New College

New College is located in the centre of Oxford, between Holywell Street and New College Lane (known for Oxford's Bridge of Sighs), next to All Souls College, Harris Manchester College, Hertford College, The Queen's College and St Edmund Hall. The college's most famous attraction is a square, four-sided hillock in the College's Fellows’ Garden, which rises around 10 metres high. Three of the sides are covered with dense shrubbery, while steep stone steps rise up the front side, leading to a paved area at the top, which is hidden by trees from those below.  The Garden Mound (also known as 'Fairy Hill') is famous for the sound produced by clapping beneath it. Only Members of the College are permitted up Fairy Hill.

Mehdi looks up from his phone screen just in time to watch from across the garden as his fetch disappears up Fairy Hill with a gaggling group of friends. He’s been watching him all afternoon, watching what has become of Fletcher, his old life. Despite the chaos and horror he’s just recently faced, since that incident all he’s been able to think of is his fetch, and what to do about him. He could kill him probably, maybe even take back his name and clout, take back his art, his life. Mehdi can’t decide whether or not his hesitation exists because it would be a messy, bad idea to kill Fletcher or because it’s not really what he wants. His old life seems so distant now, and perhaps by stalking his fetch Mehdi is truly just trying to reconcile that distance.  For the moment it doesn’t matter. His new life beckons. He stands from the bench he’s been sitting on and begins to make his way to the store to buy some ribbon.

Throughout the long Monday of case notes and check-ins, safety plans and shelter calls, Daxon Caudill chases yawns with coffee and can't stop thinking about Sunday night. Dorothea is going to flip out... I'M flipping out... VAMPIRES... VAMPIRES in OXFORD???  More than once, he reaches for his phone to call her, then thought better of it. After his last meeting, he pulls his rumpled green jacket over his hospital polo shirt and waves a quick goodbye to the staff at the reception desk. The afternoon light gives a rare golden fall hue to the day as he glances as his watch. The Queen's Hedgeway is only available for five minutes...  His cordovan brogans make a heavy thump as he hurries, until he turns into the alley behind The Butcher's Arms. He nestles into a shadowy corner for a minute, and with a breeze of cool autumn air, he's just gone as his darkling nature seems to erase him from existence. He steps across the alley and opens the back door to the pub... Only it doesn't open into a steamy and fragrant kitchen, but somewhere.... rather different!

Stepping through the back door to the Butcher's Arms, Daxon emerges into a long, arched passageway of twisted and woven thorns. He knows this path well and the eerie surroundings feel almost peaceful to the changeling as he approaches the sanctum where the autumn queen holds her court. Hanging branches laden with leaves turned golden brown from decay cover the hedgeway's exit. Daxon pushes them aside and finds himself at the top of New College's garden mound. It is here, where the veil is thinnest, that the autumn court is to be found, its expansive grounds impossibly larger than the earthen mound that it resides within. A spiral staircase, glamoured from mortal sight, descends into the interior, which is teeming with changelings of all seven seemings alike. An ogre, who Daxon knows as Pete, stands on the revolving door. "Evenin' Daxon," he grunts.

" 'ey there, Pete - you're a sight for sore eyes, my friend. Everything alright?" Pete can feel Daxon's grin as the faceless darkling approaches and holds out his hand to the burly, muscled ogre.

Pete shakes his head stoically, before extracting a flowery handkerchief from his coat pocket and loudly blowing his nose. "Allergies," he explains, before stepping aside. "You can go on in, Daxon."

"Bless you, Pete. Take some local honey in your tea - Mother Daxon's prescription."  Daxon scratches the side of his neck before tucking his hands in his pockets and pushes through the door with his shoulder. Two quiet steps and he is inside.

