《Heirling of the Red Sword》


 Chapter 1: Lordling of the Red Sword

    On a mountain, looking to the valley below stood Lordling Elswith, the young heir to a powerful weapon. His formidable bloodline ensured his position as the Heirling to the Red Sword. 19 years old. To the world of Fae at large, he would still be hardly more than a child, but for a member of the Seelie Courts, and as the Heirling of one of the 37 swords, he had more burden and responsibility.


    His blue gray eyes observed the carnage below. The first time he had been to battle, five years ago, he had not performed well. His stomach had rebelled and he had shamed his house. Now, he looked, more aware of the Fae Lord behind him than any creature.


    Below him gnawed and gurgled dread creatures, formed from chaos and old unforgiven malice. Hundreds of them were spawning. They were twisted and mutilated things, unnatural and hateful of anything unlike their kind. Each season, new breeding grounds would spawn due to the changing of the power.


    The four seasons each took turns in power to keep the world alive and the magic of the world, the Law of Fae, growing and fresh; but the handing over of power creates change and change creates chaos. And with the chaos, rifts form, and dark things beyond the world slip in.


    This new season brought change as well; the cold autumn breeze now settling on the land. Storm clouds overshadowed the daylight, and lightning flickered in their midst.


    Elswith counted the dread creatures and watched them progress, growing more real yet more twisted and grotesque. He felt the wind sweep back his ash blond hair from his forehead, and with it came the smell of blood.


    ¡°What do you see, my son?¡± the air rippled at the speaker¡¯s words.


    Elswith answered immediately, not looking behind him ¡°Dread creatures. Nightmares, fresh from the human realm beyond the north.¡±


    ¡°Humans.¡± The voice which spoke held power; true power. A hand clasped Elswith¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Humans create more monsters than any other species, yet are so weak. Dark dreams plague the world of the human kind, and yet they grow more numerous and heartily than any other.¡±


    Elswith kept his face neutral. His father saw humans like a baker would rats.


    ¡°Chaotic, unpredictable animals. Yet they can work magic of unknown power to a degree that threatens even the rulers of fae.¡± Thunder rumbled and the dread creatures below spasmed in defiance.


    The realm of Fae was divided first into two sides, Sealie and Unsealie. Like the two sides to a coin, both must coexist. Like North and South, each had their own strengths and weaknesses. Part of this involved the geographical locations of the two sides, but part drew from their nature. Seelie Court was well known for being the more benevolent, and the Unseelie Court more malevolent.


    Beyond that, the power is divided again to the King, the Sword Wielders, the Senate, and the Courts. Each Court occupies a territory, and a Lord of Fae is given power and position in exchange for the responsibility and duty to protect their people.


    If not above them in power, at least adjacent were the Senate. Important members of the Fae could take office, and influence and veto individual Courts decisions. A Court could never become a kingdom unto itself. Many Courts¡¯ inner workings were laid bare if they incurred the wrath of the Senate.


    But the Senate¡¯s reign of power was overshadowed by the Swords. The Swords, only thirty-seven left from the elden days, were held by powerful Lords¡¯ governing factions. Elswith¡¯s father held one of the Blades, and with it controlled courts and houses alike; the Red Sword.


    And yet, even the Red Lord paled in comparison to the King himself. The King of the Seelie was an existence beyond the bounds of reality. Only the union of the Swords, the Senate, and the Courts could ever overthrow such a being.


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    The Red Lord sighed, touching his ancient sword, his own old gray eyes staring ahead at an unseen place. ¡°Humans.¡± he muttered again, like a curse. ¡°Even the great and powerful are threatened by the creations of the sleepy, homely humans beyond the North. We should have killed all of them when we had the chance. Should the humans¡¯ creations be left unchallenged, the Realm of the Fae would be destroyed.¡±


    The Red Lord leaned over Elswith¡¯s shoulder, a dark grin spreading across the High Lord¡¯s face. ¡°Kill them.¡±


    ¡°The dread creatures, surely.¡± Elswith clarified. The Law of Fae swirled around them, listening. Any who would work with the magic of the Fae must keep the Law of Fae. To break a vow would be to lose power.


    And it also paid to be clear with what one promised.


    To lie would break the Law of Fae, so from the smallest pixie to the greatest and grandest High Fae, they all must speak the truth, and complete their bargains; yet that did not stop falsehood.


    ¡°Yes, the dread creatures. You are decades from being powerful enough to go to the Human realms. That realm is completely different from the realm of the Fae. Though, regretfully, there are little human settlements here; cropping up like weeds in the Fae realm. You must have seen them when you had that little escapade with the corrupted dragon.¡±


    ¡°I saw.¡± he answered.


    Elswith kept his face neutral, but he couldn¡¯t stop his body from tensing at the gross misinterpretation of his Lordly Father¡¯s phrasing. ¡°Little escapade.¡± Was that not an equivocation meant to conceal the reality of a well and thriving settlement meeting an unjust demise? If one chooses to doom an entire group of cheerful, hardworking residents to the ghastly sight of torn earth, the smashed remains of the community they once treasured and the mounds of the dead and dying, the individual shouldn¡¯t stray from indulging in the gory truth of such details.


    He had seen the destroyed human village, as he and a cadre of other Lordlings arrived, too late to help, only left to seal the corrupted remains.


    The dread creatures below had started to grow agitated. Unless Elswith wished to fight, he would be making his retreat now. The chaos beings yowled and approached, chaos shifting and coiling as they drew nearer, their guttural cries stealing the silence. Elswith tensed, unnerved, but the Red Lord barely glanced at the approaching creatures. Even if all the dread creatures attacked at once, the Red Lord need only lift a single hand to dismantle them.


    The sad truth was humans were weak. Their dark dreams and nightmares could spread and destroy, but the humans themselves were just as vulnerable to the creation of their own malice. Collectively, humans¡¯ dreams together could overthrow monsters, but humans dreamt of dark things. And while their dreams were powerful, their bodies and magic were not. And they were often destroyed.


    ¡°Lordly Father.¡± Elswith said. ¡°The King¡¯s edict was for me to verify the type and amount of dread creatures here. He was clear that he intends to use his enforcers to wipe this group out.¡±


    ¡°My son. To aid is to rule. To lead to is direct. But the footsteps will be my own.¡± The crawling of the Dread Creatures seemed to be hushed as the Red Lord drew in front of the Lordling. ¡°And the second part, I will whisper to you.¡±


    The Red Lord, wielder of the Red Sword and lord over all the courts beneath it, High Fae, ancient of days, and father of Elswith, whispered in Elswith¡¯s ear. ¡°To disobey those above you is to be Lord.¡±


    Elswith¡¯s loyalty to the King was overruled by the loyalty he owed the Red Lord. He tried to bargain for his compliance. ¡°Lordly Father, I¡¯m old enough now. Please, tell me my True Name.¡±


    ¡°My son. You have not given me anything worthy of that. Heirlings have been known to shorten the lifespan of their predecessor in the past. Do you wish to follow those patterns?¡± Lightning flashed above, and cast the world into shades of gray.


    Elswith did not speak. His father was a High Fae, so many magnitudes of power above the common Lords of Fae that the only one the Red Lord need mind was the King of the Fae himself. Even if Elswith had his True Name, he could never harm the Red Lord.


    There was a dark, ruminating chuckle from the Red Lord. ¡°To give me something of worth, kill the dread creatures below. Perhaps it would be enough to earn your name.¡±


    Elswith drew his sword and drew on his authority. Lightning began to crackle along the blade. To kill this many dread creatures would be a challenge for him. He wondered if he fell, would the Red Lord aid him?


    Probably not.


    And just as likely, the Red Lord would not tell Elswith his true name, even if he destroyed all the dread creatures born of chaos perfectly.


    He jumped into the midst of the dread creatures, and started to attack, lightning flashing and thunder deafening as he struck.

 Chapter 2: Lordling Elswith is dead

    The First Day of Summer, three seasons later.


    Names were important. Everyone had several names. Names and titles, indistinguishable at times. What did one do, Daniel wondered in the darkness, when the title had grown so much into you that it was a part of you? What to do when that title is pulled away?


