The Butcher of Gadobhra-Chapter 541: The Morning after the Night Before

It was early morning when, as a few rays of light crept over the eastern skyline of Gadobhra, outlining the ruined castles that in the distant past had been the homes of the great families of Gadobhra. They rose above the city walls like jagged teeth, their shattered towers giving hints to the chaos that had led to the city's downfall. As the old buildings cast their shadows on the city, three tired and still inebriated Fae Princes, and their newest companion, the Summer Lord, walked from the tall ACME building. They had visited the home of the Baron and Baroness of Gadobhra and went to battle with his collection of mortal wines. They had fought valiantly and won, but bore the marks of the struggle.

The Fox Prince was only staying upright because of the grip the Bear Prince had on his arm. "Steady, sir. It wouldn't do to soil your borrowed party clothes by taking a tumble onto the cobblestones."

Shaking his head to clear it, the Fox took a deep breath. "I was doing fine, matching the Baron bottle for bottle until we took the show on the road to that dance hall. An insidious ploy by the Baroness, who somehow knew my weakness for the waltz. I fear that my legs are going to fall off! And when did the mortals come up with an idea like a 'dress code'?"

The Stag Prince, who had danced even more than the Fox, had no trouble walking. "I think it was a splendid idea, and we should be happy they had these lovely outfits to lend to us. It was explained to me that the colors of the day were black, white, and red. Our wolf hunting outfits wouldn't do. Especially in the shape they were in. I fear that you need more conditioning, Foxy. You're fine over the short distances and a few pirouettes, but a full night of dancing is akin to a long race. You need to pace yourself."

The Bear nodded at this wisdom. "Drinking is the same. The professional drinker knows that a steady pace is the way to keep one's dignity and is key to outlasting one's opponents. I noted several times where you finished off half a bottle or more at once."

The Fox shrugged, a dangerous maneuver in his state. "All part of my winning strategy."

The Summer Lord, who had both paced himself, danced sparingly, and imbibed of only a few bottles of wine, put forth a statement that, while true, made all three Princes wince. "I note that, despite your strategy, our opponents won that battle."

The Fox shook his head, sadly, "I must admit to defeat. When we returned to the Tower of ACME after dancing, and he produced those additional bottles, I was not up to the task. But, how? How does a mortal consume more than I, while smiling and barely slurring his words? I've had centuries of practice!"

"Maybe in the next century you should practice NOT slurring your words."

The Fox thought this over. "True, that might be the problem, but my question still stands."

The Bear released the Fox's arm, mostly to see if he could stand on his own yet. He watched as his brother knight mastered the art of walking, although each step was in a different direction. "Then I will give you the obvious answer: Do not challenge someone in the center of their power."

The Stag looked at the tower; it was large, but compared to the Floating Cities, Yngvale of the Tree, and several score castles of Fae Nobles he had visited, it was insignificant. "He hides it well. I would only rank him and his Baroness as the least of Fae Lords, but it seems obvious in hindsight that they are a power in this land. In his tower, he is more than when he rides through his lands, or goes abroad."

The Stag looked at the Summer Lord to see if he understood. Alwyn nodded to her, "You have taken up the trail, now make them see the clues."

The Stag Prince gestured at the city, sweeping her arms around. "This is the power! It's all around us. The Baron and Baroness have allied themselves with Gadobhra, and a portion of its ancient might is now theirs. Right now, they have only a small sliver. In time, if they survive, they can gain so much more. Be so much more. Not easily, any more than one of us could aspire to the full power of a realm in our own lands if it became ours through gift or conquest. "

The Fox considered this. "I...think... that I see. So interesting. It almost makes me want to stick around and watch for a century or two. There are likely numerous opportunities in a place like this."

The Stag rolled her eyes. Sometimes the Fox was so busy looking at potential schemes that he missed something right in front of him. "Absolutely. It's amazing that someone hasn't already come here, forged strong connections to the mortals, and made himself part of their daily lives, the better to be entertained by them and find those numerous opportunities."