Daxon pushes through the revolving door of the freehold's court and into an arched chamber beneath boughs laden with leaves. Candles light the interior of the mound, suspended in elaborate sconces from the walls and ceilings. Deeper inside, he can make out the throne at the heart of the court. The chair grows out of the ground with the trunk of a tree as its base. Ragged branches reach up like a hand, with golden-brown leaves dangling from the fingers. They drift softly back and forth in a wind that has no source. The Autumn Queen reclines upon her throne, surveying the subjects arrayed before her with a cool serenity.  She is tall and willowy, with skin like a pale china doll, made paler still by her jet-black hair and deep green eyes. She wears round, wire-rimmed glasses and a sheer, simply cut dress of midnight blue. Her hair has a richness that mortal eyes have never dreamed of, with layers of different shades of black that somehow all seem to be the purest black imaginable. Her milky eyes lack any definition between iris and pupil and her figure is impossibly thin, as though she might snap in half like an autumn twig at any moment.

Daxon makes his way quietly among the courtiers, his faceless obsidian Mien a little disconcerting even here. His disarming attitude takes the edge off his unnerving appearance, though, as he speaks in a soft and friendly manner and asks after the health and concerns of various folk. Part of his attention, though -- like everyone's in the grand chamber -- is fixed on the Queen's posture of serenity. A signal or sound from her could mean joy, death, or anything in between.

Eventually, as all courtiers must, Daxon makes his way around to the throne to pay his respects to his Queen. "Daxon," she acknowledges as he approaches, her face an impassive mask watching the changeling's every move.

"Your Highness,"  the darkling murmurs as he bows his head low in respect. "Winter comes, but by your grace this place stands against the claws of iron. I honor thee." He bows again and awaits her command.

The Queen nods in acknowledgement of Daxon's verbal tribute. "Tell me, little bird, have you noticed the unusual amount of cats around the city of late?"

"Now that you speak of it, my Queen... I have. There were two cats meandering around the bar last night. The bar near where the mortal was slain..."

"What do you make of them?" She asks, her dark green eyes boring a hole in Daxon's faceless obsidian head.

"I only know that I encountered them in the company of... well..." he looks down sheepishly and then glances up at her. "Vampires?"

"They infest this city like rats," the Queen snorts derisively. "Less than a week ago I had to expel a group that came to feast on our harvest. The beasts are drawn to the kindred, you say? That is curious. Are you sure?"  

"Not yet, but I can make some more directed inquiries now that I know what I'm looking for." Daxon pauses for a moment, then continues, "Are they truly... like... bloodsucking children of the night vampires??"

The Queen smiles with a touch of amusement. "I sometimes forget that you've only been with us for a short time and the Lost feel the fine line between reality and fantasy more keenly than most. Vampires are very real and can be very dangerous, if not handled correctly."

"Can they see through our Mask? What about our ways with Glamour? You know I do my best work for you when I can go unnoticed." He bows again, this time with a cool, refreshing breeze of autumn amusement to go along with it.

"Rarely..." the Queen admits. "In general, you can expect your glamour to work, unless you encounter a vampire with... special abilities. It always pays to be cautious when dealing with the kindred."

"Kindred... that's a subtle piece of phrasing." He thinks about the implications of that word for a few moments, and processes the full context of the Queen's words. "Do you need me to have dealings with them, Your Majesty?"

"One way or another, you will," the Queen tells Daxon with a mirthless laugh. "Vampires are a fact of life in Oxford. Find out why the cats are here. There are too many for it to be a coincidence."

Daxon bows for a third time, and murmurs, "As you wish." He backs away and moves to the edge of the room, watching and listening for interesting stories to collect before making his way back to the drab October evening in Headington.

Daxon overhears another group of courtiers discussing a youtube channel that they've stumbled upon with videos filmed in Oxford. A group of students are documenting themselves pulling a Slenderman hoax. However, as the footage unfolds, it seems that they are actually being stalked by a Slenderman-like being that looks remarkably supernatural. Either the group has a full special effects team or something's really going on.

" Peter's Pranksterz , eh?" Daxon murmurs to himself. "Dorothea would love this... but maybe I need to check it out a little first..." He follows the Queensway back to The Butcher's Arms in Headington. [continued in Headington]

After rushing away from Paul’s atop Jetty’s wart covered back, the two Changelings approach New College. Mehdi brings the Terror Toad to a stop as Fairy Hill comes into sight. ”So, I’ve never actually gone in there. Maybe you should do the talking?”  His pocket buzzes, and he whips out his phone to send a quick response to Liam. Probably escaped through the hedge. Im ok, gonna shelter with the court. Sorry for the trouble, hit you up when the coast is clear.

