Dark Redemption chapter 64: Strephon's Story, Continued

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther. 

Strephon MacKenzie, a semi-immortal half-fae, has been commissioned by the Queen of the Faerie to investigate fae activity in the city. In the course of his investigations, he has become involved with a reporter named Cassandra True, from whom he has been attempting to hide his unnatural background.  She, however, has guessed his secret and Strephon has decided to finally tell her his story.

“I know that you continued on as a barrister and a successful one too; and eventually you became a judge,” Cassandra said.

“I was more successful at the bar than Gilbert ever was; that was one small revenge,” Strephon mused.  “Some friends thought I should stand for the House of Commons.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I never really had an interest in politics.  And… I suppose you’ll laugh, but Gilbert’s character in the opera that he named after me went into Parliament and I had no desire to emulate him.  Phyllis and I were very happy together for a long time.”

“And then?”

“Well, she was mortal.  She grew old, as mortals do.  I did not; at least my upper extremities didn’t.  But I assumed the illusion of age, partially for the benefit of the outside world, but mostly so that we could grow old together.  Of course, the fact that my legs actually did become old and arthritic added verisimilitude to the charade.”

“That’s another thing which puzzled me.  Is it true that like the character in the opera you’re a fairy from your waist up…”

“I am."

“But your legs are mortal?”

“Indeed.”

“But genetics doesn’t work that way.  I mean, a child of mixed-race parents isn’t black on one side and white on the other; he’s … well … all mixed together.  Why should you be half-and-half?”

Strephon shrugged.  “I am afraid I have never really studied the biological sciences.  I couldn’t say.  I suspect it has something to do with the nature of faerie magic, but I’m afraid that’s not a terribly satisfying answer.” 

“Ah.  But then… what about…”  she turned red.  “Never mind.  It’s none of my business.”

“What about in-between?  People often wonder about that.  Let me just say that there is no clean line of demarcation between my mortal and immortal parts and the border regions, if I may call them that, partake of the natures of both.”

Cassandra pursed her lips, as if chewing that over in her mind before deciding she was better off not thinking about it.  “So… what happened after your wife died?”

“That was a difficult time for me.  We had been expecting it to come eventually; we knew it must; but still, it happened so quickly.  She suffered a heart attack while working in her garden.  I had warned her frequently not to over-exert herself, but it gave her such joy to putter around tending the azaleas.”  

Strephon stopped.  His tongue seemed to have turned to lead.  The words did not want to come out.  “If I could have gotten to her more quickly… I could have done something… cast an enchantment… given her more time.  But I was in the house when it happened.  I felt her cry of distress.  My mortal legs couldn’t carry me quickly enough.  By the time I got to her side, it was too late.  Too late.”

He shook his head.  Damn foolish to be crying over something that happened nearly a century ago.  He wiped the tear from his eye.  “I beg your pardon,” he said.

Cassandra let him compose himself.  “I’m very sorry,” she said quietly.  She raised her hand and tentatively reached out towards his.  For a moment he thought she was going to pat his hand, and it occurred to him that this might not be an unpleasant thing; but she evidently thought better and withdrew it.  “What then?”

Strephon sighed.  “I retreated to the Faerie Realm for a time.  Mother thought it would be best.  And it was pleasant enough for a while.  But I did not really belong there.  So I came home.  I fabricated a plausible death abroad and assumed the identity of a long-lost son raised in Canada, who walked with a limp due to a childhood bout with polio.  Which came in handy when the War broke out, I must admit.  But I found I didn’t really belong in the mortal world either.  I had never really appreciated how much Phyllis had been my link to the world around me.  My friends were all old or dead;  I kept to myself because it was simply easier that way.  Fewer inconvenient explanations.  What few friends I have are mostly contacts in the City’s supernatural community, like Grandmama Simms, or one or two others.

“And that is how I have lived for over seventy years now:  staying mostly at home, only rarely venturing out into the world around me, and occasionally fabricating a new identity when it seems prudent to do so.”

He felt a gentle touch.  This time Cassandra did rest her hand on his.  He hadn’t wanted any sympathy, but somehow, receiving it did make him feel better.  He clasped her hand in his.  It occurred to him that he hadn’t poured out his heart like this in a long, long time:  not to Mother, certainly not to Devon.

“Then… what brought to to Aeser Technologies?”