    ¡°Elswith.¡± He muttered his old harbor name. But the name was heavy and dead. It contained no power anymore. ¡°Lordling Elswith is mere memory. All that is left is me.¡±


    Names held power. Literally held power. The realm of fae was a place where words and actions were remembered, and influence and authority were granted to those who completed mighty works and services. The magic of the fae was generated from such things as brave rescues, daring deeds, and completing promises.


    The former heirling laid there, his blue gray eyes open into the darkness. He hoped he had slept, but he doubted it. He wasn¡¯t dreading today. He wanted it to happen already. Let the insults hit him. Let the barbs and the jabs gnaw him already.


    Lordling Elswith, only Heirling of the Great Red Sword, son of the High Fae Red Lord; that name once held power and influence. But, as he had realized over the last month, like a planter with a liner inside, his Lordly Father had been allowed to lift all the influence attributed to that name Elswith, even favors and authority that Elswith had earned independently. Now Elswith was a hollow name.


    The weeks of isolation after his position reassignment had done nothing but make him more and more anxious. The toil and mistreatment had certainly taken a toll on his body, his ash blond hair seemed closer to actual ash than ever before, his skin from pearlescent fair to pale and tired. This was the beginning of the hardships, anyone could take a beating, but who could rise above? The Game would soon begin. The wait was over. Others may shy away from the inevitable, but not Daniel. He had rather a fatalistic look on life. He wanted to live, but if he clung too tightly to life, some of his new ¡°Betters¡± would tear that last thread of hope from him. Therefore, the best approach was to be loose. Find what ground he could lose, find what he needed to keep no matter what, and make sure his former allies never found which was which.


    He arose from the cold quilts into an even colder room. He had had windows before, many windows. He¡¯d never appreciated looking out of them before, but at least he could still close his eyes and imagine the vast forest to the east and the turbulent waters of the ocean to the west. The city swelled south of the castle keep, overgrown from original borders time and time again before the forest again appeared in the distance. He envisioned the mountains far in the distance to the north, pale and shining with eternal snow.


    Daniel looked at the dark room, barely enough magic left in his eyes to make out the shapes of the old furniture and the claustrophobia-inducing alcoves. There were oil lamps centuries old made of metal once thought rare but now common, so long neglected that the oil had congealed into a beast blood-colored rubbery substance. There were old trunks and boxes filled with clutter that made strange shadows when Daniel cast a faint lighting spell the first day of his arrival. The air brought with it a dank musk . The only thing that looked like it had been changed in the last century was a new door, strong, cold and iron. It was the kind of door that could be easily barred from the outside, turning this old servants suite of rooms into a prison.


    Nevertheless, it could only threaten imprisonment. The door had never been barred, but it could. He would be trapped here, but he saw the bigger picture. He could be trapped anywhere. The door being barred or left unlocked made no difference. He bore the real trap inside his body.


    Daniel was his real name. His true name. He learned it In the Realm of Fae, names held power, and they could also be used against you. The very powerful high fae could use your real name to twist your insides, summon you, influence your very thoughts, or place a binding. Daniel felt the terrible binding around his heart. That had been placed with his real name. The other four, one for each limb, were placed with the name Elswith, so at least he had a hope of breaking them.


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    Bindings, like a servant contract, were enacted when someone of much lesser status was employed by someone of a higher status. Most of the time, from what he knew, they were loose and would dissolve by the end of the contract period. His were tight and grotesque. He¡¯d never been a bound servant before, so he was a little unsure about the particulars, but he knew enough magic to realize that his bindings seemed like they were made of iron and thorns. For him to disobey the holders of his bindings would hurt. Considering how mouthy the servants could be, he doubted very much they shared the same binding.


    He went to pegs near the entrance where his clothes hung. He had left them so close to the door on purpose. He retreated further, then sat on one old crate and pulled out his clothing. He had worn many uniforms in his life, but this was the first he would wear of such a station. Daniel started pulling on his socks, thin silken things that were glaringly out of place here in such frigid air. He pulled on the first, then paused before he placed the second.


    His still face twisted as he held the spell pretending to be a sock. ¡°Clever,¡± he muttered, and with what little remained of his magic, he could feel the copious little spells merely pretending to be a sock. Sometime throughout the day, the spell would come undone, and then suddenly thousands of little spiders would crawl out, racing from his boots up into his clothing.


    He considered who would have the motive to change one sock into spiders. That was the game after all. Spiders were one of his pretend weaknesses, that he had only shared with a few ¡°Trusted¡± allies. He could afford to insult those. But it might have a second nature to it. A closer person, more equal in station to his former rank, might be subtly jabbing at him, a taunt saying, ¡°I know this isn¡¯t really a weakness you have, and I know you would find this, and I want you to know that I will find a true weakness¡±. Those people he could not offend, yet he could not allow them to have victory over him.


    Fae games were like that. Even if you win, you lose.


    He considered opponents and motives for several moments more before putting on the second sock. His former subordinates may think he had a dislike for spiders, but they wouldn¡¯t be so bold as to think he couldn¡¯t see the makings of magic. This was an opportunity. He could wear the sock, and be ready to diminish the magic. If the spell was too strong, he¡¯d know that it was a high lordling contesting him. If the magic was too weak, he could pinpoint which of his trusted allies were so petty, and devise a strategy to sabotage them.


    He had no mirror, but his hands knew the actions to pull on his correct garments. He had no attendant. He chuckled. He was now lower in rank than his former valets. He laid over the vestments, the pale blue shirt, the gray vest with copper buttons instead of gems. The breeches that ran straight down his leg like a dagger, meeting over the socks. One of which may turn into an army of spiders if he wasn¡¯t fast enough to stop it.


    He pulled on his outer coat, straightened the lapel, then tied his cravat. It wasn¡¯t the complicated one he preferred, intricate and delicate. Instead, the knot came out looking like a joint of a noose.


    Standing, he fetched his boots. Since the time he had begun dressing to when he went back for his boots, one had been changed to an iridescent purple. He considered the boot carefully as he recognized the rough texture of the magic, and snorted derisively. The high lordlings and the adherents of the court needed minding, but for a low fae to dare mock him was testament of foolishness.


    This insult, he would find and end. He had fallen in rank, but not in quality. If he allowed a mere minion to perceive a victory over the former heir, then Daniel¡¯s life here in servitude until freedom was earned would be misery. He casually dispelled the magic, ripping it from the boot and then he gathered the little bit of formless magic, preparing to disperse into the air. Instead, he changed its direction and absorbed it. He felt the gentle energy join his, and he smiled.


    Today was the day he had lived for, as the last terrible month had come, as he had been stripped of his holdings, each day a torture as they pulled out the magic that had coiled around his bones and veins to be recollected, it had all come down to this. They¡¯d stripped him of his power, but they couldn¡¯t take his experience. They couldn¡¯t take his mind. He would show them. He would bow his head when he needed to bow. He would bite when he needed to bite. Like a stone cutter scoring the lines, he would prepare to break himself where he decided he could break while leaving the essential structure of himself protected.


    He imagined the mountains to the north again, and the danger that would descend from the mountains; the storm that would follow that danger. He needed to escape before that danger grew strong enough to completely swallow him. That danger would darken the horizon before eventually sweeping the Citadel like a force.


    He needed to play the game.

 Chapter 3: Servants have a terrible habit of dying

    Daniel stalked through a long, winding corridor. Grand, if not for the neglect. Wide, if not for the discarded crates and chests that climbed to the ceiling. Stately, if not for the grime.


    This was the Castle Keep, the original home of the first Fae King. It had been left to the servants for hundreds of years as the Citadel grew larger and larger and the Seelie Fae grew more and more powerful. Important Fae had no need of an old, winding, confusing mess of chambers, wings, halls, and random underground tunnels.


    Daniel paused and leaned over the decaying clutter to see a piece of the exposed wall. Long ago, all of the Ruling Seelie Fae would stay at the Castle Keep. These old corridors still bore reliefs and carvings and old faded murals of the eons past. His touch on the old wall revealed a carving of two children holding hands. If this clutter was not in the way, he could have wiped the wall to see the mural progress. Whatever it was depicting, at one point kings from distant lands had gazed upon it for inspiration.


