It is midday outside, although it is difficult to tell in places. The everpresent coal smoke from the factories covers the sun and sky so that only weak and sickly rays eventually manage to reach the streets and do little to fight the cold, wet January air. The people scurry past wrapped tightly in their coats, faces down to protect them from the wind. It is January 8.

A steam powered truck rattles and clanks past, belching forth a thin cloud of coal smoke that immediately merges with the surrounding haze. A little further ahead, a horse drawn delivery wagon stands idle in the street as its driver enters one of the shops that line the road. You pass a cobbler's shop, but the window is too dirty to see in.

You and your siblings have already made it to Hampton Avenue before you realize that you don't ever recall consciously deciding to come to London. The last you remember, you weren't in London at all. At the moment you are all walking together, probably indicating you all came from the Chancel recently, although that can only be a guess. You don't even really know where you are going either, although you know you are going the right way to get there.

Ahead, emerging out of the gloom and smoke, is a trolly station, one of the numerous stops for short distance travel where the underground doesn't run. It appears to be your immediate destination.

"Oh, how absolutely Thrilling to have the whole family together again!" Desiree chirrups happily as she dutifully heads towards the trolley station. "I suppose we're Embarking once more on some unknown yet Terribly Important quest of Dire Import? Does anyone know? Anyone at all? Oh! Before we depart towards our Certain Evisceration, this is the perfect time to give you all your presents! Before Doom strikes us, that is, I should say." She begins rummaging around in her bags. "I hurtled about most of Asia this past month, and it was absolutely Delightful, even though it was Not England . . . honestly, Neville, I don't know why you disdain the Train so, it's such a Lovely way to travel . . . there's something about a sturdy Piston thrusting Firmly into a well-greas'd Shaft which fills me with an emotion I can barely express. In any event, I bought you all presents, and . . . ah! Here they are! Let's see, postal cards from Extremely Foreign Lands, that's for Hu . . . A book of Kabuki theater for Allegra and a book of fables by some foreign fellow called Wu Ch'Eng-En for Nikita - I hope neither of you mind, the editions are terribly Old and in Foreign Languages as well, but the darling clerks absolutely Insisted . . . for Silas, the stack of Documents I had to fill out to cross from China to Mongolia, I thought you might want to have a look, they're really quite Remarkable, particularly the Affidavit of Loyalty to the Ch'u emperor, whom I believe has been quite Dead for three thousand years . . . oh, and for Neville, this ingenious little clockwork Device. Quite honestly, I have no idea what it does, but I was assured that it would provide Hours of Pleasure if used properly, so I thought perhaps you might wish to have one. I haven't forgotten anyone, have I?"

Neville examines the clockwork doodad in his hand without slowing pace, his ironshod cane still ringing his every step on the cobblestones.

The clockwork whatever, upon emerging from a sort of protective shell, sees the Noble Who embodies It, makes a strangled "EEP!" and tries to escape. With an impatient sigh, Neville slips it into a pocket.

"My quarrel with Dunstan is not so severe as as you believe," he says to Desiree, taking on a lecturing tone. Dunstan McHenry is the dominus of Steam Power. "It has been five years less several weeks since either of us have tried to nettle the other. We shared a spot of tea but last month, in fact, though the Scottish ingrate made off with my crumpets."

He scowls, and continues to walk, cane still tap tap tapping alongside.

"At what point are we to reach our purported destination?" he continues peevishly. "Hu, I believe it was you that suggested this outing, when shall we discover its purpose? I see nothing of interest here." Hu quietly thanks Desiree for her thoughtful gift while Neville goes on about his rivalry with Duncan. "I'm afraid I have neglected to bring you anything, dear Sister Celestis, but perhaps we can share Tea once we finish with this business, whatever it turns out to be?"

Hu takes a measure of his surroundings as he continues to walk. He almost reflexively checks his clothes and pats his pockets as he does so.

"I'm afraid, Sir Neville," he says in a mild voice, "that I haven't the slightest clue why we are here. I suspect that this is the work of The Boss, but I'm sure you are more experienced with such things than me. I'm guessing that we will arrive at our destination shortly. If you like, I can provide a ghost miracle and make the time seem to pass more quickly. But as the trolly station is right over yonder, I hardly think it's worth the effort. Why don't we just go and check it out? Maybe we're here to meet someone. I think it's probably something important, if we're all here together."

On being addressed, Silas removes his attention from the scrutiny of some opaque windows. He seems genuinely appreciative of the gift. "Thank you very much, Desiree. Quite thoughtful of you. Very thoughtful. I suppose you all still haven't received my Christmas of '33 gifts. I'll have to reprimand the Deputy Postmaster¹ again. All this snow and rain must be keeping him from his appointed rounds. Hmm..." His attention submerges again as he begins poring over a thick folder of Chinese customs forms. Automatically, he pulls out a red pen to check for incorrect spelling, bad grammar, and awkward sentence structure. He listens to the conversation as he works and walks. It is unclear whether his nods and "hmmms" are directed towards the words of his family or the intricacies of Asian legal precedent.

