[MISC] The Fair Folk Went Down To Georgia

This isn't a Virtuous Sons chapter, just a little snapshot I wrote for a 1k contest in the discord server. I'll have the next VS chapter up sometime tomorrow.

'Til then.

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The Fair Folk Went Down To Georgia

Gold is for the mistress - silver for the maid

Copper for the craftsman, so cunning at his trade.

But iron - cold iron - is the master of the swayed.

- Rudyard Kipling

Once upon a time, the cloudpiercer had been owned by a bank. Taller than any building for miles around, its open-lattice crown of pyramid steel had once glowed bright-enduring gold atop the city’s skyline. Tonight, though, the beacon bled aurora, staining the stars with otherworldly hues.

It belonged to the Five Court Fae now.

The cloudpiercer’s lobby had once been an Art Deco dream; floor-to-ceiling marble lit by tall firefly bulbs in lofted alcoves, with cold-steel elevators to contrast their warmth. It was the sort of threshold that demanded form before function, its marble floors begging for the click-click-click of wingtips and stilettos.

Tonight, steel-toed boots tracked mud and bloody tracks across the floor instead. In the blue light cast by the firefly bulbs, coated as they were by thick layers of hoarfrost, the shadow of a man stalked through the lobby. The cold-steel elevators had been ripped entirely out of their shafts. He took the stairs.

The cloudpiercer was fifty-five stories tall. While he climbed them all, curious silhouettes danced behind the tower’s windows. They spread rumors of his passage and wondered of his purpose, staining the glass with all their gossip. At first they whispered just loud enough for him to hear them. The longer he ignored them, though, the louder that they grew - until they were all but screaming at him through the stairwell walls.

At the peak, heavy boots of leather and steel crunched through a bed of fallen leaves. The roof beneath the aurora pyramid looked like a forest glade more than it did a man-made structure. Thick, hungry vines wound throughout the steel lattice of the cloudpiercer’s pyramid, making shadows in a space that should have been subsumed by golden light. Gnarled trees loomed large overhead, the greatest of them rising above even the aurora pyramid, the canopy of its leaves blocking out the stars above.

In the shadow of the glade, surrounded by the creatures of her court, a lovely woman reclined on a throne of prickling roses. She watched the man patiently as he came. Her eyes were canted and cruel, the color of northern lights. Her smile was a cold and empty thing. A coffin in want of a corpse.

“Hello again, traveler,” the fair lady greeted him, though they’d never met before. “Have you come to die in vain?”

Nestled in the chestnut curls of her hair, a silver crown glittered blue-green-white.

The keepers of the fair lady’s court tittered and jeered at the man, swaying just out of sight. They appeared human, but only if you didn’t look too close. Some were smaller than alley cats, others so large that the trees could hardly hide them. Some were lank like overstretched taffy, others squat like fat bullfrogs. Some wore wilting flower-petal dresses and poisonous toadstool hats, others sported tree bark armor and gripped thorns like they were daggers. They were many and they were varied, but in this city they were all the same other.

A few grew bold, scampering beneath the man’s feet and daring him to trip. They laughed like tinkling bells. They had sewing needles for teeth, dripping red with human blood.

The right boot came down and crushed one of them to paste. The rest shrieked and scattered.

The traveler pulled a coin from his pocket and flipped it. It spun, winking blue-green-white, and landed at the fair lady’s feet. The coin was silver. In place of a president, it bore the portrait of a woman’s face. The eyes - canted, cruel. The smile - cold, empty.

“You promised me a game,” the traveler said, though they’d never spoken until today. The fair lady tilted her head, searching for his face. He wore a hooded rain jacket - the ugly sort designed for labor.

“May I have your name, traveler?”

“No.”

The creatures in the glade hissed and spat at him for his poor manners, but the lady only laughed. She sat up on her throne, leaning forward just so. Silks of blue and green and white shifted as she moved, exposing skin like chantilly cream. She took up the traveler’s silver coin and cupped it between her hands. She stared up at him, deadly mischief in her eyes, and pulled her hands apart as fists.

“I’ll wager mine for yours exchanged,” she offered. The traveler nodded. Her smile grew wider, revealing pearly teeth without stains. As for her tongue, though, it was scarlet-red. “Before we begin, then, a challenge: Can you tell me which hand holds the silver coin? If you’re right, I’ll let you decide the game.”

“Right.”

The fair lady opened her right hand, revealing the silver coin. She offered it back to the traveler. He didn’t take it.

“So rude,” she teased him. Then, she opened her left hand, revealing golden coins that teetered on the tip of every finger. Five of them in all. “The terms are yours to set, traveler. But I hope you understand just who it is you’ve challenged.”

Her shadow loomed large behind her, its silhouette split five ways. The fair lady of the glade cast five shadows, one for every court.

“Five courts promised you a game,” she said, five voices overlaid. “It’s only right that five courts get to play. Make your move, traveler, and I’ll make five of mine.”

Her aurora gaze glittered, daring him to disagree. He didn’t.

Instead, the traveler drew the cold iron from his hip and emptied all but one of its six chambers. He flicked the revolving cylinder back into place and dragged it down his arm, setting it to spinning. Then he raised the iron to his head and pulled the sunken trigger.

Click.

The shadowed glade was silent as he offered his revolver to the Queen of Five Courts.

The traveler’s name was Johnny.

But the fair folk called him king.