Subject: "Because... because I mistook you for the fairies."
Author:
Posted on: 2015-05-21 22:36:00 UTC
"I see now that this is a death of some kind, and a weapon will do me no good if my magic has left me. No, not dead... lost. In Limbo, as an unbaptized babe or pagan hero of old might be. I... I cannot go home, can I? To Perenelle Abbey, to the village, to the Hanover Square Academy... even if I am not dead, it is as close as makes no difference. I am scared, Sir Guardsman, I am scared to the very marrow and I feel no shame in admitting it. But I can... I can be of use, can I not? I was a scholar. A gentleman of means, which, which I suppose will be passed to my son. Agamemnon is a good lad, and will be a finer friend to English magic than the Wymbournes have been since the days of the Raven King, I know it, I... I wish only that I would see it, Sir."
Algie sagged slightly, fishing the pistol out and proffering it to the Guardsman. "I'm afraid I cannot offer a sword, Sir, and you have my apologies. This must suffice until I can have one made that will see me here. I do hereby pledge allegiance to your Protectors of the Plot Continuum, and hope that you will allow me to serve in the ranks of your constabulary. Becoming a scholar of magic takes considerable acumen and a gift for detective work, if I may be so bold, even in such a place as Yorkshire. As long as you bring no suffering, and only relieve it, you will have what aid I can give you."