Middenly Charms

© 2016 by Walter Reimer


A hearty thank you for the use of characters by  eocostello set in  tegerio’s Realm of Faerie universe!

Part 4.


There are times when I wish I had my mate’s proficiency in working time-spells. I’d get more sleep that way. As it was, I think I only managed about three hours of sleep.

I didn’t walk to the Palace the next morning, because I didn’t want to get my ‘A’ uniform mussed up. I had bought some food from the FAFI canteen before leaving GHQ (note, please, that ‘food’ has a somewhat different definition, connotation and appearance at the Faerie Armed Forces Institute than it does elsewhere in the Empire), so I was able to have some breakfast before leaving.

The Wolf Queen was already gone when I woke up, so I expect she’d arranged her own provender.

I had also arranged to have an ant-coach pick me up and bring me to the Palace. I tipped the driver when we got there, and he graciously raised his hat to me before going about his business. The gate guards saluted me (Valor Medal, you know) before asking me to state my name and my purpose for being there. I was expected, of course, so I went straight in.

A liveried attendant met me and escorted me into a small anteroom just off the Hall of Statecraft. “It will be a few more minutes, Master,” the striped feline assured me before bustling off. There was nothing for it, so I settled down to wait.

“Zo! Ze enemy uff ze Great Vulpitanian Republic showz his vort’less zelf!”

Apparently I wasn’t going to be waiting alone. It was nice to have a bit of company.

I turned around and, sure enough, there was a portly tod-fox whose uniform was festooned with ribbons, orders, awards, medals, and looked about to explode from his pronounced girth. He adjusted the monocle in his left eye. “Zo! No vords for me, Ambassador SALV Aleksandr Vatcheeks?”

I nodded pleasantly and refrained from asking him when his cub was due. I didn’t want him to lose his temper; even if his buttons were magically attached to his uniform, they’d still cause an injury if they started flying about. “Vulpitania Vincit, Your Excellency.”

The words had the desired effect. SALV Vatcheeks came to attention, saluted and barked, “Vulpitania Vincit!” before catching himself and giving me a hard squint. “Hyu iz ein schmott guy, hyu iz, tryink to diztrakt a Specially Accredited Lawyerly Vulpine zuch az I. Zo! Vhateffer hyu are ze plannink, Mazter, hyu vill not get avay vit’ it.” He paused and stepped closer, leaning in conspiratorially before stage-whispering, “Vhat iz hyu plannink, hey?”

I blinked, as an unutterably evil idea occurred to me. Not an unseelie idea, far from it, but a corker of one nevertheless.

I made a great show of looking around, and the SALV looked around as well. He turned back to me and leaped a good four feet backwards, gekkering in shock at the sight of a vixen grinning at him.

A vixen wearing my uniform, mark you, showing that I still knew how to transmogrify. It wasn’t a painless process, either, as I’m a roe-buck, and we don’t have tails whereas vixens do. Have tails, that is. Thank Fuma’s Mercy that the tail didn’t burst out of my uniform trousers, but it was damned uncomfortable to feel it slither down my leg. It brought to mind the scuti Lord Mercaptan.

The uniform was also uncomfortably tight in certain other areas, as well, and I prayed to the Lady that my buttons would hold.

Still, I leaned toward the still-gekkering Ambassador and said in what I hoped was an appropriate accent, “Don’t be zo chy. C’mon, giff uz a kiss.”

SALV Vatcheeks started gekkering louder, and I transformed back into a roebuck before an attendant opened the door. “Is anything wrong, Ambassador?” the Protocol Master asked.

“He – he – “ Vatcheeks pointed a shaking finger at me, “He iz – he knowz der tranzmogrifications! He iz tryink to embarrass der Great Vulpitanian Republic!”

The elegantly coiffed rat looked hard at me and I said, “Elves don’t lie. I confess that I was in no way trying to embarrass the Republic.” Completely true; SALV Vatcheeks was doing an excellent job of doing that himself. The sputtering Ambassador was escorted out of the room as the Protocol Master solicitously offered the poor tod a plate of cookies and a snifter of brandy to settle his nerves.

As soon as they were out of the room I smiled, and damned near jumped out of my skin as I heard a voice behind me say, “You don’t make a very convincing vixen. The tail, you know.”

I turned to see the Wolf Queen smirking at me. “How did you get in here?” I asked. “It couldn’t be by a pook. This place is full of security wards.”

“You’re not the only one who can transmogrify, you know,” she pointed out. “I changed into a moth and rode in on your uniform tunic.” The wolfess paused, licking her lips. “Do you know if they’re going to serve lunch after this? Your uniform smelled so inviting that it made me hungry.” My blank look must have begged further details, and she said, “Army uniforms are wool, right?”

