Chapter 24

Knobs and Knockers

Fred pulled Joan through the mass of fighting elves and fairies. The rest of the party hurried along in their wake, ducking and twisting to avoid the flying fists and weapons. Fortunately, the combatants were so intent on cutting each other to ribbons that no one paid heed to the escaping humans. Fred rushed down a side alley, leaping walls and hedges with careless abandon. A mad dash later the party stopped for breath in a dark street. Fred paused in the deep shadows of a shop to bend Joan over nearly backwards and plant an impassioned kiss on her lips.

"Fred!" she mumbled into his mouth.

"What my love! Aren't you pleased to–"

"Behind you!"

Fred spun and impaled the luckless elf who had been sneaking up behind them. Fred's rapier went through the elf's middle like butter. The elf gagged, eyes glazing over as he toppled off Fred's rapier, blood gushing from the wound. He lay on the ground, turning the snow around him as lurid red as the syrup from a cheap slushy.

[The Fredinator +5XP]

"Ahaha!" shouted Fred, brandishing his rapier.

"What's going on Fred?" said Hugo, mildly. "You okay there?"

"Yes! Yes! Never better! Where have you chaps been?"

"Where have we been!" demanded Alice, furiously, planting her hands on her hips. "Where have you been?"

"We waited for you at the inn but you never arrived," said Joan. Fred frowned for a moment.

"The inn," he said carefully, his face twisting with concentration, as if he was trying to remember. Then a grin split his face.

"To the bat cave!" Fred galloped down the now deserted street, somehow managing to not look completely ridiculous in his red fairy outfit. The effect was ruined when he turned and tried to pose against a wall that wasn't there. He stumbled and caught himself. "Well, come on! Stop dilly-dallying! Yoohoo! Favourite people! Come over heereeeree!" Fred beckoned furiously. "Whatever you do," he yelled, "don't make a lot of noise!"

"I think he's having too much fun," observed Epic, as they set off after him.

"He's drunk," said Joan.

"I like drunk Fred," said Alice. "He's fun."

"I like drunk Fred too," said Joan. "But I hope he doesn't get us all killed. I'm not in the mood to die today, we have things to do. Revenge to plan. Knights to crush."

They hurried after Fred, scurrying through the dark streets. The sounds of the fight were soon long behind them. The night drew in quiet. The snow had a terrible, rather sinister way of smothering the noise of the city. Not that there was anyone out. Joan saw eyes watching from high windows. Here and there a curtain twitched. But their footsteps crunching on the ice were the only proof of life.

"Where are we going," whispered Joan, once she had caught up with Fred.

"To my lair," he whispered back. He patted her arm and swayed a little. "Nearly there, friends and lovers."

"I'm getting tired, Fred," said Hugo. "Your lair better have comfortable chairs."

"It does! The most comfortable!"

"How do you even have a lair?" asked Alice. "You've been gone one night."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Fred said. "I haven't been knitting a jumper, I've been fomenting revolution! And accessorizing," he showed off one red stockinged leg.

"Very nice," said Joan. "How much HP on that outfit? It looks very...er impractical."

"Rubbish!" said Fred. "This baby has x25 HP! I will have to introduce you to my tailor. Now stop gassing everyone and get in here!"

"Where?"

Fred hopped over a low wall into a small, nondescript garden. He danced across the snow expanse and paused by a low, crumbly wall covered in foliage. Moving swiftly he lifted a swath of ivy. A low door was revealed, set flush in the wall.

"Here!" he said. "Quickly!"

The party gathered around him. A single door knocker was fixed in the centre of the door. The knocker was dull brass made in the likeness of a chubby goblin's face. As Fred lifted his hand to knock, the eyes flickered open.

"Paffword?" the brass knocker asked, lisping in decidedly feminine tones. It stuttered a bit, struggling to speak clearly around its mouth full of ring. Brassy eyes focused on Fred's face.

"Oh fudge," said Fred.

"No," said the brass knocker. "Pfftt. That is incorrect. Fife more tries and then I go back to sleepff."

"The tea made with milk will ever soothe the parson's wanton daughter?"

"Thath was yesterday. Pfft."

"Damn," Fred sat on the garden wall, brushing aside a patch of snow. He rubbed his chin, thoughtfully, then brightened and returned to the door.