The question abruptly brought him back to the present.  “Ah, that.  Well.  I received a commission from the Queen of the Faeries.”

“The fairies have a queen?”

“Indeed, they do,” Strephon said solemnly.  “Mister Melchior Aesermann is actually a Faerie Lord, posing as mortal, much as I am.  But for more sinister purposes, I believe.  The Queen requested that I investigate Lord Melchior and divine his intentions.”

He expected to see skeptical bemusement on her face, but Cassandra seemed to take the revelation that a prominent tech entrepreneur was really a magical sprite in stride.  She nodded her head.  “That actually makes sense.  It fits with what Byron Sanders told me.  He was the programmer who worked for Aesermann.”

Strephon remembered.

“And what have you learned about him?” Cassandra asked.

Strephon grimaced.  “Very little, I’m afraid.  Devon keeps complaining about it.  He says I keep getting distracted by my ‘social life.’”

“Oh.”  Cassandra blushed again.  “Sorry about that.”

Dark Redemption chapter 63: Strephon's Story

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Strephon MacKenzie, a semi-immortal half-fae, has been commissioned by the Queen of the Faerie to investigate fae activity in the city. In the course of his investigations, he has become involved with a reporter named Cassandra True, from whom he has been attempting to hide his unnatural background.  She, however, has guessed his secret and has confronted him with it.

One would think  Strephon thought, that in a heavily-wooded park it would be easy to find a secluded spot where one might have a quiet conversation.; but these spots, unfortunately, were not readily accessible to one in a wheelchair; particularly since either side of the walkway was packed with vendors selling beaded purses, glass barometers , hand-crafted dulcimers and particularly ugly carvings of Cernunnos.  The most convenient spot he could find was around behind a bluish fiberglass portable loo of loathsome design that the City had placed near the footpath for the convenience of the market-goers.

Even this was a little more public than Strephon liked, but he recalled the glamour of privacy Lilith had cast at Melchior’s party the week before.  It seemed an easy enough effect to duplicate, and so it was.  With a little concentration, the sounds of the park and the market became muted.

The sudden silence startled Cassandra, and she looked around her as if to see where all the noises went.

“I thought you might enjoy some ‘Fairy Magic’,” Strephon said.  “Would you like to see my wings, too?”

“You… really have wings?”

“I can if I wish.

Cassandra wrinkled her nose but did not accept the offer.  “So… how did Gilbert and Sullivan come to write an opera about you?”

“They did not.”  Strephon said that a bit more hotly than he intended.  He paused to compose himself.  “I was born in a wood near Lower Piltching.  My father was a highly respectable clergyman who was a bit more susceptible in his youth than he liked to admit; and my mother, as Mister Gilbert put it, was ‘an influential fairy.’  I understand that this sort of thing was not all that uncommon at one time, but it’s a rather rare occurrence these days; I don’t think it’s happened since the time of the Venerable Bede.  Father, despite his injudicious fling -- or perhaps to make up for it – had rather strict views of propriety and insisted that I be raised as a Good Christian in a mortal home.  And so I was, although Mother maintained contact with me as best as she was able, visiting occasionally and sending me presents from the Faerie Realm on the appropriate holidays.

“I grew to manhood, and fell in love with a girl named Phyllis; not a shepherdess, by the by, but the daughter of a highly respectable manufacturer of buttons.  At the time, I was studying to enter the clergy myself, but had few prospects for a secure future.  In addition, I hadn’t yet told Phyllis about the peculiarities on my Mother’s side of the family, and my half-fae physiology was beginning to prove troublesome.

“One day, Mother visited me in my rooms at the Seminary, and the Rector happened to come in on us.  My mother is immortal, remember; and the Rector would not accept my explanations of why I seemed to be entertaining a beautiful young woman in my room.  I was summarily expelled.

“I went to a public house to drown my sorrows and found myself unburdening myself to another fellow.  He was quite sympathetic, and I daresay I told him more than I should have.  He suggested I try entering the Bar.  He said that my personality and natural talents would serve me well in the Law and that no one cared particularly if a Barrister entertained young ladies in their chambers.”  Strephon paused thoughtfully.  “It proved good advice.  I suppose I do owe him for that.”

“The fellow was Gilbert, I suppose?”

“It was.  I found out some time later when I came across a comic poem written by him in the magazine Fun titled ‘The Fairy Curate’.  I didn’t think much of it at the time, because the character in the poem bore little resemblance to me.  It ends with the curate becoming a Mormon or a Methodist or some other such thing; I forget which.

