The King of the Lilies

"And how do you do, Princess Marci?"

"Well, thank-you, King of the Lilies," said Marci tiredly. "How are you?"

"Excellent! So kind of you to ask!" said the large pink frog-man who was dressed in an elaborate golden jacket, crisp white leggings, and an ermine cloak, and wearing a ludicrously large crown, studded with gemstones and featuring a series of tiny sculptures of golden, leaping frogs that ran all the way around the rim.

It had taken hours. Literally hours to cross Salientopolis. Not because it was far from the outskirts to the palace, but because the guards had stopped to greet each and every single person they met. She was pretty sure that, for some of them, it had even been twice.

She knew her people got made fun of for being 'stuffy,' or, at least, the traditionalists did, but even Marci, who had made it her mission in life to act generally as un-princessly as possible, knew that her people weren't this bad.

But it was over. They were finally here, and she could ask the King of the Lilies to help her-

"And this is my wife, Queen Amelie, and my seven children…"

"How do you do, Princess Marci?"

Marci's eye twitched, and she fought to restrain herself from turning her not inconsiderable power of the Dreadfort on this city and levelling this stupid palace. She managed, if barely, and made it all the way through the introductions of the King's entire family before finally, finally she got to the only thing she was really interested in.

"And what brings the most esteemed scion of the House of Valmont to my wonderful city?" said the King of the Lilies.

"I am looking for information on Shardforts, on the thing that… 'gives me the mark of the Far Ones,'" said Marci. "I was told by a troll that there is a sorceress in this swamp who might be able to help me?"

"Hmm, yes, the good Sorceress Pawla," nodded the King of the Lilies. "One of my subjects could take you there, of course, although…"

Although. Of course. This was the Feywilde and, barring communist trolls, no one did anything for free. Were elves also originally from the Feywilde? There were theories that they were, although no one had ever confirmed it-

Marci stopped herself. OK, that was anti-elvist. Plenty of elves weren't like Anke, after all; not so pathologically transactional.

"You want something in return?" said Marci wearily.

The King of the Lilies croaked with laughter. "But of course, Princess," he said. "Nothing in life is free."

"Thank the Vine," Marci heard Anke mutter behind her.

"What do you need?" said Marci.

"I find myself in something of a… bother," said the King of the Lilies. "I have a sceptre, you see. Or rather, I did, until it was stolen from me through lies and trickery! An emblem of office—I'm sure you understand how important things are to royals such as we?"

"Sure," said Marci, trying to speed to the end of this likely stupid conversation and find out what he actually wanted her to do.

"One of my subjects, through skirting and manipulating several agreements, has acquired the sceptre, and has managed to twist the very bonds that bind this town together, the bonds represented in that object in and of themselves," he said. "A rascal, a troublemaker, who took advantage of my kindness to turn herself against the very city she once swore to protect!"

"Okay…?" said Marci. "I don't see how I can help you. You have guards and stuff, don't you?"

"But I cannot act against her directly in her abode, due to promises made," said the King of the Lilies. "But someone not in my employ; a fellow sovereign."

Marci sighed. "So you want me to get this sceptre back, and then you'll take us to see this Sorceress?"

"Should I find myself in possession of the sceptre again, I would have no reason to deny you a boat and a guide," he said, not quite admitting that he was giving her this task, since that would probably mean that she would be prevented, by the laws governing him, or the Feywilde, or both, from getting the stupid 'symbol of authority.'

Assuming she understood how fey—full fey, that was—worked: no lying, bound by agreements to the point that they literally couldn't act otherwise.

"OK, so where is this sceptre?" said Marci. "And who is this person who has it?"

"Chenette Guerreri, once Lady and Knight of Salientopolis," said the King of the Lilies, gesturing imperiously. "Who dwells in the north-eastmost tower. I shall have a retainer take you most of the-"

"No! No need," said Marci quickly. "I'm sure we can find it on our own. Chenette Guerreri? Easy, I can do that. Don't want to bother you, and all that."

"Oh no, it's no trouble-"

"No!" shouted Marci, holding up her hands. "No! It's- it's quite all right! We can find our own way."

"Well… if you insist," said the King of the Lilies, looking more than a little put out. "Although it isn't… seemly."

Unseemly or not, if Marci had to travel through this stupid city with another escort, she was going to end up murdering some fey. This was for their own good, as much as hers.

***

Without having to stop every three steps to go through some kind of elaborate greeting, they made good time, and reached a large domed building that, in contrast to the others, seemed to not be very well maintained in a matter of minutes. The garden was overgrown, the steps were cracked and slippery, and none of the nearby wandering Salientopolitans were going anywhere near it.

The doors, however, were open, and there was no one to object as Marci and the others entered, emerging into a large, grand entryway that was absolutely crammed with stuff. What looked like a printing press dominated one corner, a desk laden high with pamphlets titled with things such as 'Nobelism: the Highest Form of Feudalism,' 'What Should We Do?' and 'The Salientopolitan Ideology,' and walls and fortresses of books lined the floors and the walls.

