Lost in the Fog
Gordon Alexander Ward
He’s exceedingly well-tailored and can be polished when inclined, but he’s gangly, with asymmetrical features and slightly-crossed eyes in both his fae and mortal miens. He has a reputation as a crack pistol-shot.
He was the third son of a Scottish textile magnate, who went studied abroad and began operating a penny newspaper when he came back. The London Daily Graphic, is sensationalist daily paper with a large working class readership and an eccentric collection of editorial positions that tend toward the contrarian and drive sales. The first and last pages of the four-page daily are printed with Hedge Ink and present daily, color report on the London Freehold to those who can see it.
The Graphic is known for two things: contrarianism and ridiculing the credulousness of its competitors. McAllen is pugnacious editorial voice, generally involved in feuds with various competitors and other public figures. The journal is always sanctimoniously sentimental about Queen and Country, but it does a brisk business in, “Florence Nightingale: Disgrace of the Nation” or “In the Future, the Franchise Will Be Restricted to Literate Parents, Regardless of Sex”-style 19th century clickbait.
The factual reporting serves to minimize public indiscretions by the freehold’s fae and assorted other oddities and hedge-ink portions are used to communicate messages from the monarchs and report matters of concern.
McAllen navigates around libel laws to some extent, but carelessly. He’s been assaulted in the street by offended gentlemen on several occasions. He is, however, deadly serious about the fae and makes no bones regarding loyalism as literal treason. He’ll ignore most libels, but has made it clear that he will duel over any hint that he has fae sympathies.
The graphic operates out of a cramped, narrow building. He has an office upstairs with a small handful of news-staff, the conventional printing equipment is in the basement, where a door leads to several hedge-based sub-levels where a staff of hobs operate the fae presses.
McAllen is about 40 and married to a widow, a deceased officer’s wife with three children at school.