adleryoung

[adleryoung]

“It’s a long story," I admitted. "You probably should sit down.”

Meadow looked around for a place to sit. Finding none, she shrugged and sat on the unconscious Burnside.

“Let’s see," I mused. "Where should I start…”

“Probably from the beginning,” Meadow suggested.

“The earliest thing I can remember is waving to my father…”

“Skip to the part after we separated, please.”

“All right … after you left I was in dire need of legal counsel. I had three options: A love-struck and brain-dead Floozy from Estmere's harem (whose specialty was some obscure form of botany), a ridiculous old fox shamelessly pretending to be the Wolf Queen, or an actual professional Floozy-at-law. Naturally I picked the lawyer. Unfortunately for me, she was a Sisterhood agent and she failed to defend me in any way. I suspect that she botched the trial on purpose as part of the Sisterhood’s plan to get me out of the way for their nefarious plans. Later on, she forsook her allegiance to the Sisterhood and promised to only work for me.”

“Oh, how did you manage that?" Rebecca asked. "Did you enlighten her with Fuma’s gifts?”

“Uuuuh-" I blushed. "Something like that. Yeah.”

“Still pretty bashful for a self-proclaimed Wiles master," Meadow snickered. "I remember how beet red you turned at the idea of closing that gap with me after we got back into Faerie all those years ago.”

“As I recall," I sniffed disdainfully, "you were just as bashful as I was, if not more so.”

Meadow blushed while Rebecca unsuccessfully stifled a snicker.

“Skipping ahead," I insisted, lest this turn into a feminine gigglefest, "I was stationed at the Antglade outpost as a dignitary. You were correct in assuming that my execution was the furthest thing from my royal brother’s mind. He actually thought he was giving me a vacation. He was such a lummox. By Fuma, I miss him.”

There was a heavy moment of silence as we all stared glumly at the ground.

"Ahem," I coughed, breaking the spell. “It seems the Duchess already had a plan worked out for me. I suspect that she somehow got word out that I was raising an army to overthrow my brother. Estmere admittedly did a, let's say less than stellar job governing the empire, and the Vulpitanians' plan to make him into a lowfolk was the final straw which turned a lot of elves against him. They started showing up at my outpost after Queen Edessa became pregnant with an unnatural offspring. The Duchess made it very clear that my choices were limited, so I had to go along with her plan at least for a while. She also gave me the Plague of Battles, making it clear that I had no choice at all in taking it. Burnside was assigned to me as a Diplomatic Liaison (actually just a thug to make sure I did as the Duchess wanted), but I was eventually able to win her over. Partially. She did try to assassinate me later, but I was able to win her over for real the second time.”

“For real, huh?” Meadow asked dubiously.

“It’s true!" Rebecca exclaimed. "My lord was able to win Burnside’s heart and she swore an oath to serve and protect him! It’s so romantic, the way he tamed the fearsome Raccoon Monster of the North Woods.”

“And she swore this oath to you after she betrayed your trust and tried to kill you?” Meadow asked with a lifted eyebrow.

“Homicidal maniac or not, Burnside is an elf," I declared coolly, "and an elf’s word is her bond. Burnside may be a little- no, COMPLETELY Unseelie and may also be completely mentally unstable-”

“That's the truth!" Rebecca blurted enthusiastically. "One time, not too long ago, a Psychologist - that's a budding new field of study in the lowfolk world, fascinating stuff - wanted to interview her. He was planning to write a paper about her, but I had to help him escape before Burnside gutted him and used his scalp to make a hat.”

"As I was saying," I blurted, trying to regain control of the conversation, “Burnside may be Unseelie and mad, but she is an excellent fighter, and her loyalty is without question. What emperor turns down such a valuable asset? She’s already proven to be a good bodyguard.”

“An asset?" Meadow scoffed. "How long until she become a liability? If even half the things I’ve heard about her are true, she’s transcended the category of mere murderer and become a walking war crime.”

“Nobody can deny Burnside is dangerous, Unseelie, and possibly even evil," Rebecca pointed out, "but she is not beyond redemption. She does value the virtue of loyalty. For 200 years she’s protected me and the various charges in my coven all while valiantly waiting for my lord to return to us. I think with time and patience we can put her on the right track to Fuma’s all-encompassing light.”

“Are you a witch or a missionary?” Meadow asked, staring at Rebecca in confusion.

“Haven’t you ever heard of good witches?” Rebecca huffed in mild indignation. “Witches can be good! They make herbal remedies to heal the sick and help expecting mothers give birth! I’ve done that and more.”

“The standard definition of a witch is a person that makes unholy pacts with demons!" Meadow insisted. "What you described are herbalists and midwives. As an elf you should understand the dangers of changing the meaning of words!”

“Now, now," I interjected, soothingly. "Let’s not be too hasty. Rebecca is entirely Seelie. She is a kind and gentle soul that only wants to do good. All her actions are done to spread the love and glory of Fuma. What does it matter if she likes to wear black and enjoy the occasional cackling fit? Even I enjoy a good cackle on occasion.”

“The problem is calling herself a witch!" Meadow protested. "What type of message does that send to the impressionable youth? She could very well be a walking gateway to darkness and Unseelieness. Some poor, uneducated sap could see her going around claiming to be a witch while doing her good deeds then want to be a witch too! I can just hear the argument now: ‘It’s okay to sell my soul to a demon because witches are good now.’ 200 years ago I wouldn’t have cared, but as the Mouse Queen, the acting arbiter of Seelieness in Faerie, it is my duty to protest this dangerous game she’s playing.”

“Ugh!" Rebecca sighed in exasperation. "You're just like all the other closed-minded fools I’ve had to deal with in my life! The rabbits of Bunkirk said the same things. Fuma loves everyone, and my tastes don’t change any part of Her divine plan in the slightest!”

"Everyone simmer down," I commanded. "Rebecca has proven herself to be a kind, Seelie soul who would never dream of breaking away from Fuma’s light, and anyone who knows her and wants to follow her example would never consider such Unseelie acts either. I’ve met a number of Rebecca’s coven members, and they were MOSTLY stellar examples of morally upright and scholarly minds. Meadow, you do not know her as well as I know her, and as Emperor I must override your criticism and order you to stand down."

“I’ll take mah cackle-berries over-easy, thanks,” Burnside mumbled as she lay face-down on the ground.

[adleryoung]

"Quit pullin' on Mister Choppy!" Burnside bristled. "I found him first!”

"Its name is Sun-and-Moon," Meadow snapped. “And I’ve been using it for nearly 200 years!”

"Shoulda kept better track of it then," Burnside sneered. “Finders keepers!”

“It is magickally bound to me!" Meadow insisted. "It is mine to use by divine right! Why do you think it’s floating to me?”

"Could be some kinda Gramarye," Burnside theorized. “Whadda you mean, divine right?”

“I’m the current acting Wolf, I mean, Mouse Queen!" Meadow declared. "This holy weapon is a symbol of Seelieness and goodness!”