The Fox looked at the Stag, "I'm so drunk, I almost missed that you were using your 'dry sarcasm voice.' Perhaps you could be helpful and .... oh, yes. Hello, Alwyn. Have I mentioned how clever you are? If not, let's say that I have re-evaluated you, once again, and for the better. I hear that's happening a lot lately at court."

The Summer Lord showed a slight smile, "I take credit for only part of my good fortune. I came to the mortal lands full of hubris that even my hound could not curb, and had the luck to be knocked from my lofty perch immediately. At Court and the endless rounds of social gatherings, we wrap ourselves in our pride and lofty titles, strutting about like peacocks, and dueling over slight praise. That attitude works poorly here, and I'm happy to have learned that lesson, along with several others, and very quickly. Some of them were painful, and others enlightening."

The Bear pondered his statement, seeing similarities to his own attitude toward High Fae Society, "Indeed, I took up hunting to escape a terribly boring dance season. How square-dancing ever caught on is beyond me. I've learned to enjoy life away from Court, and to endure it when I am required to be there."

"You didn't seem to mind dancing last night. And you seemed popular with the ladies."

"HAH! All of us were popular. I saw each of you upon the dance floor. The nobles of the Endless Dance have taken their art to a new level and enjoy having new partners to whirl about on the floor. Between the fine hunting, the entertainment, the Baron's wine cellar, and our new commitment to...someone...I think I may spend some time here among the mortals."

The Fox stopped walking, some thought trying to force itself to the front of his brain. "I may know of just the place for a small hunting lodge, a fitting home away from home."

The other three looked at him, puzzled. "Pray tell, do enlighten us?"

The Fox pointed at a ruined building rising tall above the skyline. "That edifice of grey stone. It looks down upon the entrance to the dreaded dungeon of the ghoul lords and is only a minute's ride from the Menagerie. I think I won it last night, playing dice with the Baroness. I'm sure that with a little gold, a lot of magic, and a couple of hundred lesser fae workers, we could have it redecorated in less than a month."

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The Stag clapped him on the back, "Well done, sir, well done. But, and I mean this with all respect, what did you lose?"

"Trifles, brother, small trifles. A large bag of gold or two, the promise to send my tailor to visit her, a potion of Gigantic Strength, and a ring of no importance."

"Ah, what ring would that be?"

"As I said, of no importance, don't give it another thought."

"But now you have me intrigued, Brother Fox."

"Twas certainly not my intention, Brother Stag, let us focus on our new hunting lodge."

"I notice you are not wearing your signet ring today."

The Fox glared at her. "I'm wearing gloves, you can't be sure."

"The Baroness has your ring on a golden chain around her neck."

The Fox sighed, "She is quite skilled at Liar's Dice, for a beginner. I get the ring back when my tailor arrives and has finished seven outfits of her choosing."

"Ah, all is explained, and I will be careful throwing dice around her. But tell me, am I the only one who detects that wonderful scent? Cinnamon, vanilla, fall spices, and strong brewed coffee? It comes from that ramshackle wooden building near the Ghoul's Crypt. I say that such a mystery must be investigated."

The others sniffed the air, and all agreed to the quest. Their noses led them through a muddy area now devoid of gravestones to a well-trod path where many adventurers had also followed the scent of fresh coffee. Passing through a gate in a picket fence made of scrap wood, they saw a largeish building with a peaked, shingled roof, a wide porch, and a group of six humans in battered armor, just coming out the door. Each held a large mug of coffee and a plate of pie in their hands. They made for a table on the porch. They spoke loudly, as mortal heroes often do.

"Best part of going in a dungeon, the pie afterwards."

"I like it. Helps ease the trauma of almost dying to those ghouls."

