Fell Oxenfrey: Killer, Iconoclast, Son-in-Law

[Andros]

Making his way rather frantically up the the cliffside steps from the docks
to the village, Andros felt a twinge in his side and had to stop to catch his breath. He turned out towards the water and was briefly blinded by the sun as it dipped towards the horizon, turning the sky a brilliant purple as it reflected off the wine-dark sea. He lowered his eyes towards the ship that had interrupted his dinner and thrown the village into chaos.

It was a sleek, beautiful craft with three banks of oars, meant for rapidly traversing the coastal waters of Teos. But its beauty was spoiled, as far as Andros was concerned, by it’s sail - white with a bright blue X indicating it was sent on official business by the Council of Evrotai. That X almost inevitably meant bad news for the islanders. News of war and a call-up of levies, demands for a special tax or a forced loan, or perhaps word of a revolution in the city that would lead to both war and higher taxes.

When it was spotted by a lookout, the men were just sitting down to dinner. Andros dismissed them to their homes, giving strict instructions not to leave until they were summoned. Then he went home himself, changed his clothes, and went down to the docks alone.

In his dealings with the government, Andros saw himself as a shield for his people. He spoke with the state’s agents, negotiated, charmed, and bribed. He lied when he needed to, and played ignorant when it was useful, as would soon be apparent. If he was Evrotai’s only contact, the Council’s anger would fall only on him if things went south, sparing the village its wrath.

When he approached the dock, he caught sight of two men watching him as sailors scurried about fussing with ropes. One was instantly recognizable. Demophon was a career politician in Evrotai, constantly in and out of office. Andros had dealt with him in various capacities for years. Today he was wearing the purple sash of a Heliast, a magistrate elected to investigate and judge crimes. That was unexpected. Was one of the villagers accused of a crime in the city? That would be almost unheard of. His presence was inexplicable.

But of course the explanation was standing right beside Demophon. The man was as tall as Sven and had the same blond hair, paired with a fiery red beard styled into a point that made Andros nervous. He had to be from Radenor, which meant Sven was accused of a crime, presumably in his homeland. Something serious enough to send an agent all this way to fetch him back for punishment.

His suspicion was proven correct. The foreigner was a member of the Scarlet Warch, some kind of enforcement body. He was searching for one Fell Oxenfrey, who matched Sven’s physical description exactly. He was apparently wanted for murder in his homeland, and not only that, he was a branded mage who had escaped from the supervision required of mages by the laws of Radenor.

The idea of Sven as a murderer was hard to square with the man he knew. Sven seemed decent and rather harmless, happy to work alone with his clay and a regular source of entertainment at dinner with his stories and his songs. And if he was in fact a mage he didn’t seem to be using his powers for ill. Andros was rather fond of him, and furthermore Sven was his guest. That precluded turning him over without giving him an opportunity to explain himself, so he stalled for time.

Andros was able to say without lying that he knew no one of that name in the village. Then, again without lying, he promised to investigate and come back to report tomorrow.

The visitors accepted these excuses with frustration rather than disbelief. Perhaps this was one dead end among many. Or they had no evidence Fell was actually on the island. Andros didn’t linger at the dock but quickly headed for home. He didn’t linger there either, only stopping long enough to wash his face and clear his mind.

Then he walked the short distance to the foreign potter’s cabin and knocked on the door.

“Fell Oxenfrey, we need to speak urgently.”

He was angry at Fell or Sven or whoever he was for deceiving him and putting the village in danger. That anger sounded in his voice. But he was willing to hear the wanted man out before turning him in.

[Mimi Pidders]

Fell found himself unexpectedly charmed by life in Micronisi, and Teos in general. He had attended a few market days, and his goods had sold for considerable coin, enough that he was able to buy himself a pair of sandals, a second set of clothes, and then a third, each in the native style instead of his heavier linen and fur outfit that he'd been wearing when he'd exited the ship, and a few other luxuries like blankets for the straw pallet he slept on in the shed.

The food was growing on him, and the wine warmed him. Socializing with the men in the Men's House was a bit boring sometimes, but they were able dice throwers and appreciated his stories and songs, so he could tolerate how coarse, ignorant, uneducated, and misogynistic they were. If most of them were not fascinating or thoughtful, well, there were many in Norhtradica that were not, either.

