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The Rise of the Raccoon Queen
Or The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter
A Story of Faerie
© 2021 by M. Mitchell Marmel with W.D. Reimer
(Additional characters by E.O. Costello and W.D. Reimer.)
Thumbnail art by
chromatophore, with color by 
marmelmm
Part One.
Tali:
It is, I suppose, traditional to start a story like this by saying, "No ____, there I was," but, honestly, I was just stripping down for a nice swim on that fateful day, enjoying the sight of a pretty wolfess already in proper bathing costume (i.e., none) and looking forward to the sight of her mate, an equally lovely raven-haired otteress, when it happened . . .
But, I get ahead of myself.
When you muck about with time like I do, it’s easy to do, really.
The name is Tali Hartoh-Mason, by species a feline. How old am I? A lady never tells. I am an operative of the Temporal Corps, recently promoted to full Commander, on assignment to an alternity designated TEG-1139, known by the locals as "Faerie." After a couple of undercover jobs pretending to be a, well, "entertainer," I was ready for some R&R (which in this case, meant "Research and Relaxation)."
TEG-1139 had been tracked down as the source of some anomalies in adjacent alternities. It seemed that what the locals called "Gaps" or "Barriers" were starting to show up. They manifested themselves as what could best be described locally as columns of "frozen air," not cold but solid.
Ordinarily, something like this would only be of passing interest to the Corps, but the columns were somehow leaking over into the aforementioned adjacent alternities (how's that for a mouthful?), and had already caused some minor havoc with both air and space travel. So, we were despatched to find out what the problem was and how, if possible, to at least confine it to its home alternity.
The Corps was trying to prevent incidents, you see, like the loss of a Spindrift-class passenger ship after it blundered across one of these anomalies. We’re still trying to get it back home.
Since I’d been to TEG-1139, I had some familiarity with “Faerie” and its inhabitants, who are collectively referred to as “Elves.” It’s basically a Class II civilization, on the verge of Class III, and contact protocols are mandated by Headquarters. So I couldn’t do anything too flashy.
Fortunately, though, I had a native contact; an “in,” as my husband might say.
As I said before, I was working as an “entertainer” in a real downer of a place called Eastness. The minor state had been conquered at a point in the past by a race of ospreys, and the place was turning into a real pit for some reason. It was the first time I learned about a peculiar quality of this alternity.
Magic.
Yes, I know what it sounds like, and I know Clarke’s Law. But for lack of a better term I’ll refer to it as magic, or Gramerye in the native languages. The ruler was stealing or harvesting the inherent magic in the realm’s inhabitants, and from what I learned managed to deliberately open a portal to another alternity, namely PZZ-2163. That place is proscribed for a reason, as everyone in the Corps knows. It was in that realm (Eastness, I mean, and not Stinky Sixty-Three) that I met the Master of Elfhame and the Wolf Queen.
No, not that Master. His name’s Westersloe Winterbough V, and he’s a runty-looking roe deer with metal teeth and one antler slightly askew. He’s a soldier, and he’s obviously had an eventful life. Anyway, he’s also a magic user and he succeeded in sending the entity from PZZ-2163 back where it came from after killing Eastness’ ruler. “Master of Elfhame” was a courtesy title granted to him by his sovereign.
The Wolf Queen was a different story. She’s a wolfess, as you might expect, and wears some sort of metal gear that’s strongly magical and really old, if passive scans are any indication. She had a high-ranking position in her native realm until she lost a duel with the Master, and ended up enslaved to him. He manumitted her, but she still play-acted in order to embarrass him in public. Rather sweet, really. (He didn’t think so.)
Did I mention she was dead fit, as well? Pity she was married.
Oh, and he destroyed that realm, too. I’m told he earned the sobriquet “Throne-Breaker” for the number of times he’s purposely or accidentally wrecked some petty kingdom. It’s no wonder his sovereign has him living up in his home territory, Elfhame. Keeping him at arm’s length until he’s needed.
Getting back to “Rest and Research,” I decided to start by reading up on what these Gaps might be and how they’re manifesting, so I headed to Elfhame. I’d heard that the Master was an avid book collector. Not hard, really. Every book- and scroll-seller in Faerie seemed to have sold him something at one point or another. I also found out that he and his mate, Anastasia, had encountered a Gap.