    Now it was blocked from view by crates of junk in a dim passage, undisturbed and forgotten. so worn by time and overwritten by neglect that all the details had faded into obscurity.


    Would his time as the Heirling of the Red Sword be similarly forgotten? Would his allies move on? Would his enemies no longer even plot against him? Would the villages he had protected find a new hero? One more cunning, perhaps? Or would they merely be wiped away before another champion emerged?


    Something moved in the darkness, and something unseen darted between two large towering stacks of clutter. The feeling of many eyes fell on him, and he knew instinctively that something unaffiliated and wild had spied him.


    Daniel withdrew his hand from the relief, and started walking again, as he realized belatedly that he may be considered prey to those staring eyes in the darkness.


    In the beginning of the Citadel, those long generations ago, there were only three structures. The King¡¯s Castle Keep, the Stable, and the Armory. The real problem with these old legacy buildings. The wild nature of the Fae magic, left to rot and stagnate in a confined place, sometimes created unpleasant things. At least this wasn¡¯t the Stable. Servants rarely disappeared from the Castle Keep. Unlike the Stables.


    Elswith would have faced no limitations regarding mere trifflings.


    But his name of Daniel was too new, too fresh, and to underpowered to assume anything yet. He was not yet an official servant. Until then, he would be vulnerable.


    He moved on, not too fast. He had been in too many battles to run. But he also felt so heavy, and thick, and his senses were so¡­different than before, to trust himself in unarmed combat against what lurked in the belly of the Castle Keep.


    He felt the eyes fade as he left the darkened passageway and entered a slightly more functional corridor. The feeling of life was nearer here, the past foot traffic more apparent. The Law of Fae was alive here, though not quite alive and swirling as he was used to.


    He had been in this corridor before, over a decade ago. Some of the majesty still remained here. It was clearly a public space, a corridor connecting several key wings together before getting to the old throne room of the first king. His steward had taken him here, for education. But the experience then was completely different than the current.


    Daniel kept walking, but never encountered another soul. The eyes that he felt had retreated, but he was afraid that without others present, it may become emboldened.


    He considered the possibility that he had not encountered anyone. While he knew he had been stored away in a suite of rooms far from others, as he entered the main corridor, he still heard no one else beside his own steps. Undoubtedly the others who would frequent this corridor had decided to take another passage. Perhaps it was some kind of truce between the servants that no one had access to him before the rest. Perhaps it was an order that came from higher up, to prevent Daniel from forming an alliance with the servants of one faction before the servants of another faction had an opportunity to extend the same kind of twisty covert offer. Or it could be true maliciousness from his Lordly Father, the High Fae and Red Lord that Daniel had dared defy.


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    He needed to get a servant name. Unless he wished the entire Citadel to have hold over him, he needed a new Harbor name. Himself of a season ago would never had believed that he would one day both dread and yet need to get a servant name. How the mighty had fallen.


    One season ago, he could have this hall cleared and beautified if he gave a whisper of his intention to visit the First Fae¡¯s Keep.


    The Castle keep of the first king became housing for the multitude of servants that flowed like the lifeblood of the Citadel And the Fae had many servants. Many, many servants. Despite magic, each estate required the services of hundreds of willing hands. While estates had their own servants, they did not always wish to house them in the Estate itself. And not every estate could afford to have all the extra hands all the time. It also allowed a body of workers to be rented for specific events.


    Of course, it opened the risk of a servant turning spy, if they weren¡¯t one to begin with, but that was part of the game, after all. All servants had the potential to be spies. But one can learn from a spy, so many high lords allowed the Keeps Spies free access to certain regions. A servant can easily become a representative from one lordling to another. Which is why servants may not live long. One cannot kill a high lord, but removing a peculiar favorite of one lord was an effective taunt or tease.


    The servants who survived these ordeals were all adept at playing the game. Or they were new enough not to be killed yet.


    Daniel walked down the corridor, his stomach growling. He didn¡¯t like that sensation. He hadn¡¯t really needed to eat before, when he had his magic. Not the same way. He¡¯d eat, of course, but he hadn¡¯t needed to. He also couldn¡¯t overeat before, because his magic would break down the meal and start to convert the excess to magic. How else do the fae courts lords attend nightly banquets with nine course meals, cakes and desserts and pudding, and meat juicy and fat, and still fit into those skin tight form fitting clothes?


    He tried not to grin. He knew he could still do that, convert food into magic. But it was slow, ineffective, and he also no longer attended such banquets. He wasn¡¯t even fit to be the attendant. Food wasn¡¯t readily available. But there was another reason he did not try to employ this method. They thought he could no longer use such methods, because many lordlings used external spells to accomplish this. This could be of use to him. But if he suddenly gathered power now, they could tell. And they would want to know how he could. No. He would wait.


    He touched the old stones in this corridor. At least they were cleaner, but little care had been taken in the cleaning it seemed. Everything seemed worn after centuries of scrubbing and cleaning. This had been the main section of the keep before, and once been the highlight.


    The first task of today was to be mocked.


    The servants were mostly benign, but opportunity often gives way to cruelty. Others were spies from the other Lordlings, to mock him. Others would wish him no harm, but must not offer friendship or kindness least they make themselves a target.


    Most would watch, many would jeer, select few would bear messages from their lords. Kindness could be trusted least of all, as kindness was so very often a trap.


    He paused outside the door. On his right the relief mural of the first king stood, sword sweeping upwards to the sky representing strength and domination over the world, the other hand bearing a book representing knowledge and wisdom. An owl was carved perching on the old king¡¯s shoulder, and a falcon on the other, representing that regardless of day or night, the king saw all.


    Daniel had been here before, when he was a child. His educator took him to all the historical places in the keep, so he would know his history. The air had been fresh then, with bright lights dangling from the curved ceiling and fresh flowers in vases at even intervals, no doubt they had prepared this old corridor for his arrival. But no efforts had been made this time. The vases were completely gone, and the lighting canes long unused and unpowered.


    If only he was a nobody. Instead, he was a former Heirling of a major faction. Reappearing for the first time. The servants hall would be absolutely full. No doubt he would be given impossible contrary tasks to ensure failure. That didn¡¯t matter. This would show him who pulled whose strings, and who was actually in charge. He may even disregard all the commands he was issued, if he could find who could be ignored. This was his moment to set the tone.


    The Lordling name Elswith was dead and hollow, a weight around his neck. The True Name of Daniel a secret he had never even once whispered aloud, afraid that wisps and shadows would steal it to have domination over him.


    Once he entered that room, he would need to gather his third name, a harbor name that would hide him, a servant¡¯s name. With that name, he would be able to contend with the mightiest of Lordlings, the Senate, the Courts, and even his Lordly Father.


    He just wished he did not know that many servants had a terrible habit of dying when they acted against their betters.

 Chapter 4: Those who Watch, and those who Prey

    The former Heirling stared at the entrance before him.


    All he had was his confidence.


    What a terrible thing, if he died before the Game even began. If any touched him, now before he had even the protection of a Servant¡¯s name and place, all his plans may just disappear. He could simply die.


    He squared his shoulders, then relaxed them, establishing the tone of a casual worker going about a task they had done so many times before they need not even consider the next steps. With his mind centered on what he wanted others to see, he entered the servants hall.


    The noise was intense. The hall was completely full. The hall was the first great hall, and was large enough to comfortability hold thousands over the multi-tiered floors that circled three of the four walls. There were multiple kitchens on each of the balcony levels. Daniel had been in the servant¡¯s keep Hall before, but as a young Lordling delivering a message to the Servant Chamber Master. When he¡¯d been here then, he remembered only the ground floor had been in use.


    Today all five balcony floors were full. The ground floor also appeared less occupied than normal. It made sense, Daniel reasoned, as most would not wish to interact with him, but merely see the fallen Heirling. The large central audience room had been refitted over the centuries, losing many of its ornamental aspects to new renovations that decided that this statue should go where the important people could see it, and that stain glass would be perfect for this tea house, until the old hall of the first king bore more patchwork and ¡°quick fixes¡± like boards sealing the gap where the window once rested, and bear earth where flagstones had been removed. It seemed functional but semi abandoned.