“Goodness?? Seelieness??” Burnside suddenly let go of the bardiche as if it was red-hot. “Mister Choppy is a symbol of Seelieness??!!” She begin frantically shaking her hands and rubbing them on her shirt. “EW! EW! EW! I touched somethin' Seelie! I need to wash! My Unseelie aura has done been soiled! I think I’m fixin' to be sick!” She dropped to her hands and knees and began retching.

Rebecca lunged forward and put a quick Whammy on Burnside, knocking her out.

"I think that was probably unnecessary,” I remarked.

“Probably," Rebecca grinned, "but I need the practice.”

“Adler," Meadow called imperiously. "We need to talk. Is that raccoon femme the same Burnside who was a changeling at the very last Ferifax festival? Who went on to become the Duchess' most dreaded handmaiden? What is her relationship to you? Why is there someone so Unseelie hanging around you? And what's with the rabbit witch?”

"Well, uh," I stated incisively. "Burnside is kinda … my personal bodyguard, and…"

"Should I be sitting down for this?" Meadow asked unhappily.

[adleryoung]

Meadow’s sudden appearance shocked the hiccups right out of me. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. What were the odds that Meadow would suddenly appear at this exact moment when I was thinking about her? Fuma’s Gift of Luck must have been working overtime to pull this one off! I could almost picture the Lady hovering somewhere just outside of reality and orchestrating all of the improbable events of my life. She was probably having a good laugh.

"Where have you been all this time?" I exclaimed after removing my knuckles from my eyes and seeing that Meadow was in fact still there. "Why did you abandon me right when my life was hanging in the balance, on the very eve of my trial? Why are you here now? And what in the nine Netherhells are you wearing??"

“Yeah, well," Meadow explained. "I’m sorry about leaving like that. A whole lot happened in a very short time, and then it didn't really let up over the past few centuries. That mysterious scry-call I got all that time ago was, unsurprisingly, a Vulpitanian ruse. It was a half-fake emergency involving my former mistress, Dame Chitterleigh. I won't bore you with all the details, especially since the whole incident is classified Top Secret, but it turned out that the Wolf Queen and the Master of Elfhame needed my immediate assistance. I didn't mean to leave you twisting in the wind, but I was honor bound to help those elves at a moment's notice. I thought I could take care of business and get back in time to help out with your trial, but obviously that didn't happen. Things took longer than expected, but I was still confident that the King would not have his own brother and best friend executed. I heard you were sent to Antglade Station, and I thought about going there, but the opportunity never came. By the time I was finally free, there were Gaps everywhere, making travel difficult. The Plague of Battles had been covering the whole of Albric Tor for days, and it looked like the Empire was dissolved. Everyone I spoke to said that you had done it on purpose, but I knew you well enough to know it was preposterous to believe you could pull off a plan that big. Intelligence networks were down, and all the reports on your current state were conflicting. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead, and there was no way to get past the Plague field to find out. I did the only thing I could think of: I went back to Elfhame, because that realm was safe and stable and I had friends there. It didn't take long for weird things to start happening there too, and the Wolf Queen began to neglect her duties in favor of faffing about in the lowfolk world. It seems that Faerie requires a bikini-clad defender of justice, and I guess being the most capable Seelie femme left (because of my Agent training) I got nominated. The dreams at first were terrible, but eventually I gave in to my apparent destiny and became the, uh, the Mouse Queen. With Faerie in such a bad state, there was a lot to do. FAR too much to do. For every wrong I righted, a thousand more problems popped up. Missy always made it look so easy, like she was just goofing off most of the time. Maybe she was, in retrospect. No way a responsibility like this could rest so lightly upon someone. I felt like the entire world was on my shoulders and I was constantly on the verge of dropping it into a lake of burning lava."

"I can certainly sympathize with that," I nodded knowingly.

"I've traveled a lot over the last few centuries," Meadow continued. "I wandered around like a knight-errant from the Long Ago. I've made a few friends and a lot of enemies. The Vulpitanians have been out for my blood for a long, long time now. They had a grudging respect for the Wolf Queen, but a mouse? They give me nothing but contempt. Those Unseelie bastards have made a tidy business of taking advantage of the seemingly never-ending chaos, and creating even more mayhem whenever it suits them. During one lull in the action, I considered going after the Duchess of Daisies, as obviously the Plague of Battles was her creation, but I could find no trace of her. She disappeared as thoroughly as you did. Since my powers are restricted to Faerie, my best guess is that she’s been hiding in the lowfolk world, as you were."

"Oh yes," I declared bitterly. "She and her odious son-nephews are here, all right. I mean there. I sometimes forget after all this time that I am actually back in Faerie, at Albric Tor. We've been so busy clearing the battlefield, I have not even entered the city itself yet."

"I don't envy you for what you'll find there," Meadow stated bleakly. "I once had a sidekick, a wretched wight who was the result of an Unseelie Vulp fertility experiment. His parents, as near as I can gather, were a fox, a raccoon, and a scuti. Poor fellow was a mutated hybrid whose mismatched anatomy could barely function. He was monstrous: Multiple tails, chimera like features, and his overtaxed organs could barely keep him alive. He seemed so pathetic, I took pity on him and allowed him to be my squire. He turned out to be rather unreliable, constantly wandering off after various femmes. Eventually he didn't come back and I assume he died, poor soul. Considering his painful existence, perhaps Fuma’s merciful Embrace was the best thing for him. At least he was able to spend his final days doing something heroic." Meadow stopped talking and stared silently off into the distance.

“Wow…" I exclaimed after the pause got long enough to be uncomfortable. "That’s a lot you’ve been through. Why are you here now?”

"As chance would have it, I came across Bonsai and the Shrub Knights as they were marching towards Albric Tor. I was ecstatic to learn that you were still alive, but dismayed at Bonsai’s boldly stated intent to 'Put you to the test.' With the authority of the Mouse Queen, I convinced them to view you less harshly, even though they insisted that your association with some Outer character was unforgivable. I also suggested that they gather a work force to help you clear and bury the dead, because I knew the fields around Albric Tor were a mess. I was going to make a grand, dramatic entrance at the beginning of your confrontation scene with Bonsai, but, well… I'm not very good at flying. The wings itch, they're hard to maintain, and, well this is embarrassing to admit, but my large mouse ears are not very aerodynamic, and it is extremely hard to steer unless I tilt my head down, and then I can't see where I am going."

"Wings?" I asked, puzzled.

"Yes," Meadow sighed. "When I want to fly, I sprout wings from my back. A simple levitation spell would have been so much more practical, but no. It seems that the enchanter who designed the Regalia thought wings would be more sexy. Just look at it. There's no other reason for most of the Regalia's features. But to return to the point, I completely overshot the landing zone, spiraled out of control, and crashed into a pile of bones. I also lost my double bardiche and have spent the last few hours looking for it."

“Miss," Rebecca interjected, "your outfit needs more black.”

"What you call an 'outfit' is in fact my Regalia," Meadow sniffed. "A sacred uniform. I am not permitted to seriously alter it." She turned to me. "Who is this person, Adler? Are you consorting with witches? If you're not going to be a Seelie monarch then I'm afraid there may be Trouble between us."

