"It may be a while on the clothes, Sire," (Patreon)

the Ixies replied.  "During thy fit, thou ripped thy garments to pieces and flung them - with some glorious invective - at the surrounding forest."

"Gather the pieces and bring them to me," I instructed.  "Meanwhile, what have you got to eat?"

"We have some tasty aphids and a few succulent caterpillars," Typantronn declared proudly.  "And I'm sure I can find more if thou desirest."

"Um, no thanks," I sighed.  "Let's hold off on that for a while."

I may have been cursed to have to stay alive despite my wishes, but I wasn't about to stoop to eating bugs!  Not yet, anyway.  How could a scion of Irenaeus have fallen so low?  Naked and hungry, trapped in the woods with only Ixies for company .. the Lacktail would have fought his way out of this situation!

But I wasn't Irenaeus.  I was Everybody's Puppet .. worthless, incompetent Adler Young; probably the last of the Irenaeid line.

Tsk.  I shook my head to dispel these gloomy thoughts.  Nobody around here knew me, except for the Ixies, and they still seemed to be on my side.  I could re-invent myself!  My failures up til now were in the past!  I had tricked the lowfolk into calling me Lord Randall .. why not take this opportunity to make a fresh start?  I could become a new elf!  Henceforth I could be Lord Randall!  Never mind that the real Randall was poisoned by his lowfolk mistress!  I would do things differently!  All I needed to effect a change was a symbol; something to show myself AND the world that I was different!  And hadn't my fingers brushed against the very thing, as I was replacing Bucephalus in my elfintory just a few minutes ago?

Carefully, reverently, I took out the fake mustache and stuck it on my face.  Immediately I began to feel its strange power coursing through me.

"These are all the pieces we could find, Sire," an Ixie informed me.

"Excellent, my lovelies," I chuckled.  "It'll do."

I quickly composed a Gramarye to assemble the tattered scraps back into a glorious green satin suit.  Then I put it on and stood for a moment, radiating confidence.

"Thou lookest like a new elf, Sire," the Ixie observed.

"I am brimming with newfound resolve," I admitted.  "I now know what I must do.  The only problem is figuring out how to accomplish it."

"We will help in any way we can," the Ixies declared.

"I shall continue my experiments with the exploding powder.  I think it will prove invaluable, especially if the Antgladers' noisy weapons become popular among the lowfolk.  I also need to figure out a way to control or more effectively exploit the time discrepancy between the lowfolk world and Faerie.  It could be quite advantageous to skip ahead to an era where I am but a dimly-remembered legend."

"Some of those books in the Tower might contain the information, since the structure sits atop a Gate," an Ixie suggested.

"Good point.  I shall have to study them in detail.  But more important than any of that is my need to escape from this circle of confinement!"

"What is the nature of the geas that holds thee here?"

"As near as I can recall, it was a Royal Edict issued hastily by Queen Edessa just before she made her escape.  If I were High King, I could easily overrule it .. and I SHOULD be High King .. but without access to the Coronation Chamber, and without an elf to crown me .. ah well, that puzzle will have to wait til later.  Right now I need food."

"Thou canst still contact P.J. and Ethel," Typantronn pointed out.

"Not them!" I yelped, feeling my mustache confidence suddenly start to wane.  "Going back to them would be so humiliating."

"Who else dost thou know?" Typantronn asked with a shrug.  "We have neither the access to, nor the ability to carry viands fit for an Irenaeid prince.  Let not thy qualms master thee, Sire.  Be an elf!  Beg not for their assistance, but instead demand it as thy due!"

"Yes, of course!" I exclaimed.  "You're absolutely right!"

I pooked directly into the scrying tower, and guided my vision toward P.J. and Ethel's house.

"Just in time," I declared as I saw them sitting down to dinner.  "I need food, and you must bring me some immediately."

"Where do you get off, ordering us around like that?" Ethel snapped.

"SILENCE, FEMME!" I commanded.  "How dare you presume to sass Lord Randall!  Just wrap some roast mutton and a few pies up in a bindle, and bring it forthwith to the stone circle known as Albric Tor."

"For one thing, Mister Bossypants," Ethel sneered, "the forest around Albric Tor has become impenetrable.  IM-PEN-A-TRABLE.  Do you know what that means?  We tried to come check on you last fall, but there was no way through.  And for another thing, you don't get to disappear for a year and then show up and command us like we're your servants.  Screw you.  Go find your own food."

Oh no, this wasn't going well!  I struggled to blink back tears of anger.  How could this lowfolk femme constantly get the better of me?  I'd show her!

"HEY!" P.J. squawked as I apported his plate of food away.

I quickly backed out of the scrying hole, to look at the plate right there in my hands.  HA HA!  YES!!  This had to count as Lord Randall's first substantial victory!

I pooked back out into the stone circle.

"How long was I gone?" I asked.

"Only about half an hour," my Ixies replied.  "Where didst thou get the food?"

"I appropriated it from some insolent lowfolk," I stated proudly, as I began to eat.

I had scarcely taken a few bites before I was distracted by a loud commotion of rustling and loud banging in the woods.

A few minutes later, the underbrush parted and a familiar-looking sandy colored fox emerged.

"A difficult time of it getting here I have had," he called to me.  "Well guarded you are."

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