Following in the breezy wake of Desiree's enthusiasm, Allegra grins at her sister's seemingly unquenchable spirit. "I'm certain you are right, Desiree. I expect we are all once again being shepherded toward something, though I don't much fancy the notion of being eviscerated." Her expression brightens for a moment as she blurts out, "Perhaps it's a Holiday! That would be a most unexpected turn of events. Beach? No, too sandy and I would freckle desperately. Safari? Umm, no, no pith helmets in sight. Shame. I would have loved to see deepest, darkest Africa. Ooo! An antiquities quest! Too perfect! And I'm completely prepared. Right frame of mind and all."

Looking at the book handed to her by Desiree, Allegra nearly plants herself on the nearest bench to fully enjoy the volume, but is too afraid of missing out on things to come to a complete stop. "Too, too perfect! I've been simply mad for anything Oriental since the Japanese Exhibition opened in Knightsbrigde. It's been all the rage, you know. I shall spend many happy hours pouring over this and be quite the envy of the Girls. You know? The Girls in the park? It really was most thoughtful of you, dear, more than thoughtful, a complete inspiration!"

Never being one to arrive anywhere with an empty hand, Allegra plunges into her bottomless bag and withdraws an exquisite Dresden figurine (it's origins and manner of acquisition are a bit on the shady side), and proffers it to Desiree. "There you are! I knew this would come in handy the moment I saw it. It should look lovely wherever you choose to display it. Goodness, Neville! Have a care with that gadget! Never know what it might try to do if cornered ... or pocketed, as the case happens to be." Continuing on past a fruit stand without pausing, Allegra turns innocent eyes on the others. "Kumquat anyone?," holding out several lovely specimens of the fruit.

At Hu's suggestion they take the trolley, Allegra coos from behind a mouthful of fruit, "Ooo! Trolley rides are simply not to be missed! Never know where one might end up. Neville, try to enter into the spirit of adventure! I think you have been spending too much time alone, it is making you quite hermitish. Revel in the day, seize the moment, go forth and discover! Eat a kumquat, dear, it will give you a whole new perspective. Hu, some very clear thinking there. We *are* all together, something which just doesn't happen by chance. Something is most definitely afoot. Well, then. Shall we?" Without waiting for an answer, Allegra forges ahead toward the trolley with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes.

"Ah." Neville frowns at the proffered kumquat, but does not take it, instead minutely adjusting his pince-nez spectacles.

The trolley rumbles to a halt in front of the awning that serves as the Kew Gardens station. No one is waiting there and you are the only ones getting off the trolley. A wide path leads from the station to the garden's gates, which stand open. You appear to be the only ones there (which is not terribly surprising given the season). A light snow covers everything including the path, although, from the footprints, it appears a dozen or so hardy souls have visited the gardens since the snowfall the night before last. Looking past the gates, the garden spreads out in bleak monochrome as low, dark shrubs offset the smooth patches of white snow. The flower beds, bright and colorful during the spring and summer months, are only visible as low mounds of white. The occasional sculpture stands out against the landscape, but most add little color to the view. No one is visible in the garden, and the only sounds are the wind, the sounds of the street (separated from the trolley tracks here by a high hedge), and the rumbling and squeaking of the receding trolley. Still, the sun does appear to be winning its battle against the clouds. It is turning out to be a nice day for a walk.

On the other side of the Gate
Allegra appears immediatly after Silas. A few moments later, Neville arrives as well.

The sculpture is still present, looking just as it did before. It stands in a small clearing of low grass and packed earth. Beyond it is a forest whose edge runs to your left and right with a small path through it directly ahead. Behind and around you is a rolling prairie of waist high grasses. A light breeze moves the leaves of the trees and the grasses around you. The sun is still partially obscured by the clouds, just as it was in London, but it is warm - it feels like late spring. London is nowhere to be seen. Halfway between the sculpture and the wood, a young man is straightening from a bow, but swiftlyly bows low again when he sees the new arrivals. Hu and Nikita have advanced toward where the man is standing. The rest of the family remains standing around the base of the sculpture in the same relative positions they held before crossing the portal.

It takes only a half moment to realize why things do not appear quite right: The trees and their leaves, the grass of the plains and even the dirt and stones of the path - everything except the sculpture and yourselves, are made of brightly colored glass. The leaves are made with paper thin panes of fine green glass that catch and colors the light and make every breeze sound with the ringing of a thousand tiny wind-chimes. The bark of the trees is made with a dark, almost opaque, brown glass, textured and patterned. The branches bend and sway as another musical gust passes through the wood, but, impossibly, they flex like a natural branches and do not break. The yellow-green grasses, each a tiny stem of colored glasswork, ripple as the air pushes past them and there is a swishing sound as thousands of translucent stalks flex, touch one another, and straighten again.

A raven (or some black bird - the distinctions are not as obvious when each feather is translucent) flys over the wood from where the path seems to disappear around a bend and lights on a nearby branch, which tinkles and crackles, but ultimately holds. It cocks its head to regard the Family with curiosity for a moment, and then, seeming satisfied, starts preening itself - its beak sliding over its feathers with the sound of someone running the teeth of a comb along the edge of a table.

Even the young man appears to be made of glass although his limbs bend as if they were flesh. He appears to be about 18 years old and Caucasian with short blond hair. His clothing folds stiffly as he moves, but appears to be made of glass as well. Interestily, despite the fact that you can make out the forest through his body, you cannot see him through his shirt. It almost seems like the glass that makes up his garments runs all the way through him and that his hands and head are simply set on the appropriate ends.