I stared. “You didn’t take a bite out of my uniform, did you?” and was scarcely reassured when she smiled and shook her head No. Elves don’t lie, of course.

Another Protocol Master, this one a short ram, opened the door. “Wolf Queen, and the Master of Elfhame? Please come with me.”

We weren’t the first ones in the Hall of Statecraft, but by no means the last, and were shown to our places. SALV Vatcheeks very pointedly looked away from me. Prince Erik stood beneath one of the tall stained glass windows of the Hall, flanked by the same two Household Cavalry officers. I imagined that Colonel Briarrose had insisted on the honor of his unit being the wolf’s escort. A few members of the Court noted the Prince’s presence and muttered among themselves.

“His Majesty, the High King!” With the exceptions of the guards and the Wolf Queen, everyone in the place bowed as the herald stood aside and King Adler tottered out of an anteroom. The old skunk walked with a stoop and was leaning both on a walking-stick and Crown Prince Gawain’s arm. He was helped up the six steps to the throne, and after he had been seated Gawain took his place at his side. Marshal Roland, the King’s younger brother, had entered behind his sovereign and the Heir, and settled into a chair a few steps lower on the dais.

“My Lords, ladies, and gentlefurs,” the King said in a solemn voice, “some days ago a small force from the Grand Duchy of the Grey Horde arrived at the border of the United Cities. They came under a flag of truce, and offered tokens of parley.” He raised a paw, and the assembly quieted. “Will the Herald-at-Arms bring forth the Grand Duchy’s envoy, please?”

The Herald-at-Arms stepped forward, leading the Grey Horde’s envoy. In comparison to our Herald’s stiffly embroidered and brocaded gold tabard, the wolf looked almost nondescript in an iron-gray kilt and a matte-black breastplate. The wolf was an old mel, with several battle-scars showing on his muzzle and bare arms. He paused and exchanged bows with Prince Erik before approaching the throne and giving the Herald-at-Arms an unsealed scroll.

“Your Majesty,” the rabbit said, “here stands before you Vortimer son of Beorhtric, Laird of Fallingwater and Emissary of the Grey Horde to the Court of Irenaeus.” He opened the scroll and displayed the seal before approaching the throne and giving it to the Crown Prince. Prince Gawain read it before giving it to his father.

King Adler looked up and nodded at Laird Vortimer. “Be welcome in this realm, my Laird, and tender a fair report to your liege of your treatment here. I am told, further, that you have a message from your sovereign, and I give you leave to read its contents.”

The Herald had retreated to stand beside the wolf, who now knelt on one knee and held aloft a scroll bound in a cloth-of-gold ribbon and bearing a seal worked in black and gray wax. He flexed his arms and the seal crumbled as he opened it and read aloud, “In the Name of the Great Alpha, Before Whom all creatures are as cubs to their Mother, We, Lucretia, First of Our Name, Grand Duchess of the Grey Horde, send greetings to Our Brother Adler Sartoriousson, of Albric Tor and Persoc Tor King, styled High King of Faerie.” The laird’s voice sounded like he’d been gargling gravel for years, but loud enough to be heard throughout the Hall. No soft diplomat, this one.

”Quite the change of tune from the last time”, the Wolf Queen said to me in Elf-Mind, and I nodded. A few nobles who’d been there for Grand Duke Cedric’s insulting message years earlier had noticed the change in tone as well. I glanced over at Prince Erik, and almost did a double-take.

The wolf’s muzzle hung partly open in shock.

“As surely as it is that the Fair Folk do not utter falsehoods, We are saddened by the words of Our late kinsman Cedric, who offered insults and defiance to Our Brother Adler. Such words went far beyond the usages and customs of courtesy, and We ask pardon on behalf of Our kinsman.”

Several people in the crowd were muttering now, and I was picking up intermittent flashes of Elf-Mind. The overall tenor seemed to be that they were surprised at the mild tone of the message, and some hope for a peaceful resolution of tensions along the border. The envoy from the United Cities, in particular, looked relieved as Vortimer continued.

King Adler remained stoic as the wolf said, “We trust that Our Brother shall grant Us pardon, on behalf of Our kinsman, for it is known that the High King is justly famed for his magnanimity, and it is in that spirit that We have commanded Our right trusty, honored and venerable servant Vortimer to inquire as to the safety and welfare of Our kinsman Erik son of Halfdan of the Clan of Vangaria and those under his command defeated in battle at the Glittering Isle.” Vortimer fell silent, looking expectantly up at the King.