    Daniel entered the main floor, coming from the door where the first king had once entered. The insult was not lost on him. Daniel came out to face the servants and the spies of the high fae, their hangerons, their minions.


    If he had been a nobody, the room wouldn¡¯t have become so deathly silent as the denizens of fae watched him with glowing eyes.


    It hurt. It hurt more than he thought it would. He saw so many strange faces, but he also saw many he knew by name. He saw the servant who had once helped him clean the mud he¡¯d tracked into the white carpet before his minder returned when he was nine. He saw the gardener who once helped him out of a tree when he had tried to hide to avoid lessons, then been left there as punishment by his tutors. He saw the old bloke who would bring special teas from his hometown. He saw Matheus, his former steward, sitting there alone as everyone avoided someone of such high station. Matheus didn¡¯t even acknowledge him.


    Which was wise, because the Game was apparent to everyone today. Daniel entered the vast cavern of a room and purposely controlled where his eyes lingered.


    While the servants of the Citadel gawked at him, trying to see how much he had fallen in rank, Daniel could also use this moment. Who was startled? Those could be written off as safe to ignore. He spotted the livery of house stewards amongst those who were visibly startled. Who was excited? Those could be troublesome, but again anyone so obvious to show excitement was less likely to be a high level confidant and therefore could be put in the watch but take no direct action list. He saw a few he knew to be spies for the great houses among that lot. Who remained the same, not changing their routine as he entered the room? Those were the ones he needed to mind. Those servants and stewards may not be against him, but if they had enough training to not react to the reentry of the former Heirling of the Red Sword, that meant they were dangerous to him.


    He spied those he needed to watch, and his stomach fell slightly as he recognized several high level stewards who had no business to be here arrive. A steward from the O¡¯Tells was present. The Oresgate¡¯s Household representative lingered near a pillar. Standing like a thick scarecrow was a servant from the Walsa Alliance.


    The first lowling who spat at Daniel missed, the wad of spittle landing with a small ¡®thwap¡¯ sound on an old flagstone tile. Daniel kept his shoulders relaxed but hated the sudden movement. He memorized the face of the servant who did it, and knew that he would have to make that unfortunate soul regret the day and the hour that he existed. But his retribution would come later. Daniel couldn¡¯t react now, or else the entire room would turn on him. The entire room would have justification to do so.


    Like a stone disrupting a still pond, conversations and murmurs rippled out, jeers at Daniels, gossip about ¡°the fallen one¡¯s face.¡±, and yet a few more spittle infringed upon Daniel¡¯s vicinity. Someone near him laughed that ¡°the fallen one can¡¯t handle a little spit.¡±. Spitting? Really? He had been prepared for lightning strikes and poison dripping from the ceiling, prepared to rip apart fae glamours and gnaw his way clear of dark and jagged bones of spells. They thought that bodily fluid was enough to actually make a difference to him?


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    Because he also knew that the fae lords insults and attacks hadn¡¯t even started yet. The Game had yet to start. Three matches, to prove his worth. He had to survive. But he couldn¡¯t control when the actual Matches would begin. He needed to legitimize his status as a servant. While being a servant was an astronautical difference from being a Lordling, a servant was at least part of the court.


    If Daniel couldn¡¯t establish that he belonged to the Fae Court, then his enemies could annihilate everything that Daniel had built. Several villages would be destroyed within hours if he failed. So he could not fail. And if he could not establish his name, then Witness would die and the wrongdoings would never be made right.


    He shook his head, purposely bemusedly and deliberately absentmindedly, and headed toward the center of the room. The crowd, mostly made of lowlings and the lowest of the servants, parted for him, so that he didn¡¯t even need to brush shoulders with anyone. Not because they respected him, he was sure, but because no one wanted to be close to him when the opening salvo of the Lords and Lordlings began. They wanted to stay out of danger as much as possible, no doubt.


    Daniel watched them, and firmed his resolve. He also would not remain a servant. He needed to survive, win the Game that was going to befall him, establish his identity to ensure continued support over the rural places. And then once those impossible things were accomplished, he would break free of the bonds on him and escape.


    This was the first king¡¯s hall, but for centuries had been used for housing the servants and key household staff. Many old chambers had been turned into massive dormitories, and the great hall itself was retrofitted to serve as an eating hall, common area, and also a small administrative area was added, with half walls and bookcases on the old area where the dais of the first king once rested. While the administration buildings were the brains, where they compiled and completed paperwork, this little office was the mouth and the hands directing and dispatching thousands of servants. Orders were given out. Dozens of office workers would handle the front line here, and hundreds more in the actual administration buildings would handle the planning and completing.


    Daniel would be given his first orders here.


    Of course, if his Lordly Father had wanted to help his son to have even a smidge of privacy, he would have allowed Daniel to register and receive orders directly from the administration building. But that would take away the spectacle that would unfold here. His Lordly Father wanted to punish him, wanted to make an example out of him. Wanted everybody to have a clear view of what had happened to the next heir of one of the Houses, and that he was heir no longer.


    And it also allowed his enemies a chance to remember and look upon him. To remind the entire Citadel of the Fae courts of this upstart of a lordling and his proper punishment.


    Daniel ascended up the dais steps, to the clustered desk. There were about ten large desks that faced out, with around thirty tables behind, piled with documents and reems of paper. Daniel could count on that behind every desk held a spy. Not every day, but today everyone would be sending their fingers and claws over this matter. It wasn¡¯t just arrogance on his part, but merely a fact. Even if a faction had nothing to gain from attending to this matter, they would have to show up, even if only to create a smoke screen of misdirection to disguise their true aims and purpose.


    He approached the center desk. He felt the fae bindings on him relax slightly as he had completed part of his orders. The spies behind the front desk shifted. Many of them had been in the ¡°startled¡¯ category, they had incorrectly assumed he would run out the clock, and only report at the last possible moment. These people he could listen to them, or not, and not fear terribly for the reactions of their factions. He may even be able to be defiant and disobedient. Daniel had come early. They had set the maximum deadline, but Daniel hadn¡¯t let the clock run at all.


    ¡°Presented as called.¡± Daniel said, unconsciously shifting into his speaking voice he used for addressing audiences.


    While many were startled, he did note several were not startled. He didn¡¯t know which factions these administrators held loyalties to. The white haired Strifen, all long limbs and twisty joints, he would hazard a guess of the Castalas faction, given the proximity of the Strifen homeland and the Castalas house foundation. The dark eyed Water nymph he would guess belonged the Lord of Pacicern, given the current army that reported to Pacicern. The Dew Wing, with her wings translucent and ethereal, who gleamed and seemed close to a highborn fae, he just had a lingering suspicion that this female reported to Mical, although Daniel had no idea why he considered this.


    These were the three to watch.


    Things about the fae game were fair, to an extent. Things were done in threes. Punishments, praise, purpose, rewards, retribution. Each one action allowed one to receive three opportunities, or dangers if your luck was ill fated, as Daniel¡¯s had been this past cycle.


    Daniel stood before the center front desk, as though he were a normal servant, and continued his first public words since that disastrous tournament.


    ¡°Reported as ordered, one humble servant and devout supporter to further the brilliance of this kingdom.¡±

 Chapter 5: The Clerk and the Girdle

    The clerk behind the desk was probably the only normal worker left there today. No matter how good your spies were, it was hard to replace completely the experienced workers who knew the routine and keep up a fa?ade. ¡°Name?¡± the worker said, and leaned heavily on the binds of contract around Daniel.


    ¡°My name is private, known only to my lord.¡± Said Daniel, with his mouth relaxed. Did they think he was stupid? He had fallen in rank, but not intelligence. No one could publicly ask for your given name.


    The clerk smirked offhandedly, as if it was just a bit of fun. Then the clerk pushed at the bindings around Daniel. Until Daniel was assigned his work, this worker held some power over him. Daniel felt it pressed into him so strongly and sharply that it was like an embrace of thorns around a limb, there and jagged but painful and tearing as he attempted to pull free.