"My Lord and Ladies," he says, "Please, let me wish you welcome to Locus Pararch." His voice has a musical quality to it, as if it originates from glass tubes, chimes, and whistles within his chest. After a brief moment he glances up at the Family from his stooped position before quietly turning to Hu and asking, "Is this, um, everyone, my Lord?"

"Well, you were long enough about it, Neville," says Desiree as she waits for the Young Glass Man to lead the group to wherever it is they are going. "Honestly, one would almost think you had some kind of Peculiar reluctance to entering potential Traps."

"And this," replies Neville testily, his cane shattering blades of grass where it rapps the earth, "is why I am still alive."

"And here I thought you were still alive, dear Brother, because Fnord has a sense of humor." Nikita does his best to affect Neville's accent for this particular line. Then he turns to the glass man. "If all you're waiting for are the family of Fnord, then you've got us all."

"Yep, this is all of us. Lead the way and we'll follow," Hu says as he gestures towards the path through the forest.

At the sound of a bird (any bird) preening its feathers, a furry head slips out of Allegra's enormous handbag and two emerald eyes rivet themselves onto said bird. As the sounds continue, the head extends further and the ears of Mrs. Clause flatten against her brindle colored head. An odd cricking noise escapes from the feline's throat, catching Allegra's attention. "Honestly, Mrs. Clause! Have you no manners at all? We are invited guests here, and guests simply do not dine on the hosts. It would be in the worst taste. *Any* kind of taste! It would be courteous of you to at least introduce yourself. If you plan to ride along, I expect your best behavior. Unless, of course, you have an unquenchable desire to chip your teeth on a glass bird. Make you look silly, it would. The other cats would die laughing. But they *are* your teeth, you have to live with them."

Looking up at the black bird, Allegra calls out, "Ever so sorry about the misunderstanding. I believe it is something of a cat and bird thing. You really have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Clause is too fat to catch anything except the mange. It's been her demise to be addicted to smoked herring. Over does it on a regular basis."

Upon being assured that the family is all present, the man bows again. "If my Lords and Ladies would be so kind as to follow me, I will escort you to the Chancel Green."

The young man turns and leads you along the path that you saw running through the wood. You note, as you cross the short space to the start of the path, that the grass crunches lightly under all your feet (with the exception of Desiree who doesn't appear to bend a single stalk) but not as much as one would expect given the nature of what you are treading on. Glancing back, you can make out the vague outlines of your footprints, but even as you watch some stalks bend back to resume their original positions.

Despite the dense leaf cover, the path is bright and the ground is colored with greens and browns from the light passing through the crystalline canopy. Here and there you spot more glass wildlife: A translucent squirrel scampers up a nearby tree at your approach. A pair of delicate sparrows chase each other through the gaps between the branches. In the distance, a buck stops grazing briefly to watch you pass.

"So," Hu says to the glass guy once everyone starts walking (presuming we do), "What IS your name? Me you know, but that's Silas, the man with the cane is Neville, Nikita's next to him, and our two lovely ladies are Desiree and Allegra, respectively and respectfully.

The young man bows hurridly again, "I appologize for my lack of manners, my Lord. My name is Michael Hawley, formerly of Mill's Fork in Northumberland."

Michael seems somewhat nervous. He looks like he is trying to lead the group with the dignified air of a chief steward, but this impression is, so to speak, fractured as he keeps taking quick glances at the Family as well as the surrounding glass-life. He quite literally jumps when a pair of jays land in a nearby tree with a clatter.

Hu continues, "You were expecting us? Could you tell us a bit more about what's going on? As I mentioned, we don't exactly know what we're doing here. Everyone's life is a journey, and I'm afraid ours are often through uncharted territory. Any help you could gives us would be appreciated."

Michael appears honestly surprised. "Indeed, my Lord, I was told to come to the Gate and await the arrival of your Family." He adds hurriedly, "I apologize again for not recognizing you. My failure to do so seems quite foolish in retrospect and I cannot see how I could be so blind. Thank you for your kind assurances though, my Lady," he adds addressing Desiree. He seems about to say something else for a few moments, before quickly resuming the thread of his conversation with Hu.

"In truth, I do not know eactly what matter your assistance has been requested for. I did hear talk that someone was either missing or escaped. Beyond that, I could not guess as I have heard no more. I am to take you to see Lady Wyman, the Regina of Glass. I believe she will then take you to see the Great Lord."

At Hu's questioning of the glass man, Allegra looks at the odd creature intently. "Isn't being made of glass inconvenient? One would think that hailstorms and the like might prove fatal. Not to mention a simple fall or even a bully throwing rocks. But all of that is beside the point, of course. It would be nice to know where we are going and what we are supposed to do once we arrive."

"In truth, my Lady, I would have believed so myself, but things in this Chancel seem to be more durable than they would appear. Still, I would not wish to put such things to the test. I have tried to be careful. Do have a care for your cat, though, my Lady. I do not know if the birds would prove tougher to his teeth than those made of flesh and blood (For unknown reasons, Desiree appears to be privately amused by this statement), but I am told by Lady Wyman that the Chancel can respond in kind if attacked. Of course, having never seen this response myself, I cannot comment on it in any more detail, however I would hate for it to be directed against anything belonging to honored guests."

