you brought up venery again," I reminded her, "I would put a geas on you that prevents you from feeling pleasure for the next fifty years? That wasn’t an idle threat. Elves do not lie.”

Burnside's mischievous demeanor evaporated and she looked genuinely terrified.

“Surely, my lord, that seems a bit harsh…” Rebecca stated, a bit uncertainly. "And elves do not lie. You DO look good in that towel. My lord."

“You’re right," I sighed. "And I suppose a curse of anhedonia would be cruel, bordering on Unseelie. Besides, I just thought of something much more interesting.” I cracked my knuckles as I loomed over the cowering raccoon.

A few minutes later, Thomson joined us in the corridor outside the washroom. "I feel like a new Floozy," she sighed contentedly. "And I've never seen Mr. Calaveras so gleamingly white before. What on earth is Burnside doing?"

As punishment for being an insufferable little pest, I had placed a geas on Burnside that forced her to act and speak like a refined, high class gentlefemme - but one utterly lacking physical coordination. As she tried to curtsy to a passing student, she tottered and bonked her head against the wall.

“My lord, I’m not sure this is more merciful,” Rebecca muttered.

“Nonsense," I sniffed. "Considering the sheer number and magnitude of her past crimes, not to mention her complete lack of contrition, any punishment that doesn’t involve a headsman’s axe is an act of mercy. Besides, this is quite amusing to watch."

"It makes her a lot less effective as a bodyguard," Thomson pointed out.

[adleryoung]

“But, my lord," Rebecca cajoled, "this is the famous summer vacation palace, is it not? We should indulge just a little. Imagine setting this place up like a Roman bath and relaxing like a real emperor with three willing Floozies.”

"If Guildmistress Lana was still alive," Thomson muttered darkly as she gathered all of the most expensive toiletry items into a pile, "she would not stand idly by while amateurs appropriated the title of Floozy without authorization."

"I'm sorry," Rebecca gulped. "I thought -"

"Adler honey," Burnside interrupted. “You could wear Thomson’s skull pet on yer head to make thangs interestin.”

“Mr. Calaveras is always up for trying new things,” Thomson declared breezily without turning from her pile of creams, jellies, oils, and salts.

"I'm as devout a Mephitist as the next elf," I insisted. "But this is an impracticable location. This is the shared professional bathroom of the staff at this SCHOOL. A school of which I am the secret co-founder and main benefactor. It's no longer a vacation palace of the Imperial court. Furthermore, it is overrun with lowfolk. It would not do to have the staff walk in on us and then spread rumors.”

“Don’t they teach body magick here though?” Burnside pointed out.

“I’ve read the brochure!" I replied. "Body magick is only available to adult students and is very strictly controlled. There's no possibility of claiming that was what we were doing if we get caught having a four-person Frolic in the faculty washroom! And don't forget we’re on a mission and can afford no distractions!”

“We may have to bathe together as a practical matter," Rebecca countered. "There’s a big tub in the center of the room, and these stalls might just be for clothing.”

“WELL THAT SETTLES IT!" Burnside crowed. "Group bathin it is! Do they have any blood based oils? I want this to feel special.”

“Will machine oil work?” Thomson asked, holding up a small metal can.

“You mean that steaming tub filled with dirty clothes that is quite clearly meant for laundry?" I demanded, pointing at the object in question. "The box next to it is quite clearly labeled 'SPHINX-O WONDER STAIN REMOVER?' Seriously, all of you get your heads on straight. This very same venery-addicted attitude made our society into a decadent mess that contributed greatly to its downfall. We have more important things to worry about. Fuma forbid that a group of adults should be able to go a few days without carnal pleasure.”

"It's been longer'n a few d-" Burnside began to protest.

"ENOUGH!" I barked. “I HAVE SPOKEN! One more word on this subject, and I will put a geas on you that prevents you from feeling pleasure for the next fifty years.”

That quieted them down in a hurry. We selected four shower stalls right next to each other as a compromise, and commenced to undress and bathe, chastely, each in our own designated cubicle.