Adler nodded to his brother, and Prince Roland said, “I speak for the High King; Roland Sartoriousson, Prince of the Blood and Marshal of Faerie. Prince Erik of Vangaria and the survivors of his command were remanded by the Crown into the custody of the Master of Elfhame,” and he waved me forward.

I was very aware of the eyes on me as I stepped forward. I’m only a Corporal in the Army, and a commoner; I’m very much out of my depth in this type of crowd. I caught a bit of movement out of the corner of my eye and my ears flicked at a rustling sound, followed by several gasps. It didn’t take a mental giant to figure out that the Wolf Queen was walking just behind me and to my left, and she had manifested her wings.

”Show off”, I said, and tried not to grind my teeth as I came to a halt a few paces from Laird Vortimer.

The wolf did a violent double-take and almost fell to the floor at the sight of the Wolf Queen. To his credit, however, he collected himself hastily and asked, “Are you the Master of Elfhame, buck?”

I bowed (it seemed the thing to do) and replied, “Corporal the Master of Elfhame, Westersloe Winterbough V, Laird.”

“And it is so that your King and your liege-lord did remand Prince Erik and his command into your custody?”

“It is, Laird. I have been privileged to have Prince Erik and his compatriots under my care these many years, and I can report, in truth, that none have died in my custody.” Which was very true, and I was proud of it.

Plus it helped to have the Marshal whispering in my mind to help me get through how to phrase things properly.

“And I have seen Erik son of Halfdan with my own eyes,” Vortimer said, “so I may attest to the truth of what you say, Master. You have my thanks, and those of Her Grace.” He addressed the King again. “Your Majesty, I was ordered to ask, if any of the Grey Horde still lived, that Your Majesty name what ransom you will, so that they may be set at liberty and return to their home dens.”

Prince Erik still looked fairly gobsmacked, and he blinked as King Adler said, “These mels were placed in the custody of the Master of Elfhame. It is for him to name the ransom, not I.” Prince Gawain had been listening to his father, but when he referred to me he glanced in my direction.

I was very glad that his eyes weren’t capable of spitting fire at me.

Laird Vortimer was looking at me, and I hastily cleared my throat and said, “Ahem, well. I am happy to say that Prince Erik and his command have helped the furs of the Vale by working in the fields and farms, and have earned their keep honorably.” I smiled at the Prince as I added, “I am satisfied and content that there is no ransom to be paid, and with my King’s permission I would be happy to set them at liberty.” That caused a stir in the crowd, several apparently expecting me to demand gold or a wagon-load of comely wolf-femmes to ravish.

”Until they couldn’t stand up straight”. The Wolf Queen was being very helpful today.

“I am pleased to hear it, on behalf of the Grey Horde,” the Laird said. “Please send to my fellow countrymels, that they may know that they are free to come home.” He paused, ears dipping as scattered applause rose. He waited for it to subside before saying, “There is yet one last thing I am commanded to ask of the High King.”

Adler nodded, and the old wolf said, “Her Grace the Grand Duchess desires to look upon her kinsman Erik son of Halfdan again, and she has asked that he come to the Great Lair in the company of the Master of Elfhame and the femme known as the Wolf Queen.”

“An . . . interesting request, Laird Vortimer,” the King said after a moment. “To what purpose?”

“Grand Duchess Lucretia desires to open a diplomatic dialogue with the Empire, if the High King finds this agreeable. She desires the Master to visit the Great Lair first, to ‘break the ice’ as she put it.”

Now it was my turn to be gobsmacked, not just by the request, but by the way it was phrased. I did, in fact, break the ice at Mossford; or, as one alchemist-philosopher explained to me years afterward, “The thermal shock – the sudden expansion of the ice as it was superheated - caused it to basically explode.” Complete gibberish to me.

“The Crown will take this under advisement,” the King said. “We will confer with our brother and our Heir, as well as with the Master of Elfhame and the Wolf Queen.” I bowed, but not before catching a glimpse of the expression on Prince Gawain’s face.

His glare was hot enough to do to silver-steel what my runaway spell had done to Mossford Lake.

The crowd had been muttering again, but quieted as King Adler raised his paw. “Laird Vortimer,” he asked, “have you any further message from Her Grace the Grand Duchess?”

“Nae, Your Majesty. This, then, is my greeting, my request, and my message. I offer my throat to the High King, in the Name of the Great Alpha,” and the grizzled old mel tipped his head back, to the gasps of some of the ladies of the Court. His neckfur was laced with several scars.

Seeing that made me wonder. Politics in the Empire could be a bit rough, but they appeared to be fawn’s-play next to what passed for politics on the High Rock.


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