The reason why he had stayed, though, was Dorothea. Spending time with her, teaching her to read, showing her mathematics and watching her outpace his lessons by the day, and showing her what they could do together in private was more fulfilling and more fun than he'd had in years. Maybe ever. Fell had never thought himself the sort to fall in love, but with her, he was smitten. He didn't care that she was lowborn or poor. She was smart and his mind had to race to even try to keep up with her. She surprised him, cobbling together bits of logical inquiry that would have done her well in Northradica's foremost university.

This evening was one such. She had snuck out of her house to meet with him, and they were going through his latest acquisition: a series of tales featuring a brave Argent from Lorien journeying across the world, rescuing maidens and saving the meek from the powerful. It wasn't interesting, but it had lots of odd words in it, and Doro seemed to be enjoying learning about Lorien, though Fell had never been there himself, and could not provide much beyond the basics that everyone knew: it was cold, and the people used golems to do all the work.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. There was no need to ask who it was because Andros identified himself pretty immediately. Fell looked to Dorothea, stricken. The fact that they weren't doing anything would not matter to her father. There was only the one entrance, but his bed was in the back room and he had paid for a wall hanging to separate the two spaces. It was nice to pretend he could still afford multiple rooms, even if he could not be furnished with a manor or a set of apartments as he was accustomed to.

"Stay here, and stay quiet," he said. "I shall leave with him. You will be safe."

Without waiting for an answer, he kissed her on the forehead and came to the front door.

"Good evening, Archon. What's this commotion about, Sir? While my surname is Fellman, and my father's name is Fell, it's a common enough name in Northradica. I do not know any with the surname Oxenfrey, though. Is there a reason you are asking after one of my countrymen?" Fell's usual sanfroid was helping him sell the honest confusion, but internally, his blood was running cold.

Someone from Radenor had reason to suspect he was on this island, or Andros would never have heard that name.

[Andros]

When Andros got angry, truly angry, he felt it in his stomach. It clenched up and got tight. If you put your hands on it (which would be inadvisable), you could feel it suck in. When Fell brazenly lied to his face, Andros’ stomach contracted to the size of an olive pit. He felt the veins in his neck pop out.

An even-tempered man, a raised voice was something Andros saved for a special occasion. This qualified. He advanced towards Fell and got, well not in his face because he was too short but close enough, and shouted up at him.

“Don’t lie to me, Fell! You’ve done enough of that already. Your life is in danger and I’m the only man standing between you and the noose, so you would do well to stop lying.”

Before Fell could respond, he confirmed what he knew without a doubt. He bent down and lifted the hem of Fell's tunic up above his knees, revealing the mark of control exactly as they had been described to him. It was quite beautiful, actually, and his eyes lingered over it for a moment before he let the tunic go. The foreigner was a mage and he was Fell Oxenfrey. He knew it, and now Fell knew he knew it. There could be no further argument.

Andros forced himself to calm down. He’d made his point. Now he needed the truth, and quickly. He took two deep breaths and a step back, giving Fell back his personal space.

“There is a man from Radenor down on the dock, a member of the Red Guard or whatever it’s called. He tells me I’m harboring a wanted criminal. That you killed a woman in cold blood. That you’re a dangerous, unregulated mage. And I can use my brain and deduce that I’ve allowed a murderer to run loose in my village, a danger to the community.”

He huffed out a breath, then continued to lay the situation out for Fell.

“The authorities are here to arrest you, not just your own government but mine as well. I have a magistrate from Evrotai waiting at the docks. This island is subject to Evrotai, you know, and I serve at the pleasure of its assembly. Archons can be removed from office or even executed for defying the state. It happened in the Lower Village not that many years ago when their headman tried to hide some young men from military service. They beheaded him in their village square in front of his family. If I am found to be willingly harboring a criminal, it’s my neck on the line. And if I’m gone, what happens to the villagers? What happens to my girls?”

That was a hard truth. Andros hoped it would shake Fell as much as it shook him. Still Andros was a fair-minded man and he wasn’t a coward. He had to give Fell his chance.

“However, the bonds of hospitality are sacred. Explain yourself. If you are innocent of this crime, I will hide you. I’ll order my villagers never to breathe a word about you to an outsider, and I will bully the villagers down the hilll until they swear the same. We will all take an oath to that effect. But I need a very good reason to take such a risk for you. Can you give me one?”