“So, what is the plan, my lord?” Rebecca asked as her ears kept bumping against the shower head. “UGH! This is why I prefer showering in the rain. It’s much more witchy AND I don't have to contend with fixtures that are never designed with rabbits in mind.”

“There were shower caps in a basket by the door," I reminded her. "Anyway, I will have a meeting with Xavier about enrolling Kelly here and I will inquire about the ahem item Thomson mentioned.”

“Sounds naughty when you say it like that,” Burnside chuckled as she peeked under the wall of the stall.

“Burnside!" I bellowed. "If you peek under that wall one more time I WILL kick you!”

"Don't threaten me with a good time, m'lord," she giggled as she ducked back into her stall. “Ain't my fault these here walls are so high above the ground.”

“Anyway, while I am conferring with Headmaster Hoardblemish," I continued, "the three of you will mingle among the students and staff to gather intel on you-know-who to see if she’s mellowed out enough to be trusted with the safety of, uh, the-other-you-know-who.”

"GAH!" Burnside squawked as a wave of suds and bubbles erupted from Thomson's stall, pushed through Burnside's and began to encroach into mine. "Dagnabbit, now I'm a-gonna smell like a dadgum fruit wagon turned over on me."

“Thomson," I called, swatting at the suds with my scrub brush, "I don’t think the school will appreciate you using ALL of their most expensive soaps and oils in one sitting.”

“Mr. Calaveras wanted to try one of everything,” she explained dreamily.

“Will Thomson be able to mingle without making a scene?” Rebecca wondered.

I thought about that for a moment. “Judging by the eccentric characters we’ve already seen here, I’m sure she’ll fit right in.”

“You wanna talk about characters?" Burnside yelled as she turned the water up to wash away the billowing bubbles. "How bout that Xavier fella? He seemed WAY too interested in keepin us distracted an not answerin your questions. He might be plannin somethin. That’s why I, as your imperial bodyguard, should be present for the meetin, to guard-”

“The imperial body," I finished for her. "Are you trying to make that your new catchphrase?”

"Durn tootin."

"I doubt he is planning anything untoward. He struck me more like an excitable child showing off a new model he put together. I’d wager he takes everyone through that tour of his. Besides, You-know-who poses far more of a danger than Xavier. That is why you should be gathering intel on her.”

"Uh, which you-know-who are you talking about?" Rebecca asked.

“Zandar," I sighed in exasperation. "I want you to spy on Zandar Skönk. The body magick professor. I was trying to use code words because we are in a public place.”

“Public?" Burnside quipped. "We’re in a doggone bathroom.”

“A SHARED bathroom. It is semi-public. Please, we are supposed to be professionals.”

There was a long awkward pause, during which I assume everyone scrubbed.

“Burnside," Rebecca called suddenly, "I’m out of shampoo. The special kind for silky black hair. Can you roll yours over to me?”

"I ain't used that stuff!" Burnside replied. “Anyways, Thomson took all of it.”

"Why?" I asked, momentarily confused. "That skull has no hair.”

“Actually, that was for me," Thomson explained. "It’s been too long since my Floozy hair has been pampered.”

“All of it, though?” Rebecca protested.

“I’m catching up on 200 years of lost time.”

[adleryoung]

“I know I’m repeating myself," Hoardblemish reiterated, "but it is VERY good to see you again, Mr. Young. I hope you are pleased by what we have done with your generous donation.”

“I’m sure you have done me proud," I reassured, "but about the potential student-"

“Let me give you the GRAND TOUR!” Hoardblemish declared enthusiastically.

He then led us on a thrilling tour of the nearby study area! We saw students studiously reading! Taking notes! Young students were learning elementary Gramarye, from a .. bush wearing a scholar's mortarboard?? An advanced student was running away from an armchair he had animated!

"He hasn't gotten it quite right yet," Xavier explained with a shrug.