"A cow in the hand is worth two milk tarts in the bush?"

"No."

"Damn. Hmm...Fred123?"

"Nope. Pfft."

"Oh my lord," said Alice. "We are all going to freeze to death, aren't we?"

"Fredisthebestdancer123#thebest?" The chunky doorknocker puffed out her cheeks and shook her little brass head.

"No–fff."

"Hmmm." Fred looked embarrassed. He bent close to the door and whispered loudly. "Joan is a hotty." The doorknocker yawned.

"That's fife goes," she said. "Fuck offfff now."

"Wait, wait!" said Fred, wringing his hands imploringly. "Can I ask for a password reset? I mean it is my door after all." The chubby doorknocker huffed and rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she said. "Since it's you, Fred."

"You always were the best doorknocker." The little brass cheeks reddened in the moonlight.

("If she knows you why can't she just let you in?" asked Joan.

"Don't be so unromantic, darling," said Fred.)

"So how does the password reset?" asked Hugo, stamping his feet to bring back some warmth into them. "It really is very cold, Fred."

"Patience is a virtue," said Fred, primly. He fell off the wall.

A raven spiralled down out of the sky and landed in front of him. It was carrying a thick, rolled-up scroll in its beak. It dropped it in front of Fred, cawed, then took flight.

"Thank you," said Fred to the retreating raven. He stooped to retrieve the scroll and missed. On his second try, he managed to grasp it. Fred unrolled it carefully, squinting at the lines written therein. "Hmm," he said, pursing his lips. "Ah..hmmm."

"Just pfft ...say the letters out loud," peeped the door knocker cheerfully.

"Yes, hmmm," said Fred. He scratched his head. "I seem to be having a spot of trouble making it out."

"Let me see," said Joan, exasperated. They all crowded around the scroll. The letters were marked in dark brown sepia and read as follows:

ᚅᚔᚂ ᚐᚑᚅ ᚈᚔᚅᚈᚓᚐᚅ ᚋᚐᚏ ᚇᚑ ᚈᚆᚔᚅᚈᚓᚐᚅ ᚃᚓᚔᚅ

"What on earth is that?" said Alice.

"Looks like Ogham," said Epic. They all stared at her. "Early medieval alphabet from Ireland."

"Do you know how to pronounce it?"

"No."

"Not helpful."

"Any other way we can reset?" asked Fred, turning back to the door and batting his eyelashes at the knocker.

"Pffft." The brass door-knocker rolled her eyes. "Fine. Juft for you, Fffred." She hummed a little song under her breath. Another raven descended from the heavens. Once more the party crowded round once more as Fred unrolled the parchment. This one contained a series of drawings, each in a brown square, neatly painted in sepia ink. Some of them had pictures of castles. Some had pictures of ornate carriages, some had random fruits or vegetables.

"What do we do with this?" asked Joan.

"Show me all the ones with cawrriages, pffft," said the knocker.

"The ones with carriages?"

"Thaths what I said."

"Here, here and here," said Fred, triumphantly.

"You miffed one."

"I did not! Where! Show me where?"

"Bottom lepfft."

"That's a pumpkin."

"Like I said. You miffed one. Pffft." Fred glared at the little door knocker, who beamed back at him and chortled a bit. "Okay, pffft okay, you can come in now," she said. "It waff nice talking wiff you, Fred. They are all waiting in the cellar."

"Who is?" demanded Alice.

"My co-conspirators," said Fred, arching one eyebrow at her. "The rebellion! Thank you, Knocker, a pleasure as always."

He pushed open the door which was unlocked. Fred ducked through the frame, and the others followed him.

Inside all was darkness. It was a warm, stuffy darkness that smelt vaguely of wine and cooking. Stomachs rumbling, the party shuffled and bumped down the passage, following their drunken leader. They emerged into a cellar. Lit by the warm glow of a roaring fire, several fairies greeted Fred at his entrance. Several battered velvet chairs were arranged around the room, and it had a lived-in, homey look to it.

"Oh thank goodness," said Epic. Without further ado she stretched out on the bit of ragged carpet in front of the hearth, completely ignoring the waiting fairies. "I hate being cold," she said, to no one in particular.

