The Prophet's Daughter

The towering form of the Songbird looms ahead. The winged protector is all that stands between you and Comstock house. Songbird shrieks a warning as you approach, but you pay it no heed. From your pocket you remove a small musical device and play the notes, C-A-G-E.  the majestic guardian takes to the bright midday sky on leathery wings, clearing your way to the bridge, and to Elizabeth.

You brace yourself and press down on the bridge's control level. As the bridge to Comstock House lowers you see Elizabeth waiting for you on the other side. The two of you jog across the bridge, finally meeting up in the middle.

"I hope Songbird wasn't any trouble." Elizabeth asks, her deep blue eyes following the encircling guardian overhead.

"For a day out with the pretties white girl in all of Columbia? No trouble at all." Elizabeth smiles at your complement and runs her fingers through her short brown hair.

Looking Elizabeth up and down it finally dawns on you what she's wearing. "Elizabeth, that dress." Her dark blue skirt and matching jacket made her the spitting image of the late Lady Comstock. Despite all her celebrity you still find it easy to forget that Elizabeth is the daughter of the the prophet Father Comstock.

Elizabeth takes a step back and twirls. "It's like my mothers dress, the one in all the portraits."

"It suits you."

"You spoil me." She says, stepping forward and taking your hand. "Not that I mind, of course. But you did promise me a day at the fair."

-----

The lord blessed the day of the fair with a beautiful clear sky. The cries of happy children and vendors selling their wares fills the air with a palpable energy. There isn't a man, woman, or child in Columbia that doesn't look forward to the fair.

Hand in hand with Elizabeth you ascend the cobblestone stairs to the fairgrounds where all manner of sights await you. A man hollering from a podium catches your eye. A small crowd has gathered around him and two costumed performers, both dressed up in cartoonish devil costumes. With a flash lightning erupts from the tips of one of the performers fingers, causing several in the crowd to gasp or step back in shock.

"Fink's patented Vigors."

"They look dangerous." Elizabeth replies, raising her eyebrow skeptically.

"You worry too much. It's a Fink product."

People stare, of course. Most keep a respectful distance and refrain from outright gawking. But it's hard not to notice. You don't particularly blame them, you can hardly believe it yourself. The seed of the prophet, loved by all of Columbia, and she's chosen to spend the day with you.

Stepping into the fairgrounds proper you pass by a bronze statue depicting a familiar young woman, albeit brandishing a sword. Just another reminder that Elizabeth, your Elizabeth, is the lamb of Columbia. One day she'll eventually take up the sword and lead Columbia to even greater glories.

You point to the statue. "Good likeness."

"Oh stop." Elizabeth cries, playfully tugging on the arm.

From over your shoulder you hear a young couple approach. "Miss Comstock?" The woman asks cautiously."

"Please, you can call me Elizabeth."

The woman, petite with curly brown hair and light blue eyes, holds up a small child with matching features swaddled in blue fabric. "Elizabeth, I know this must be a terrible imposition on my part. But me and Eli just had our first child and we were hoping that you could bless our little Matthew."

Elizabeth looks down at the child, tilting her head slightly. "It's no trouble at all, ma'am."

You step back as the four of them huddle together. Elizabeth says a quick prayer, but you don't catch the words. After a brief moment of silence the couple thanks Elizabeth, before departing.

Elizabeth wraps herself around your arm. "I'm sorry about that." She apologizes.

"Don't worry about it. The Lamb mustn't shirk her heavenly duties."

As you walk to the raffle square you can't help but be drawn to one of Fink's automated vending machines. The machine's tinny voice promises the power of a stampede, the lighting of Zeus, primal mysteries. A nearby attendant silently stands at attention watching the passersby.

"Let's stop here." Elizabeth insists, tugging on your sleeve.

You turn and give her a questioning look. "If you don't try one out I know you'll be thinking about it the whole day." She replies.

The two of you step up to the machine. Turning the crank a small display slides up, revealing the contents of the machine: a selection of Vigors the likes of which you hadn't even imagined. Some too fantastical to even consider.

"$1 for the ability to defy gravity? Sounds like a bargain to me."

"Bucking Bronco." Elizabeth says to herself as she skims the selection.

"Hey Mister. Is this safe to use on people?" You ask the attendant, a portly gentleman with slicked back hair and dark brown eyes.

"Supposin' they watch where they land, sure." The man replies with a grin.

You insert a silver eagle and press the button to confirm your choice. With a thud a large bronze bottle drops own into the collection area. Taking the bottle you thoroughly examine the intricate design. The top of the bottle resembles a cowboy riding on a wild horse, the bucking bronco.

"Alright, stand still." You tell Elizabeth as open the bottle and take a swig.