"Ooh!" Rebecca grinned excitedly. "On a scale of one to ten, how wicked would you say I look?"

"Don't be fooled by Rebecca's garb," I chuckled. "She likes the dark aesthetic but she's as Seelie as they come."

“Hey, keep it down," Burnside protested drowsily. "Can’t yall see I’m tryin' to get some shut-eye with my new friend Mr. Choppy?”

“Oh, there it is,” Meadow exclaimed. She held up her hand and Sun-and-Moon started to levitate toward her.

“Hey!” Burnside yelled as the floating weapon dragged her along. "What the sam-hill is a goin' on??"

[adleryoung]

Rebecca and I continued to laugh heartily for several minutes. The mere notion that Burnside would ever be a symbol of inherent goodness was simply so absurd that it summoned forth endless gales of mirth from us. We collapsed on the ground, clutching our sides, barely able to breathe.

"Burnside as the new Wolf Queen??" I howled. "BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

“Are you okay?" one of the Shrub Knights rustled at me. "You've been convulsing and making that noise for almost half an hour.”

"I'm -hic- more than okay," I hiccuped. "Rebecca and -hic- and I desperately needed a laugh like -hic- that. Things have been -hic- getting far too -hic- too serious lately."

"It was -hic- a welcome relief," Rebecca agreed, "after -hic- shoveling all those corpses for -hic- for so long."

Rebecca and I got up, nursing our hiccups, and examined the bardiche which a semiconscious Burnside was clutching and drooling on.

"I -hic- wonder," I pondered aloud, "if the legendary Sun -hic- and - Moon can change size depending on -hic- on who wields it. It is -hic- magical after all. If the weapon is -hic- willing to let non-wolves wield it -hic-, then it probably wouldn’t -hic- wouldn't discriminate about height. That still leaves -hic- the distressing thought that the previous -hic- Wolf Queen, no matter her size, -hic- died in the plague of battles, meaning that -hic- I am responsible for the death of -hic- of, of one of Faeries most legendary -hic- heroes."

“You don’t know for -hic- sure that you’re -hic- responsible,” Rebecca said consolingly. “Can this magick -hic- weapon move of its own -hic- accord? Perhaps it -hic- came here in search of its new -hic- wielder.”

"It’s -hic- possible," I theorized. "However, I'm not even sure -hic- if this is the actual Sun and Moon. It could just be -hic- a very convincing reproduction."

“Quit callin’ me a hick,” Burnside mumbled sleepily. "Made me a pair o' galoshes outten the last city slicker what done it."

"I -hic- remember that," Rebecca winced.

We both pinched our noses to stifle our hiccups.

“Is dere a way to tell if it is da real Sud ad Bood?” Rebecca asked.

“Da real Sud ad Bood is ad ardifack frob da Log Ago," I explained. "Dat type of bagick is difficult to get a read od. It would take ad expert scholar of da Log Ago to tell.”

As I thought, my mind wandered for some reason to Meadow. That reliable mouse (up until she disappeared just before my trial, when I needed her most) had served as my right-hand-femme for a brief time. My conversations with her led me to believe that she had been on many adventures before meeting me. I wondered if she had ever met the famous Wolf Queen. Meadow knew the Master of Elfhame, the mysterious roebuck who was said to have held the Wolf Queen in his thrall for a while. Meadow probably could tell if this bardiche was the genuine article or not. How odd that she would pop into my mind like that, at this particular moment. It had been so long and Faerie was so unstable, Meadow was, unfortunately, probably long dead. I turned to wistfully gaze at the horizon as memories washed over me.

"It's good to see that you're finally getting this area opened up again," Meadow remarked. “Has anyone happened to find a double bardiche laying around?”

"-hic-" I exclaimed in surprise.

. . .

Well well well, gentle listeners! What a surprise twist this is! It raises a lot of questions, doesn't it? Where has Meadow been all these years? Why is she dressed like that? Is it the real Wolf Queen armor or is it a disguise? How did she become the new Wolf Queen, if it is real? What circumstances led her to wear such a disguise if it’s fake? There are so many possibilities! Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves what you think the answers are! BUT! Remember, no cheating! I'm looking at you, the one with note cards. Put those away.

[adleryoung]

As I studied the weapon, I began to recall bits and pieces of the legend of the Wolf Queen. She was a paragon of justice and the Seelie way of life. Her enchanted weapon, a double bardiche named "Sun-and-Moon" supposedly chose its bearer, giving her the title of Wolf Queen as well as her skimpy bikini armor and her powers to fly and fight Unseelieness wherever it may lurk. Was this the real Sun-and-Moon I was holding? Surely not! The Wolf Queen was supposed to be a tall wolfess of Amazonian proportions. This dinky thing would look like a toy in her hands. Yet it was of too high quality to be a mere costume reproduction. Burnside found it among the battlefield debris, and she was certainly not one to be fooled by a toy.

"It took dozens of tries," Rebecca said, interrupting my musings, "but I finally got that knockout Whammy perfected, my lord!"

"Good job!" I beamed. Rebecca was a fast learner. Hopefully that meant she would be easy to teach.

"What are you doing with that overly fancy double axe-thing?" she inquired.

"I want to try something," I explained as I carefully laid the bardiche across Burnside's twitching and unpleasantly sticky form.

"Ma, what'd ya do that fer?" Burnside mumbled drowsily. "I ain't killed no one today . . . "

Nothing else happened.

"Uhh … what are you trying to test?" Rebecca asked after we stood there staring at Burnside for a few minutes.

"There was an old elvish hero," I explained, "called the Wolf Queen. She fought for Justice. She protected the weak and punished the wicked (and roebucks, for some reason.) This weapon matches the description of her enchanted double bardiche. According to legend, upon the demise of the old Wolf Queen, the weapon chooses its new wielder to continue her legacy, roaming Faerie as a living paragon of Justice and all that is good and Seelie."

Rebecca suddenly burst into a hysterical giggling fit. "Burnside?" she snorted. "A paragon of goodness??"

"That is pretty funny," I cackled as I tried to picture it. "Absurd even!"

"Yer durn tootin'…" Burnside mumbled indistinctly from where she lay on the ground.

[adleryoung]

"You must learn some self-discipline," I scolded Rebecca. "Perhaps it would be safer to stick to the Voice of the Forest. You can't really bring peril upon yourself with that."

"I'll admit, the ability to talk to trees is fascinating," Rebecca admitted. "But people back home in Bunkirk used to think anyone who talked to trees was crazy. Or demon-possessed. Naturally I'm all for it, but wouldn't it be wise to give me some defensive magick I can use right away? With Burnside around, I'm always in peril no matter what."

"You have a point," I sighed. "But the Orgasmic Touch I used on Burnside was originally meant as a Wiles spell to enhance venery. I've found it extremely useful as a self defense spell, because honestly the first things I learned were … let's just say my repertoire was limited."

"Is it time at last for me to learn Wiles and venery magick?" Rebecca murmured, blushing heavily. "I … am ready, my lord."