"I wonder why Fnord felt the need to get involved in this one personally," Nikita muses to nobody in particular. "The Regi of this Family could have asked us themselves, no? I suppose we may find out as time goes on."

"Information is a weapon," says Neville, looking neither left nor right as he follows, and pitching his voice to carry only to his fellow Nobilis. "Our host knows of our affiliation, as we were requested here. However, in the future, it would be wise if you would deign to not disclose such information in the presence of Mundanes."

Allegra frowns for a moment and mulls around the names provides, "Lady Wyman ... Lady Wyman. No, it doesn't ring a bell. Can't say I've ever met her." Beaming brightly, she adds, "Opportunity! Always a joy to expand one's circle of friends. I'm rather partial to glassware. Any sort really, as long as I can pack it in my bag. It will be a delight to meet another connoisseur."

Looking down into her bag at Mrs. Clause, she scolds, "Do you hear that? Hmm? Go ahead, then, pick a fight and end up as cat casserole. I'm certain the birds will enjoy every morsel. Or, you could mind your baser instincts and be a lady." Looking up at the sharp, glistening bill of the black bird, she concludes, "I'd choose the later were our places exchanged, unless you *want* to end up as a scruffy muff."

Looking up at the others as Mrs. Clause sinks back into the bag for a good sulk, Allegra asks, "Did you hear that? We are *honored* guests! Funny, I never received an invitation. Must be some sort of loan arrangement made by our Boss, rather like ambassadors. Ambassadors with an obviously important mission, one simply does not set up a portal in a public area for frivolous reasons. Do they? It could well seem frivolous to us when we find out what the mission is, I could never understand why I spent six months holding the British flag in the middle of a duck pond. Quite a soggy experience. But I was just following directions. Seemed like sheer chaos at the time ... still does."

The path leads out to an open green of low grass. The sun here shines brightly here with hardly a cloud in the sky. Along the far edge are dozens of small houses, cottages really, with glass men and women milling around in front of them performing chores of one kind or another. The houses are immaculately kept, with tiny gardens of glass flowers and elaborate scroll work along the windows. As with the young man's clothes, you can see through them, but not into them, and people stepping into the houses disappear when the door closes, despite the fact that you can see the rear gardens through the door.

You also notice that the glass people are not the only ones - there are smaller creatures also there, usually sitting on porches or otherwise relaxing. They have a wide range of appearances, although all are humanoid and no taller than your belt, some much shorter. Some appear to be old men and women, although their youthful energy belies their elderly appearance, wearing brightly colored pants and shirts. Some almost look like monkeys, except their faces are undeniably human, with profuse hair and only rags for clothes. And there are many more besides. Dozens of these little manikin can be seen, playing draughts or lawn bowling, happily smoking through long pipes, or giving orders to one of the glass humans. Unlike everything else, these little people seem to be flesh and bone rather than glass. Looking beyond (and through) the rows of houses you see a low hill dotted with small holes. More of these small creatures, as well as several glass humans, dot this area as well.

There is also a person at the far corner of the green talking with a group of the small creatures. The person appears to be wearing a white robe, although possibly it could be a dress. It is difficult to tell their age or gender. A few moments after the Family enters the green, this person leaves the group and begins walking toward the Family. It will probably take him a minute or so to reach you. He does not appear to be made of glass.

At this point your guide turns right towards a low rise in the green. Standing on the green is a young woman (you would guess she was only 19 years old). She is wearing an elegant dark green dress that seems to shimmer as if it was made with woven emeralds although it moves like natural cloth. She too, appears to be flesh and blood. She also seems to have a sense of Nobility about her. She does not appear to have noticed you and is instead concentrating on her hands which are cupped a few inches from her face. At this moment she is about 50 meters away.

Desiree continues to idly follow the guide. She appears to have stopped paying attention to anything remotedly resembling Something Important some time ago during the walk, and is currently mostly gazing at various glass objects and creatures with a somewhat vacuous smile that probably roughly translates to Ooo Pretty.

Lady Wyman nods. "Very w..."

"Good," says a voice from every direction. "I can answer all of those for you: Some, unnecessary and unproductive, yes, mysterious at the moment, possible, you are that attempt, this padfoot, made of glass (like all the creatures within this Chancel when it was created) but otherwise normal, no you didn't, I hope so, I'm not sure I would call it fun but you are welcome to think so, most definitely alive, the original, an excellent idea, and apparently not." While speaking, the voice coalesces around the vicinity of the front door of the long house where a large humanoid form made of flowing light can be seen. This is a form often taken by Lightlords. "Come in," it says turning and entering the long house. "Speed is of the essence and you will need to be prepared."

"Thank you, Lord Parach. Honored to make your acquaintance," says Desiree sunnily as she curtseys and the follows after the Light Lord.

Allegra furiously begins scrawling the 'answers' on her notepad, sparks almost flying in her effort to keep pace. As the voice finishes, she mummers "apparently not," and crosses the 't' with a flourish. Looking up, she smiles brightly, "Well, that certainly covers everything!" Looking upward and then side to side, She calls out, "Thank you!"