    Daniel had to fight to not grind his teeth. These bindings hurt. He reached out with his senses, just a tiny bit, and found loose magic on the worker. Daniel tried to understand what the purpose of the magic was, before he realized that this clerk was using magic as a girdle. He was using magic to hold in his sizable paunch. Of all the vain, wasteful, and uneducated uses of magic. Why was this clerk using magic to appear thin, when he could convert the excess to magic and be thin and have more magic?


    Besides, this wasn¡¯t a bit of harmless fun. Daniel needed to survive. Bored clerks had no business messing around in a life and death matter.


    ¡°Not as spry as you used to be, huh?¡± Daniel said, gently, gently tugging at the girdle spell. Anyone with even a little any training, especially a former Lordling Heiring of a major house, could do the same. He wasn¡¯t revealing too much, was he? Can¡¯t give it away.


    Because Daniel needed to keep his secrets.


    The smirk faded from the clerk¡¯s face, replaced by shock, and him reaching a hand to cover his stomach, his shirt pressed at the seams already. A slight groaning of a seam about to give way.


    Daniel withdrew his power in an instant and let the room murmur in the implications. Couldn¡¯t actually damage the clothes.


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    The room was split into different groups of murmurs. A fair number appeared to have no idea what had just transpired. ¡°What happened? Did something magicy happen?¡±


    Others remused at the clerk¡¯s incompetent handling. ¡°Old Giles tried to treat a lion as a kitten and got popped in the nose. Serves him right.¡±


    Still others tittered ¡°I thought it would be more exciting. I skipped eating the good food at the House for that?¡±


    And yet others calculated the implications. ¡°It wasn¡¯t high magic¡­I suppose Lordling Elswith is truly done for. Disappointing.¡±


    The important people made no sounds.


    The most important people he couldn¡¯t tell. They could be hiding in any group, seamlessly blending in. They could pretend to be fools, appear disinterested, feign incompetence. Anything. The true experts Daniel knew he couldn¡¯t catch. So he wasn¡¯t going to try. It would waste his energy.


    The clerk gulped audibly. Daniel made eye contact with the three workers behind the desk he felt were important. Despite themselves, all of them seemed to roll their eyes and criticize the hapless worker. One even grinned wolfishly at Daniel, a moment of comradeship leading into the threat of danger.


    The clerk swallowed, and spoke quickly. ¡°Apologies, my lordling¡­.¡± To Daniel¡¯s direction, his face contorted and wild. ¡°I did what I should not dare¡­¡±


    ¡°This humble servant kindly refutes any apologies.¡± Daniel said, his voice even and measured. He couldn¡¯t start this morning by racking up debts with those people who were now his betters. Debts like that were best in the dark, quietly gathered, without others knowing. ¡°This humble one is too low in rank to suffer such a large gift, as it would crush him.¡±


    The clerk swallowed again, and smoothed out his face. His eyebrow twitched wildly, and so did the seams of his clothes as the magic girdle resumed its work, but the clerk continued with the procedure. ¡°This office finds it inconvenient to call this servant without a name. What name might be given as Harbor?¡±


    Names were powerful. Very powerful. Daniel was his true name. Elswith had been his Lordling name. Now he needed a new, third name. One that would be walked over, and used to beat him. One that would be established as a servant, thus legitimating his status as a member of court so his accomplishments as Elswith would stand. One that he would use to build power secretly, slip free of his bindings and escape.


    The Game stirred then. The Game ethereal and hopeful. The Law of Fae was attending at this moment, ready to record the name as well. Daniel would have a new title to build, a new cup to pour water in.


    A branch could be broken off in the storm. It could connect two paths. A branch could also bear new hope and new life.


    ¡°Call me Branch.¡±

 Chapter 6: Chaos Birds and the One who Keeps them

    Daniel arrived for his first shift as a page for the Sky Court. A page.


    Lordling Elswith had been well regarded in several areas of study, including a keen understanding of mathematics, a smidge of understanding of the ancient language, and a first hand witness with valuable knowledge of dread beasts and prevention tactics. And they made him a page, the universal errand boy. If he had cared, he would have been offended.


    Obviously their aim was to humiliate and discredit him. Funnily enough, they could have actually gotten some use from him. Showed the force their displeasure. He spoke several languages, could craft high level magic, could construct glamours and create armor.


    Instead, he was sent to fetch quills. From live geese. Oh well, at least the field the geese roamed in was out in the open. He couldn¡¯t see his mountains to the north, though. The Citadel Walls blocked the horizon. The goose boy was instructed not to help him.


    This was the first round of punishment. A page could be ordered by anyone. Even an eleven year old goose boy. Who tried to do pranks, but seemed completely harmless. But what if the goose boy was pretending? How could Daniel really know?


    ¡°No one takes me seriously!¡± the child whined. Ah, that was how.


    ¡°That is often true when one is immature.¡± Daniel replied, avoiding cow droppings as he walked.


    The child chuffed, offended. He didn¡¯t remain offended for long. ¡°How come you got to pick your harbor name? When I started working here, my mom set up my harbor name. It¡¯s boring. Branch is so cool. Did you really fight dread things? What was that like? What are Dread things?¡±


    Little brat pulled at Daniel¡¯s bindings. Literally anyone could order a page around. Daniel couldn¡¯t wait until he completed this duty today. ¡°Dread things are creatures that are born from chaos, often from human realms.¡± Daniel was experimenting with how the bindings would compel him. With enough practice, he hoped he would be able to dance around subjects he disliked and mislead conversations. The never ending inane questions served this purpose well.


    Daniel saw a long feathered goose. A gander. He gave chase.


    The goose boy called after him. ¡°Careful! That one bites.¡±


    Daniel acknowledged the advice, but this was the first time he¡¯d been able to experiment with his body after losing much of the strength he had. He wanted to understand his limits, now that he wasn¡¯t a Lordling.


    He chased the goose, feeling his limbs slow and unresponsive. The gander flapped at him, splaying its wings wide. Daniel had had never studied goose warfare. But it was aggressive and honking. It bite him. Daniel could have blocked, he had enough instincts and experience to dodge the fluttering beak.


    But he didn¡¯t, because he wanted to know his limits.


    And was rewarded a beaky pinching bite on his forearm and a large red welt.


    Well, at least he knew he could survive a goose attack. Daniel fluttered away, using the light steps and flowing motions of his training to scurry away and dodge further attacks of the goose. He returned to the goose boy, while the gander honked and strutted arrogantly. Daniel decided he¡¯d try to eat that goose before he escaped. Seemed fair.


    He assessed his body. He was stronger than he anticipated. Good. He was worried he¡¯d be much weaker than an average low level solider. But even without all of his power, he could still contend with threats of Geese. The Unseelie court, Ria one of his old Cadre had told him, called Geese a different name: Ducks of Chaos and destroyers of Peace.


    At least these Geese were non-magical. Probably. He wouldn''t have dared being so bold if they were the magic kind.


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    The goose boy was waiting for him, with more benign questions. ¡°So the dread come from Chaos? Like darkness magic? And the Unseelie Realm?¡±


    ¡°Only the dread spawn from chaos. Darkness magic is one of the greatest healing magics, and light magic can be the most deadly. The stories tell it wrong. And the Unseelie Realm isn¡¯t evil. My mother is¡­¡±


    Daniel paused and frowned. He was about to say that his mother was from the Unseelie Realm. But that wasn¡¯t true, was it? It had never been true. She had been so removed from him that he hadn¡¯t really processed the loss of her.


    He had thought himself grown, but this was showing him that he was still very young inside.


    He gathered up his sorrow and fueled it to his resolve. He couldn¡¯t crumble here.


    ¡°The Unseelie court is like the magnetic opposite to the Seelie Court. Opposite, but not backward. They have a citadel and courts, just like we do. You know the Courts of the Seasonal Divide will gain power as their season comes, and be the weakest exactly at the opposite end, like Summer will be weak during winter. It¡¯s like that, with the Seelie and the Unseelie, one will be stronger than the other for different things and at different times, but it balances out.¡± Daniel frowned. He had given too much knowledge there, he could have shortened his answer and the bindings would not have enacted. Good to know.