I was issued a Corps Type IX Mobile, and I kitted it out with a few items before adjusting the chameleon circuits to have it mimic a gypsy wagon. There’s a community of wolves just outside Elfhame proper, made up of gypsies, so the mobile would fit in without raising too much comment. Still, I materialized there at night to avoid being too obvious.
Being feline, I sort of stood out among a population that was mostly roe deer and wolves. I was here on official Corps business, though, so I was in my uniform with only one weapon showing. I had at least two more hidden on me.
Where? None of your damn business.
A few early risers watched me go by as I headed up the main road through the village of Greytor towards the largish house called the Master’s Lodge. One adolescent wolf was shepherding a group of fawns and cubs around as they played. Fawns and cubs, living together? Could mass hysteria be far behind?
I hoped not. This looked like a nice, quiet place, and I’m not going to use the ‘q’ word.
The Master’s Lodge is a pretty nice place, easily the largest home in the area, with an annex and a greenhouse. I walked up to the door, and took a half-step back when it opened before I could ring the bell.
She was an ermine, in full maid kit from the top of her head to her ankles, and I recognized her from Eastness. “Good morning, Miss. May I help you?” she asked, dropping a curtsy.
“I wish to speak with the Master of Elfhame,” I said in Standard Elvish. “On business.”
“Of course, Miss.” The ermine bobbed again. “I recall you, but I fear I did not hear your name.”
I smiled and handed her my card (translated into the local argot). “I apologize. My name is Tali Hartoh-Mason.”
“Of course. Would you please step inside, while I see if the Master will see you.” Well, I’m not one to stand on ceremony (he never stood on me), so I came inside. She closed the door and moved silently into the next room.
Very nice construction and décor; nothing fancy. Varnished wood and – I stopped looking around because there was a tall, very stern-faced minkess standing right in front of me, a broom in one paw.
I looked at her.
She glared at me, and pointed.
I looked down, and the farthing dropped.
I carefully stepped outside, wiped my boots, and then very carefully lifted my feet and pointedly looked at the soles before I came back inside. “Happy now?”
The minkess gave me another hard look, but nodded, and walked off.
“It’s all right. She’s not designed to talk,” said a very flat, nasal voice not unlike Fred Owlen’s, and I turned to see a short roebuck standing in the doorway leading to the house’s main room. “And she’s programmed to keep the house clean.”
“She’s an automaton?” I confessed to being impressed. “Beautiful craftsfurship.”
“On behalf of the designer, I thank you. Westersloe Winterbough, Miss Hartoh-Mason.” He extended a paw, and I took it. Good grip. “I’m told that you’re on business? You’re not really dressed for that, and I don’t know who you spoke to in the Capitals, but I’m not – “
“That was a cover, and you’ve probably suspected as such, after Eastness.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “It wasn’t hard to notice someone apparating without using Gramerye, yes. Come into the main room with me and we’ll talk. Tessie?”
“Coming, Master!” My ears flick and I turned to see a very curvy raccooness come flouncing up in a skimpy maid’s uniform that looked like it was having trouble keeping her bust and hips under control. She had a happy and expectant smile on her face that fled the instant she laid eyes on me, replaced with a scowl and narrowed, suspicious eyes.
“Tessie,” and Winterbough waited until she looked at him, “she’s just here to talk. We’ll have tea in my study, please.”
“Yes, Master.” She had a grudging tone to her voice. She turned away, and quite deliberately bent over to pick up a bit of dirt, revealing that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Very nice view.
She muttered, “’Talk?’ Is that what they’re calling it now down in Persoc Tor?” as she walked away.
Winterbough’s ears were down in embarrassment. “Please forgive her – “
“What for? She’s quite pretty.”
“Er, yes. Come on in and take a seat, Miss Hartoh-Mason.” We headed down a hallway, past a glass box rimed over with ice. The study was rather cozy, with a sofa and a few comfortable chairs. And books and scrolls crammed everywhere. The buck immediately took one particular chair, and I guessed that it was his favorite.
I took a seat a short distance away from him. “I was in Eastness as part of a reconnaissance mission.”