Checking her notes once again, Allegra bites the end of her pen for a moment before speaking. "Right, then. Some of the legends and tales about Padfoots are true. We don't know which ones, however. Seems it is none of our business where the patched hole led to, though I would tend to have no little curiosity about this. Why it happened in the first place, the making of the hole, does not appear to be known. Nonetheless, it appears we must not look straight into the eyes of the creature once we secure it as it is an omen of terrible things to come."

"So, we are the heroes to the rescue! We have been called to reclaim the Padfoot, the glass one which has gone missing, reclaim it and return it alive. And bravo, Nikita! Your idea of making the Padfoot's escape futile has been met with highest approval!" Frowning over the last answer, Allegra looks to Neville with confusion. "Dear? I think you'd best clear it up with the powers that be that your ducks are lining up well. Perhaps I am mistaken, but someone seems to think you have a quack on the loose."

"I beg your pardon?" asks Neville. Nikita raises another eyebrow. "It's rare when one sees the great Neville Cogsworth reduced to begging for pardons."

Allegra leans close and whispers, "Not *you*, Neville! Goodness! The only answer I could put the "apparently not" to was your comment about ducks in a row. I'm certain I have no idea why the voice should think such a thing. It's absurd. Unthinkable. Beyond sitting still for. I shall correct the misconception immediately!"

Looking up for want of a better direction, Allegra loudly declares, "Excuse me? Hello? I wanted to clear a small matter before it becomes a large matter. I have checked and Neville does indeed have all his ducks collected and lined up just as they should be. Thank you."

Smiling at Neville and loyally standing by his side, Allegra announces, "There. That should take care of things."

Neville removes himself from a twenty-foot radius of Allegra, and glances at the others as if to suggest they do likewise.

Lord Pararch, who has now coalesced into a more defined humanoid form, although still shining as though light fills It, gives what might be interpreted as a quizzical look, if such emotions can be assigned to Imperators, to Allegra. He says very slowly, "Child, I am over here."

He beckons the Family once again to join him. "Please. Time *is* of the essence." He enters the longhouse, and through the doorway you can see him take something from one of the nearby shelves.

Nikita raises another eyebrow. "It's rare when one sees the great Neville Cogsworth reduced to begging for pardons."

"Ah, yes, but the Great Sir" (slight emphasis here) "Neville Cogsworth was indulging in sarcasm," replies Neville. "I assure you, all my ducks are in order, except possibly for, well, no matter."

At the appropriate time, he follows the Imperator inside, pausing only to remark, with what isn't a smile, "Allegra, my dear, my sincerest apologies for your garden."

Failing to grin, he, well, ducks, as he goes through the door.

Hu follows Lord Pararch into the longhouse, trying to hide his grin of amusement.

Allegra looks once last time at the exterior of the glass house, pats her hair into place, and follows the others in. It takes a moment before the full impact of what Neville has said captures her full attention. "My what? Did you say something about my garden, Neville? I never knew you to be interested in my ... what do you mean you apologize"? There is nothing wrong with ... at least the last time I looked there was nothing ... Neville! Have you been messing with my roses?!"

Allegra struggles to keep her composure but ends up slumping in defeat. "No. No, you are quite right, Neville. The mix of real blossoms and the mechanical ones has been an unmitigated disaster. You know how sullen roses can be. The clockwork blooms have outshone the live ones on every count, now my plants are all pouting and refusing to do anything except grow mold spots. That and harbor mites. Oh, and there's a distinct odor of root rot about the place. No, I suppose there is no help for it, I will simply have to replant everything from scratch. Except the mechanical flowers. And as you have seemed to take a keen interest in my little hobby, I know you will insist on supervising the entire project. Have a lovely time, be creative, dig and root to your heart's content! How wonderful to have someone to share my joys with!"

Seeing as he is now in the presence of a somewhat impatient Imperator, Neville does not reply, instead waiting on His Celestial Puissance.

Desiree is the first one into the longhouse, and Lord Pararch turns to her as the others file in. He is holding what appears to be a large bottle, similar to what one might use to nurse an infant, although it is entirely made of a dull metal, including the nipple on the end, and about three times the normal size. As He hands it to Desiree, He says "Be careful, it is very heavy and the bonds on it are quite delicate. Since the Padfoot was transformed to glass," He explains a little more slowly than He had been speaking before, "I am afraid it may be unable to hunt in its current condition and environment. This will allow you to provide food for it long enough for it to return here, where it may be cared for properly. Do not open the bottle, nor drop it."

"You will be shown to the South Gate where the creature escaped into the region you call Cork, Ireland."

Lady Wyman leads the group out of the glass forest and back onto the green. As you are crossing, you notice a figure in roughly the direction you are traveling. The figure is three meters tall and shadowed despite the bright sun overhead, with folded wings behind it and a halo of fire around his head. At least the ghost miracle looks that way. Inside the miracle you are able to make out a young boy, probably around eleven years old, with mussed hair, new but slightly scuffed pants, and no shirt. He appears to be flesh and blood. On either side of the ghost figure are two large winged hounds with oversized heads, over-toothed jaws, and over-muscled limbs. The hounds are also ghost miracles. Surrounding the three ghost figures a small knot of the little people are standing at a respectful distance. The little people appear real.

