The Rise of the Raccoon Queen
Or The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter

A Story of Faerie
© 2020 by M. Mitchell Marmel

(Additional characters by E.O. Costello and W.D. Reimer.)
Thumbnail art by  tegerio, color by  marmelmm


Part Thirty-three.



Winterbough:

I couldn’t help but smile a little while watching Sage’s reaction.

I had taken her to the site of the former Aerie, where there was the statue of the Wolf Queen holding Alastair’s severed head, and now I was seeing how she reacted to it.

Unlike the anger she’d shown on seeing her supposed likeness advertising everything from snout ointment to brandy, the wolfess just stood there, staring up at the statue as if she had been turned to stone herself.

Which wasn’t the case, thank the Lady. Her left eye was twitching and she was still breathing.

My ears swiveled as I heard her sigh and murmur, “That – that’s not how it was . . . “

I said, “To the people here, it was, and is. You’re a Hero.”

I guess she heard the capitalization, because her ears flattened and her tail tucked between her legs. “But it’s not true,” she said bitterly, and she gave me an eye that was equal parts sour and bitter. “You’re the Hero.”

For whatever reason, I was tired of hearing her go on like that. With roebuck speed I was almost instantly right in her face (sure, looking up at her; yes, I’m short). She blinked, completely surprised, and nearly flinched as I said very clearly and deliberately, “Yes. You. Were,” emphasizing each word with a tap of a fingertip on the end of her nose. She grabbed at her muzzle and I said, “Look around you, wolfess. All the people here believed you to be a Hero from the Long Ago when you got here, and nothing you said or did told them different. Would Aedith’s parents have given her to you if they hadn't believed in you?"

This was a flagrant blow below the belt. I think Brother Cellini would have fouled me for it, followed by a righteous pummeling in the best Muscular Mephitist style. It worked, though, and she started to get tears in her eyes as she protested, “But you - you killed Alastair. And that – that - "

I touched the fingertip to her lips, and she shut up. "We won’t speak about that, but yes, I killed Alastair. But, remember this, wolfess: no one saw it apart from you and Nippy." Of course, I was deliberately leaving out the two indefinites who were the servants of the scuti Lord Mealworm, but I didn’t give her time to object. "Besides, I was your squire at the time.” I gave her a grin to show off my silver-steel teeth. “Squires, squaddies, and soldier-servants are supposed to do the dirty work."

She looked at me, her Elf-mind locked down tightly, then up at her statue and the osprey’s head. "But I wasn't the hero they thought I was."

I placed a paw on her shoulder, one soldier to another. "You were the Hero they needed, wolfess."

She looked at me, sniffled, and looked back up at the statue. “You know,” she said quietly, “even the body-magicks that enabled me to nurse Sunny never gave me a bust like that.” I saw her lip curl into something like a smile.

“You didn’t have to change back, you know. From looking at Tessie, I think the Regalia would stretch to fit.”

She gave me a cool look, pulled a black rod from her Elfintory, and swung it at my whitefur.

ZAP!

“OW!” I pronked about a yard away, rubbing my arse. “What was that?!”

“A little toy Tali gave me,” Sage said, “and that was a down payment to thank you.” She came at me, and I pooked.

We spent the better part of an hour pooking all over that part of town as she chased me. She got one or two more licks in with the lightning-charged short-staff, but I think my efforts at bucking up her morale worked.

Of course, I would have to explain to Anastasia later where and how I got the scorch marks on my trousers.

[Note appended to manuscript: "My first guess, love, would have been in connection with a favorite hobby of Elfhamian roebucks; to wit, lighting farts."]


***


Tessie:

In the Capitals, Albric Tor and Persoc Tor, the mayors get appointed by the King. When the Mayor of, say, Persoc Tor puts together a council to help him run the city, he has to have the list approved by the King. I’m from there originally, so it seems a sensible arrangement to me.

I was down in Rajjan Tor for a little while after I joined the FAFI, and the people down there choose their own leaders. Of course, the Governor has to approve it, because he speaks for the King. I’m really not sure how things are run in Elfhame, although I think that the does run everything, and Princess Anastasia is their leader.

[Note appended to manuscript: “Yes, the [First of Eldest] is advised by the does. The bucks can choose their own informal leader.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “How, Master?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Farting contests, usually. Some of the Wolves have been asking to join in.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “How did you say that again, Master? [Thirst of Smelliest]?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “. . .”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Tessie? Repeat after me, please. [First of Eldest.]”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “[First . . . of . . . Eldest?], Ma’am?”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Very good. I think, though, that you should get some lessons in speaking Elfhamian Elvish.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Thank you, Ma’am.”]

Ooo-er went swimming after we went back to the inn, and it rained a little. The Regalia insisted that I had to slim down some, so I went for a walk and some jogging. Got a LOT of admiring looks from quite a few mels, and one or two jogged alongside me. One fellow, a badger, looked really nice in a suit as he ran.

My legs felt a bit stiff after lunch, but since it was a nice afternoon, Ooo-er and I went for a walk. I didn’t eat much, which the Regalia approved of (although my stomach didn’t). We were headed for one park when my otter chum pointed at a sign.

“What’s a ‘Political Rile-‘Em-Up,’ I wonder.”

“Well, the Master and the others were talking about city elections coming up,” I said. “Want to go give it a look?”

“Sure.” Ooo-er and me headed for the park, where a crowd was gathering. There were a couple carts selling food drawn up on the street by the park, and a banner stretched between two trees read GRAND ELECTION EVE RALLY. We took a seat on the grass under one of the trees to listen to the speakers.

One candidate, a tall hawk, was introduced as Soren Byrde and the crowd applauded politely as he stepped up onto a low platform. He touched a finger to his throat and his voice was amplified.