"Welcome back, my lord!" peeped one of the fairies, a small, elfin woman dressed in a mustard yellow tutu, with a green bodice, and little yellow flowers in her hair.

"These," said Fred, gesturing, "are my co-conspirators." To the fairies he said simply, "this is my party. This is Mustardseed." Fred smiled down at the fairy in yellow. Gossamer wings protruded from her back, and her ears were pointed, not unlike the taller fair-folk of the queen's court. Her eyes had no sclera and were unsettling in their darkness. The top of her head barely made it up to Fred's shoulder, and her skin was mottled yellow.

"So your friends are safe," came a deep voice from the shadows. A figure in an old wooden wheelchair rolled himself forward. The creature within could only be called humanoid by some stretch of the imagination. He had eight eyes and far too many limbs. His skin was dark brown and striped and covered with sticky hairs. A spider, the party realised, but a human-sized one – a nightmare child of human and arachnid. But a nightmare wearing blue cotton trousers. "What of the Queen? What about the Court?" He clicked his mandibles.

"Cob is the brains," said Fred, airily. "When I'm not around." A fairy in brown trousers with soft, dusky wings giggled. "This is Moth," said Fred. "He's risking life and limb to let us plot in his basement." Moth bowed.

Fred turned back to Cob. "The Queen got away," he said. "But we gave her a shock. At least six of the elfen nobles lie cooling in the snow. Possibly more since I left while the fighting was still in progress."

The last fairy, a tall man in pink stockings, with a billowing shirt belted by little pink flowers snorted, folding his arms over a muscular chest. His skin was vivid, variegated shades of pink and white.

"Who's this?" asked Hugo, eyes wide.

"That," said Fred, "is Peaseblossom. Peaseblossom is a cunt so just ignore him." Peaseblossom rolled his eyes but said nothing.

"Are you all flower fairies?" asked Epic, sitting up from her place in front of the fire. Cob twitched in his chair and twisted towards her.

"Do I look like a flower to you?" the spider-man said gruffly.

"Sorry," said Epic. "Of course not."

"Sit, sit!" said Moth, gesturing to the battered chairs and couches, "please make yourselves comfortable, Friends of Fred."

The party sank into the comfortable chairs with groans of delight. Fred aimed his rump at the seat next to Joan and missed.

"I see you are still not in control of your faculties," said Cob, disapprovingly. He rolled his wheelchair over to one side and clicked his mandibles.

"I just wanted a cup of tea," said Fred, waving his arms and legs helplessly, as if that would make tea suddenly materialise. "How was I to know it would be so...potent."

"Potent?" asked Alice. "You got drunk on tea?"

"Fairy tea," said Fred.

"Ah," said Epic, from the fireside. "Don't eat the food in fairy."

"I was just about to offer you some more," said Moth, twisting his hands and looking anxious. "Just as you like, Master, ceylon, with milk, one sugar–"

"No!" said Cob and Peaseblossom together.

"We don't want more, crazy drunk humans," said Cob. "No offence."

"Offence taken!" said Fred, who had worked his way onto the chair. "I really could do with another, Moth, angel, do you think I could –"

"No," said Cob. "Unwise."

Moth looked devastated. "Sorry, my lord."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Well, we have plenty of our own food," said Hugo. "Have a sandwich, Fred."

Fred stared at the offered sandwich as if he might cry, but cheered up as he bit into it. Hugo handed round food to everyone. Fortunately, they all had plenty from their grind the day before. The picnic in front of the fire was just what everyone needed. Slowly the party relaxed, warmed by the fire. Outside the wind whistled through the eaves but inside it was cosy.

"So what's going on, Fred?" said Joan, after she had finished her food. "What's the Quest?"

"And why do the fairies keep calling you 'my lord' and 'master'," said Alice.

"Well, " said Fred, drawing himself up with some dignity. "When I arrived there was this elf cove–"

"Like... a seashore?" asked Alice, frowning.

"He's gone posh," said Hugo, murmured in her ear. "There's no saving him."

"Shut up, Hugo and let me tell the story," said Fred. The sandwich had helped, he wasn't swaying quite so much. "I rode with the Fairy Queen to her castle, all the while her bending my ear about parties and music and fun. Promised me a fine old time, she did, the dirty wench."