    The goose boy appeared a little confused. ¡°Where are the vampires? Are they dread things?¡±


    Daniel walked away, and began to look for feathers that had fallen out. He saw the huge Grand Stable at the far end of this series of pastures. He needed to return to the Sky Court soon, and needed to make a showing. And while he did have several feathers from his battle with the Gander. None were quills, because feathers needed to be processed and carefully cut to become quills. This was an impossible fools errand after all.


    But the little goose boy¡¯s question was still pulling on his bindings, and Daniel didn¡¯t completely mind explaining trivial facts. He looked over to the small boy. ¡°The Vampires council has returned to the outer realm. They aren¡¯t dread things. Vampires are our allies, most of the time. They suffer more to dread things than the Fae Courts. Also, don¡¯t believe everything you hear about them. And they don¡¯t drink blood.¡± Daniel added that last comment when the Goose Boy looked like he was about to ask.


    ¡°Oh, really? Then why¡­¡± and the child continued to blather.


    As Daniel romped through the pasture with the eleven year old pestering behind him asking seemingly benign questions, it allowed him time to reflect and gave an opportunity to practice. He left the answering of the questions to his instincts as his mind wandered.


    He thought the encounter at the Servant¡¯s Keep went well.


    After his new servant name of Branch was recorded, the other workers came to issue his work orders. He was given dozens of assignments, most of them conflicting. But the three important people behind the desk had actually helped him by refuting the other operatives rights to use him during this initial period. Whether this was good or ill, Daniel did not know.


    He had made enemies in the past, but also allies. Would any stand with him now? Could any dare? Or would they fear that they would lose their standings, as Elswith had.


    He had received three permanent duties. There may be other duties assigned, in addition, but these had precedence.


    Page of the Sky Court, his current duty. Attache to the O¡¯Tells, pending review. And Stable Hand of the Grand Stable.


    Today, he would work all three duties. In the future, he assumed he would be attached to a specific duty each day. But he also trusted that they would use the duties to try to hinder him as the Game began in full.


    He had five bindings, but only three were put in play. All five would enact if he disobeyed, it seemed, but obeying only lessened the burden on the individual binding, and not all. Dangerous, because he couldn¡¯t work to free himself from the bindings unless it was put in play. But he laughed, because he couldn¡¯t ever really escape from the binding the Lord of the Red Sword held on his heart. His Lordly Father, high fae. Daniel had the enemies he had now because of how the Lord of the Red Sword had manipulated him.


    It was almost pleasant out here, with the open air and the chaos birds. He was able to train himself so not be caught off guard by the bindings compelling. He needed to get used to this. So far, he was learning well how to handle any arising questions.


    Until the Goose Boy asked an idle question that struck fear in his heart: ¡°What about dragons? Tell me everything.¡±


    An order was given.


    An order Daniel was unable to follow. In his heart, the mention of the dragon brought pain more terrible than the tearing of the bindings.


    Trauma stays, apparently. He could see the dead and dying again, the trail of destruction. The bindings tried to force him to tell the child what was before his mind.


    He would not explain it. The grief in his heart raged: Why had he not been faster then? Why had the smell of blood remained after so long.

 Chapter 7: A Bit of Honesty may kill you one day

    An order was given.


    An order Daniel was unable to follow. In his heart, the mention of the dragon brought pain more terrible than the tearing of the bindings.


    The Servant Branch refused an order.


    Overcome with grief and regret and fear, he could not re-frame his mindset. If he had just a moment''s awareness, he could have deflected the question. But the trauma so great that he felt his chest seize and throat tighten.


    It meant that when the punishment of disobedience was enacted, it caught him squarely. He had lost his chance to deflect or subvert.


    And so Branch was punished.


    He remained standing, but not because of his strong will or his training or his experience.


    Branch remained standing because it hurt too much to even crumple to the floor. His legs locked in place as an electric power seemed to tear and burrow inside each limb near the bindings. But the worst was around his heart. The binding placed on his True Name of Daniel arched up and raked, like claws through gauze. The twisting and unruly nature of the citadel still toyed with him, like a cat forbidden to eat a particular mouse but still considering it. At least he was more established than when he had no harbor name at all. The name Branch took the blows like a shield. The bindings were on Elswith''s name, and Branch was a different person in the eyes of the Law of Fae.


    His Lordling name before let him coil and snake through the enchantments that flowed like a snarling river. A servant¡¯s name was different. He felt more protected, but held in place. Before, he had navigated like an otter through water, still in danger but fast and sleek. Now, it felt as if he was trapped in a wooden box or a barrel lost in sea, dry inside but unable to change the direction or switch the current. It did keep him mostly safe from the water, kept him from sinking into the raging torrents of magic. But also kept him from maneuvering.


    And the punishment, was like a giant wave crashing overhead. He could not get out of the way.


    Pain from the disobeyed order, stole his breathe.


    Maybe...next time he should just find a way to disobey without actively defying his bindings, he thought dazedly.


    The child of course noticed his reaction. "Branch, are you well? Did you die? Hey...."


    The pain ended, because a goose boy had so little authority that the Law of Fae seemed to grow bored.


    Daniel held out a hand, not wanting the goose boy to touch him. "If I am to continue to allow you to spy on me, you must never order me again." Daniel said, feeling the husk of emotion enter his voice. He hated revealing he was vulnerable, but he could hardly pretend to be anything else. The deaths he had seen a year ago still troubled him, but since he lost his power, the grief seemed closer still. This was an opening. He was not Elswith any longer. Anyone could be a danger to him now.


    "I''m not...spying..." The Law of Fae detected a lie in the boy. The boy had so little power that it would hardly matter. But he would never acquire power if he continued to lie. The Seelie Court was not kind to those inept in its power. "I...am just to tell my mother''s friend, who won''t tell anyone."


    "Do not lie. And do not believe a clear lie either." Daniel said, and sat down. Already the day seemed so long, and it had barely began.


    "I hurt you..." the boy said, shooing away a stray goose who then nipped at the boy''s legs.


    "Don''t apologize either." Why did no one teach children anything?


    "I just...wanna know about dragons." The goose boy sat down, looking upset. "Honestly, just a little bit."


    The mere mention of the word left Daniel fighting the urge to look for cover. He had never fought a true, living, and breathing dragon before. This was evident as he was still alive. But what Elswith had fought was the mere rotting bones of a centuries old dragon. A corrupted corpse.


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    Presently, Daniel had to fight not to lose his stomach as he remembered the carnage. The moment of fear, when he and his Circle''s own lives had been at risk as inky blackness had swallowed up all light. When Elswith had realized that perhaps they too would fall prey to the corrupted corpse of the dragon. Daniel could still feel the terror in his chest of the last attack of the brute had crashed as Lordling Elswith and a dozen other lordlings during their own final disparate attempts to seal it. They had joined hands with the remaining natives to finally fell the beast, sealing it down to hopefully more permanent eternal rest.


    The shadow of the dragon had devastated an entire region because Lordling Elswith, Heirling of the Red Sword, had been too slow to realize the threat, had wasted too much time, then rushed in without being ready, meaning more had to die due to his numerous errors?


    Daniel gathered himself and looked to the mountains North. He could not see them, only the leering wall rising to meet the sky. He must break through his trauma so others would not use it against him. He looked back to the earth and found a few fallen feathers, long enough that he could present them. He decided he¡¯d keep the one¡¯s he plucked from warrior goose. ¡°What about dragons?¡± his stomach churned at his own speaking of it. He must overcome it.


    The goose boy beamed with excitement. ¡°Can you tame them?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Daniel replied, his voice flat.


    ¡°But what if¡­¡±


    ¡°No. Dragons don¡¯t care about the little things like us. They barely acknowledge the Void attacks. Little things like the Dread beasts are nothing to them. How could any fae, short of the king himself, dare to tame such a magnificent creature? No taming.¡± He was comforting himself. Dragons may be so powerful that even their fallen may devastate the land and its people, but similarly they simply did not care. He felt the first break in the cloud of trauma. If asked, he would not be caught unawares again.


    ¡°But I wanna ride a mighty steed, like the First King.¡±


    Daniel considered what to do next: The boy had hurt him carelessly. But he had exposed a weakness to Daniel before anyone more powerful could try the same reverse scale that Daniel had not considered. Daniel would not force his way through the trauma, but he could shield it and not allow it to be exploited. He would offer something more...attainable and realistic for the young Goose Boy.


