After the Revolution

Salientopolis was jubilant as they emerged from the palace. Vodyanoy men and women were tearing wigs from their heads and stamping on them, statues of the King of the Lilies were being torn down, and crowds were gathered around, cheering as Chenette held forth about 'the need to build worker power.' Whatever that meant.

Saoirse and Marci found Olaf and Tissa sitting on a bench at the side of the square. Olaf's ears were drooping, and Tissa appeared to be asleep. Apparently, their role in the end of feudalism, weaponised small-talk, had been rather exhausting.

Marci, for her part, was still feeling a bit worse for wear. Wizards, despite their obvious superiority to other forms of spellcasters, weren't really good at healing magic. Also, for some reason her hair now had a stripe that kept on changing colour, and she couldn't figure out how to get rid of it, although she supposed if that was the worst weird thing she came out of the Feywilde with, then it wasn't so bad.

Fashionable, even.

"Oh, hey," said Olaf as they approached. "I take it things went well?"

"Not for the King, he got stabbed," said Marci.

"And I- I had to burn a book," said Saoirse, who was still looking a bit queasy—apparently, because she'd been forced to destroy the Tome of Lineage.

"And… where's Anke?" said Olaf, looking around.

Marci frowned.

Anke?

Oh, right.

"Err, still performing a vital role in the mission," said Marci.

"But we thought that the mission was over?" said Tissa, not opening her eyes.

"Well, uh, technically yes…"

"Marci," said Olaf sternly. "What have you done with Anke? Did you 'forget' her somewhere?"

"Well, technically I didn't do anything to her," said Marci.

"Marci couldn't get the shrinking spell off," said Saoirse. "And pretended she was a doll so a young boy wouldn't call for the guards." The succubus pointed up towards one of the towers. "She's probably still up there, having a tea-party."

"Snitch," whispered Marci. "I thought you were supposed to work for me!"

"Oh, um, sorry Marci," said Saoirse sheepishly. "Sometimes I forget you're my boss."

"Well, for snitching on me, you can go and get her," said Marci.

Saoirse flinched and looked up at the tower. "Oh, fly- fly… all the way up there?" she said. "Again?"

Marci sighed. Right. Saoirse was a demon who could fly, but apparently was afraid of heights. Because that wasn't an insane prospect. "Fine, fine," she said. "I'll go and get her. Why don't you lot go and try to find us a boat?"

***

Anke was not pleased, even when Marci managed to partially unshrink her through what was a quite brilliant and innovative iteration on dispelling magic when the traditional approaches hadn't worked. It should have returned her to normal size, but Marci had done a really good job on the shrinking charm, and it seemed to be good and stuck. Oh well, it would probably wear off in a few hours or days. Weeks, maybe. Months… well, that was unlikely, but she had put a lot of magic into the spell.

What was more, she'd even apologised. Well, sort of. She'd said 'she'd be more careful next time,' which, when you thought about it, was basically an admission of fault and just shy of a full mea culpa. Not that it had meant anything to the ungrateful elf, who had just sworn at her and started hitting her the moment she'd fished her out of the no-longer-a-prince's toybox.

"This is intolerable!" protested an Anke who was now around an inch shorter than Marci, and who was angrily swinging her legs on one of the gondola's benches. "Turn me all the way back!"

They had needed to wait a while for the celebrations of the founding of the 'People's Republic of Salientopolis' to die down a little, but then had eventually managed to secure a ride with 'Comrade Hugo,' who had, until recently been called 'Lord Marchand.' Gone was the fancy frock and coat; instead the purplish frog-man wore a pair of large blue overalls, a simple white shirt, a red scarf tied around his neck, and a brown flat-cap.

The water around them was still, although thankfully not bewitching, and the vessel cut easily through the surface, kicking up a small wake that glittered silver against the ink black depths. Fog rolled in from all sides, and apart from the occasional cry of some distant bird, or something stranger, the air was quiet.

"I told you, I can't," said Marci. "So stop pestering me!"

"Maybe you could if you were a better wizard," said the angry and horrible elf.

"Says the spiritbinder!"

"Hey, could you two not snipe at one another while we're in the middle of a deadly Feywilde lake," said Olaf. "It's like- it's like dealing with children!"

"That would have worrying implications for you, Friend Olaf!" said Tissa. "Since you are in an intense intimate relationship with Friend Anke, and were in an even louder one with Friend Marci before she was expelled for the party due to her rampant alcoholism!"

"Yes Tissa, you're right, it would," said Olaf flatly.

"Wait, what?" said Saoirse. "What's this about alcoholism?"

Marci groaned. "Thanks, Tissa. I wanted everyone to know about that, actually."

"You're welcome, dearest Friend Marci," said Tissa, totally missing the subtext. "We are glad that you're being more open and accepting of your addiction. As we understand it, that is one of the first steps to recovery. We have been ever so worried about you."

Marci tried, but failed to stay annoyed at the tall Arana woman. It just wasn't really possible to stay angry when Tissa didn't have a malicious bone in her body, and was absolutely and totally one hundred percent genuine all the time.

"Oh yes, don't you know?" said Anke viciously, leaning in close to the Succubus she was sitting next to. "Your precious Shardkeeper is a raging alcoholic. A real pathetic screw up."

"I don't feel like that's something that should be weaponised against her," said Saoirse, her voice sympathetic.

"You wouldn't," said Anke. "But it's true—can't go a week without getting drunk off her face."

"That's a lie!" said Marci. "I haven't touched a drop in… well, it's about a week now-"

"What!?" said Olaf, cutting back into the conversation. "You said you were going dry! You promised me Marci!"