"I bet she did," muttered Peaseblossum, "always had an eye for the pretty lads, her Majesty."

"Peaseblossum shut your pie-hole," said Fred, "or I will serve you to the queen inside a sugar-frosted cupcake. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes! I went along with it because it seemed like fun, and I had my ear out for quests. All was pleasant. Singing, a knees-up, what-not. But the next thing I know the nasty woman has me bent over a sacrificial altar and trying to cut my heart out without so much as a please or thank you, by the by. Needless to say, I got out of there, toot-sweet."

("The queen tried to kill him and he ran away," said Hugo, helpfully.)

"I gave the old girl a black eye and hightailed it out of the castle."

"He rescued me too!" piped up Moth. "Mustardseed and I were to be offered up for the tithe! We were going to be butchered and Fred saved us!"

"Yay, the Fredinator!" said Mustardseed, adoringly.

"So was that the quest?" asked Joan. "Saving Moth and Mustardseed?"

"No," said Fred. He paused, considering. "Well yes, I got XP from that. But it's a bit more complicated than that. The Quest is to Overthrow the Fairy Court."

"Oooh," said Epic, Alice.

"That's a big one," said Hugo.

"But?" said Joan. "Why do I feel sure there is a but coming?"

Fred fussed with the red silk of the sleeve of his fairy costume and a little red flower fell out.

"Well you see," he said, "I think the idea was– Well, I met the fairy king."

"The fairy king?" said Joan.

"Rest in peace, your majesty," said Moth. The small fairy-man removed his acorn-shaped hat and held it over his heart. Peaseblossom spat into the fire.

"Yesss," said Fred, fiddling with his sleeves again. "So Moth and Mustardseed brought me to the king. He was planning a rebellion against his wife."

"His wife?" said Alice, her eyes wide.

"You know how some marriages can be," said Fred, his eyes distant. "I gather they didn't get on. And I could see the path all laid out. He was meeting conspirators, had a whole raft of quests for me. He was going to imprison the wicked queen, take back the castle. Set old wrongs right and so on. With my help of course."

"But–" said Joan.

"Well. I just didn't like him," said Fred. "I feel like it would have been replacing one twisted, cruel twat with another. Um. One thing led to another. We had a disagreement and I accidentally killed him. He said dancing wasn't manly and didn't see the problem with taxing the ears off the poor. Oh, and he put almond milk in his tea. The King was basically a fascist."

"You accidentally killed him?" said Hugo, raising one eyebrow.

"I challenged him to a duel, no funny business."

"It was glorious," said Mustardseed, her eyes large and adoring. "Fred is our King now."

"No," said Fred, annoyed. "No, no. Democracy. We're going for democracy here, Mustardseed. Eat the rich. Repeat after me."

"Yes, master," said Mustardseed, happily. "Eat the rich."

"You did all of this in a night," said Joan.

"Well I have been busy," said Fred. "But I could do with a nap before we storm the castle or anything exciting like that. And some more of that tea–"

"No," said Cob.

"So what exactly does 'Overthrowing the Court' look like?" said Epic, twisting around to sit cross-legged in front of the fire.

"Well– I'm not entirely sure," said Fred. "The King had a network which I have sort of...inherited. But I have lots of ideas. You have no idea how grim the fairy peasants have it here. The gentry keep sacrificing them wily-nily, and they sell body parts in the shops."

"Like you never sold a tooth to a fairy," said Cob, from his corner.

"The Guide says it's alright," said Fred, ignoring him. "I asked. He huffed and puffed a bit and said I was an administrative nightmare. But then when I kept talking he said could do whatever I wanted as long as I shut up. And that it was a sandbox, whatever that means."

"So what do you suggest?" said Joan, looking thoughtful. "I used Identify on the queen and it didn't work. She must be a very high-level NPC. Level 30 at least, by my guess. It's going to take more than a rapier to finish her off."

"The queen is hosting a ball tomorrow eve," said Cob. "There are plans in place to make our move then."

"We will rally the fairy peasants," said Fred. "We will lay our plans carefully. We will plot in coffee shops and sing about barricades. We will upgrade our equipment. Maybe find some cannons. But first I need a nap."