When Lady Wyman et al. enter the clearing, the young boy begins striding towards them with his shadow entourage. (He, himself, remains covered by the the ghost of the large figure.) A slight scowl crosses Lady Wyman's face, but is quickly covered. She continues walking in her original direction and quickly whispers to you, "This is Nick O'Reilly, the Power of the Brownies. Don't..." But then the figure has arrived.

The figure stands directly in your path, blocking your way with himself and his hounds. (Or would, if they were real.) Lady Wyman stops short as the figure bellows (with a ghost miracle bass covering over a young boy's thick Irish accent), "Who are these strangers and who gave them leave to enter my lands?" Lady Wyman seems more than a little taken aback.

"We are here by invitation," replies Neville with a scowl and a cold little bow. "Kindly allow us to leave, by that same invitation."

He continues to walk in the way they were originally headed, his gait giving the unmistakable impression that those phantasms had effing well better be gone when he walks through them.

crunch. crunch. crunch. et cetera.

The Power of Brownies seems about to respond to Neville when Desiree speaks. This appears to distract the boy a bit. (It distracts him enough that it takes him a moment to synchronize the gaze of the ghost giant with his own.) While the expression on the face of the giant is stern, the boy is grinning ear to ear.

"Neville, Pray be Respectful," Desiree reproaches. "We are not in our Own Realm." She then turns and addresses the three meter high face of the ghost miracle containing the Power of Brownies. "Sir, I apologize for any Unwarranted Intrusion. I assure you that any such was born of Ignorance rather than Malice. We are Strangers to this land, present here at the request of Lord Parach, and we were, Unhappily, uninformed if we additionally needed your Leave. May I Hunbly request your Permission to pass through these Lands?"

Neville keeps walking throughout this. Crunch. crunch. crunch.

Before the boy can answer, Hu steps forward and to the left, stepping off the path a bit in such a way as to draw the figure out of the way of Neville's Unstoppable (but apparently somewhat slow) Advance. He bows to the figure, again sweeping off his hat. "Lord O'Reilly," Hu says with a slight Southern twang in his voice, "it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Hu Jackson, and I must say it's an honor to be here." Despite the southern drawl, Hu is speaking quite fast. "I have a need to discuss a proposition with you, but your Lord Parach wants us to finish this current mission as soon as we can. Could we arrange to meet later? I can tell you, this plan of mine would benefit us both." He pauses for a brief second, then asks with what could be genuine curiosity in his voice, "But tell me, do you speak for the tasty chocolate desserts, the small humanoids, or both?"

The giant faces Hu while the boy can be seen looking quickly among the family, especially between Neville and Hu. Once of the ghost dogs plants itself in front of Neville and roars. Neville continues to advance. At this point, Dmitri begins shouting a stream of Slavic syllables in the boy's direction (not at the head of the ghost). Dmitri's translator opens his mouth, and then closes it again and appears determined not to open it again for the time being. Lady Wyman plants her hands on her hips and adds her voice to the cacophony, her accent now much thicker, "Blast you, Nick. We cannut even expect good behavior out o yew when we have guests. Were yew raised by wolves? ...". The Power of Slavery stutters random sounds at the ghost, but they sound angry. The ghost bellows for silence. Hu's final question merges with the din.

And then Neville steps through the head of the ghost hound, at which point an illusory writhing mass of gears emerges from the ground under all the ghost miracles, grinds them to illusory powder, and then disappears, allowing Neville to keep stalking forward unimpeded.

Hu Jackson briefly covers his face with his hat to hide his expression, then puts it back on top of his head. He steps backward slightly, fully off the path, and begins lighting a cigarette with only one hand. His expression has fled the scene.

A second set of ghost miracles appear of gears with razor sharp teeth that catch the ghost hound and begin ripping it apart. At the the same time, the ghost's head grabs at Neville's leg and pretends to tear into it savagely, ghost gore spouting in all directions.

And Neville continues stalking forward though the carnage without missing a step.

"Foolish mortal," screeches the ghost figure/boy (although the illusions are starting to slip and the figure's movements are no longer as smooth). "You dare to..." And then, seeing that Neville continues to walk though the tangle of illusions, the boy's arm snakes out, stretching at least to a length of 35 feet, snatches a flower pot from the clutches of one of the little brownies standing around in a wide circle, and throws it at Neville.

Desiree watches the flowerpot sail Neville-ward and wonders whether, within Silas' extensive vocabulary of shrugs, there is one meaning roughly: if, given an apparent choice between, on the one hand, spending a minute or two indulging a mischievous eleven year old boy, or, on the other hand, antagonizing a Noble of unknown power and dubius temperament inside of that Noble's own Chancel, my brother in his infintie wisdom appears to believe that the latter course of action is the better, safer, and quicker option, then who am I to attempt to interfere with the immediate consequences of his decision?

Allegra watches the melee in astonishment, her eyes wide as saucers. "Brownies? Are these really Brownies? If so, I have just the cure for the situation. Diplomacy, you know." Reaching into her bag, she pulls forth a pretty porcelain creamer from her ever ready tea set and then plucks forth a saucer. "Brownies are quite fond of milk. Cream is even better. You are supposed to set a saucer full on your doorstep at night to feed them, then they cobble your shoes or other nice little tasks while you sleep. I was a staunch member of the Girl Guides as a child. I know my Brownies!"