Huh. Was this where the troll had gotten his pamphlets? Was this the source of this… what had he called it? Communism? That seemed weird, since this place was so stiflingly monarchic, but the fey didn't do anything by half measures…

For a few moments Marci thought that there was no one there, and was just considering which of the three doors that led to adjoining hallways to try when there was a shuffle at the desk, and a red coloured frog-person, feminine, based on what she had been able to observe, poked her head up out of the stack. She was wearing far less ostentatious clothes than the others, a simple white shirt, charcoal jacket, and a matching flat cap.

"Outlanders?" she said, her eyes widening comically. "Outlanders, here?"

"Um, hello?" said Marci. "My name's Marci, and this is Olaf, Saoirse, Tissa, and Anke; I'm looking for Lady Chenette Guerreri?"

"Not a Lady!" shot back the frog-woman, moving out from behind the mass of papers, revealing some rather dishevelled and rumpled clothes. "Not a Lady! I am Comrade Chenette!"

"Oh, well, alright," said Marci. "But you are Chenette Guerreri? "

"It's all a concoction, you know," said the woman, who Marci just decided to assume was Chenette. "An affectation. Trickery and lies, designed to disguise the true social relations within Salientopolis!"

"Err, OK-"

"Oh yes, 'everyone is equal, everyone is a Lord or Lady!'" ranted Chenette. "But that's how they get you, because Lords and Ladies have to follow the King of the Lilies. Do you see? Do you see? All the others, he got them to buy so far into the system that they think that it's in their interests! But it's not! Their material interests lie in the destruction of the Crown! In the establishment of a Universal Republic!"

"Err…?" said Marci, trying to translate the fey woman's words. "So he has some kind of… magical device that makes nobility obey him?"

"Exactly," nodded Chenette. "Exactly! That's why I asked for the boon, you see? I knew he couldn't refuse. Asked him, made him strip me of my titles! Not a Lady! Not a Lady!"

"Okay…" said Marci. "So, err, I need a sceptre…"

"No! No!" said Chenette. "Don't you see, that's part of his power! He needs that to elevate people to nobility. That's his symbol. If he gets it back, he'll elevate me back to Ladyship! I'll- I'll have to serve him again. But- but-" She held up a finger. "I have a plan, to free everyone, to bring about the Revolution! And now that you're here, I can put it into action!"

Marci stared flatly at the woman. "Plan? What plan?"

"If you can get the Tome of Lineages," she said. "The record of nobility, and destroy it, then the King of the Lilies' power would dissolve. No one would be a noble, he wouldn't be a king! Salientopolis would be free! No Kings! No Queens! Just free Vodyanoy!"

Vodyanoy, right, so that was what they called themselves.

"I don't have anything to reward you with," continued Chenette. "But please, Outlanders. You must help me! I cannot get to the Tome of Lineages on my own, but with your help, I know we can succeed! I know we can make the Revolution a reality!"

Marci glanced back at her friends, unsure of what to do. On one hand, this Vodyanoy would probably be easy to overpower, especially with her Shardkeeper power. She could just put her to sleep, find the sceptre, and be done with it. That would be the quick thing to do; the easy thing to do…

"This sounds like a most worthy quest," said Tissa. "If these people are enslaved, then we believe that we should free them!"

"That does seem like the nice thing to do," said Saoirse. "And we're nice, aren't we?"

"I mean, sure, but can we really get involved in each and every issue in the Feywilde?" said Olaf, pragmatic adventurer captain coming to the fore. "I'm not unsympathetic, but this isn't our world, and the longer we're here, the more danger we're in. We can probably find another way across the Lake."

"Agreed," said Anke. "We shouldn't take this job, particularly since no reward has been offered. Above all, it would be irresponsible for us to devalue the going rate for mercenary work."

Marci swore under her breath. Godsdammit. She didn't want to stay in the Feywilde any longer than necessary, and this seemed like a particularly insane task. But…

But it was one thing to raid a sacred catacomb to raise an undead legion; it was another to recruit demons to break your friends out of prison; something else to fight a battle against people trying to stop what they thought was a demonic invasion; and likely crossing some kind of lesser line to wine and dine with the greatest tyrants in the world.

But agreeing with Anke?

No.

No. 

She would not stoop so low.

Marci might have a somewhat deficient moral compass, but she knew that if Anke was against something, then it was probably good.

"Alright, where's this Tome?" said Marci.

Ugh, this was going to go terribly. She could just feel it.

"Who put you in charge!?" said Anke.

"My money," replied Marci.

Anke opened her mouth to argue, then sort of stopped working. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. Apparently, even her dislike for Marci was overpowered by her respect for transactional arrangements.

"Oh thank-you!" said Chenette, tears leaking from her massive, frog-like eyes. "Come, comrades! I will show you the palace blueprints, I have devised a plan! Soon, in this long fallow soil, the seed of freedom will bloom: a society not based upon bonds of servitude and dominion, but from each according to their ability, to each based on their need!"

Anke looked physically sick at the fey woman's words, her face actually turning a slight shade of green. Well, if Anke was against it, then it couldn't be all bad.

"Sorry, could I also grab some of your pamphlets?" asked Marci with a smile, deliberately looking straight at Anke, whose eye and cheek, and then arm began to twitch.