"She expects me to listen, for the most part... but in this case, maybe she'll be in for a surprise."  Daxon points the way towards a safe path forward.

The path up Fairy Hill is dark and shrouded in lush greenery that is now beginning brown as summer turns to autumn. Heavy fir branches hang across the path veiling what lies beyond from prying eyes. Mehdi urges Jetty on past the branches and they soon emerge into an entirely different set of gardens to those of New College. Up ahead, lights flicker softly in the windows of the Autumn Court.

"Soonest begun, soonest done," Daxon murmurs as he slides down Jetty's flank and lands lightly on the ground. "Thank you, Jetty," the darkling pats the toad and looks up to Mehdi. "It'll be alright." A crisp, refreshing breeze rushes past him and over Mehdi and Jetty. "This way - the Court is inside New College's garden mound. Let me introduce you to Pete." Daxon looks for the spiral staircase that usually leads into the Court.

Like so many things warped by the Hedge, the architecture of Oxford's lost court dances and weaves like tree branches in a chill breeze. What but a few days ago was a spiral staircase is now an opulent garden of low box hedgerows and wild mutated flowers, leading to the great double doors of the court itself. Pete is still standing dutifully at the entrance though. "Evenin', Daxon. Who's y'friend?"

“ Mehdi.” the chiropteran Changeling answers. “And you must be Pete? It’s nice to meet you. Daxon here is… showing me around.” he shifts a bit uncomfortably, not sure how best to broach the topic of begging for help. “I was just attacked by what I’m pretty sure was a privateer.” he says, the words falling heavy as he reckons with them. “First time anyone’s come trying to drag me back. I’m hoping maybe the Court can… well I’m not really sure. I haven’t really hung around other Lost since my Durance. Maybe there’s more safety in numbers.”

"Hey, Pete. Hope you're feeling a little better." He paused while Mehdi introduced himself. "I don't think we were followed," he adds. "I'm not sure what the protocol is for bringing new friends, but I'm happy to vouch for him."

Pete nods stoically and waves the pair in through the doors. Beyond the threshold is a realm of ethereal beauty and subtle, ever-shifting hues. Warm, honeyed light, reminiscent of the gentle, golden rays of a late afternoon sun, bathes the court, creating long dancing shadows. The ceiling is a mesmerising blend of autumnal colours, with leaves of deep red, burned orange and rich gold hanging from above, gently rustling in a perpetual, gentle breeze. The flagstones are covered with a thick carpet of fallen leaves that create a soft, whispering sound with each step taken. At the heart of the court stands an exquisite throne of living wood and leaves, adorned with tendrils of ivy and curling vines. Seated upon this throne is the Autumn Queen herself, a darkling of unparalleled beauty and grace. She is a tall, elegant figure with midnight hair that seems to flow like oil. Her gown shimmers with the colours of the night sky and her eyes, like deep inky pools, hold a wisdom that seems to reach into the very soul of those who gaze upon her. Some amongst the changelings that fill the court have antler-like horns sprouting from their heads, while others have leaves or petals instead of hair. They wear elaborate attire that seems to grow and change with the shifting of the seasons. Many are engaged in delicate dances or storytelling, using their surroundings to enhance their tales. The air is filled with a soothing, earthy fragrance and soft, haunting melodies hang in the air.

Daxon pauses, just gazing at the Queen. This obsession will be the death of me, I'm sure... he groans inwardly before starting to move along the side of the room towards the throne. He looks over his shoulder and waves a hand towards Mehdi in a come-along gesture.

Mehdi follows sheepishly. Now he realizes why he’s been so hesitant to come here. The queen on her throne, the pandering courtiers, the music, the falling leaves… it’s like he’s back in Arcadia. Why the Lost would escape imprisonment in the courts of the True Fae only to go and recreate the aesthetics of their captors… of  his  captor. He tries to relax, to keep in mind that not every Changeling had spent their Durance in the orchards of the Queen of Plums. This narrowly avoided panic attack keeps him silent for now, practically clinging to Daxon’s side as they approach.