[Mimi Pidders]

Fell hadn't expected Andros to invade his personal space in this manner. In retrospect, he should have. The men here were not shy about embracing, hugging, or cuffing each other. Why should a scenario like this be different. In any case, further protestations would not get him anything. Andros was being quite explicit that this was his chance to come clean, that he had a chance at being protected.

So perhaps it was time to come clean.

"I am some of the things they say, Archon. I am guilty of running from my Tower. I was sent there by my family who own considerable holdings in Northradica because they did not think I was shaping up to be a proper heir and wished to avoid any kind of ugly dispute about who would be next in line. It was my father's idea. Sending me to a mage's guild would allow me to pursue things more in line with my passions, he said, while keeping the family name clean. At fourteen, I agreed. I had no conception that I was signing up for a lifetime of being imprisoned in a comfortable cell, constantly watched over by sadistic jailers who look for any infraction as an excuse to harass or intimidate the mages there."

"I remained there for more than a decade. While there were good days and good times, I could not countenance remaining in a Tower for the span of my entire life. Three years ago, I began making plans to escape. As you understand, in the four kingdoms, this is a hanging offense. It does not matter that I had no intention of remaining inside Northradica's borders. By showing that I could not bear to live as a slave, I was showing a rebellious will, and for that, they would execute me if they found out."

"I was supposed to depart from the Guild in about a few weeks. That was when Greta found my fake papers and confronted me about them. She was... a nice girl," he said, eyes downcast. "Not a mage, just a maid who assisted with things like cleaning the rooms of high-ranking people in the tower and cooking supper. We had a sexual relationship that she fancied to be more romantic in nature than it was. She said she'd just been cleaning my room because she liked me, but Archon, I do not think this is so. She accused me of stepping out on her. In her mind, it was true. I had stopped laying with her and was fucking another girl, had been for weeks. So she went through my room, or she says she cleaned it, but I think she was looking for hints about who I was 'cheating on her' with, and she found the papers. Then, she threatened me. Said she would go to my Warden with this information if I didn't do as she asked."

"I... I couldn't let that happen. If she did that, I would have been killed. So I."

He couldn't finish the sentence. He hadn't thought about it since he'd ported off of the ship, but while strapped into his little berth, if he didn't drink he'd had nightmares where she looked up at him, her neck at a funny angle from where she'd hit the wall too hard, her lips blue, the ligature marks around her neck mocking him with his ineptitude.

"I just needed her to be quiet." He finally said, voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't -- I didn't mean to. I've never hurt anyone like that. I was trying to make her unconscious but I was panicking, and," hot tears stung his cheeks, "and I wish it hadn't happened. But it did. It was an accident, Archon. Please, believe me on that account, at least. I'm not a violent man."

That was actually why he'd been all-but-banished to the Tower to begin with. His complete inability to learn how to defend himself. Blood scared Fell and violence horrified him, always had.

[Andros]

Fell told his story with feeling. He sounded contrite and cried real tears. Andros, as perceptive as ever, believed him. That made things much harder. His anger at Fell’s lies dissipated, and he found he even believed that the man was as harmless as he seemed. He hadn’t been a danger to the community, after all.

But he had committed a terrible crime. Not the flight - who could care about that? - but the murder. He killed a woman who loved him. Somebody’s daughter, maybe a sister or aunt or even a mother. A poor girl like his own daughters, made a victim by this fallen nobleman who had taken a life because he couldn’t stick to one woman.

There hadn’t been a cold-blooded murder among the villagers in Andros’ tenure as headman, though there had been some killing in blood feuds and some revenge killings, which weren’t punishable by law. He was grateful for that, because he didn’t think he had it in him to order the execution of one of his villagers. It happened once in his father’s time. All the men assembled and had to vote unanimously for his death. They tied him to a stake at low tide and let the ocean take him. Even the story of it made Andros’ skin crawl.

And now Fell had put him in the position of being party to another execution. A justified execution, but that didn’t help the heartbreak he felt as he watched Fell silently cry. Still, there was no other choice. Fell’s had committed the crime and he would have to pay.

He put a hand on Fell’s arm, rather tenderly.