The host was immediately replaced by the soldier. “Reconnaissance?”
“Yes. Learning some of the basic customs, the language. The organization I work for insists on getting adequate information before taking any action.” He started looking a bit suspicious. “To sum up, we’re worried about these Gaps that you’re experiencing.”
The suspicion turned to surprise. “You know about them?”
I nodded. “They’re showing up in your – realm, for want of a better term, and whatever’s causing it is leaking into other – realms.”
“’Other realms.’ Like the Lowfolk world?”
I raised an eyebrow. Lowfolk? Sounded terribly condescending. “Essentially, yes. I was directed to contact you because you have some knowledge of these anomalies. Once we understand them, we can take steps to stop or prevent them.”
Winterbough looked away for a moment as Tessie came in with a tray with a tea service and a plate of small cakes. She paused just past the doorway and her ears flicked as she looked at the roebuck. A moment later, and she managed a smile as she served us before leaving the room.
“Pardon me,” he said, “I was explaining to Tessie who you are and why you’re here.” Again, a lopsided smile. “She dislikes competition.”
“I see. Well, I’m not here for that,” and I smiled as I stirred some honey into my tea. “Besides, you’re not really my type.”
“Ah. So, why are you here, Miss?”
“Call me Tali, please. I want to interview you and anyone else who’s encountered these Gaps, and I’d like access to your library.”
He gave me a shrewd glance over his teacup. “Elves Don’t Lie – “
“So I’ve heard.”
“ – So I’ll tell you that I’m intrigued by all of this, so I will grant you fire and bread. And my books. I’m afraid I don’t have any room here at the Lodge for you, though.”
“No problem. I have a wagon down at Glenallid.” He flicked an ear when I told him that, and he raised a finger. “Yes?”
“If you find anything useful about these Gaps,” he said in a measured tone, “and if your organization can figure out a way to stop or dispel them, I want to know about it. I would have to notify my liege-lord and His Majesty.”
“That’s fair. This is really lovely tea.” I smiled, recalling tea in glasses with strawberry jam, in a certain salon at Tsarskoe Selo.
<NEXT>
Or The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter
A Story of Faerie
© 2021 by M. Mitchell Marmel with W.D. Reimer
(Additional characters by E.O. Costello and W.D. Reimer.)
Thumbnail art by
chromatophore, with color by 
marmelmmPart One.
Tali:
It is, I suppose, traditional to start a story like this by saying, "No ____, there I was," but, honestly, I was just stripping down for a nice swim on that fateful day, enjoying the sight of a pretty wolfess already in proper bathing costume (i.e., none) and looking forward to the sight of her mate, an equally lovely raven-haired otteress, when it happened . . .
But, I get ahead of myself.
When you muck about with time like I do, it’s easy to do, really.
The name is Tali Hartoh-Mason, by species a feline. How old am I? A lady never tells. I am an operative of the Temporal Corps, recently promoted to full Commander, on assignment to an alternity designated TEG-1139, known by the locals as "Faerie." After a couple of undercover jobs pretending to be a, well, "entertainer," I was ready for some R&R (which in this case, meant "Research and Relaxation)."
TEG-1139 had been tracked down as the source of some anomalies in adjacent alternities. It seemed that what the locals called "Gaps" or "Barriers" were starting to show up. They manifested themselves as what could best be described locally as columns of "frozen air," not cold but solid.
Ordinarily, something like this would only be of passing interest to the Corps, but the columns were somehow leaking over into the aforementioned adjacent alternities (how's that for a mouthful?), and had already caused some minor havoc with both air and space travel. So, we were despatched to find out what the problem was and how, if possible, to at least confine it to its home alternity.
The Corps was trying to prevent incidents, you see, like the loss of a Spindrift-class passenger ship after it blundered across one of these anomalies. We’re still trying to get it back home.
Since I’d been to TEG-1139, I had some familiarity with “Faerie” and its inhabitants, who are collectively referred to as “Elves.” It’s basically a Class II civilization, on the verge of Class III, and contact protocols are mandated by Headquarters. So I couldn’t do anything too flashy.
Fortunately, though, I had a native contact; an “in,” as my husband might say.
