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  Major Matt Mason


Part Twenty-two.

Tali:

The Corps can afford to get the best, even for emergency godowns or doss-houses like this one. Very wide and comfy mattresses, very soft and silky Egyptian cotton sheets, and blankets that can remind you of frosty Christmas mornings in front of a fire with a mug of cocoa near at paw.

With marshmallows.

However, take my advice. Do NOT get the beds with "magic fingers." Some idiot at the Labs has an odd sense of humor.

Of course, none of the Corps’ resources can provide you with a delightful sleeping companion, and I woke up with the Wolf Qu – er, ‘Missy Sage’ curled up against my back, murmuring inaudibly in her sleep. She looked cute like that. Less cute is her habit of thrashing her legs in her sleep. I hate a canine without a pedicure.

I really gently eased out of bed and looked at the clock. Huh, not too bad – it was just after local sunrise, which meant that we got at least a full eight hours of rest. Matter of fact, my stomach was rumbling softly.

A quick trip to the necessary later and I was ready for breakfast. The Corps usually does a great job with autochefs as long as there’s a source of compatible foodstuffs to stock them with, so I touched the wallscreen in the drawing room and ordered steak and eggs for two, medium rare, with hash browns and sweet corn muffins, and tea to drink.

“What’s that you’re doing?” I turned and smiled as ‘Missy’ stepped into the room.

“Ordering breakfast. If you need it, the latrine, oubliette, outhouse – whatever you call it – is through there. I’ve ordered for you; I hope you don’t mind.”

“So long as it isn’t rabbit or fish,” I heard from the next room.

The autochef had everything ready when she’d finished sorting out the faucets and washing her paws. How so fast? Temporal mechanics; that’s how. Lisbet and Dorotea made it through the one-year basic course in about an hour of Eastness time, so breakfast is a doddle. I was about to tuck in when ‘Missy’ came in, nose twitching. “Steak?” she asked, snatching up a napkin and wiping drool from her chin.

[Note appended to manuscript: "See above. Manners, lupine -- awfulness of."]

I nodded. She sat down and we both started massacring the food set before us. After a few minutes ‘Missy’ (I’m going to drop the quotes after this) asked, “What were you doing at that window?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s not a window, as such.” I raised my voice slightly. “Monitor, on, view of the street,” and the wolfess’ ears went straight up as the screen obligingly showed us an image of the front of the tailor shop, with pedestrians and ant-carts moving past.

“It’s like one of the large scrying-spheres the Master said were in Vulpitania,” Missy said, “only flat – and probably capable of quite a bit more than simply showing episodes of Pie-Fight Valkyrie.” To be honest, that sounded like a comedy show, so I just nodded and poured a second cup of tea.

I noted that Missy was enjoying her tea. “Wolf Queen, do you like Oolong?”

She smiled as I called her by her title before grinning at me over the rim of her cup. “I've never ooled, you naughty thing.” I giggled and my tail pointed at her cup. “Oh, you mean the tea? Yes, it’s quite good.”

The street scene abruptly changed to Lisbet’s face; the background was the back room of the shop. “Oh good, you’re awake.”

I raised my teacup in salute. “Yes, we both are, Specialist. What’s up?”

The reindeer femme looked a little worried. “Are you familiar with the political situation here, Commander?”

“Just a little. An elected council’s running the place now?”

Lisbet nodded. “Something’s up. I’m not quite sure what, and neither is Dorotea, but there’s rumors of someone or something trying to interfere in the upcoming elections.” She smiled, but it looked forced. “Tailors and dressmakers are like bartenders in Eastness. People just love to talk to us, but we’re just Specialists – “

“I understand, and I - we’ll be happy to help,” I said, seeing the interested look on Missy’s face.

The reindeer femme brightened considerably. “Thank you, Commander – “ she glanced to her right and asked, “Were you expecting reinforcements so soon?”

“No. Why?”

“Here,” and the screen split to show Matt and his two hangers-on, and the Master of Elfhame, getting out of the car.

“Nertz. No, I didn't call for them. HQ must have sent them after us.” I drained the last of my tea and stood up. “Is there a way out of here? Can you hold them off for a while?”

“Sure!” Lisbet nodded. “Back entrance, out the door to the right, three doors down on the left. There’s also the Bolthole.” She giggled. “And we’ve been briefed on this lot.”

I repeated the directions, since I didn’t feel the need for the Bolthole. “Excellent. Let’s get dressed,” I told Missy as the screen went blank. “Dorotea and Lisbet will cover for us, but knowing Matt it won’t last.”

We got dressed as quickly as we could. The Wolf Queen was a little mystified about the issue underwear I gave her, mainly because the top (sort of a sleeveless combination sports bra and undershirt, there’s a long-sleeved version for cold weather) wasn’t what she was used to. Corps jumpsuits are sort of one size fits most, and she filled it in the right spots.

She glanced at the rank flash on the shoulder. “Sergeant?” she asked, and she grinned when I nodded. Wouldn’t tell me why. We got our boots on and headed for the back door, pausing as a sheet of paper erupted from the slot under the monitor screen. I snatched it up as we left the room.