“I’m sorry, my friend. I do believe you, and I can see your remorse. But if you killed a woman, I can’t harbor you. I must bring you down to the docks with me to return to Radenor. Gather your things, I’ll wait outside. Please come quietly and don’t make me call for the militia. The villagers are fond of you and this will be painful enough for them as it is.”

Casting his eyes down so he didn’t have to see if Fell was frightened or resigned or simply sad, he turned and walked out of the small shed. His feet felt like they were made of lead.

[Mimi Pidders]

This was the first time since coming to the island and being given such a warm welcome that Andros had surprised him. He had thought that the man might understand that it was an accident. Surely, the shepherds and the farmers and the like had accidents like this from time to time. He failed to see how this was any different. Besides, how was his death supposed to avenge hers? If he died, she would still be dead. What different did it make?

Then, the part of Fell that had hid his true intentions in a highly surveilled environment for years shored him up. He continued looking contrite.

"Thank you, Archon," he said, sounding tired and drying his eyes. "I have not acquired too many things during my time in the village, so I will not be too long."

With Andros on the other side of the door, Fell's contrition slid off of his face. He strode to the back of his miserable shack and put the tapestry to one side. He'd thought to use Resonance to prevent Dorothea from hearing his confession, but she deserved to know the truth, and so he hadn't. He would not tie her to him thinking he was anyone other than himself.

"I assume you heard all of this, Doro." He said, not bothering with a preamble. She looked at him blankly, as though in shock, so he continued. "I do not intend to go with your Father to be turned over to a magistrate and killed for what was an accident. The distance from Micronisi to the mainland is not more than I can manage, though there will be some uncomfortable spans of landing in the ocean along the way. Come with me, please. I know this is sudden, but if you don't say yes, we'll be parted, and I fear I will not be returning here again."

Fell began to pack his belongings into his valise, readying for an unpleasant, briny escape. He hoped Dorothea would see reason and come along.

[Mimi Pidders]

Five minutes after her father pounded on the door, Dorothea regretted that her first impulse was to panic. She'd thought this was about her. Someone had noticed her missing from the compound, Anthea perhaps, or had noticed her entering Sven's dwelling. Someone had ratted her out to her father, and now she would pay for her weeks of indiscretions with the island's most eligible bachelor.

The truth was this surprise visit had nothing to do with her. Her intiial relief was replaced with horror as she heard the two men talk. Her father did not know she was in the room, but Sven did. If his words were meant to move her, they did, but perhaps not in the way he intended.

She caught her train of thought and corrected herself: Sven wasn't the man she'd thought he was because Sven didn't exist. The man she had been getting to know was not Sven Fellman, but Fell Oxenfrey, and he was a murderer. He hadn't left his country looking to master his craft, he'd fled, pursued by the magistrates of the four kingdoms as he did so.

She had figured out he was a mage about two weeks ago, and figured that it had something to do with how he produced such beautiful ceramic goods. He included elaborate fluting, glazes, and textures on his finished product, but the tools in the shed were old, workworn, and rudimentary; clearly left over from its last occupant. Sven, or Fell, had been bright enough to dust and clean them, but didn't know their uses or he would have never made some of the finer work he'd produced. What's more, the wood he went through weekly for firing up the kiln was not nearly enough, by her calculations. He would need far more wood than this so that he could turn it to coke and stoke the kiln to a high, even heat. He was burning barely enough to heat a stew.

He had the rest of the village fooled because they were happy to have a prosperous man in town and because he did not let anyone apart from her in his home but that wouldn't last. Sooner or later, people would deduce, as she had, that this was a mage, not a craftsman. Or maybe they wouldn't. To Dorothea, many logical, obvious deductions and inventions just came to her as simple as spinning wool or making pita came to others, but when she shared her pronouncements with the matter-of-fact tone of someone who assumed everyone knew this information already, she was called crazy, or weird, or uppity.

Sven -- Fell -- had never done that. He seemed enthralled with her mind. He seemed to delight in teaching her things, not because he loved to hear his own voice as so many men did, but because he wanted to hear what she had to say in turn.

If he hadn't just admitted to killing a woman he'd been having sex with, she'd have been tempted to take him up on his offer, foolhardy though it was. She knew nothing beyond the island, but running off with a magic criminal seemed like the sort of wild and impetuous thing everyone got the chance to do exactly once, and if they didn't take it, they ended up spinning wool at home forever. Still, Fell's regret aside, she had no intention of being his next victim, no matter how gentle she believed the man to be.