I stared at her, suddenly uneasy. Being a femme, Rebecca already had a head start in the Wiles department. This situation could become dangerous if not handled properly!

"No," I decided. "It is not time for that yet. However, it might be a good idea to teach you some self defense spells now. But remember, you must not be reckless with your budding powers. Consider carefully before you work any magick. Your own safety depends on it. Now here's a useful little Whammy that will temporarily incapacitate most foes, with a few exceptions which I'll elucidate as we go along…"

A little while later, Burnside casually strolled up to us with a smug look on her face and a fancy double bardiche in her hands.

"Quite a day ain't it?" she asked breezily. "I was havin' a wonderful dream where Adler was holdin' me down an' violatin' me while my lowfolk pappy choked to death in the next room, an' then I woke up layin' acrost a big ol' pile of weapons. An THEN, as if thangs couldn't of gotten better, my hand just happened to fall right onto the shaft o' this here beauty. I reckon that's a sign I oughtta pick it for keeps."

"That weapon seems strangely familiar," I said thoughtfully. "Here, let me examine that while Rebecca practices her new spell on you."

"Uh, sure," Burnside agreed, handing the bardiche to me, "but what spell- UGH!"

As Rebecca zapped Burnside repeatedly to get the technique right, I examined the bardiche that Burnside was flaunting. Something about its design, or perhaps the enigmatic glyphs on the blades, was triggering a dim memory - perhaps from one of the obscure folktales I had learned as an elflet. Could this be one of the fabled artifacts of Old Faerie, from the Long Ago? I was saddened to think that a legendary hero might have perished in the Plague of Battles. Then again, the size of the weapon suggested that it would have had to be a very diminutive hero, not much taller than Burnside herself.

[adleryoung]

I paused for a moment to think as I watched the chair scurry away. Perhaps I should follow it to see what route it took to get to Persoc Tor from here. Would it travel through a Gate or would it step right into the looming grey Gap that still surrounded Albric Tor?

My thoughts were interrupted by Burnside cackling, "I could name this end Choppy an' the other'un Chippy. That's two fer the price of one! Now I ain't pickin for keeps yet, mind you. I need somethin' to test it out on first."

"Not one of us!" a nearby Shrub Knight protested.

"Do not chop our leafy allies!" I ordered without turning around. "You might be better off picking a different weapon." I tried to return to my musings but the chair was now too far away to catch up with. I heard Rebecca giggle, and shushed her with a petulant “Come now. A walking chair isn’t that funny is it?” My thoughts turned to my first magick lessons. If I was to teach Rebecca the way my mother had taught me, what came next …? Oh yes, at that time I had decided to use my newfound skills to work some mischief and play a prank on my mother. As I recalled, that prank ended up ruining her best kitchen knife, and she was quite cross at me. We ended up having pumpkin casserole! Yuck!

I was suddenly yanked out of my reverie by the sound of Burnside howling with rage, and Rebecca giggling like a schoolyard japester.

"DOGGONIT!!!" Burnside shrieked as she brandished a strangely floppy dagger. "WHO DONE THIS?? WHO COMMITTED THIS HERE CRIME AGAINST THE ART OF WAR AN’ WEAPONRY?? VENGEANCE, AH SAY!! BLOOD AN’ VENGEANCE!!!”

"Actually," Rebecca chuckled, wiping a dainty tear from her eye, "it was just a-”

"NOOOO!!!” I yelled as I lunged forward and hit Burnside with the strongest Orgasmic Touch I could muster. She immediately collapsed into a twitching heap atop the pile of weapons. I promptly undid the grammarye to turn the dagger back to normal, then took Rebecca’s hand and swiftly led her away.

"Not growing up in Faerie, I suppose you never heard the story of Jack O'Napes," I scolded. "The most important thing about japes is to choose your targets wisely. Never prank someone who is a bloodthirsty maniac. For example: ANYONE BUT BURNSIDE."

"Oooooh…" Rebecca murmured as she began to realize just how dangerous the situation had been.

"Perhaps we should move on to learning the Voice of the Forest," I suggested.

"What was that spell you used on Burnside just now?" Rebecca asked innocently. "That one would be useful to know."

[adleryoung]

“Mercy sakes," Burnside cackled as she looked over the pile of weapons. "What am I gonna name the one I pick? If it’s an axe I’ll name it Mr. Choppy, if it’s a sword I’ll name it Sir Slash-A-Mel, if it’s a dagger I’ll name it Herr Prostate, and if it’s a paring knife I’ll name it Banana Peeler.”

"Ahem," I reminded Rebecca. "That chair needs a name too."

Rebecca's expression immediately brightened. She began to wave her hands and wiggle her fingers over the chair while making the mystical noise "Woo-Woo-Woooo-Woo-WOOOO!"

“You don’t really need to do all th-” I started to protest.

“I have it!" she exclaimed. "The chair’s name is Tedifer Chairface Gorgonzola Chippendale Butts III!”

“Okay, yeah," I replied skeptically. "That’s a name all right… Now, this time be very specific in what you tell the chair to do. Think everything through completely. Leave nothing to chance and nothing to error. You do not want any unpleasant surprises like with that pumpkin. Also, you do not need to say it out loud. If you’re in a tight spot and need to whip up some magick without anyone noticing, you can compose Gramarye silently. Give it a try.”

Rebecca stood quietly and stared at the chair for about a minute. “Okay! I’m done. Give it a try, my lord. Sit down and take a load off.”

“Er, is it safe?”

“I haven’t told it to do anything dangerous, my lord. Trust me,” Rebecca beamed.

I very nervously and gingerly sat on the chair, and immediately was swaddled in absolute comfort. By Fuma! This was the comfiest chair I ever sat in! Without even thinking, I summoned a fruity drink with a tiny umbrella in it out of the aether. I was too overcome with relaxation to put my approval into words, so I just gave Rebecca a languid thumbs-up while I sipped my drink.

“It’s not just comfy, my lord," Rebecca smiled proudly. "It can do one more thing. Think of someplace you’d like to go.”

I immediately thought back to my time spent at the Winter Palace in Persoc Tor. This chair would have been perfect for lounging next to the pool…

Suddenly the chair began to walk at a brisk pace, with me still sitting on it! I jumped off in surprise. “Goodness!" I exclaimed. "Rebecca, I’m really impressed. That amount of sensitive context is amazing for only your second try. Is there a way to get it to stop before it reaches its destination?”

“Oops…” Rebecca muttered, with downcast eyes.

“Well," I shrugged as we watched the chair stroll vigorously away. "I suppose Hoardblemish's magick school will be surprised when they see a chair walking around. Or maybe they won't.”

[adleryoung]

"Chairs, my lord?” Rebecca asked doubtfully.

"Much safer," I declared with a nod.

“Forget magickin' up gourds an' chairs," Burnside interrupted, staggering under the weight of an armload of weapons. "Teach Becca somethin' useful! Have her try to magick all ma new weapons to be so sharp they can cut thangs without even touchin 'em!”

“Aren’t you dangerous enough already?” I sighed.

“Never!”