Pouring a generous amount in the saucer, Allegra sets it on the ground before moving to follow Lady Wyman away. "Cream is served! Let all hostilities cease and refreshments be enjoyed. Oh, in case you don't recognize me, I was part of the Girl Guides of Lambeth. Just over the river from the Strand. We were quite active, so I'm nearly a sister to you all." Smiling with pleasure, Allegra turns her face away commenting, "They are rather shy at times."

The flower pot sails through the air towards Neville only to be shattered by a blow from Neville's cane. A film of dirt settles on Neville's overcoat as he turns to regard his assailant. The boy appears momentarily transfixed by his own throwing arm before turning to return Neville's glare. The Brownies scatter toward the houses and the trees leaving the freshly poured cream untouched.

The three other members of Locus Pararch fall silent in mid sentence (or phoneme, in Lord Marcus's case) as the flower pot is launched. As Neville and the boy regard each other, Dmitri and Lord Marcus exchange glances and begin striding briskly forward toward their brother.

Neville and Lord O'Reilly stand glaring at each other. The only sound is the scampering of escaping Brownies. Dmitri and Lord Marcus begin striding towards the boy.

Lord O'Reilly notices the approaching brothers. "Stay back," he shouts. He makes no attempt to cover his voice with a ghost miracle and he sounds like a 10 year old Irish boy. "I'm warnin yew! I'll not be pushed about by a piker likes him," he says indicating Neville, "and if yer too scared o him then you'll be wanting to be scared o me! I'm a god here, hear me!" Dmitri, apparently unconcerned, enters the ghost miracle which now stands rigidly around the boy and quite easily picks him up and tucks him under his arm. The boy begins fighting back but the large man quite easily pins both the boy's arm to his side. "Let go o me! Yew'll bloody pay for this! Yew're spineless! Where are you..." Dmitri cups his other hand over the boy's mouth. He now has the boy completely trapped with the exception of one leg which extends several feet, and begins waving around. Lord Marcus grabs the errant limb and holds it still.

Lady Clause takes this opportunity to extricate herself from Allegra's handbag and, seeing that there are no other takers, begins helping herself to the the cream Allegra has set out.

Neville bows deeply at Lord Marcus's back, then raises an eyebrow at Lady Wyman.

Dmitri says something to you in Russian, bows as much as his struggling cargo with allow, and begins walking down the hill. Marcus turns, bows awkwardly (apparently adding another several inches to the extended leg in the process) and follows Dmitri down the hill and toward the row of houses. "Lord Dmitri," says Dmitri's translator, "begs his apologies for" "his brother's behavior. He thanks you for you help and hopes you will return as he would enjoy getting to know you all better."

The translator then turns to Lady Wyman, "With your leave, m'lady." Lady Wyman, who hadn't moved since the pot was thrown, distractedly nods and the man follows Dmitri et al. down the hill.

"Tell him to find a belt for me to use too," she shouts after the translator, her northern accent still thick. "I want ta get my licks in."

With great effort she manages to compose herself. Her accent now significantly more in check she bows low and addresses the family and Neville in particular. "Please accept my deepest apologies for the behavior of my... brother." She practically spits the last word. "The changes have all gone to his head. Please believe that we will do our best to fix these opinions." She sounds like she is looking forward to it.

"If my lords and ladies will, we can continue toward the south gate." She glances at the retreating figures and adds, "without further interruption."

Desiree says nothing, but her lips compress to a thin line. She looks quite angry about something. She will follow Lady Wyman when the group continues on.

"The boy was recently ennobled, then?" says Neville, raising an eyebrow over top his pince-nez. "I suspected as much."

"Of course," responds Lady Wyman. She seems somewhat surprised at the question. "Were you not told? This Chancel was only created 12 hours ago."

"No, as a matter of fact, we were not informed," Neville replies, turning on his heel to face Lady Wyman, both hands resting on the head of his cane in front of him. "I suppose it would make sense though," he continues, his voice turning nasty. "After all, our guide did not want to put the strength of the flora to the test, you have all not yet left the chancel as you say, and indeed, as you said, it has been one hell of a day."

A little clockwork mouse pones its head out of Neville's breast pocket, looks around, chitters angrily at Mrs. Clause, then retreats. If Neville notices this, he gives no sign.

"So tell me, my Lady," he says, all acid courtesy again. "When exactly did the Padfoot escape? Surely it cannot be less than two hours past."

Lady Wyman seems to be put a bit off balance by Neville's turn, "My Lord, I... I don't know, exactly. It has been at least several hours. It has all... been something of a blur. Between six and eleven hours, I would say."

Lady Clause looks up and the quickly sinks into a stalk when the mouse appears. After it retreats, however, she seems to think better of her intentions. After looking around briefly to see if anyone noticed, she continues her meal of cream.

Allegra waves sadly at the departing Brownies. "Farewell, my little sisters and brothers! Do not forget your Brownie Oath and sell as many cookies as you can this spring! Oh! And patches! Do not forget to gather patches along the way. One must be a well decorated Brownie if one is to show one's face in public. Do stop by sometime, I'll have fresh mil waiting and you can trim the roses if you care to. I'll leave wire cutters!"