The alley behind DelFurrio’s was neat as a pin. I nodded approvingly as Missy donned a Corps issue beret. It wasn’t close to her tiara, but I expect it felt comforting to her. “Okay,” I said, “let’s see what the girls gave us.” I dug the paper from a pocket and read it.

Dorotea and Lisbet may just be Specialists, but their training’s fresh in their minds; they reported fully and comprehensively, with a list of their contacts. “I say we get moving and get the lay of the land before we start investigating.”

“Good idea,” the wolfess said. She flexed in her clothes. “I’m more used to the freedom of movement the Regalia gave me,” she said, “but you know what?” She grinned at me and put a paw to her chest. “I make this look GOOD.”

I really couldn’t deny that.


***


Winterbough:

While it was true that the works of the Ospreys were demolished, the rest of the city had been spared, and, indeed, in the intervening time, sunlight and fresh air had worked miracles. Despite the best efforts of the Ospreys, the followers of the Brilliant Light had not been wiped out and, in this renaissance, much of their works were being restored and rebuilt by both the old who remembered and the young who approved. As more proof, it was clear that new life, in the persons of babies and even toddlers in the streets, was returning to the formerly cursed city of Eastness. As an Elf, I heartily approved of this.

As a soldier, though, I was more than a little uneasy about how fast Matt’s organization had established itself in the city, because it made me wonder about the rest of Faerie. I looked up at the sign, wracking my brain as I tried to recall if I’d seen it before, in either of the Capitals or somewhere else in the Empire.

Matt had to pluck at my sleeve to stir me out of my musings, and I followed him to the shop’s entrance.

Michael opened the door, quickly closed it, and said, “Women!”

“Oh boy!” Fred said, and all three of them went into a huddle.

Matt was gesturing and periodically Fred would stick his head up, ears swiveling, before ducking down again. Finally they straightened up, clapped their paws while saying, “Break!” and set off into the shop.

With only a momentary scuffle as Fred and Michael tried to enter at the same time, getting stuck in the doorway. Matt finally kicked the dog in his arse, breaking the logjam, and he followed the pair of twits in. I brought up the rear.

Michael was right. Two rather young and very attractive femmes were behind the counter. One was a reindeer who filled out her jumpsuit very nicely, and the other was an anteater whose uniform showcased the benefits of youth, a healthy diet and vigorous exercise.

Fred wasted no time at all, leaning against the counter and saying, “Allo, allo, allo! What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?”

The reindeer femme said, “My job. How about you?”

Michael politely doffed his beret to the anteater and asked, “How do you do, young lady? My name’s Michael.”

“My name’s Dorotea,” the anteater said, “and I do very well, thank you.” It may have been her completely flat and uninterested tone of voice, but the mink’s tail promptly drooped.

The reindeer yawned very elaborately, but Fred seemed undeterred. “Say,” he said, “when we’re done here, would you like to go out dancing? Working in a tailor’s shop, you’d know what they say about dancing.” At the reindeer’s blank look he grinned and said, “Those who trip the light fantastic shouldn’t trust to cheap elastic.”

Matt suddenly reached out to either side and slapped both the mink and the dog on the backs of their heads. “Colonel Mason,” the bear told the two femmes, and rattled off a short sequence of numbers. “Ignore these two.”

“Specialists Duarte and Fjordsdottir,” the anteater said promptly.

“Has Commander Hartoh-Mason and a wolfess calling herself the Wolf Queen come through here?”

“Yes, and no,” Duarte said.

The bear blinked. “So . . . Commander Hartoh-Mason reported in?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But the Wolf Queen didn’t?”

“No, sir. She did come in with a wolfess.”

Matt glanced at me. I shrugged. “She’s without her Regalia.”

While we were talking, Duarte’s very professional façade cracked a bit. “You mean . . . “

“Elves don’t lie,” I said. “That was the actual Wolf Queen.”

Duarte looked at Fjordsdottir.

Fjordsdottir looked at Duarte.

The resultant mutual squeal was a fair imitation of the Ashearth Sisters, and the two femmes grasped each other’s paws and jumped up and down for a moment, leaving us to enjoy the view.

Fjordsdottir finally calmed down and said, “They’re in the back, Colonel.”

The bear said, “Thank you. This way, guys,” and he led the way around the counter. I followed behind, and a result I caught the look on the two Specialist’s faces, a look that Estvan Silverbrush once described as “some class of a devilment.”

I was wondering about that as I went into the back of the shop with the others.

Having explored the Royal Palace at Persoc Tor as part of a murther investigation, I wasn’t entirely thrown off my game by the sight of all the doors stretching down the length of a hallway that, by rights, shouldn’t be there.

“All right,” Matt said, “let’s split up and check each room,” whereupon the trio rushed into the same room and slammed the door behind them.