“At any rate, you can’t keep those," I pointed out. "We’re collecting them to equip our troops when we, uh, actually get some troops to equip.”

“Aw, come on!" Burnside pouted, clutching the ungainly bundle of blades to her. "I never ask for nothin! … Well, I ain’t ast for nothin in the last few minutes… Please! Purty please! Oh purty PURTY please with Persoc Itoome an puppy eyes on top!”

“Pardon me," I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Am I your Emperor and employer, or am I your babysitter?”

“Well, if you’re into th-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I growled. “All right … If it will keep you QUIET, you may keep ONE weapon. Pick a good one, because, as the elflets say: No taksie backsies.”

Burnside giggled maniacally as she dumped the weapons on the ground and squatted over them to start the selection process.

“My lord, you spoil her overmuch,” Rebecca informed me rather coldly.

"Let’s just get back to your training," I said with a sigh. "I’ll apport the nearest chair for you to practice on.” I reached out with my mind and drew in the nearest chair. I suddenly heard a reverberant thump followed by an “oomph” from the nearby tunnel.

“AAAAHHHH!!!" Ms. Thomson wailed from somewhere within. "Mr. Calaveras, the shades are stealing the chairs again!”

I would have to apologize to her later. Right now, I was doing this.

“All right," I told Rebecca. "Just like with the pumpkin, search your inner mind and name the chair. Name it with its True Name, which defines the very essence of what it is.”

[adleryoung]

“You mean that rock the pumpkin is sitting on?” Rebecca asked.

“What pumpkin?” I replied, squinting.

“That one right there, sitting on the rock you pointed at.”

“Oh,” I said, blinking. Pumpkins, like mushrooms, were sometimes easy to miss … but this was ridiculous. "Where did that come from?"

“One of our new recruits must have brought it…” a nearby Shrub Knight theorized.

“Okay well, wherever it came from, it's better than a rock, so Rebecca: Name that pumpkin. Don’t just give it a silly random name,” I echoed my mother’s teachings. “Name it what it is, what you feel deep within your heart that its name should be.”

Rebecca leaned forward and concentrated on the pumpkin, clenching her jaw and making her eyes bug out in a most unsettling manner. “Okay, I have it!” she exclaimed at last. “The pumpkin’s name is Richard Neil Bluerose Cleveland Silica-Quartzite Jr. He was named after his adopted father, the stone he is sitting on.”

“Ugh, pumpkins and their fancy names,” the Shrub Knight groaned.

“Sure," I shrugged after blinking at Rebecca for a few seconds. "Why not? Since you seem to be a fast learner and are actually somewhat ahead of me when I started, let's try something more complex than commanding the pumpkin to just sit and be orange. Let's start right off with something interesting. Use the pumpkin’s name and command it - in proper Gramarye - to do something that pumpkins don’t normally do.”

“Okay! I love making pumpkin lanterns, but I hate seeing them decay and fall apart, so: Richard Neil Bluerose Cleveland Silica-Quartzite Jr, never rot. Be fresh forever! … Did it work?”

“I like your ambition," I nodded, "but maybe try commanding it to do something that we don’t have to wait a month to verify.”

“Okay. Well, I hate it when bratty kids come along and smash the pumpkin lanterns my coven worked so hard on, so: Richard Neil Bluerose Cleveland Silica-Quartzite Jr, be smash proof, but you can still be carved into a pumpkin lantern… Did it work?”

"Let's find out," I said, and then addressed the Shrub Knight. “Hey, smash that pumpkin with your spear.”

“Sorry, your majesty, that just isn’t possible. This Stab-O-Matic 5000 Summer model spear is only built for jabbing and stabbing. Using it to smash something would void the warranty.”

That bordered on insubordination, but I didn't feel like making a scene (and I also didn't want to smash the pumpkin myself) so I turned back to Rebecca. “Try commanding the pumpkin to do something that we can see and immediately verify if it worked. Keep it simple. Think maybe a state change, like its color or its size …”

"I know!" Rebecca declared excitedly. "Richard Neil Bluerose Cleveland Silica-Quartzite Jr, start talking!"

“Oh wow, lady, you must be some kinda frikkin’ genius!" the pumpkin sneered. "Telling a pumpkin to start talking! What’s next? A spittin’ scarecrow? A sassy snowman? Wow! I bet you were the top of your class! Dumb broad. Nice rack; too bad you skipped brain day.”

“Hey!” Rebecca snapped indignantly.

“Now see here!" I scolded. "I am the crowned Emperor Adler Young, ruler of all of Faerie! You can’t talk to my student like that! Apologize at once!”

“He won’t," the Shrub Knight rustled. "Typical pumpkin behavior.”

“Well la-dee-dah!" the pumpkin scoffed. "So you’re an emperor? Well, you smell like a typical dirty, stinky skunk-elf to me. I don’t even have a nose and I can still smell you all the way from over here! You want ME to apologize while assaulting me with a stink like that? HAH! Try asking again while you’re standing downwind and maybe I’ll think about it.”

“Why you little!" I snarled, rolling up my sleeves in indignation. "I’ll show you what for!”

“Get him, my liege!" the Shrub Knight cheered. "Don’t take any guff from that grumpy gourd!”

I strode forward resolutely, and using Adoyret Sam's martial training, I dealt the pumpkin a mighty blow.

The insolent oversized squash was unfazed. “Heh-heh-heh. I’m smash proof, stink-head! And even if I wasn't, I would have barely even felt that! I bet Bunny Bimbo over there could slug harder than you. You hit like a little girl with noodle arms.”

“I am NOT a little girl!!!” I screeched, suddenly enraged. I gave the pumpkin a roundhouse kick which sent it flying through the air towards a distant Gap.

"I'll remember this, stinkface!" the pumpkin yelled as it sailed out of sight. “I know your name!”

“You did what had to be done, my lord,” the Shrub Knight rustled with a note of admiration.

I turned back to see Rebecca scratching her head in confusion over what just happened. I took a deep breath to calm down. "You show great talent for a novice," I told her. "However I'm reminded of my mother’s warning: Unexpected outcomes are seldom pleasant. Gramarye has to be carefully formulated to account for every possibility and rule out mishaps like that from occurring. Let's back up and start again with something a bit safer. How about chairs?”

[adleryoung]

Burnside came back, straightening the hem of her skirt, just as Rebecca emerged from the Underworks tunnel. "Hoo-wee! The pause that revitalizes sure ain't Persoc-Itoome!"

"Amazing!" Rebecca exclaimed in amazement. "Look at how the trees busily and efficiently clear away the bodies!"

I turned to look, and was astonished to see large forest trees using their roots to gouge out huge mass graves while vines separated and stacked the armor and weapons. I wasn't expecting them to move this fast! Bonsai must have had it all planned ahead of time. Was his(?) challenge to my honor earlier today merely for show? Or maybe these resources were already on the way during the long time we stood staring at each other. I would have to find out how this was coordinated.

"When can I learn the language of trees, My Lord?" Rebecca asked eagerly as Burnside began rummaging through the pile of weapons.

