Chapter 30

Supreme Executive Power

The fairy castle was a mess of broken glass, ruined food, and shuffling dead bodies. The remaining elves were all seated on what was left of the furniture, or had gone to bed, happy in the knowledge that Lugh would take care of things. The dwarves had thanked Alice for the good time, raided the palace kitchen and disappeared back into their tunnels, taking all the alcohol with them. Which was probably for the best.

The revolution had been suitably revolutionary. It was not a mess that would be cleared up in a night. The entire outer wall of the keep had collapsed. Mavis was currently sleeping in front of the remains of the hearth, her enormous black sides going in and out like a bellows. Her snores rattled what was left of the windows. Joan and Epic were sitting against her sides, wrapped in stolen tapestries, on the verge of sleep.

Hugo was still up and trying to get his zombies to do the dance from Thriller. Or at least Fred assumed that was what was happening he wasn’t entirely sure. Fred himself had come down off his swing. Having discarded his crossbow, he was jumping around the throne room with obnoxious energy. During the battle his Elevation skill had increased to +5 and he was now contemplating, through the delightful brain fog of the fairy food high, whether or not flight might be possible. He hoped so. Some things were worth dying for.

Alice, a sole sober, disgruntled person in a sea of chaos, was watching him through narrowed eyes. Seated next to her was Lugh the self-appointed elven representative. The blond elf had a look of mild confusion plastered across his handsome face. At this point the adventurers had usually vacated the premises. They certainly didn’t hang around babbling about democracy and the rule of law. It was refreshing. He was wide awake and itching to make notes.

"Look at me!" yelled Fred as he bounded into the air. He hung suspended for a moment longer than should have been humanly possible, one arm on his hip, rapier thrust skywards. "Look at meeee, I'm defying gravityyyyyy!"

"All that ballet paying off in elevation," said Alice. She sounded annoyed. She was annoyed. She had a raging headache coming and she wasn’t even hungover. Fred landed lightly, bending his knees to absorb the impact.

"You're just jealous," he said.

“Grrr,” said Alice.

“How are you not tired?” asked Joan, stifling a yawn. She curled up against Mavis’ spidery bulk.

“You lot would never make it through a performance of Don Quixote,” said Fred. He jumped once more, his toes twinkling. “Weak, the lot of you.” He landed gracefully, his knees bending. A slight frown crossed his brow, and he put a hand up to his back. “Okay, I think the fairy food high is wearing off. I’m gonna feel this tomorrow.”

“Why would we want to,” said Joan. “Don whatsit.”

“I want to sleep for a week,” said Epic, sleepily. Stinkums had materialized from wherever it was she went and was draped across her lap, purring furiously.

“Oi!” said Alice, sharply. “No sleeping! Come on guys! Not until you have sorted out the mess you’ve made!” She glared at them, arms akimbo. Epic looked at her and giggled.

“What?” demanded Alice.

“I’m a little teapot, short and stout,” sang Epic. She started to giggle uncontrollably. Mavis grunted in her sleep, and the building rattled. Epic stuffed her fist in her mouth, snorting.

“Please don’t wake the spider,” said Lugh, in some alarm.

“So help me I am sick of this responsibility shit,” said Alice. “Will you lot please sober up so I can go back to not caring?” She looked so forlorn that Fred put his arm around her shoulders.

“There, there,” he said, patting the top of her head. “You did so well! I’ve never experienced such a wonderful revolution!”

“Thanks, mum,” said Alice, drily. Behind them a chandelier dropped off the ceiling and smashed into a thousand glittering fragments. Some of the injured elves groaned.

“Whoops,” said Fred.

“If I might suggest,” said Lugh, with a delicate cough, “a health potion or two? That should clear any lingering effects of the fairy food in your human constitutions? As delightful as Alice is, I believe it would be more productive if…” Fred watched him trying desperately to find polite words, “…if you were all less sleepy.”