So, he was a magic-user, like the Master and Ooo-er.

“My fellow citizens!” he said with a nice friendly smile on his beak. “It’s an honor and a pleasure to be here today. My opponent has openly admitted he feels an affinity toward your city, but I happen to like this area. It might be a salubrious place to him, but to me it is one of the world's most delightful garden spots.” He paused, and a few people clapped politely.

Byrde paced around a little, making eye contact with as many people as he could while his paws moved, shaping the air as he went on, “When I embarked upon this political campaign I hoped that it could be conducted on a high level and that my opponent would be willing to stick to the issues. Unfortunately, she has decided to be tractable instead -- to indulge in unequivocal language, to eschew the use of outright lies in her speeches, and even to make repeated veracious statements about me. At first, I tried to ignore these scrupulous, unvarnished fidelities. Now I do so no longer. If my opponent wants a fight, she's going to get one!” More people started clapping.

I glanced at Ooo-er, who was following Byrde’s paw movements. “Anything wrong?”

She shrugged. “If we were closer to the sea, I’d think he took dancing lessons. See the way he’s moving his paws?”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s almost . . . No, it couldn’t be,” and Ooo-er shook her head.

“ . . . I ask you, my fellow citizens of Eastness,” Byrde was saying, “is this the kind of person we want in public office to set an example for our youth? Of course, it's not surprising that she should have such a typically pristine background -- no, not when you consider the other members of her family! Why, her sister, who has always been obsessed by sects, once worked as a proselyte outside a temple!”

I frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with that.” I’m a good Mephitist.

“Not really sure what he’s on about,” Ooo-er said. She shrugged and asked, “Want to go get something to eat?”

“No, I need to cut back, but something cool to drink would be nice,” so we both got up and walked over to the food carts as Byrde kept talking.

My ear twitched because the earring was vibrating. “Yes?”

“That fellow is up to something. I sense magicks.”

Ooo-er saw my expression. “The Regalia?”

“Yeah. Says that it can sense magicks.” Ooo-er’s ears and tail flicked and I asked, “You think so, too? What do you think?”

My otter friend (sure – by this time, after everything we’ve been through, we’re friends) looked a bit confused. “The way he was moving his paws. It’s almost like something we were taught on the Glittering Isle. Just the femmes.”

I blinked. “Wiles?” I lowered my voice when I asked the question. See, Wiles are not something mels need to know about, ever. My mother told me that.

“Yeah. But where could he have learned them?” and Ooo-er shrugged.

I didn’t know.

But I felt like needed to have Sun-and-Moon ready, just in case.

As we got drinks of magically-chilled fruit juice, I looked around at the crowd. Most were just politely listening, but there were some others who were gazing up at him and hanging on everything he was saying.

Byrde was saying, “I beg you, my friends, to oppose this femme whose life and work and ideas are so openly and avowedly compatible with our way of life. A vote for her would be a vote for the perpetuation of everything we hold dear.” He put his paws to his chest. “The facts are clear; the record speaks for itself. Do your duty.”

There was applause from the people who were just listening, but the people who’d been really involved in watching him were cheering and clapping their paws. “Regalia?”

“Yes?”

“You saw that.”

“Yep.”

“Does it have anything to do with that ‘Shadow’ you were talking about?”

“What do you think, hun?”

“I think you’re right.”

I could feel the Regalia smile. “You’re learning, kiddo.”


***


Tali:

Matt and I got back to find Fred sitting in the common room with a cup of tea and a scone. He was staring at both accusingly. “What’s the matter?” I asked. “They’re refusing to talk?”

“They will reveal their secrets to me,” the Demented Dog said, trying hard to sound like a supervillain. He then took a bite out of the scone. “Hmm, blueberries.”

“Now that the Elves are out of the room,” Matt asked, “mind telling me what you got out of Stores?”

Fred had been taking a sip of tea. He lowered the cup and replied, “Listening device, Type 7a, limpet variety. I want to know what Byrde’s mumbling about. I planted the bug on the window frame.”

“That . . . actually makes sense,” I said.

The canine gave me a toothy grin that would make most furs start eyeing the exits. “You know I do that from time to time, Commander. Keeps people guessing.”

“Heard anything so far?” Matt asked.

Fred shook his head. “He hasn’t been at the boarding house all day. That one fox, Fatskweeks, has him doing a rally in a park.” Anticipating my next question he added, “I tagged along and listened.” He took a bite of his scone and washed it down with tea.

“And?” Matt asked.

Fred closed his eyes. “Most of what he said was inconsequential. No outright lies, but Elves don’t lie.” Still with his eyes closed, he raised a finger. “However, we do know that Elves can lie, or at least have the ability to do so. He described no exact policies, but a significant fraction of his audience seemed to be almost mesmerized by him.” He opened his eyes. “We’ve seen this before.”

“In too many alternities,” I grumbled. I wasn’t impressed by his act, either. He’s been trying for years to get to Bene Tleilax for ‘advanced instruction,’ but the Corps frowns on that sort of thing.

My mate said, “The festival and voting is in two days. Keep an eye on Byrde until then.”

Fred nodded. “I’ll keep my eye on the birdie.” He chuckled.

Neither Matt or me did.

He shrugged and went back to eating his scone.


***


Missy:

Between the two of us, we almost got the City Guard’s attention. We pooked all over the central district, and while I did manage to shock him once or twice more, he’d also managed to slap me on my rear end three times.

Yes, I was keeping track. Revenge shall be mine.

And Elves Don’t Lie, I did need to get shaken out of my dark mood before I did something stupid or Unseelie. I needed to concentrate on the problem set before us – yes, ‘us’ – and get that resolved before trying to reconcile with Ooo-er.

Business before pleasure?

Possibly.






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