"I suppose it is time to resume your training which I've neglected for so long," I admitted. "By the way, where's Thomson?"

"She was afraid to come out," Rebecca shrugged. "Claims that the screaming is too much for her."

"Hmm," I mused. "I'll have to take care of her as well, but for now let's get you started with the basics of Gramarye. This may be a bit of a step backward, but it's important to have a grasp of the fundamentals, so I'll start you off with the same lessons I first learned."

I looked around for a pumpkin, but realizing I was unlikely to find one under these circumstances, I settled on the nearest substitute.

"Name that rock," I ordered, pointing at a large stone in a section of the field that the trees had already cleared.

[adleryoung]

Bonsai and I continued dramatically staring at each other while the sun set. My legs began to ache and get the prickly pins-and-needles feeling from standing still for too long, but by Fuma I wasn't going to be the one to turn away first!

"Scuse me," Burnside interrupted, tugging on my sleeve. “I don’t speak a lick o' that there forest language. Are they gonna kill us or not?”

"FUMA!!" I yelped, flinching at the sudden break in tension.

"Kinda jumpy, ain't ya?"

I tried to sound authoritative and composed, but my voice cracked: “The Shrub Knights have pledged their service to me. We get to live another day.”

“Well good, cuz I gotta go make a waterfall that could drown a draft ant.”

“Keep your foul secretions away from us!" one of the Shrubs rustled indignantly. "Many dogs have been felled for less!”

“You’re just the epitome of class, aren’t you?” I asked Burnside, wrinkling my nose in distaste.

"Aw shoot," Burnside grinned bashfully. "You really mean it, you ol' sweet talker? What's a pitomee?"

"Just go do what you have to do," I sighed dismissively.

“So, Your Majesty," Bonsai rustled as Burnside relieved herself behind a pile of tumbledown stones, "what would you have us do?”

I looked around at the field full of grisly shapes looming in the twilight. Burnside, Rebecca, and I had been at this for a while and hardly made a dent. “How are you at moving bodies?" I asked. "We need to put all of them in a mass grave. Hopefully I’ll have the resources to build a monument to the fallen later down the line.”

“LAME!” A Shrub in the back exclaimed.

“Be silent, Steve!" Bonsai scolded. "Our emperor has spoken!” Then to me, he(?) continued: "We shall consult our contacts and call in some favors. There are many who would wish to sink their roots into this soil, enriched by these legions of noble dead."

"As long as the area is cleaned up and the bones are buried out of sight, pretty much anything is okay with me. Oh - we probably should save some of the weapons and equipment, if any of it is salvageable." Now I wanted to question Thomson about what she saw while scavenging in the city. I called into the tunnel: “Everything is safe now! You can both come out!”

“OKAY!" Rebecca exclaimed. "Shrub Knights, this I gotta see.”

“EEK! NO!" Thomson wailed. "THE FALLEN! THE SHADES! THE NEVER ENDING SCREAMS! Mr. Calaveras, please shield me!”

….

Well, my faithful listeners, what information do you think Thomson imparted to me? What do you think happened next? Something unexpected? Or did we just keep cleaning the battlefield and city until someone came to us? I find your guesses amusing, so please lay them on me. If I see anyone fiddling around with note cards I will be very disappointed.

[adleryoung]

“You really want to question MY honor?" I snorted derisively. "How exactly did you manage to raise an army of colossal trees so quickly during the siege of Percysthorpe? Looks like Unseelie magicks to me.”

“Emperor you may be," Bonsai rustled, "but this one cannot remain quietly rooted while the honor of followers of the bush-ido way is questioned. Bargains were struck in haste, it is true. Brave volunteers sacrificed their own wood to overcome the threat of the Duchess. The rage we felt when we believed you were the mastermind of the atrocity that took place here convinced us of the necessity of our actions. After learning you were a mere patsy, they mulched themselves to reclaim their honor.”

“It seems we’ve both done things we aren’t proud of," I continued recklessly. "You’ve made amends for your deeds, and now I must make amends for mine. Unseelie collaborators work for me, it's true, but what emperor has ever refused to use the tools at his disposal? And how many of those emperors have your order honorably served? Seelie or not, I will be keeping a close eye on all parties in my employ. It is my destiny set forth by Fuma that I am to rule Faerie, and I intend to do it. I promise you on my honor as Emperor, King, and as an elf that I will do everything in my power to raise Faerie out of this dark age. You can join me in this great undertaking or you can judge me according to your code. If you would slay your emperor then do it now and be quick about it!”

The wind blew and I heard that flute-like sound again, along with a drumlike clatter of falling bones somewhere just out of sight. I silently prayed to Fuma that the shrubs would not decide to slay me, and wondered if Burnside had a woodsman's axe in her arsenal of sharp objects.

“Bold words," Bonsai rustled sternly. "However, it is actions more than words that make an emperor. This one must admit, your bark has become tougher since last we met."

The Shrubs rustled quietly to each other in discussion. The wend blew and the flute-like tone sounded again. If I survived this encounter, I would have to find whatever was making that noise and remove it from the field.

“Very well!" Bonsai announced after a few minutes of suspense. "One does not return to the capitol bearing the Imperial insignia merely to perform an assassination. The Shrub Knights pledge ourselves to your service. Let us all hope for Faerie’s sake that you will not fail, for if you do, it shall spell doom for us all.”

Another gust of wind blew across the narrow valley, causing the flute-like noise to trill oddly as some large piece of equipment somewhere shifted with a deep, resounding BOOM. After that, there was silence as Bonsai and I regarded each other in the waning light of the setting sun.

Meanwhile:

"Hold on!" Rebecca protested. "Battles and conquest? How can they have done all that if they’re just a bunch of miniature trees and potted plants?"

“With great mastery and skill,” Thomson explained as she drifted in her memories. "Bonsai back in his day cut quite a figure. Truly an impressive warrior."

[adleryoung]

"This one observes," General Bonsai stated, "that the forces we left to keep you contained were insufficient.”

This was the most elite fighting force in all of Faerie, and they didn’t seem pleased to see me. It took all the effort I could muster to keep my voice even. “I was able to convince the local woodland to support my cause. These trees are loyal to me, not to you.”

“Impressive," Bonsai rustled. "After it was revealed that you were a mere incompetent pawn to much bigger players, this one expected you to roll over and die in shame. It was a mistake to underestimate you.”

“I have achieved a lot since you saw me last," I declared icily. "I have been crowned Emperor and I am already gaining allies to enforce my claim to the throne.”

“Indeed? Impressive that it only took you two centuries to achieve all this, your majesty.”

“That's pretty rich," I scowled. "A tree lecturing me about haste. I assume you came here for some reason other than trying to wound my pride? I notice you are bearing the Imperial emblem, a sign of your oath of allegiance to the emperor. Which is me, by the way. I’m going to go out on a limb - see what I did there - and guess that my associate Dr. Owter Cesawonki spoke with you.”