“I'm gonna hugya and squeezya and petya and petya and I will name you GEORGE!” the chair declared in a loud and disturbing voice as it clattered around after its hapless creator.

“I learned the hard way to never let objects speak,” Rebecca muttered. “Are my girls still enrolled here?”

“You have a very nice set up," I interrupted before we could get sidetracked any further than we already were. "But I have an urgent matter to discuss with you. I also wish to speak about the troubles in Euro-"

“Let’s continue!” Hoardblemish said excitedly as he scurried across the study chamber.

In a practice room (which I believe was once one of Sartoruis' Floozieball courts) we watched two groups of advanced students lobbing magic missiles at each other.

"Learnin how to fight with knives an pointy sticks'd be better trainin," Burnside remarked with a contemptuous snort.

Rebecca, on the other hand, was absolutely enthralled by the demonstration. “My Lord, will you teach me that next?” she beseeched.

“Destruction magick is a fickle and dangerous art," I informed her. "Let’s work gradually up to it. We’ll continue your training when we get some spare time; don't let me forget. And now, Headmaster Hoardblemish, I really must insist that we discuss-”

“If you’re impressed by our offense and counteroffense department, wait until you see what’s next!” Xavier gloated as he led us onward down a vaulted passageway. We emerged in what appeared to be a student commons.

A student who happened to be a rabbit spotted Rebecca looking soaked. He dashed up and used a quick Gramarye to dry her clothes, then politely accepted her thanks.

A goat student similarly offered to help Ms. Thomson. Thomson consulted briefly with Mr. Calaveras, then nodded and thanked the Student Who Was a Goat for his kindness.

A raccoon student approached Burnside, but after a single glare from my Imperial Bodyguard, the raccoon student decided he needed to be somewhere else.

“I regret that I cannot interrupt lectures to show you the classrooms," Hoardblemish explained, "so - for now - that concludes the tour of the facilities.”

“Yes. Thank you," I nodded. "Now can we please discuss the potential student I wish to enroll and the situation in Euro-”

“OH! But where are my manners?" Hoardblemish blurted suddenly. "I am a terrible host! You and your companions are wet, tired, and dirty. Let me take you all to the staff lavatory so you may bathe and freshen up!”

Before I could object again, Xavier had led us to a large washroom and discreetly left us there, closing the door behind him.

“Shall we all bathe together, my lord?” Rebecca asked, with an unusual gleam in her eye.

“I only bathe in the blood o my enemies," Burnside declared. "Other'n that, once a month.”

“Mr. Calavaras will settle for nothing less than the finest bathing salts,” Thomson murmured as she looked the place over with a critical eye.

“There appear to be enough stalls for everyone," I stated after a quick glance around. "No, we are not bathing together!”

[adleryoung]

Fuma smiled upon us for once, and there were no further problems (aside from the steady rain) between us and the Percysthorpe Gate.

We passed through the Gate and emerged in a side passage that had the look of an emergency exit.

"The summer palace," Ms. Thomson murmured reverently. "I have never been here, but Mister Calaveras knows these halls well."

"Does he know the way to Headmaster Hoardblemish's office?" I asked, as I applied some Gramarye to dry myself and freshen my clothes.

"There was no such personage here during Mister Calaveras' time," Thomson replied. "Perhaps he knows." She pointed at a student walking past the end of the corridor ahead of us.

A few minutes and a few discreet questions later, I was standing before Xavier Hoardblemish himself as he crushed my hand in a jovial but vicelike grip.

"Dashed good to see you, Mr. Young," he exclaimed. "It certainly has been a while! What brings our foremost benefactor here to the Academy?"

"I know a young femme that might potentially enroll," I explained as I nursed my sore hand. "A relative of mine. She has abilities which would be best cultivated in this very institution, and this seemed like a good time to drop in and see how things have been progressing."

[adleryoung]

The very, very fancy automobile slowed down and stopped, despite the passenger screeching "We can't stop here! This is elf country!"