    ¡°Be a griffin Knight. Dragons are too big to really offer an exciting ride.¡± He told a small misstatement. Griffins could fly into battle, do loop d loops, and aid in search and rescue missions while maneuvering through the air. Probably more along the lines of what this child was looking for.


    Dragons were too powerful to even need to preform those actions. So why would they ever try? Dragons could fly through the realms and worlds. But he justified that that wouldn¡¯t be more exciting to the boy. Besides, the boy would undoubtedly die quickly if he ever approached a dragon with even the stray thought of trying to put a saddle on its jeweled hide.


    He looked at the tallest, and narrowest, building in the Citadel. The clock tower. The clock at the top was even visible in the city outside and below the Citadel Keep. The clock proclaimed it was still early morning. Barely seven hours past midnight, by the clocks telling. As that was the time piece of the Time Court, Daniel trusted it to be accurate. He separated the two piles of long geese feathers, with the larger stack from those that had fallen.


    He had a teasing of plan and hid away the four long feathers he had taken in conflict from the Gander. The others, around thirty in different states of disrepair, he organized and discarded more than half.


    Daniel heard hissing from the gander again. He rubbed the sore spot on his arm in remembrance. Goose in gravy. Could be good.


    ¡°Time to go. This Humble servant Branch offers the thanks of the Sky Court to the Goose Boy watching Geese.¡± He spoke formally. The game and the Law of Fae both listened when things were different and debilitate. He had practiced enough to engage in conversation with his bindings. Few would be as bothersome as a bored child. It could hardly be worse than what had already happened.


    The goose boy shifted. ¡°What am I supposed to do now?¡±


    ¡°Report back to whoever pays you for spying and tell them you saw a goose bite me.¡±


    ¡°No one pays me for spying. Do people pay money for that? How much money?¡±


    This ignorance didn¡¯t completely exonerate the child, but Daniel at least felt he had established a sociable if tedious place to see the sky.


    ¡°A word of advise." Daniel said, pausing.


    "About dragons?"


    "In future, do not tell those you watch that you are spying."


    "I was just being honest. Mother says if I''m not honest, I will never get stronger."


    "Speak no falsehood and honor all promises. The Law of Fae will grow within you then. But ''honesty'', in and of itself?" Daniel resumed walking toward the old stone wall. "A little bit of Honesty will get you killed."

 Chapter 8: A Wise Servant Completes Fools Errands Diligently

    Daniel, still holding the Servant name of Branch like a shield against the watchful eyes and roaming wild magic, left the field''s boundary of aged stone walls. Like crossing seven leagues in a single step, before the seat of Seelie Court power had appeared far away, but by stepping outside the old stone wall, he found himself back in the heart of the Citadel.


    The Citadel moved. It moved buildings, regions, zones. Few knew it could move as well as Daniel. The Citadel had a way of grouping different groups together, better positions nearer the Palace for the Courts on the rise, further away for the Courts on the decline. Even more than that, the Citadel had many different regions, created for its vastly different inhabitants. There was a region where snow always fell and the ice never thawed. There was a region where the sun never rose, while there was also a region where the sun never set. Some regions were underwater, while others were bone dry and any foreign travelers that remained too long would soon share that fate. Some regions lava flowed glowing and hot, and the air was hot enough to burn the unwary.


    The Citadel was not a safe place to wander haplessly.


    But despite the danger, it was the Capital for the Seelie Fae.


    And despite the Citadel¡¯s possibility of moving, the Sky Court¡¯s estates had not moved to some strange and unreachable location. Daniel would have no choice but complete his duty.


    He returned to the Sky Court. The building was like an overturned teacup, with little clinks and cracks for windows. The outside was smooth except for the doors and windows. Inside was a wide variety of sections for different purposes. There were no stairs inside the Sky Court, instead the floor sloped upward around the inside perimeter, leading to different floors gradually, until it spiraled to the top and led onto the roof, where thick grass grew, with twisty vines draping over low boughed tree, gentle blooms glowing slowly. The roof of the Sky Court was often crowded with artists and sculptors, lingering to craft. The green space was also used to hold events, so Daniel had been there before. But he had been there before as Elswith.


    Coming to the Sky Court now as a Servant was a very different experience.


    When he had arrived here, first thing from the Servant¡¯s Keep this morning, he had been ordered by a Steward of the Sky Court to retrieve a Quill from a living goose. Now he was returning, only thirty minutes later. Once he returned and entered the servant¡¯s corridor, the Steward sent him to the Green Space, the garden and lawn at the very top of the overturned teacup. Daniel also found that the Sky Court did have stairs, but those were only for the servants. The stairs for the servants were tight and small, but so crowded that they had to take turns, allowing the servants at the top floors to descend, before they allowed those waiting on the bottom floors to ascend.


    Daniel had to wait. He was also challenged at every floor to identify himself. ¡°This servant is Branch, newly made page. On errand.¡±


    He was also held back, several times, while they verified this. He almost smirked. Childish, but effective in creating busy work.


    At long last, Daniel reached the green space. The blue sky was warm, but the company was so much more unpleasant than the honking of geese, chaos birds incarnate though they be.


    There was a group of enforcers training in the Green Space today. Bold. Everyone knew different branches of the enforcers were more or less bought out by certain powerful families. But while it was widely known, it was not widely spoken about. And almost never openly displayed.


    This was an insult to the King.


    Not that Daniel didn¡¯t oppose insults to the King. But he just hoped that the King¡¯s counterattack would exclude the innocent this time.


    Daniel observed the group training. There were several officers present, but for the most part the squadron consisted of rank and file fae, the foot soldiers, the first to die in any attack. Daniel had assessed that he possessed a nearly equal strength to that earlier when he fought the goose, but he still didn¡¯t really understand his own limitations now.


    The enforcers continued their training, but one of the instructors removed himself and stood before Daniel.


    Lord Fredar, knight captain of the enforcers and also a member of the Walsa alliance. One of the Heirs to the Sky Court. He had been contemporaries with Elswith once. Lord Fredar had only ascended to full Lord but recently. Lordling Elswith and Lordling Fredar, despite the age difference, had contended several times. Elswith had not won them all, but the last time they had contended had ended in Elswith¡¯s favor. And that had been after Lord Fredar had ascended to Lord. The newly minted Lord had challenged too soon, his power too new and raw, and a practiced and disciplined Lordling Elswith had taken advantage of those failings.


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    Lord Fredar had never forgiven that insult, but he could do little to Lordling Elswith, the difference in position had removed many counter attacks. A Lord securing victory over a Lordling was a natural occurrence, while an upstart lower rank Lordling coming triumphant was something even High Fae had remarked and praised Elswith.


    Lord Fredar''s only option had been waiting for Elswith to become a Lord also, then try to regain his lost reputation.


    But then...Lordling Elswith had gambled everything on one single game, and when he lost, instead of backing down, he had instead went forward, at the cost of his power and position for a chance at freedom. If Daniel won, he would be legend. If he lost, his fall from grace would be permanent. And his new "Betters" would continually make use of it.


    Daniel did not react as Lord Fredar approached him.


    ¡°Page, report.¡± His old adversary ordered.


    Clear mind. Daniel had earned his True Name now. Even without the power Elswith used to have, it would be worth it if he could grow the Authority of his True Name. ¡°This page reports that he has completed his duties faithfully and efficiently.¡±


    ¡°The humble page insists that all tasks were completed with diligence, despite this late hour of the day?¡±


    Daniel fought not to gesture at the Time Court¡¯s massive clock in the distance that displayed the time as half past eight in the morning.


    ¡°Page Branch.¡± And Fredar smiled ¡°Where are the quills you were ordered to retrieve?¡±


    The group around him snickered. This was a game where Daniel couldn¡¯t win. Not really. Because it was technically possible to get quills from geese, provided one could treat the plucked long feathers from the rump, those feathers needed to be finished and treated before they became quills, dried carefully and cut. And without proper magic and understanding the finer points, was Daniel unable to snap his fingers and do it instantly.