“Yes. He interrupted us in our crusade against the parties responsible for the massacre here.” Bonsai ejected a tiny pine cone onto the ground, which I assumed was a gesture akin to spitting in disgust. “While this one retains doubts about your ability to fill your station, you are nevertheless correct; we are duty and honor bound to serve and protect the emperor. Your association with that cut-throat scoundrel of a fox makes me question YOUR honor, Highness.”

I silently stood my ground, tall and proud. By Fuma, I was worthy to be Emperor! I would show these shrubs and all of Faerie that I was a Seelie and honorable king!

“Emperor you may be," Bonsai rustled tensely after it was clear that I wasn't going to reply to his(?) previous statement, "but this one will not allow these noble Shrubs' honor to be besmirched. We will gladly serve a noble lord, but are you such a one? That is the question we have come to resolve."

The wind blew a sudden gust, and I almost thought I could hear a flute playing somewhere nearby.

-Meanwhile, in the Underworks-

“Wait, wait, wait," Rebecca said nervously. "Let me get this straight: Adler ran outside like all of our lives depended on it, so he could confront a bunch of… potted plants?”

"The legendary Shrub Knights," Thomson nodded solemnly. “Yes, Mr. Calaveras, Adler is a brave mel indeed.”

[adleryoung]

I watched Rebecca comforting Thomson and recalled what the witch bunny had been like when I first met her: A wayward delinquent who wanted to sell her soul to get revenge on everyone she didn’t like. She had grown into a very mature, kind and thoughtful femme. (Admittedly one with questionable fashion sense, but still as Seelie as could be.) It was true that most of her growth happened while we were apart, but still, it was I who set her on this path. I was capable of doing good! It was just hard to remember sometimes. Instead of letting my problems pile up on me, I needed to follow the advice of … I believe it was Brother Matthew … "One at a time, Your Grace, one at a time." If I recall, that was in reference to a platter of sacramental toffees, but it could easily be applied to many situations in life.

“Thomson," I said, breaking my reverie and clearing my throat. "There’s nothing you need to be forgiven for. You didn’t leave me to die, I am quite alive. I never left the tower during the battle. You didn’t fail me - it was I who failed you. I should be the one asking you for forgiveness. It was my own carelessness that caused the Plague of Battles in the first place. I didn’t know you were still alive. I didn't know ANYBODY was still alive. The one time I saw you, I thought you were a vengeful spirit. I ran away like a scared elflet and cowered in the scrying tower. There are a lot of mistakes I must answer for. If you’ll let me, I will gladly help you get your faculties back. I know it is possible! I've done it myself! Once you are well, if you’ll accept the offer, I would be happy to retain you as my legal counsel.”

“I’ve had this daydream before," Thomson said quietly. "A cruel vision where you were alive and everything was all right, only to have my heart broken when the spell broke. Please, I have to know this is real. Let me touch you so I know you are real.”

"Uhh, okay," I said after a short pause. "Go ahead.”

Slowly, reverently, and with forlorn hope, she reached out with one hand and ran her hoof over the side of my face. She glanced wide-eyed at the skull in her other hand. "He seems real," she muttered, then set the skull down on the table. “Yes … Mr. Calaveras is right. You’re alive. This is real. Thank Fuma, this is real.” She lunged forward and latched onto me in a trembling but surprisingly strong hug.

At first I was momentarily startled, but I slowly put my arms around Thomson. She buried her face against my neck and began sniffling as I rubbed her back in a soothing manner. At first I thought she was crying, but her sniffles became deeper and drawn out. “Ms. Thomson… what are you doing?”

“You smell nice,” she murmured sleepily.

“Please stop sniffing me.”

She responded by inhaling deeply.

“All right, that’s enough of that.” I gently broke up the hug and guided her back into her seat.

"I could show you a few thangs to do with this skull you prob'ly ain't thought of," Burnside said, as she stared at Mr. Calaveras.

Everyone awkwardly sipped tea for a few seconds.

Finally Rebecca spoke up: “So what do we do next?”

"Havin' a extry pair o' hands to help move all them corpses 'ud be nice," Burnside opined.

“Out there in the fields of death??" Thomson exclaimed, with a look of terror. "No! Please no! The sounds! The screaming! Don’t make me move the dead! Wading through the shimmering waves of death and the horrible sounds and screams they make! I can barely stand picking my way through them to find supplies in the forlorn city!”

"Wait, you've been in the city?" I blurted, but before I could continue, a terrifyingly familiar rustling sound echoed through the tunnel.

“ADLER YOUNG!” the rustling seemed to form words. It was the Voice of the Forest, all right, and that could only mean one thing…

Thomson covered her ears and clamped her eyes shut.

Burnside's hackles rose.

“Is there a storm outside?" Rebecca asked innocently. "I swear that sounded like rustling leaves.”

"Think!” I exclaimed. "There are no living trees on that desolate field of death! NAY! I know that rustling all too well. You stay here with Thomson! Burnside, come with me!”

The urgency in my voice left no room for discussion. Burnside and I rushed to the entrance of the tunnels.

As my eyes adjusted to the sudden daylight, my stomach dropped. I saw an entire platoon of Shrub Knights perched in their battle-pots amongst the dead.

"We meet again,” General Bonsai rustled.

[adleryoung]

Still shaken and bewildered, I took a seat.

“Ms. Thomson!" I muttered conversationally. "How wonderful to see you. You’re looking very, um … alive."

"Yes, these are the tunnels of sanctuary," Thomson explained cryptically. "Here we may dwell in safety. Mr. Calaveras guides his friends here with his temporal wisdom and ever-overseeing opto-viso-sightlingations. This is Mr. Calaveras, by the way. Say hello."

"Er, hello, Mr. Calaveras," I awkwardly greeted the skull Thomson held up. All skulls look pretty much alike, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had seen this one before…

"I like this new Thomson," Burnside declared enthusiastically. "Stead of a fancy highfalutin Floozy she’s a lot more like reg'lar folks now. She even got a bedtime skull just like I useta have! For a long time I'd sleep with the skull o' my first lover ever' night. Whenever I got REAL lonely, why I’d take that ol skull and put it right in -"

Rebecca suddenly covered Burnside’s mouth with her hand, but the raccoon femme continued talking and gesturing wildly as if nothing had happened. “Mmmm mph mmm mmm nnnmmm nnph.”

"So, um, Thomson," I said loudly, trying not to think about what Burnside had been saying. "How did you, uh, survive?"

"I know not how Mr. Calaveras brought me here," Thomson recollected, with a faraway look in her eyes. "But I heard the battle raging outside. I found a looking hole and saw, oh how I saw. Actions never permissible in a court of law! Objection! OBJECTION! Rivers of blood! Savagery! Once proud elves reduced to beasts, tearing into each other like feral animals. Elves without legs still walked so they could keep killing. Elves without arms bared their teeth and tore throats. Elves used their own entrails to strangle each other. Elves used their own bones as knives to carve into each other."

Rebecca and I both flinched and turned away at Thomson’s graphic description.

"Man oh man, that there was SOME party," Burnside exclaimed nostalgically before Rebecca clamped a hand back over her mouth.