At first you think something has gone wrong. You feel a trembling in your stomach and you feel like your whole body is cracking apart. But just as you're about to scream the symptoms disappear as suddenly as they came about.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth inquires with a look of concern.

You cough. "It's strong stuff."

Extending your hand out you instinctively send a pulse of energy towards Elizabeth. As promised Elizabeth rises from the ground. As she does she holds her skirt down and tries to right herself with her free arm. The lamb of the air, flying through the air like a balloon and laughing like a schoolgirl.

"This is amazing! I'm floating!" Elizabeth cries out as she tumbles through the air.

"Looks like it's wearin' off." The attendant observes as Elizabeth slowly begins to descend. Reaching out you scoop her into your arms. By now several bystanders have collected around the machine and clap appreciatively at the display.

Elizabeth stares up at you with a look of wonderment, ignoring the crowd of people gathered around the two of you. "Okay, maybe I was wrong about those Vigors." She chirps.

Elizabeth leaps out of your hands and begins to take off into the fairgrounds. You take off in pursuit, almost tripping over a small child in the process. You weave past a stage with several automated stallions on display to find Elizabeth watching a shooting gallery. Several statues depicting hateful looking Vox savages decorate the gallery. 'Hunt Down the Vox' the dark red sign reads.

"So, want to try your luck?"

"I've never fired a gun before." Elizabeth professes, holding hand to her heart.

"Well, now's as good a time as any." You say as you guide Elizabeth to one of the replica rifles. "Every Columbian should know how to fire a rifle."

Waving to the attendant you and Elizabeth take up positions at the gallery. The rifle itself looks like a variant of the old Huntsman rifle that's been re-purposed to fire small pellets. Easy enough to use for a beginner.

"Alright, lower your shoulders a bit."

"Like this?" She asks, looking over her shoulder at you.

"Perfect, now just keep your eyes down the sight."

You gingerly place your hand on her back and brace her as she fires. "See? You're a natural."

Elizabeth aims down the sight and downs another target. "Well, I had a good teacher."

The attendant points to a small target in the background that suddenly zips across the gallery. "Oh, there's the anarchist Daisy Fizroy!"

"I see her." Elizabeth barks, her posture tenses and she fires off several wild shots in rapid succession, completely ignoring your advice from before. Finally she dings the moving target as it's about to leave the gallery, but only barely.

"Looks like our little Lamb is a regular crack-shot. Those Vox don't stand a chance!" The man cries out.

Leaving the gallery several eagles richer you and Elizabeth take a break at a nearby bench.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Elizabeth sighs. "It's just-"

"Daisy?"

Elizabeth's shoulders sink. "Yeah, I just want to find something to take my mind off of that."

"What are you thinking about?"

She ponders about it for a minute or two before leaving the bench to stand on the tips of her toes. Sweeping the fair with her gaze she finally settles on something. "I'm thinking about...icecream." She declares, pointing to a modest looking vender in a white cap.

"Icecream it is, then."

People begin to file into the square as the time for the raffle draws near. The raffle was the cornerstone of the whole fair, everyone wanted to get in but only those who were lucky enough or early enough to get a ticket were allowed on the grounds. As promised, the two of you stop by the vendor for some ice cream first, which she consumes with a slightly worrisome and unladylike zeal.

"If you don't watch out you'll head an ice cream headache."

"It would be worth it, don't you think?" As she says this she looks up at the clock. Hurriedly she hands you her cone. "Here, let me fix that tie. I don't want to be late for the raffle!" As if she just now realized what time it was. Motherly ministrations complete she grabs you by the hand. "Now let's go!"

"But it was your idea to-"

---

By the time you arrive the raffle square is positively filled to the brim with people. The ticket holders have all gathered around a large stage festooned with patriotic finery. At center stage the one and only Jeremiah Fink himself directs the crowd in a stirring rendition of 'Goodnight Irene.' Even you and Elizabeth get in on the act, her angelic tones far and away surpassing those of the masses or your own.

Winding down the song Jeremiah Fink raises his hands in the air in a sweeping gesture. "And now the 1912 raffle has officially begun!" He declares.

The curtains are slowly drawn aside and two figures are wheeled forward, a white man and a negro woman tied together. The stage is decorated with an array of props that give the impression of some kind of twisted voodoo wedding, with the crowd singing along appropriately. The couple cry out and beg for mercy, which only draws jeers and mocking laughter.

Conducting the attention of the crowd Fink points to Elizabeth. "I believe I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't offer our beautiful lamb the first throw." To this the crowd cheers.