“’s a good idea,” said Joan, from her spot on the floor. “But we don’t have any health potions.”

“I believe the queen usually drops them when she dies.”

“She does, does she!” said Joan, sitting bolt upright and startling the snoring Epic, who had fallen asleep. Epic snorted herself awake, looked up at Alice and started giggling again.

“Alice, you look so cross! Why don’t you have… a bun.”

“Epic, this is a side to you I do not enjoy,” said Alice. “I think I preferred it when you were a depressed washcloth.”

“Boo,” said Epic.

“Focus, focus, focus,” said Joan, stumbling upright. She tripped over the edge of her tapestry, apologized to it and managed to stagger to her feet. “Health potions, where?” she asked. Turning in a circle she examined the ground around her intently. Finding nothing, she looked up at Lugh beseechingly.

“Ah, the queen,” said Lugh, apologetically. “You’ll have to ask the young necromancer to let the bodies go, I think. I don’t think the drop comes until the bodies return to the dungeon.”

“Oh right,” said Joan. “Of course. Yeah, that is a bit indecent. Hugo! Hugo! Stop being an arse and let the zombies be properly dead!”

“What?”

“Let the zombies go!”

“I don’t know how,” he said.

“Stop blowing the damn trombone!”

“Oh right!”

Five minutes later the zombies had all crumpled to the ground. A short while later they were sucked into the fabric of the dungeon. The floor closed over them and it was like they had never been.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that,” said Fred, clinically. He plonked himself down on a chair next to Lugh. “Do you think I’ll ever get used to that? I don’t. Are you used to it? You are very hot. Would you like to arm-wrestle?”

“Thank you,” said Lugh. “But no. But I do find the act of returning to the dungeon unsettling, even after all these years.”

“You’re old,” said Joan. She looked at him considering. “Would you like to arm wrestle, me?”

“Have you found those health potions yet?” asked Lugh, raising his voice, a little desperately.

“Yes!” said Hugo, happily. He staggered over, his arms full and laid out the loot on the table. Fred and Joan lost interest in Lugh’s biceps and leaned forward. Fred picked up a small crystal bottle. It had a cork stopper and the liquid inside was ruby red, glowing with a pleasantly warm radiance.

“Careful,” said Joan. “We can’t make those yet.”

“One each?” said Fred. Joan nodded. He tossed her one. She missed the catch and the bottle shattered on the table. “Oops.”

“Oh. My. God,” said Alice. “Just drink them already before I die. Here.” She grabbed the potion bottles and handed one to each of her drunken friends. “Do I need to unstopper them too?”

“’ss fine,” said Joan, with dignity. Fred, Joan, Epic and Hugo all knocked back their health potions. They tasted like raspberries and were quite delicious. A glow suffused their faces and their eyes widened. Warmth shot up and down their limbs, easing awake aches and pains they had not realized were there. The fairy food fog lifted from their minds.

“Oh, my goodness,” said Epic, looking around at the hall. “Did we do that?”

“Neat,” said Hugo. “That was awesome. Alice you should join us next time.”

“Don’t make me punch you,” said Alice.

Lugh coughed, the irritating, slightly dry cough of the natural born bureaucrat, excited at the prospect of negotiation.

“If you are all feeling better?” he said. “Can I suggest we get on with the discussion at hand? You had an interesting proposition?”

“Yes!” said Fred, beaming. “But there’s a few people missing. Cob! Peaseblossom? Mustardseed? Jessamy? Jeff?”

The kitchen door, which was hanging slightly off its hinged flew open, and the fairy conspirators, the dwarf and the baker all traipsed through yawning and stretching.

“Yes, King Fred?” asked Mustardseed, eagerly. “Did you want something.” Fred gestured and they all drew up chairs, buckets and assorted broken bits of furniture to sit on. Nobs the baker propped Jessamy up against one of the remaining health potions and the little brass doorknocker beamed round at everyone.