"The carnage went on for days and days and days and days," Thomson continued. "Move for a recess! When the final elf laid down to die, I could still hear the sounds of screaming, snarling, ripping flesh, and cracking bones. I could hear it for days, months, years. Cruel and unusual! I heard it until time lost meaning. The sounds, the sounds wouldn’t go away, so I retreated into the darkness, deep into the darkness Mr. Calaveras led me, where the sounds couldn’t find us."

"Dear Fuma…" I groaned. "So, the ghost I saw all that time ago was actually you?"

"No, all that time ago Adler was the ghost that Mr. Calaveras saw and warned me about. The sounds of battle were bad, but the sounds that Adler’s shade made were worse. I came here to hide, but it found me in the darkness. Screaming, howling, laughing, accusing, begging, and whispering. Oh but it was angry that I had left him outside to die with all the others. What else could I have done? I move for a mistrial! The things it whispered… Thankfully Mr. Calaveras chased the shade away when I finally found him deep in the darkness. The darkness was my respite from the never ending sounds of blood and death, and Mr. Calaveras could confuse the shade whenever it found me, and lead me away, away. Mr. Calaveras became my eyes in the darkness. He showed me roots, mushrooms, and vermin to eat, and dripping water so I could drink. Ah, it was quiet, nice and quiet, but then the accusing shade would find us and we would have to retreat even further into the darkness. Hmm?" Thomson cocked her head, listening to something. "That’s a good question, Mr. Calaveras. Which Adler is this? Shouldn't he be dead? Are you dead?" she asked me point-blank.

"Ma'am, I am very much alive," I informed her.

"Is this the Adler that shrieks and accuses, the Adler I left to his fate, who delights in death and bathes in blood, or is he the redeeming Adler? That's true, Mr. Calaveras, he isn't screaming. But he looks like he could start up any second. Could this be the Adler that I wished would come and take me away from this never ending nightmare of fleeing from the Crown Prosecutor and the echoing shades of death? The Adler that never perished on that field of slaughter, the Adler that was born to rule, the Adler I protected instead of abandoning? Can this Adler forgive me? No further questions, Your Honor."

Rebecca let go of Burnside’s mouth to take Thomson’s hand and pat it reassuringly. "He's the real Adler," she murmured soothingly. "Now that we’re here, of course we’ll help you."

Seeing the state Thomson was in and hearing how long she had been futilely waiting for me to saver her filled me with remorse. Of course there had been no ghost. I was such an idiot! I could have come back at any time to find her, but I didn’t. That’s another life I ruined. The old familiar deep feeling of self-loathing with its usual maelstrom of dark thoughts came rushing back. Vernier, of course, would have told me that there’s still time to make amends and fix my mistakes … but that list of mistakes kept growing into a mountain. How could I possibly fix them all?

[adleryoung]

As often as I could, I would take breaks from the Albric Tor cleanup and go visit Kelly. Posing as her eccentric uncle, I taught her all the ballads and lore that I knew, as well as dropping hints on how magick worked.

Meanwhile, work on the Plague of Battle field proceeded slowly, with Burnside occasionally theorizing on how some of the corpses had died, and Rebecca begging her to shut up. This would have been much faster and easier with more people. As Emperor I theoretically had the power to order more elves to help clean up, but I wasn't sure where I could find them. Plus, it would be very awkward if they refused. Irenaeus when he started out had a gang of bloodthirsty tribeskunks backing him up. I had an amateur witch and one bloodthirsty assassin. Burnside could probably intimidate well enough, but I needed people alive and intact enough to work. No, it was best to clean up the capital ourselves, so when I did finally summon elves here, it would be presentable. No need for my subjects to see the corpse mountain I had made. Unless … perhaps I should keep part of it intact so I could show it to my enemies and make them quake in fear.

We had cleared a swath from the scry tower to the city wall when my musings were cut short by cackling laughter coming from an entrance to the underworks.

"What was that?" Rebecca asked, turning toward the black archway with interest.

"Fuma have mercy," I gasped. "It's still here?" I had almost forgotten about the terrifying experience I'd had here … or maybe I was subconsciously hoping it had been a bad dream.

"What's still here?" Rebecca asked, suddenly fascinated.

"The ghost," I whispered in dread.

"Was you still loopy when you seen this here 'ghost'?" Burnside inquired. "It's prob'ly a grave robber."

"A grave robber?" I repeated incredulously. "This isn't a grave - not a proper one - and even if he found some way in other than through the Gate, what in Fuma's name would he be laughing at surrounded by these grim relics of death??"

"Maybe he found a funny bone?"

"Be serious!" I snapped. "I didn't want to believe it. I hoped otherwise, but that sepulchral laughter proves the ghost is real! I saw it with my own eyes! Its ghastly visage was a skull floating in darkness!"

"You seen a skull in a place strewn with bones?" Burnside retorted with mock surprise.

"A ghost!" Rebecca squealed with excitement as she strode toward the underworks entrance. "I've always wanted to commune with the restless dead! It's so witchy! This will be a much needed break from shoveling all these horrible old corpses."

"Don't go!" I beseeched.

"Don't worry, my lord," she called back over her shoulder. "I'll sort this spirit out for you. It's probably just a lost soul that needs help finding the way."

"No! Come back! That ghost is not to be trifled with!" I pleaded desperately, but Rebecca walked into the archway and was quickly swallowed up in darkness. I wanted to run in after my pupil, but the mad laughter echoing in the darkness and the memory of my last encounter with the nameless ghoul had me frozen in abject terror. "Burnside, quick, bring her back! Hurry, before the powers that lie beyond drag her soul into the endless abyss!!!"

Burnside looked at me and raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and casually sauntered into the darkness.

Time passed as I stood there biting my nails and listening to ominous sounds coming from the tunnel. Scraping, clattering, an occasional chuckle from the spectre … then my blood ran cold as I heard Rebecca's and Burnside's voices join in the mad laughter filling the dark passageway. Oh no! How horrible! The ghost had them, and was even now destroying their sanity! This was all my fault! I should have acted, but my fear froze me like a scared little elflet! Even without his gang of tribeskunks, Irenaeus wouldn't fear a ghost! He wouldn't have let two (well, one and a half) beautiful femmes go alone to their doom! NO! I had to save them! I wrenched a sword loose from the pile of mingled bones and equipment, and holding the weapon high I let out a fierce battle cry: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" I charged into the darkness like a force of nature! "WAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaa-"

After about 100 yards of mad rushing, I came to a stop and stood still, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Deep in these tunnels of endless gloom, Rebecca and Burnside were sitting at a small, low table complete with a tea party set up and they were both laughing jovially.

"Grab a seat, Adler honey!" Burnside exclaimed with a grin. "An' just LOOK who it is! I finally got somebody to talk to bout my Unseelie hobbies again!"

"And she knows a lot of funny stories," Rebecca tittered.

I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. Surely it couldn't be… How could she have survived? It was simply unbelievable, and yet, sitting there in a tattered bathrobe and pouring tea…

"One lump or two, Mr. Calaveras?" Ms. Thomson asked, in the same hollow voice that I had heard laughing earlier.