Elizabeth once again hands you her cone as she steps forward to accept the first toss. A good strong throw and a solid impact right above the young man's right eye. The woman lets out a sorrowful wail, drawing more ire from the crowd.

People claps respectfully as Elizabeth returns to your side. "Wow, nice toss!"

Elizabeth rushes up to you. "Are you okay? Your nose is bleeding." Producing a small handkerchief she dabs at your nose.

"Yeah, I feel fine. Just feeling of deja vu, is all."

"Well here, keep this." She says, handing you her handkerchief. "If it keeps up we'll get you checked out."

Arm in arm you watch as the raffle proceeds fantastically. The next thrower winner is a burly looking man with a thick beard. Instead of throwing the ball himself he hands it to a small child that he lifts onto his shoulder. The child throws the ball, but barely reaches the feet of the woman. The sounds of the couple are drowned out by the laughter of the crowd. Eventually the couple cease to scream and cry, resigned to their fate as more winners are called.

Elizabeth nuzzles your shoulder. "I think I've had enough excitement for one day. Let's go somewhere less crowded."

"Soldier's Field?"

"Sounds like heaven." She replies, tightening her grip.

----

Dusk at Soldier's Field is something you have to see to believe. The dying light of the sun make for the perfect view as you and Elizabeth approach the boardwalk by airship. Thankfully most of the people who went to the fair seemed to have went straight home, as it was nearly abandoned. A perfect place for you and Elizabeth to enjoy each others company in peace.

Elizabeth is visibly excited by the whole affair. She practically dances off of the ship when it finally lands. Together begin to stroll the boardwalk, pausing briefly to wave off the ship and her crew.

You approach a small hotdog stand, the only one still pedaling their wares this late. The vendor, a balding man with a thin mustache and slovenly posture immediately recognizes Elizabeth and straightens himself up. "What can I get you two?" He asks.

Elizabeth scrutinizes the menu. "Hm, I'd like mustard and relish on mine."

"Just Ketchup for me."

"Here you go, a treat for the fine lady and her friend. On the house."

"That's very gracious of you."

"Thank you, sir."

Together you find a small bench and sit down to enjoy your food. Elizabeth rests her head on your shoulder and idly nibbles at her food. "I've had a wonderful time today."

"I couldn't think of a better way to spend a Sunday."

"Well, it is missing one thing." She says, straightening up in her seat.

"What's that?"

"This." With that she leans in and gives you a gentle kiss. Like the visitation of an angel you feel simultaneously blessed and absolutely unworthy of the attention this heavenly being is giving you.

Suddenly a cry cuts through the air. Startled, you jerk back and look to the source of the noise. A some madman is riding one of the skylines. Could he be Vox? No, he doesn't look it. With a great leap the man jumps off the skyline and rolls onto the wooden walkway of Soldier's field, where he takes off in a mad rush towards you and Elizabeth. An assassin? A kidnapper? It doesn't matter, you take action.

"Elizabeth, look out!" You cry, imposing yourself between her and the assailant.

The floorboards of Soldier's Field tremble as you send a wave of energy towards the man, lifting him in the air. The man cries out, disoriented from the effects of the vigor. Thinking quickly you pull out your revolver and fire off three quick rounds into the attacker. As the effect of the vigor wears off the body morbidly crashes to the ground, his limbs twisted terribly.

"By the prophet."

Elizabeth rushes to you side. "Are you okay? Who was that?"

"sorry you had to see that." You say, crouching down to investigate the body. On the man's right hand he bore a mark 'AD.'

You turn to Elizabeth with a look of astonishment. "My god, it was the false shepherd."

"You mean the False Shepard is dead? You're amazing!" She cries, wrapping her arms around you.

"Let's take you home. It's getting dark out and if I know Father Comstock he won't approve of you being out too late. Even with these special circumstances." Elizabeth buries herself in your chest and nods silently.

Informing the authorities of the death of the False Shepherd caused quite a commotion and made the travel back to Comstock House quite an ordeal. It edging towards nighttime when you finally arrive back at Comstock House. The night sky and the lights from search towers give the place an almost ominous feeling. Truth be told the place does make you uneasy. you'd never tell Elizabeth that, though.

As you begin to pull the level to lower the bridge Elizabeth places her hand on yours. The warmth of her hand cuts through the chill in the air. "I wanted to thank you again for what you did back there. It was very brave."

"I just did what anyone would have done in that situation."

"Don't be so modest." She chastises, throwing her arms around you. "You're my hero."

The bridge lowers as you pull the lever. Elizabeth turns back to face you, her radiance shining brightly against the solemn backdrop of Comstock House. "I'm sure my father is going to want to meet the hero of Columbia, and I hope that means we can see each other again soon."

"Count on it."