“Such a good job pfff,” she said. “Even though you seemed to be very drunk.” Her two ravens flapped down onto the table and settled next to her, preening. Lugh stared at her.

“Yeth?” said Jessamy. “What are you looking at? Hath you never seen an enchanted doorknocker before?”

“I do beg your pardon,” he said, solemnly.

“So,” said Fred. “

“You are sure?” said Lugh, leaning forward. “You are happy to give up the ‘King of the Fairies’ buff?”

“Hold up,” said Joan. “What’s the buff?”

“Does it matter?” said Fred, turning to her.

“Yes,” said Joan. “Don’t be an idiot. This is all well and good but remember the end goal is to get the End! If the buff gives us an edge…We need every advantage we can get. Remember the Knights of Cake? Remember how easily they killed us? They are just the beginning.”

“How adorably despotic of you,” said Fred. He paused, considering. “I suppose hearing knowing what it is can’t hurt. Not that it changes anything.” He raised his eyebrows at Joan, who scowled.

“The King of the Fairies buff gives you a charisma bonus,” said Lugh.

“I mean, that’s nice but it doesn’t sound game-changing,” said Hugo.

“It's half what the person you are speaking to has,” continued the elf, “added to whatever you have of your own.”

“Oooooh,” said Joan. “So it changes constantly? Interesting.” She looked at Fred.

“Hmm,” he said, stroking his chin. “Perhaps a constitutional monarchy? With a parliamentary democracy. Rather than a full on Republic.” Lugh’s eyes brightened.

“What are you proposing?” he asked, steepling his fingers.

Fred laid out his plans. He talked passionately and long. Lugh got very excited and started taking notes. Jessamy and Cob made suggestions, occasionally arguing a point back and forth. Everyone else got bored and drifted off to find places to sleep.

When they awoke the following morning they were introduced to the spanking new government of fairy, with Fred as de facto head of state. Jessamy had been voted in as Prime Minister with Lugh and Cob as advisors.

“That should fulfill all the requirements,” said Lugh, leaning back with some satisfaction. He shuffled the papers in front of him. “You know I think I might enjoy this.”

“We haven’t had the notification,” said Joan.

“The notification?” asked Jessamy.

“That we have completed the quest,” Joan replied, worriedly. “The quest to … what was it exactly?”

“Overthrow the Fairy Court,” said Fred. “I feel like we have done that?”

“Mayfbe the dungeon is juft confused by your epic sandboxing, pff” said Jessamy.

[ding! Congratulations! You have Overthrown the Fairy Court! All Party Members +40XP!]

“That’s more like it!” said Alice.

“Adorable," said Fred, "a door-able. Get it? Jessamy you will make a wonderful leader. I give you my blessing my little brassy friend. Your fate hinges on what you choose to do here."

"Ug,” said Lugh, with some distaste.

“Are you going to be okay with Mr Organized and Humourless over here,” Fred leaned over to Jessamy, his voice low while the others were talking.

“Oh yeff,” said Jessamy, blushing slightly. “I'm open to new things. I like him actually. He has an interesting mind. And well. I don’t think he will mind that well I don’t…” She coughed. Fred’s eyebrows rose.

“That you don’t what?”

“That I don’t have a body,” she hissed.

“Oh,” said Fred, shooting a glance at the hapless Lugh. “I see.”

Jessamy grinned a little wickedly.

“I mean thiff if gonna be so much more fun than a door, right? Pfff.”

“The whole kingdom is your door,” said Fred, solemnly.

“Yeff,” said Jessamy. “So muffch to organize. So muchff paperwork.” She straightened, as much as an enchanted door knocker was able to straighten and raised her voice. “Would someone please jiggle my knocker? Itff very uncomfortable.”

“Right then,” said Fred, after a moment. “Everyone here seems to have things well in hand. How about some shopping? Breakfast, then shopping. I could murder some breakfast.”

“Shopping then home,” said Joan. “About time we got on with things.”