By that same token, she did not want him hauled off to justice, never to be seen again. For reasons that had occurred to her in the last ten days, that would also be rather bad for her.

So Dorothea took the logical, obvious third option.

"There is a simple solution, Sir. Please wait here, and I will show you."

He looked at her baffled as she walked to the entrance of the house and knocked on it, signifying Fell's completion of his duty. When Andros re-entered, his expression changed when he saw her already in the house. His face went from confusion to sadness to anger before setting into the rigid, neutral face of extreme displeasure.

"Father," she said. "I think you should consider what you may lose if you do not protect Sven Felman from the false accusation that he is Fell Oxenfrey. I think you should consider what will happen to me, as well, seeing as I am pregnant."

[Andros]

Andros’ head felt like it was going to burst. There was pain radiating from his temples all the way to the back of his skull and down to his neck. It briefly blurred his vision. He tried to control his temper, really he did, but it was useless. There are some things a man can’t be expected to tolerate with equanimity.

He had a horrible image in his mind. Doro alone with the flock up in the pasture and this monster, this murderer, attacking his poor daughter and having his way with her. It didn’t make sense. If he had attacked her long enough ago to get pregnant, why was she in his house? But the idea that Doro had gone to him willingly absolutely could not occur to him. His brain had to blame Fell.

The image caused a flash of pain that made him wince and spurred him to action. It was too much. Fell was right there, looming over him. The monster who had ruined his daughter and killed someone else’s.

Fell was big, but Andros was a very strong man. When he punched Fell in the face, he put his full force into it. Fell didn’t stand a chance. Actually he didn’t stand at all. He crumpled to the ground, bleeding from his nose.

It made Andros feel a little better. He didn’t even hear Dorothea’s scream, he was too far gone. She turned to help her lover but Andros took her hand, tenderly. She deserved his love, not his temper. She was innocent, wasn’t she?

“I’m so sorry, Doro. My poor baby. I left you alone and this animal forced you.”

She looked her father in the eye, rather bravely, and shook her head.

“He didn’t, baba. I love him.”

Andros gasped, spitting out a stifled “no.” His gentle touch became a tight grip on her wrist, which would bruise.
The temper was back, more than ever. Andros moved closer to his daughter, glaring daggers at her.

“How could you be so stupid, Doro?” he asked, his quiet voice doing nothing to conceal the menace it held. “My brightest daughter and she picks a murderer for her lover. What kind of child can you have with this man? We should throw it into the ocean.”

Andros was out of his mind with anger. He’d been betrayed by his guest and by a child he loved so dearly. In his life he had never laid a hand on any of his girls, not once. He just couldn’t, even if it was expected of him. They were just so good and wonderful, the best part of life. But one of them had turned out to be less good. One of them was a whore who stabbed her father in the back for a foreigner.

Completely enraged, he lifted his hand to slap Dorothea across the face. She saw it coming and flinched. Then she was gone. Poof. And so was Fell. Andros blinked, then rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what he saw.

The two of them were instantly several feet away. She was pulling a handkerchief out of her dress to help his bleeding. He had an arm around her, protectively. He has used his magic to save her.

They were, objectively, two young people in love. Andros knew it when he saw it. He’d never have let harm come to Elena either. It was beautiful, even as it was horrible. Why couldn’t she have waited for a decent husband?

The anger drained out of him. It was unsustainable. But his headache got worse. He leaned against the wall of the house and close. his eyes, rubbing his temple. This might be the worst day he’d had since Elena died.

“I’m sorry, Doro,” he said with a sigh. Fell deserved what he’d gotten, no apology there. “What’s done is done. Now what the fuck are we doing to do?”

[Mimi Pidders]

Dorothea dabbed at Fell's wound. Seeing the man go down from a single punch as he had reassured her, somewhat. He had been telling the truth about not being a fighter. Her baba was a strong man, but usually men were not thrown off their feet by a single blow. If he had been telling the truth about not being a fighter, maybe the rest of the story was true, too. Maybe he really hadn't wanted to harm the girl at all. Maybe it had been an accident. He certainly sounded sincere as he said it, and contrite. The arm he'd looped around her tightened as he looked at Andros.