I was immediately reassured by the scrawny cat's wild-eyed grin and loud floral shirt (indicating a devout Mephitist.) The vehicle was large enough to hold me and all my companions. The cat reached around and opened the door, and we climbed in. The cat turned and grinned at me. The driver, some sort of buffalo or wildebeest, was loudly singing something that might have been a song.

At a loss for words, yet feeling I should say something to this staring lowfolk person, I blurted out the first thing I could think of. “I’ve never actually ridden in an open air touring car before.”

“Is that right??" the cat grinned even wider. "Well, I guess you’re about ready then, aren’t you??”

The driver giggled wildly and honked the car’s horn. “We’re your friends. We’re not like the others, really.”

“No more of that talk, or I’ll put the damned leeches on you!” the cat snapped at his companion, then turned and continued grinning at me.

I felt immediately uneasy. I looked at Burnside and she seemed totally comfortable. Rebecca shot a worried look at me, and Thomson gazed off into the distance.

My stomach lurched as the car suddenly jerked forward and bolted down the road. I was no expert, but this did not feel like a safe speed. Burnside whooped in surprise. Thomson remained calm. Rebecca cackled with glee, and shouted to go faster. I watched with alarm as the massive driver pulled a whole pint of beer from somewhere under the seat and chugged it while not looking at the road. My objections were swept away by the wind, and the cat shouting incoherently about reptiles and bats. Thank Fuma this journey did not last very long, for just a mile further on a law enforcement officer pulled the vehicle over for speeding and erratic driving. A quick look in the storage compartment revealed a staggering amount of illicit chemical substances. Naturally the two reprobates were arrested. With a bit of Wiles and Glamer we convinced the officer that we were innocent bystanders and there was no need to take us in for questioning. He stuffed the two weirdos and their stash of narcotics into his paddy wagon and went on his way, leaving the four of us with the car.

“Does anyone know how to drive?” I asked.

"Mr. Calaveras has mastered this art," Thomson declared, "but he has no limbs to steer or work the pedals."

"Well, if that fellow could do it while out of his mind on booze and whatever that other stuff was, it can't be all that difficult," I assumed. And I was right. After a few scary close calls with a tree, a sheep, and a road sign, I more or less got the hang of it. You just had to take things nice and slow, and stay in the middle of the road. We cruised along for a while, and the trip was actually starting to become enjoyable! Before long, I spied two hitchhikers on the side of the road. These two looked much more sane and gentlemanly than the two louts we had liberated this vehicle from. I decided to help two fellow hitchhikers out. This turned out to be a huge mistake.

The spoonbill stork introduced himself as Robert Despair "But don't let the name fool you!" The portly pigeon he referred to simply as "Ding."

The two birds were world traveling musicians who didn’t know when to shut up! They spent the entire time loudly singing about being on the Road to Percysthorpe, Ballynure, Carcosa, Scranton, and all the other exotic places they had been to. As soon as one song was over, they would start another. Eventually our entire group could stand no more and simply left the two on the side of the road again to hitch a ride with someone else. As we sped away, I could hear Robert exclaiming "Even at your pace, Ding, I think we would have made better time on foot."

After driving in awkward silence for another long while, we saw two more hitchhikers on the horizon. After dealing with the two songbirds, I was hesitant to risk it, but Rebecca insisted since the two of them seemed downtrodden, tired, and in dire need of a lift. I relented.

One was a straight-faced marten with white fur and the other was a jolly fat bear. The marten was polite and quiet. While the bear was very (extremely) chatty, he was at least pleasant company. Finally it seemed like our road trip was going to go smoothly. That is, until the machine lurched and sputtered. I squinted at the console and began to wonder if the dials and meters were more than mere decorations. One in particular had a little needle hovering over a large red E.

“What does E mean?” I asked. The machine sputtered again and the engine stopped.

“Empty…” the marten sighed in tired exasperation.

And then it started raining.