With Mehdi by his side, Daxon makes his way closer to the Queen in a careful, circumspect route around the side of the room. Not avoiding her  attention, but rather avoiding the attention of her lackies and sycophants. He lets the power of his Mantle swell, dissuading from approach those who do notice the pair. The Queen's own power and presence, and traditional etiquette of the Autumn Court, establish an instinctive buffer zone between herself and her courtiers. Daxon takes one step farther forward into that zone, stiffening his arm to keep Medhi a step behind him. The darkling bows his head in reverence, extending the rest of his senses to gauge her response.

The Queen's attention shifts to regard Daxon cooly. "What do you bring me, little bird?"

"A friend, my Queen. A friend seeking shelter under Autumn's boughs, as I once did. This is Mehdi,"  Daxon replies, bowing again and stepping to the side to allow Mehdi to face the Autumn Queen.

The Queen nods. "The one they call the 'Loyalist'... we have indeed had the pleasure. So independent, yet now you come before us. Step forwards that I might look upon you."

Mehdi does as instructed, stepping forward into an amber ray of afternoon sunlight. Plum blossom petals fall from his mop of curls as he rises from his own deep, reverent bow. ”Some may call me a Loyalist, but I can assure you I hold no loyalty to Arcadia, your majesty. I have found safety and alliance with Kindred so far but… I was just attacked by what I believe was a Privateer.”

Whispers flurry amongst the watching courtiers when Mehdi mentions the presence of a Privateer. "Do you now?" The Queen muses, regarding Mehdi cooly. "Do go on."

Mehdi nods, then tells the Queen of Alice, her crazed taunts and the iron dagger which she wielded.  “Thankfully the Kindred distracted her long enough for us to get out of there, but I’m sure she’ll be back sooner or later.”

The Queen reclines in thought as Mehdi tells his story. "I see... and what is it that you ask of this autumn court?"

For a moment Mehdi is quiet in thought. ”To be honest, your majesty, I’m not entirely sure. I guess I was hoping for some degree of protection. Maybe even some help taking this girl down. If there’s a privateer at Oxford hunting the Lost, I assume the Court would want to stop her.”

"'Alice' wasn't hunting Oxford's Lost though, was she?" The Autumn Queen notes. "She didn't come to our court, or any other gathering of our people. She showed up at a vampire bar looking for you . Why?"

“I… don’t know.” he admits. “That’s why I’m here, hoping to find out. Maybe it’s just the distance I’ve kept from the Court that’s made me an easy target.”  

The Queen regards Mehdi in silent contemplation. "I would not draw the eye of the Fairest upon this court... but far be it from me to turn away Lost who come seeking shelter. You are welcome here Mehdi, but you must play your part in the great dance like every other. Swear your oath of loyalty to the autumn court and you will be as one of our own."

Mehdi swallows hard, then kneels before the Queen. ”I swear, to play whatever part the Autumn Court sees fit for me. I know you have plenty of eyes and ears around Oxford already but I think mine will be a useful addition.” He voluntarily flicks his large bat ears to emphasize this point. “And I already have a report to make, about the weird cats that have been following the Kindred around.”

Whispers flit about the ranks of the onlooking courtiers as Mehdi takes a knee before the Autumn Queen. "Word has indeed reached us of these mysterious felines..." she remarks. "What do you know of them?"

Mehdi sees no reason not to divulge everything to the Queen. He gives a retelling of the night cats first appeared, abridged for brevity. He tells her of what he learned from Khalid, and then of what he learned from Moswen herself: that the cats are the Will of Bast, that the Mabinogi meddle with old powers beyond their means, and mention of the Black Goat of the Woods. ”Honestly, part of my coming here was also in the hopes that you’d be able to shed some light on all this.”

"The Black Goat of the Woods..." the Autumn Queen whispers quietly. "That is a fell name indeed. Can you describe the creature that you saw beneath the Oriental Institute?"