The scent of coffee and pie drove the hunting party onward. If the humans enjoying their deserts and steaming drinks had any thoughts about four tall, handsome Lords of the High Fae wearing rumpled Tuxedos, they kept their thoughts to themselves, but it was more likely that the strawberry and rhubarb pie was demanding all of their attention. It also held the attention of the Bear and the Fox, who breathed deeply of the scent. They looked around the room to where many adventurers were enjoying their coffee and conversation, eventually focusing on the long wooden counter where several brownies were rushing about, brewing coffee and tea, and bringing hot pies from the kitchen.

The Fox grinned. "The Baron is craftier than I had thought. He has a tribe of lesser fae beholden to him and living on his lands. Lady Luck smiles upon me. I seemed to have picked the perfect spot for our new hunting lodge." He pointed to a small brownie. "Four pies, and four mugs of that brew from the large pot, and I would say that we will need more pie for our upcoming journey."

Upon seeing the Fae Lords, the demeanor of the lesser fae changed. They worked faster, and their smiles were gone. Nervously, Thistleberry put the pies and mugs of coffee in front of them, watching as the Fox, Stag, and Bear picked up one of each and walked away. Alwyn was looking at the confusing sign listing more types of coffee and pie than he'd ever thought existed. Numbers followed the descriptions, and he saw a glass jar full of coins marked 'Tips'. Alwyn prided himself on his ability to notice mortal customs and social clues. Something about the situation bothered him. When a mortal in heavy plate armor took a mug of coffee and left a coin, he figured it out. The lesser fae were accepting coins as thanks for their service, similar to how mortal merchants accepted coins.

He pulled forth several gold coins and asked the young fae a question, "May I enquire as to what is customary for someone to pay for a pie and a cup of your delightful coffee?"

She stuttered and looked at her feet. "We live to serve, Lord. Willingly, and with no expectations." The other lesser fae held their breaths. Some recognized the Summer Lord, and while Alwyn was known as strangely kind to the lesser fae, he was an oddity, and today he rode with three nobles of the King's court.

The puzzle was a difficult one for Alwyn, but he solved it. "If a mere mortal named Bob were to ask that question, what would be your answer?" She stuttered again and looked at her feet, but an older, mortal woman had come from the kitchen, carrying pies, her apron covered in flour.

She nodded to him, "Well, I'm sure Bob would know that even one of those coins was enough for his meal."

Alwyn smiled, pushed forward one gold, and tossed the rest in the tip jar. "And Bob would thank you for this meal and beverage. Well done." He took his pie and beverage to the two tables where the princes sprawled, most of the pie plates now empty.

The Stag was curious. "I saw an exchange of gold with the little servants. What was that all about?"

Alwyn tried a bite of his own pie. It was glorious and tasted better than any pie he could remember. Where the brownies had gotten fresh strawberries in the middle of winter as a puzzle, but one he didn't linger on. "Ah, that. I believe they are selling food and beverages, like they do at fairs. The mortals toss them coins in appreciation. It seemed appropriate."

"But won't they expect it next time?"

"I think they will, but really, the gold is a trifle, and the pie delicious."

The Fox stirred himself from his half-nap. "It is excellent, but I'm not sure about the idea of paying the lesser fae for their service. We protect them and give them homes. Without us, they would have to fend for themselves in the wilds or venture into the dangerous lands of the mortals."

Alwyn thought to say more, and to mention who he was sure the brownies actually served, but many ears were about. "It is another of the things we should talk about later. For now, we are fortified with food and fine beverages and should be on our way."

As they went to leave, a tall man with a misshapen face wearing homespun clothes and no shoes stood waiting for them. "Mama says you should come see her, right now."

The Fox passed him by, "Tell your mother I have no time for her today. Perhaps later, much later. He exited the gate, followed by the other three. Immediately, the three Princes felt ill and began to shake and stumble. Alwyn watched in dismay as their forms shimmered and they became their namesake animals, and their clothing disappeared.

The ugly man turned and walked away, saying, "Like I said, Mama is waiting for you. Up to you whether you come or not."