"Mrs. Clause!! Where have you placed your manners today?! It is unseemly to eat the mouse of a friend. Clockwork though it may be, it still has value to Neville! Indeed, I should simply allow you to pounce and see what you get for your troubles. If I know Neville at all, that mouse of his is well able to defend itself. Most likely has a pair of hedge trimmers hidden about and would delight in removing every single whisker you own. Serve you right, it would. So sorry, Neville. Sometimes I don't know what comes over her. I'll stow her away and keep a closer eye on her from now on. I didn't know you had a mouse as a companion, but now that I do, I will do everything in my power to ensure its safety."

Neville merely raises an eyebrow. "A mouse, my lady? Dear me, I shall have to investigate this matter at a more opportune time."

Stuffing Mrs. Clause back into her bag, Allegra pulls out several glass blossoms with a slightly confused look on her face. "Hmm. Wonder where these came from. Ah well, they shall look nice in the garden. I *do* have something of a garden left, don't I Neville?"

"Indeed, your garden is still present." "My Lady," says Neville to Desiree since the immediate fracas is dispersed, "I acted as befitting my station, and with considerable restraint. Therefore you are most likely not angry at me. What is the cause for your anger?"

"Oh, I am certainly not Angered at you, Neville," says Desiree quietly. "You behaved Precisely as I would have expected you to. But I would Prefer not to Discuss my feelings at present, if it Please you."

Mrs. Clause gives Allegra a petulant look as she is placed in Allegra's bag.

"Now, Lady Wyman, I must say that you can put all your fears to rest. Our highly specialized team of Nobles shall locate your Patfoot and return it to you post haste. Does it have a name? Some term of endearment we might coax it out of hiding with? Maybe a favorite treat? Except souls of course. Any favortie places to lurk about? Alleys? Train depots? Opium dens?"

"As far as I know the beastly thing has no name," Lady Wyman responds. "I probably know less about the things than you do. I know the stories that say they haunt the roads of the countryside looking for single travelers, but I'd never known anyone who had met one."

" 'Highly specialized team,' I like that," Hu grins at Allegra. "But you know, if this Chancel is as new as she says, then she likely does not know any of the details of the beast's behavior."

Lady Wyman nods at Hu's assessment.

"Lady Wyman," Hu continues, "I would hereby like to welcome you to Nobility. As the Sovereign Power of Exploration, I offer you my services to aid you in your personal exploration of this new life. Once we find this poor lost dog of yours, I would gladly show you some of the wonders of this World and the others, if you should like. The World Ash is very big, and I have seen only a little of it in the few years that I have been able, but I would gladly share what I know and what I have seen. My offer extends to your entire Family as well, even those members," he frowns slightly, "that still need to come to terms with their recent changes. I take it Lord Pararch has informed you of the Basics, such as the Valde Bellum?"

"You are most kind, Lord Jackson," replies Lady Wyman with a smile and a bow. Glancing back toward the row of houses where Lord O'Reilly was taken she adds, "And most forgiving."

"I confess I had hoped to have the chance to talk with your Family again. There

is so much that has changed it is difficult to take it all in. I would certainly appreciate the opportunity to hear and see more of this World. Lord Pararch has limited our first instructions to matters of our own powers and the Chancel itself. I don't believe he mentioned the... Valde Bellum. Is it an important matter?"

During this time the party crosses the green and reaches a series of low rolling hills. A low rectangular structure protrudes from the side of one of the hills. The structure itself appears to be made of concrete. Lady Wyman leads the group towards it and up a long ramp to the top. The top of the structure is covered with scattered fragments of a broken mirror.

"Thank you again for your assistance," Lady Wyman says, bowing to the party. "I do hope you will be able to return soon. Is there anything else I can offer you before you go?"

"Oh, I am so Pleased to that you have accepted Hu's Offer," beams Desiree, "From what I Hear, this World Ash of his really is quite Enormous, and Exploring all around it a Pleasure not to be Missed. I Confess, being fairly Recently ennobled Myself, that I have not yet had the Opportunity, much as I have Longed to.

Though Neville remains impassive, a tiny wisp of smoke curls out his ear, and dissipates immediately in the convenient breeze.

Lady Wyman casts a quick glance at Desiree, followed by a quick glance at Hu, followed by a determined effort to look at nothing at all.

"As to the Valde Bellum, I would not Concern yourself overmuch with it if your Imperator has not yet had Occasion to mention it. Terrible Ceatures of Immense power are at every Moment attempting to Unmake the very Universe, indeed to Eradicate it so Thoroughly that it never Existed in the first place, and we are all Charged to Counter their Efforts at the Constant Risk of our Health, our Sanity, and our Very Lives, but, to be Perfectly Honest, it doesn't seem to come up all that often. You'll Likely spend the Bulk of your new life Arguing with your new Family. Speaking of Which . . . Pray don't be too Hard on the Boy. As you likely Know, being Ennobled is a Difficult process for some, and Dealing with it can be most Trying."

Lady Wyman wears a fairly blank expression throughout this, although she does nod politely when Desiree suggests mercy for Lord O'Reilly.

Desiree examines the new structure.

"Now . . . how does This One work?"