As I said before, I was working as an “entertainer” in a real downer of a place called Eastness. The minor state had been conquered at a point in the past by a race of ospreys, and the place was turning into a real pit for some reason. It was the first time I learned about a peculiar quality of this alternity.
Magic.
Yes, I know what it sounds like, and I know Clarke’s Law. But for lack of a better term I’ll refer to it as magic, or Gramerye in the native languages. The ruler was stealing or harvesting the inherent magic in the realm’s inhabitants, and from what I learned managed to deliberately open a portal to another alternity, namely PZZ-2163. That place is proscribed for a reason, as everyone in the Corps knows. It was in that realm (Eastness, I mean, and not Stinky Sixty-Three) that I met the Master of Elfhame and the Wolf Queen.
No, not that Master. His name’s Westersloe Winterbough V, and he’s a runty-looking roe deer with metal teeth and one antler slightly askew. He’s a soldier, and he’s obviously had an eventful life. Anyway, he’s also a magic user and he succeeded in sending the entity from PZZ-2163 back where it came from after killing Eastness’ ruler. “Master of Elfhame” was a courtesy title granted to him by his sovereign.
The Wolf Queen was a different story. She’s a wolfess, as you might expect, and wears some sort of metal gear that’s strongly magical and really old, if passive scans are any indication. She had a high-ranking position in her native realm until she lost a duel with the Master, and ended up enslaved to him. He manumitted her, but she still play-acted in order to embarrass him in public. Rather sweet, really. (He didn’t think so.)
Did I mention she was dead fit, as well? Pity she was married.
Oh, and he destroyed that realm, too. I’m told he earned the sobriquet “Throne-Breaker” for the number of times he’s purposely or accidentally wrecked some petty kingdom. It’s no wonder his sovereign has him living up in his home territory, Elfhame. Keeping him at arm’s length until he’s needed.
Getting back to “Rest and Research,” I decided to start by reading up on what these Gaps might be and how they’re manifesting, so I headed to Elfhame. I’d heard that the Master was an avid book collector. Not hard, really. Every book- and scroll-seller in Faerie seemed to have sold him something at one point or another. I also found out that he and his mate, Anastasia, had encountered a Gap.
I was issued a Corps Type IX Mobile, and I kitted it out with a few items before adjusting the chameleon circuits to have it mimic a gypsy wagon. There’s a community of wolves just outside Elfhame proper, made up of gypsies, so the mobile would fit in without raising too much comment. Still, I materialized there at night to avoid being too obvious.
Being feline, I sort of stood out among a population that was mostly roe deer and wolves. I was here on official Corps business, though, so I was in my uniform with only one weapon showing. I had at least two more hidden on me.
Where? None of your damn business.
A few early risers watched me go by as I headed up the main road through the village of Greytor towards the largish house called the Master’s Lodge. One adolescent wolf was shepherding a group of fawns and cubs around as they played. Fawns and cubs, living together? Could mass hysteria be far behind?
I hoped not. This looked like a nice, quiet place, and I’m not going to use the ‘q’ word.
The Master’s Lodge is a pretty nice place, easily the largest home in the area, with an annex and a greenhouse. I walked up to the door, and took a half-step back when it opened before I could ring the bell.
She was an ermine, in full maid kit from the top of her head to her ankles, and I recognized her from Eastness. “Good morning, Miss. May I help you?” she asked, dropping a curtsy.
“I wish to speak with the Master of Elfhame,” I said in Standard Elvish. “On business.”
“Of course, Miss.” The ermine bobbed again. “I recall you, but I fear I did not hear your name.”
I smiled and handed her my card (translated into the local argot). “I apologize. My name is Tali Hartoh-Mason.”
“Of course. Would you please step inside, while I see if the Master will see you.” Well, I’m not one to stand on ceremony (he never stood on me), so I came inside. She closed the door and moved silently into the next room.
Very nice construction and décor; nothing fancy. Varnished wood and – I stopped looking around because there was a tall, very stern-faced minkess standing right in front of me, a broom in one paw.
I looked at her.
She glared at me, and pointed.
I looked down, and the farthing dropped.
I carefully stepped outside, wiped my boots, and then very carefully lifted my feet and pointedly looked at the soles before I came back inside. “Happy now?”