We trudged through the rain and mud for almost an hour, getting soaked and filthy. We tried to hail another ride, but every car and carriage passed us by, probably deciding we were too large a group and too dirty to let in. The marten passed the time in brooding silence while the bear tried to keep everyone’s spirits up. When we finally reached Percysthorpe, the marten bade everyone a curt goodbye, but the bear seemed genuinely sad to part ways.

"That thar was the longest ten miles I ever traveled," Burnside sighed.

Finally, we were near our destination. Hopefully there was nothing blocking the entrance to the Gate, and we could go right in to the Academy, where we could dry out and warm up by a nice cozy fire…

[adleryoung]

“What in tarnation was any o that supposed to mean?” Burnside demanded irritably.

“Don’t you see?" I gaped in astonishment. "Thomson has ascended to a new height of understanding. She now sees what ordinary folk do not. Her long years of solitude have allowed her mind to accept one of Fuma’s most blessed gifts: The gift of haruspicy.”

"The gift of Haru's WHAT??" Rebecca asked, shocked.

“Have you ‘ascended’ too?” Burnside asked me, sarcastically. "Without a sacrificial victim, all that was, was soothsayin plain an simple - if it warn't pure hogwarsh, that is."

“Wait wait, haruspicy? As in reading entrails?” Rebecca looked at the table. “The table is clean.” She ran her finger across it just to make sure.

"Okay, fine," I sighed. “The gift of seer-dom. Prophecy! Second sight! Whatever it’s called, she has it. Clearly this is a sign from Fuma of what to do next!”

“OH! That sounds so witchy!" Rebecca squealed with delight. "Welcome to the club, Thomson.”

“Beware the cloaked stranger," Thomson intoned cryptically while balancing Mr. Calaveras on her head. "She knows more about you than you do yourself.”

Rebecca clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Perfect delivery! The best match of darkness and vague whimsy. You should be dressed all in black though, instead of that Floozy activewear.”

"Heroes!" I declared magnanimously. “All heroes consult a wizened, slightly mad hermit seer on their adventures. These seemingly nonsensical oracles always turn out to have been exactly right all along. Obviously Fuma sees our need and has sent a babbling pythoness to join our team. It’s just like in the old stories!”

“Which stories, sire?” one of the Ixies asked.

"Lots of them! Anyway, there’s nothing more for us to discuss here. You must inform Meadow and Typantronn of the change of plans, and the rest of us must make all haste to Hoardblemish! There our path will be made perfectly clear.”

"Be mighty nice if the oracles made sense NOW instead of in retrospect," Burnside grumbled.

"But sire," the Ixies protested, “we still haven’t told you of troop movements, logistics, and economical fluctuations affecting the impending war.”

“There’s no time!" I insisted. "Thomson the Seer has spoken! The omens are fortuitous! Or at least they seem that way! Everyone, let’s get moving.”

“All right," Burnside shrugged. "Doin' beats talkin - an we weren't sayin nothin important, nohow.”

“What about the table and chairs, my lord?” Rebecca asked, pointing worriedly at the impromptu conference room we had set up amidst the trees.

“From what I remember, whenever I summon something from nowhere in particular, it eventually fades away, just like elf gold. Maybe these things are actually made of leaves and bark. If not, whoever finds them will get some free furniture. A gift from the elves. Now come, my faithful companions! Our righteous quest is before us! HUZZAH!”

“Huzzah?” everyone asked, looking at me quizzically.

“It felt like the appropriate thing to say…” I admitted, tugging on my collar.

As we neared the road, we saw a large object approaching in the distance.

"I think it's one of those antless carriages!" I declared, squinting at it. "Let's hitch a ride!"

“Wouldn’t it be faster just to pook?” Burnside asked.

“Too many variables with a group this size," I shook my head. "Dependable, straight-forward travel is our ally.” I held out my thumb and hitched up my trouser leg in the universal sign for mooching a free ride.

"Shouldn't you oughta let one of us do that?" Burnside asked. "Ain't nobody gonna stop now."

"Oh I don't know," Rebecca giggled. "I definitely would if I was driving."

[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.