"Since it is obvious that I am an elf," (Patreon)

I declared sternly, trying to mask my worry over how I had slipped up and revealed my identity, "then it is obvious that I am telling the truth. As you know, elves do not lie. So, what more proof do you need to recognize the danger we’re all in?”

“Well…" Hoardblemish replied, weighing his words carefully. "It’s just that… Such a thing is unthinkable! The legendary Duchess of Daisies actually turning out to be real and amassing an army with a weapon of mass destruction in her hands? That’s the stuff nightmares are made of… Please, do not take this as an insult, but…” he paused, searching for the right phrase. “One doesn’t need to lie to be wrong. Your intelligence network could be mistaken. Perhaps the Herzogin planted false information to have her enemies running in circles. She is known to have some interest in the occult, so it would be possible that the idea occurred to her to make use of the O'Daisies legend.”

"I know you're not trying to insult my elfly dignity," I stated coolly. "This is obviously a case where the truth is so horrible, you simply don't want to believe it. Perfectly understandable. HOWEVER, neither Earth nor Faerie has the luxury of waiting until the Duchess is at the door and brandishing a canister of death gas. Very well. I'm reluctant to show you this, but you've proven yourself trustworthy, and I must rely again on your absolute discretion."

I sent out a short Elfmind call to any Ixies that were nearby. Three of them appeared almost instantly from various corners of the room. I was more pleased than surprised to see that my assumption had been correct, that several Ixies were following me at all times.

“Good gravy!” Hoarblemish exclaimed as three little ladybug creatures landed on his desk and saluted. “Are... are those Ixies? I thought there were none left!”

"No, there are lots of them around," I explained. “They are just, ah, much better at concealing themselves than I am. These are but three of the agents in my vast intelligence network. It was they who alerted me to the Duchess’s ambitions and the means by which she will seek to achieve them. To let you know the scope of the danger we are all in, and that it is no joke or mistake, they will tell you what they told me.”

The Ixies went into a spirited and theatrical presentation of everything they knew about the Duchess and her war plans .. perhaps a bit TOO spirited and theatrical. Normally their silly antics would annoy me, but I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts to be bothered. As they attempted to convince the headmaster, I ruminated on the various flaws in my attempts to go incognito. Hoardblemish himself had helpfully highlighted most of my major errors. Of course, Queen Edessa showing that she knew me couldn’t have been helped. I should have made sure that our meeting was private. How did it not occur to me that paying the school with elf-made coins would be a huge giveaway? And honestly, I hadn’t been trying very hard with my lowfolk disguises. It had worked flawlessly in Bunkirk because I had used a Glamer and those rabbits had been incredibly gullible. But since then ... perhaps I just got used to assuming that lowfolk were so ignorant a dimwitted that the bare minimum would be enough? Belief in elves was at an all time low, and had been declining for a very long time. Even if I bluntly told someone I was an elf, the average lowfolk simply wouldn’t believe me. Still, making a spectacle of myself was a bad idea. Leaving a trail would always result in trouble following me. Xavier had proven himself to be very intelligent and competent - more so, in fact, than most of the elves I knew. I would have to start being more cautious, in case I met someone else who happened to possess more than one brain cell. Not all of them would be as trustworthy as Headmaster Hoardblemish.

“The situation is indeed as dire as you described, Mr. Young," Xavier stated, "and I apologize for refusing to accept the reality.”

“Huh?” I replied with a shake of my head as I came out of my reverie.

Xavier held up several black-and-white pictures showing what appeared to be production and storage facilities, and another of the Duchess at a public event. “That gas is indeed real, and the Herzogin perfectly matches the traditional depiction of the Duchess of Daisies. Now, it's still possible that she could be a lowfolk madwoman merely styling herself after the infamous elven tyrant for dramatic effect ... but the scope of your operation shows me you are indeed serious, and there is little room for doubt. You wouldn’t have come here to ask for my help unless you were absolutely sure your intelligence was correct.”

Hoardblemish passed the pictures to me and I scrutinized them. "That's an amazingly accurate likeness," I exclaimed in surprise. "This charcoal technique is incredible. I've never seen anything like it. Did one of you draw this?"

"Those are photographs, sire," one of the Ixies informed me.

"They are chymical recordings of optical reality," another explained as I blinked in confusion. "A lowfolk technique. We'll explain later how it works."

"Why didn’t you show me these at the meeting?” I demanded, waving the 'photographs' in the air in front of me.

“You ended the meeting before we could,” the third Ixie stated with a shrug.

“There is no denying it," Hoardblemish declared, slapping his desk and getting up from his chair. "And there is no time to delay. Follow me to my private lab and study.” Beckoning me to follow, he shifted aside a framed painting and tapped a specific stone on the wall five times, paused, and then twice more. (I recognized the cadence of the taps as a very old Persoc Tor stage routine, most often sung with the words "Face, mane, and tail trim - two florins.") A separate section of the wall slid open, revealing a hidden room.

“This secret room is why I wanted this to be my office," he explained. "The walls inside are soundproof, which is perfect for my more volatile alchemical experiments.”

"How did you ever find it in the first place?" I asked.

"Not to boast, Mr. Young," Hoardblemish chuckled, "but discovering secrets happens to be foremost among my talents. How do you think we found the way through the Percysthorpe Gate? Miss Staircrawley is also adept at snooping ... but I don't think she knows about this chamber. It was in this secret room where I found the largest amount of, er, how should I put it ... Scrolls and items of questionable use.”

"Questionable in what way?" I asked, turning over in my mind why a soundproof room would have been incorporated into the design of the winter palace. Construction of Persoc Tor had begun in Irenaeus' reign, but was completed in the first few decades of Athanasius. That left a lot of time for any number of activities, but what would have required this kind of secrecy? Most Emperors and members of their courts had done their venery and carousing in the open. This secret room smacked of something else ... something unsavory, perhaps even Unseelie.

"I called them questionable," Hoardblemish shrugged, "because I could not make heads nor tails of most of the artifacts. Metal rings, a pedestal; looked a bit ceremonial, but isn't that always the pat explanation? The scrolls were all written in some gibberish that looks like Latin but isn't, and which defied my every attempt to decipher it. I'll admit, I didn't devote a lot of time to the problem because my other interests and responsibilities were enough to keep me busy. So I packed everything carefully into storage. If you're interested, I can show it to you later. In fact I'd be delighted if you could offer some explanation as to what the stuff was for. But in the meantime -" He gestured toward a large bell jar sitting on a workbench. “May I present the Philosopher’s Stone.”

I bent down and peered inside the jar, at a bowl containing a kind of powder I had never seen before. Just as Xavier described, the powder seemed to consist of the finest ground particles, floating and undulating in the bowl like a fluid with no weight, rippling with slow waves as if it were its own self-contained ocean. The color was the purest white and deepest red at the same time, occupying the same space in a way that was difficult for my perception to reconcile.

“It hurts to look at,” I muttered while squinting intently at the phenomenon.

"My apologies," Xavier blurted, glancing around the lab as if hunting for some misplaced item. "One gets used to it after a while, but I should have offered you the goggles."

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