“Then a few years later, I got wind that Gilbert was doing an operetta about faeries.  I think Devon found out about it and let me know.  It was based on ‘The Fairy Curate’, but included my name, and Phyllis’s name and some other things as well. I like to think of myself as an even-tempered man, but Gilbert’s little fantasy was bordering on defamation.  So I threatened to sue.”

Strephon sighed.  “Phyllis thought I was being silly about the whole thing.  Perhaps I was.  But we were married by that time and I was finally getting established as a barrister.  But it wasn’t just my own reputation I was concerned about, nor even that of my wife.  He used my Mother’s name in the operetta too, do you see?  She was mentioned frequently.  It was named after her.  Faeries are magic, and in magic, names are power.  I did not wish my Mother’s name to become a common thing.  It’s… it’s hard to explain.  I suppose to a mortal I doesn’t make much sense.”

“No, no,”  Cassandra said.  “It was important to you.”

“I met with Gilbert.  And with Sullivan, and D’Oyly-Carte, their business partner.  Gilbert was an obstinate man, but I could be as stubborn as he.  In the end, Mrs. D’Oyly-Carte, their partner’s wife – a quite prudent and sagacious woman – arranged a compromise.  The name of the character and of the operetta was changed.”

“Then… your mother’s name isn’t Iolanthe?”

“It is not.”

“What is it, then?  If you don’t mind my asking.”

Strephon frowned a bit.

“Well,” Cassandra continued, “in case you should ever want to bring me ‘round to meet her.  It would be embarrassing not to know what to call her.”  She blushed.  “It could happen.”

“Oh.”  Strephon realized she had just said something extremely significant, but it caught him so off-guard that he had to stop and think a moment for the full ramifications of it to unfold.  She was right.  It could happen.  He could visualize it happening.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  He found it a little frightening.  “I see.”

Dark Redemption chapter 62: Out In the Open

Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Dark Redemption is a shared-world novel based on an online role-playing game by James Crowther.

Strephon MacKenzie, a semi-immortal half-fae, has been commissioned by the Queen of the Faerie to investigate fae activity in the city. In the course of his investigations, he has become involved with a reporter named Cassandra True, from whom he has been attempting to hide his unnatural background.  She, however, has guessed more than he realizes.  While pursuing a line of inquiry at a local artisan’s market, he once again runs into Cassandra.

“Cassandra.” Strephon had not intended to say her name out loud, but there it was.  He could hardly pretend he hadn’t seen her and he certainly couldn’t try to hide; his wheelchair was damned conspicuous sometimes.

Cassandra hesitated, then advanced towards him with the demeanor of one who has decided to do something.  “Hello, Strephon.”

“I did not expect to see you here.”

“My editor asked me to write a piece about the market and take some pictures.”  She drew her hand out of the pocket of her overcoat to display a compact camera.  “What about you?  Doing some shopping, I see?”

Strephon reddened and his grip tightened on the two small gift bags with the items of jewelry he had purchased.  “I… I fancied upon something I thought my aunt might like,” he lied.

Cassandra gave him a most curious look, as if she believed not a word of what he’d said but was trying to decide whether to challenge him..  Instead she said, “It’s lucky I ran into you.  There’s something I wanted to ask you.”  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if steeling herself.

“Why did you sue Gilbert and Sullivan?”

Strephon felt a chill which had nothing to do with the previous night’s drizzle.  “I… I assure you I did no such thing.  My great-grandfather, I believe…”

“Not your grandfather.  You.”

Strephon forced a chuckle.  “Gilbert and Sullivan died over a century ago.  As decrepit as I might seem, I assure you that I am not that old.”

She gave him a thin, hard smile, as if daring hum to contradict her, and she quoted:

“It seems you are a fairy;

 from Andersen’s li-brary.”

 “Oh bother!”  The curse escaped his lips.

“I knew it!!”

He rubbed his temples.  “How did you guess.”

Cassandra shrugged.  “Little things you did; little things you said.  But mostly it was watching the operetta.”

“I might have known,” Strephon grumbled.

“So, you really are a fairy?”

“Half a faerie,” he corrected her.  A mother passing by gave the two of them a peculiar look and hustled her child away from them.  “Perhaps we could continue this conversation more privately?”