The minkess gave me another hard look, but nodded, and walked off.
“It’s all right. She’s not designed to talk,” said a very flat, nasal voice not unlike Fred Owlen’s, and I turned to see a short roebuck standing in the doorway leading to the house’s main room. “And she’s programmed to keep the house clean.”
“She’s an automaton?” I confessed to being impressed. “Beautiful craftsfurship.”
“On behalf of the designer, I thank you. Westersloe Winterbough, Miss Hartoh-Mason.” He extended a paw, and I took it. Good grip. “I’m told that you’re on business? You’re not really dressed for that, and I don’t know who you spoke to in the Capitals, but I’m not – “
“That was a cover, and you’ve probably suspected as such, after Eastness.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “It wasn’t hard to notice someone apparating without using Gramerye, yes. Come into the main room with me and we’ll talk. Tessie?”
“Coming, Master!” My ears flick and I turned to see a very curvy raccooness come flouncing up in a skimpy maid’s uniform that looked like it was having trouble keeping her bust and hips under control. She had a happy and expectant smile on her face that fled the instant she laid eyes on me, replaced with a scowl and narrowed, suspicious eyes.
“Tessie,” and Winterbough waited until she looked at him, “she’s just here to talk. We’ll have tea in my study, please.”
“Yes, Master.” She had a grudging tone to her voice. She turned away, and quite deliberately bent over to pick up a bit of dirt, revealing that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Very nice view.
She muttered, “’Talk?’ Is that what they’re calling it now down in Persoc Tor?” as she walked away.
Winterbough’s ears were down in embarrassment. “Please forgive her – “
“What for? She’s quite pretty.”
“Er, yes. Come on in and take a seat, Miss Hartoh-Mason.” We headed down a hallway, past a glass box rimed over with ice. The study was rather cozy, with a sofa and a few comfortable chairs. And books and scrolls crammed everywhere. The buck immediately took one particular chair, and I guessed that it was his favorite.
I took a seat a short distance away from him. “I was in Eastness as part of a reconnaissance mission.”
The host was immediately replaced by the soldier. “Reconnaissance?”
“Yes. Learning some of the basic customs, the language. The organization I work for insists on getting adequate information before taking any action.” He started looking a bit suspicious. “To sum up, we’re worried about these Gaps that you’re experiencing.”
The suspicion turned to surprise. “You know about them?”
I nodded. “They’re showing up in your – realm, for want of a better term, and whatever’s causing it is leaking into other – realms.”
“’Other realms.’ Like the Lowfolk world?”
I raised an eyebrow. Lowfolk? Sounded terribly condescending. “Essentially, yes. I was directed to contact you because you have some knowledge of these anomalies. Once we understand them, we can take steps to stop or prevent them.”
Winterbough looked away for a moment as Tessie came in with a tray with a tea service and a plate of small cakes. She paused just past the doorway and her ears flicked as she looked at the roebuck. A moment later, and she managed a smile as she served us before leaving the room.
“Pardon me,” he said, “I was explaining to Tessie who you are and why you’re here.” Again, a lopsided smile. “She dislikes competition.”
“I see. Well, I’m not here for that,” and I smiled as I stirred some honey into my tea. “Besides, you’re not really my type.”
“Ah. So, why are you here, Miss?”
“Call me Tali, please. I want to interview you and anyone else who’s encountered these Gaps, and I’d like access to your library.”
He gave me a shrewd glance over his teacup. “Elves Don’t Lie – “
“So I’ve heard.”
“ – So I’ll tell you that I’m intrigued by all of this, so I will grant you fire and bread. And my books. I’m afraid I don’t have any room here at the Lodge for you, though.”
“No problem. I have a wagon down at Glenallid.” He flicked an ear when I told him that, and he raised a finger. “Yes?”
“If you find anything useful about these Gaps,” he said in a measured tone, “and if your organization can figure out a way to stop or dispel them, I want to know about it. I would have to notify my liege-lord and His Majesty.”
“That’s fair. This is really lovely tea.” I smiled, recalling tea in glasses with strawberry jam, in a certain salon at Tsarskoe Selo.
<NEXT>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Housecat
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 61.6 kB
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