I rolled my eyes and opened the door, only for the trio to open a door further down the hall and peer out. I headed down the hall to that door as it slammed shut, and I opened it. Looking inside, I swiveled my ears and noted that a door behind me on the other side of the hall opened and the trio's faces peered out. I went to that door only for a door a little further down the hall to open and Fred peered out. Rushing towards that door as it closed, a door behind me opened and Matt looked out. Starting to feel a little put-upon, I jumped at that door, flinging it open only for Michael to poke his head out of a potted plant at the far end of the hall. I headed down the hallway, pulled the plant out of the pot and looked inside.

There was a scuffling sound, and I turned to see Fred bolt out of a room, his face fur smudged with red lipstick and trailing a pink feather boa. “There’s no one in there,” the canine said, “trust me on this.” He dove into another room, but by the time I caught up with him the room was empty.

Needless to say, this little bit of chase-about went on for some time.

I was astounded, at one point, to see Michael backing carefully out of one room, his beret in his paws. “A-Are you trying to s-seduce me, Lady Thatcher?” he stammered. He screamed in a surprisingly high-pitched, almost girlish voice, before slamming the door closed and leaning against it.

From the other side of the door there was a sweet-voiced, but somehow menacing, "TELL ME MORE ABOUT MY EYES!"

Michael yelped and ran for another door, jerking it open and shutting it behind him.

I went up to the door, and was promptly bowled off my hooves when it opened right on my face. I looked up to see Matt standing over me. “Don’t go in there,” he warned. “It’s dark.”

Eventually all four of us caught up with each other (I actually think I encountered myself at least once), and the consensus was that our quarry had flown the coop.


***


Tessie:

My first view of Eastness was – well, sort of odd.

Ooo-er and me made great time, and I pretty much let Kora and Veyt go at their own pace. They seemed happy about that, and the Regalia was good with it, too, I guess. Really a pleasant and sunny day, and Ooo-er was a lot happier at the thought that we were getting closer to her wife.

We went up a hill, crested it, and went round a bend –

And there was the Wolf Queen, staring me straight in the face.

I almost fell backward off the seat of the ant-cart, while Ooo-er laughed and clapped her paws. I got up and looked.

It was a giant sign, painted on the side of a building. A huge portrait of her, but not quite; she had more upstairs and downstairs, if you know what I mean. The picture had a huge dopey smile and she was gesturing toward some words.

“Any idea?” I asked Ooo-er. She shrugged, so I asked, “Hey, Regalia! Any idea what that says?”

Hmm . . . it’s not as close to Old Elvish as Elfhamian, the armor said. Closer to Common – ah. It reads, ‘Wolf Queen brand Salve, to relieve chapped snouts.’ I could hear it sniff. I don’t do endorsements.

“Well, someone thinks you do.” I passed on what it said to Ooo-er, who giggled.

“What do you think they get up to,” she asked, “that they need salve for chapped snouts?”

I shrugged. “Beats me. When the Master and I have venery, it’s not my snout that can get chapped.”

[Note appended to manuscript: “And that’s all we’ll hear about THAT, thank you Tessie.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Why, Master? I think a good description would liven things up.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “No.”]

[Note appended to manuscript: “Spoilsport.”]

Anastasia had given us a little money before we left Elfhame, and the villagers had given us a little more even though we both tried to refuse, so we at least didn’t have to worry about sleeping in a park or something like that. We had enough food, so that wasn’t a problem.

So we drove around a bit until noon, when we had to stop because the street was full of people dancing. None of them had a stitch of clothing on, and Ooo-er said, “Let’s put the ants up and join in.”

“Sure, why not?” I backed up the cart and we went looking for a stable. After finding one and getting Kora and Veyt settled (they looked pretty happy, gronking and munching away at their dinner), we walked back to where the dancing was. On the way we found out that Elves in Eastness do this a lot as they worship the Brilliant Light.

More than a few people stopped me to congratulate me on the fine job I did copying the Wolf Queen’s armor, although one guy looked me over and said that the real Wolf Queen had “more up top” than I did.

If he only knew.

Now, I worship Fuma, thank you, but I joined in the dancing anyway because it looked like fun. Ooo-er joined in because she just loves to dance, and her adopted daughter’s from around here. So, we danced.

After the noon hour people got dressed and started to get on with the rest of the day, so Ooo-er and me started down one street after another, just looking around. One kitten blew a raspberry at me and said something about “the convention” being next week, but he ran off before I could say anything.

So anyway, me and Ooo-er are headed down this one street and we hear a commotion coming at us down an alley. I draw Sun-and-Moon and Ooo-er moves to stand behind me and to the right –

As the Master and three other guys fall out onto the sidewalk like they’d been kicked there. Off in the distance I hear a guy shout, “AND STAY OUT!”

One of the guys with the Master, a mink, is lying flat on his back looking up at me. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” he asked.

“Not likely,” said a black and brown-furred dog that had a chubby bear sitting on him. “Get off me, Matt.”

The Master picked himself up off the pavement and shook his head. “Tessie! Ooo-er!”

Ooo-er gave a happy chirp, and I put Sun-and-Moon away. I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.




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