"'For the duration of the mission,'" shot back Marci. "Which, in case you didn't notice, ended when I got blown up!"

Olaf looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, before sighing and conceding the point. "I guess that's fair."

"And, look, I- I am trying OK?" said Marci. "Hells, can people just get off my arse a little? I'm trying."

"Yeah, I know Marci—sorry," said Olaf. "Sorry, just… just on edge here."

"You needn't worry about the danger, Comrade Olaf," said Comrade Hugo in a relaxed easy-going drawl, which the chameleon-like Salientopolitans had adopted within an hour of toppling feudalism. "Old Snaggletooth hardly ever eats travellers anymore."

"'Old… Snaggletooth?'" said Olaf.

"Aye, great big lake-serpent," nodded Comrade Hugo. "The size of a mansion, like people used to own, back before the revolution."

There was a pause where everyone, from Tissa to Marci to Anke looked confused.

"The revolution that happened… today?" said Olaf tentatively.

"Aye," nodded Comrade Hugo. "Glorious, it was."

"And the mansions which you, presumably, still live in?" he said. "I mean, you haven't even had time to sleep again since 'the revolution.'"

"Oh yes, I still live there—but we've collectivised them," he said, shaking his head. "Everyone gets a roof over their head in the republic; no matter how big or how small."

"That's disgusting," said Anke, wrinkling her nose.

"Shut up, Anke," said Marci. "No one cares about your stupid imaginary Vine."

Anke hissed. Actually hissed, as if she were a snake. Well, she was a snake-

No, no, Marci was going to try to be nicer to Anke—even if all objective observers would attest to her serpentine qualities.

"Right, but has anyone actually moved out of the place you were living?" pressed Olaf.

Comrade Hugo considered this for a moment. "Not that I know of."

"Right, so, what has actually changed?" said Olaf.

"We've collectivised housing," said Comrade Hugo, a proud note in his voice.

"But what has changed!?"

"The housing is collectivised," said Comrade Hugo slowly, as if explaining something to a child. "If you're having difficulty understanding the concept, don't worry there's no shame in not knowing something; we have some pamphlets back in Salientopolis. I'll be sure to find some for you when we return."

"I understand… nevermind," said Olaf, rolling his eyes and giving up, going back to looking out over the water.

His stubble was starting to grow out, Marci noted, bright pink against his fair skin. Marci had always tried to get him to grow a beard, but he'd said it 'wasn't neat.' Although, his older self had had one, in their, well, whatever their shared experience had been: a dream? A… fantasy?

Marci hadn't really had time to reflect upon what had happened, not with the danger of the forest path and the nonsense of Salientopolis, but it was definitely something that needed unpacking. In that dream, which only they amongst all the others had seemingly shared, Marci had seen a future that was perhaps a bit more domestic than she wanted to have right now, but had felt safe and warm and comfortable in a way that nothing else had for a long time: not since she'd been a small child, before she'd realised how much of a monster her mother was.

Obviously, Claire, their child, had been a biological impossibility—Marci was too fey, not sufficiently 'of the real.' But that didn't mean that a family was out of the question: they could adopt. Of course, they'd have to sort all this Shardkeeper business out first, but… but there was no reason that something like that vision couldn't, hypothetically, come to pass.

They could get a house, perhaps in Krefeld am Nain (upstream, definitely), perhaps somewhere outside it—more rural, maybe? She could commute to the University easily enough, finish her mastery, do a doctorate; Olaf could spend his time writing all the books and poetry he'd dreamed of one day publishing…

Marci started, suddenly aware that Olaf was staring at her, and she at him. She looked away, as if worried he might somehow realise what she had been thinking of, cheeks burning.

No. That was stupid. She was too irresponsible to be his partner. And, she told herself for what felt like the tenth time in as many days, he was with Anke. 

The others continued to chat as Comrade Hugo rowed them across the still lake. Here and there islands loomed from the mist, upon which strange, gnarled trees twisted and shook despite the lack of wind. In the reeds surrounding the surrounding the small breaks in the lake rainbows of different coloured fireflies danced, their movements so mesmerising that Marci forced herself to look away, worried they might hypnotise her.

Instead, she gazed out over the calm surface to where the white mist twisted and danced above the mostly still surface. Mostly still, apart from a series of ripples that were rapidly growing and coming towards them-

"Watch out!" shouted Marci, taking into the air a moment before a huge dark green, almost black body breached the surface.

An immense creature, indeed as large as one of the mansions that the Salientopolitans still lived in emerged from the depths, sending the shallow keeled riverboat rocking and tipping wildly as it rode the created swell.

Old Snaggletooth's terrible, draconic face reared back as water sheared off him in great torrents. Rows of gleaming white, if somewhat worn teeth glinted from within a huge mouth; fins jutted from the side of his head, almost like ears, and a crest of long spines ran down his spine; ropes of green weed and muck clung to his scales like a fetid cloak; and merciless eyes the colour of jade regarded Marci with a kind of ancient, elemental hatred that was difficult to describe.

But all of that was less terrifying than what she saw in her peripheral vision: another section of the serpent's body that erupted from the lake, directly under the boat her friends were still on with enough force that splinters exploded outward and upward as the boat cracked and snapped.

For a moment Olaf, Tissa, Saoirse, Anke, and Comrade Hugo hung in the air at the top of their arcs. But then, with the exception of Saoirse, who caught herself with her wings, the rest of her friends were sent plummeting straight down into the churning, inky black depths, landing with a splash, and then vanishing below the white, churning water.