He took a breath in, as if to talk, and Dorothea knew that it was probably going to be some thing about him protecting her from her father's wicked hand or some other dramatics. Men were always sticking up for women when it helped no one, least of all the women they were purportedly trying to help. So she brought her hand to his lips.

Fell, unlike every other man she'd ever met, looker her in the eyes, nodded, and fell silent. She was signifying that she had a plan, and he without a word, backed off and let her lead.

"The way I see it, baba, there are two solutions. Both are simple. The first is that you report that there is no one by the name Fell Oxenfrey on the island. If they press you for details about someone from Northradica being here, it's Sven Felman, a Northradican potter. If they don't ask, I wouldn't offer that information. We don't even know that they know he's here, after all. If they insist on searching the island, well, you've just seen what he can do. He can hide in one of the sea caves until they leave the island."

"Or," she said, struggling to keep her voice even, "you can turn him in to save yourself, and I'll throw myself off the cliffs as befits a ruined woman." She looked Andros square in the eye as she said it. "Without him, there will be nothing here for me anyway. No one will marry me. I will raise a bastard child, and we'll both be pariahs, the laughingstocks of the village. So it's simple. baba. Save him, and save me. Lose him, and lose me. It's up to you."

[Andros]

Dorothea made a cogent case. Of course she did. She’d been arguing circles around Andros since the topic was bedtime or which sister started the fight. So many times he’s had to lean on his authority - bedtime is sundown because I say so - simply because he couldn’t logic her into compliance. He’d put on his sternest face, carry an angry little Doro off to bed, and then laugh about it with Elena after the children were asleep. In truth, he admired his daughter’s cleverness.

But this was serious business. Her scheme was less admirable here. Dorothea was bright, but still sheltered and ignorant. Andros knew what men were like while his daughter had been carefully kept from them. Fell could bolt and abandon her with a baby. Or he could do a lot worse to a helpless woman. Doro had only seen how Andros had treated her mother, always with deference. What did she know about bad husbands? And now she wanted to marry this murderer.

Doro hadn’t said it, but she didn’t have to. The implication was obvious. If she were to be protected from dishonor she’d have to marry, and very quickly. Once she started to show it would be too late, and it could take months to arrange another match. They’d have to marry quickly. Tongues would wag, but they couldn't prove anything and she could move on with honor only slightly tarnished.

He suspected she was bluffing about the cliff. She knew full well that her father wouldn’t do her any harm, though it was his right. And she knew that he would protect her from the consequences of her catastrophic error as best he could. He was almost certain she wouldn’t really take her own life and cause her father and sisters grief. Almost. Was almost enough? How certain was he she would be here in a month if he had the father of her child sent to his death?

Andros looked at her, then at Fell, then back again. The options were all bad. He could marry her off to a man who was capable of anything, a dangerous person about all he knew for certain was that he was a killer. Or he could risk losing her forever.

He didn’t really have a choice. Doro must have known it. She’d been confident that she was going to carry the day. Andros felt defeated. This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. He could have made her a happy match with someone worthy of her.

There would have to be negotiation. He’d need assurances from Fell. But when he sighed and the fight went out of him, he saw Doro relax. She knew she’d won.

“Doro, you’ve made a terrible mistake and you’ve broken your father’s heart. I wish I had taught you better.” He shook his head. “There won’t be a proper wedding. It will have to be done fast. Everyone will know, of course, but you’ll live it down this way.”

Then he looked at Fell, glaring at him and jabbed a finger in your chest.

“I will never forgive you for this. She’s worth ten of you. I wish they’d hung you in Radenor.”

He turned and stalked off towards his house, then turned his head to call back.

“Stupid children. Come.”

He continued as they followed, muttering more to himself than to his errant daughter and her disgraced lover.

“We must make an agreement tonight. If the word of such a man mean’s anything. Such scum to join my family. And I’ll need money to bribe Demophon. He won’t come cheap. Doro knows nothing if she thinks he can be pawned off with a stupid lie when there’s a blond giant in our midst. I’ll have to sell a few head of sheep, maybe a horse. Damn this all to hell. That baby had better be a son. No more girls in the family. I’m can’t handle another one,”