    This had been a fools errand all along. Daniel had known it too. But he still kept the four ganders feather hidden underneath his sock running along the inside of his calf. Not the sock that threatened to turn into spiders. The other one.


    ¡°This page has followed the instructions as ordered.¡± He said. The game swirled and muttered. It didn¡¯t know whether Daniel was at fault or not. It was still deciding. While the game ruminated and thought, Daniel offered the exposed bundle of feathers. He was attempting to complete a fool''s errand, but he was not foolish. There would be no fault found with him.


    The Enforcers gathered closer, their lose training forgotten. Not that it seemed very serious either. Daniel had watched them ''spar'' earlier, and he knew from how they held their blades that the attacks were weak, and they were unfocused.


    Fredar chuckled. He reached to take the feathers. ¡°And yet, these are not quills.¡± He held up a single feather to the light, as if to examine it.


    ¡°I have yet to find a goose that grows quills premade.¡± Daniel responded.


    There was a certain ¡®oooh¡¯ sound from the enforcers, all of them having stopped their training to observe.


    Fredar smiled. Then thunder struck, but it must have been Lord Fredar''s hand striking at Daniel. Striking at, but not quite reaching.


    That was why Daniel did not die.


    The strike was fast, like lightning from the sky, traveling nearly instantaneously. The power of a Lord of Fae was a magnitude greater than Lordling, let alone a servant. Even if he had still been Lordling Elswith, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to stop that strike. He wouldn''t have died, should it hit him. But as a Servant, without the Authority and Influence he once held, if that strike were to fall, he would most assuredly die.


    But the power behind that strike was canceled and dissolved.


    What had saved Servant Branch from Lord Fredar''s strike was the Game. Being a servant was dangerous, working around who could destroy a hapless worker with a sneeze. But there were also certain protections. The Law of Fae demanded balance, and the Game was enacted whenever balance was broken. While servants were unable to maneuver the same way through the twisty game, they also had certain hard protections, especially to a new Lord who too strongly and straightforwardly attacked a servant without provocation.


    Well...without too much provocation.


    The Game shifted and canceled Lord Fredar¡¯s attack, and all that landed on Daniel¡¯s sternum was a weak fist of an slopy punch. Daniel even liked to imagine that there was a cracking of the wrist due to improper technique.


    ¡°This Page Branch was too forward. Apologies.¡± Daniel said, and bowed his head politely. There, balanced. The Lord was angered, but moved too hastily. The Servant Page too mouthy, but seemingly apologized.


    The class system had its purpose. Lord Fredar was much more powerful. But he couldn¡¯t directly strike at Branch, because Branch was a servant.


    Lord Fredar grinned, not annoyed at all. ¡°It seems that the rumors are true. Lordling Elswith is dead.¡±


    He gestured for the enforcers to come nearer. For the most part, this unit was the rank and file fae, mostly lowlings and midlings, fae from outside the Citadel and with almost no influence.


    ¡°Then, Page Branch, could you please assist with our drills this morning?¡±

 Chapter 9: Squire Branch

    Lord Fredar grinned wickedly at Daniel, his last command thrumming through the Law of Fae.


    Branch had been ordered to assist in their drills. At Lord Fredar''s command, Daniel¡¯s bindings enacted. The four bands around his limbs hummed, but the one around his heart remained silent. No punishment, for he had not defied it in his heart. A page could be ordered by anyone, but one of the heirs of the Sky Court was not just anyone but the main one. The orders from Lord Fredar would be much harder to disobey.


    Daniel nodded. ¡°How could I say no.¡± Serious, how could he say no and get away from here?


    A Lowling threw a baton to Daniel''s feet. "Pick it up." he said.


    "I do not wish to be struck."


    "Any mewling squire child can participate in a drill." Lord Fredar said, enjoying his victory.


    Daniel''s years of training was all that kept him from smiling. Lord Fredar had just called him a squire, and not a page. It was a small, imprecise word. One that Daniel would use to weaken the Sky Court''s bindings. "I will do as the Knight Commander instructs." Because Knight Commanders instructed squires.


    The lowlings and midlings grinned maliciously. Though low in the fae echelon ranking they were still more powerful than Daniel currently. And there was little that could prevent those in the same class from attacking. A Lord could not strike a servant, but a lowling fae was on the same playing field


    He just had to survive this season. Let Autumn come again.


    Because the attacks certainly did.


    The first strike from the lowling came. It was strange, and Daniel moved his arm to block it hesitantly. His time with the goose proved valuable, however, as he was becoming acquainted with moving his body with so much less Authority. There was no magic behind his movements, but the muscle remained and remembered.


    A loud ''clack'', as Daniel blocked the first strike. The strike was heavy, but the angle of attack poor. Daniel''s block was perfectly angled, and soon after another clack was heard as the lowling''s baton was sent crashing to the ground, Daniel''s strike knocking it free from the lowling''s hand.


    "You, lowling." Lord Fredar said, "Whatever your name was, you dare attack in my name that poorly?"


    "Beggin the Lord''s pardon."


    Lord Fredar''s eyes seemed uninterested in the apology. He waved an uncaring hand. "Go in the corner and assume the pose of repentance. Stay there while you think of what you did wrong."


    Daniel looked over to which corner of the open air yard Lord Fredar indicated. There was a pavilion there, with several groups holding their arms stretched out. Sweat trickled down their brows and their arms shook. The lowling bowed, but worry was etched on his face as he moved to join them.


    "Let''s try a midling. The one with the green...." Three fae with green hair started to move forward but froze at Lord Fredar''s reprimand. "Not you, the other one. With the hat." The group shifted until a tall midling wearing a green hat pointed to himself. "Yes you,"


    "Marrin, son of..." the midling began.


    "Yes, yes. Marrin whatever your face. Go get the baton."


    Marrin ran off to find the baton.


    "Do it right. In fact, everyone, find your equipment. It is training time, is it not?"


    An eruption emerged as the lowlings and midlings scurried to retrieve their equipment. Two even ran into each other. It seemed as though they thought something was chasing them.


    In the chaos, Daniel found himself standing by Lord Fredar by habit. "You don''t know their harbor names, do you?" Daniel said.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    In that moment of watching the lowlings and midlings panic, Lord Fredar shrugged. "It''s a bother. I don''t keep them long enough for it to matter." Lord Fredar said. "So hard to find good help these days. I''m sure you were the same."


    Daniel felt another separation between himself and Fredar. Elswith had spent much of his time memorizing and remembering every single name, favor, and debt. The Law of Fae was helpful, but one had to spend enough time using it to be able to feel the meaning of its flow. Elswith had. Then again, Elswith had always been weaker than his opponents. He had overcome them with determination, resolve, and craftiness. And simple facts to learn people''s harbor names to collect on favors later.


    In hindsight, Daniel should have realized he was different from the other Lordlings a lot sooner than he had.


    Troubled by his own failings, Daniel shrugged, and moved back to the center of the field. The grass was closer to blue than green, and seemed to long for the sky overhead.


    Marrin, the midling with the green hat arrived. He was significantly taller than Daniel, like a shadow of a mountain overcast above a weary traveler. Daniel corrected his grip on the baton, as his opponent did likewise. "Assume position. And start!" Lord Fredar commanded, sitting down.


    The midling moved to attack.


    Daniel raised his baton, the wooden grip stinging in his hands as he countered the heavy, powerful strike. Marrin attacked again, whipping the weapon across from the right, increasing his strength.


    Daniel shifted his guard and met force with force again. Clack.


    "We are waiting for a show!" Lord Fredar commanded.


    The midling grimaced and sped up.


    Like a rock side, heavy, unbalanced blows whaled upon Daniel. Crash. Crash. Crash. Daniel''s hands stung as he blocked each. It would be worse if they should find purchase on his body, he knew, but his arms felt tired and numb.


    His opponent used some kind of earth affinity. Slow, powerful, but not imaginative.


    Combat was different than before. As a Lordling, Elswith had relied upon his magical perception first, and other senses later. But now with his Authority empty, his range of analysis was smaller than before.


    But as he worked to block attacks, Daniel began wondering if his senses were truly diminished, but rather just different than before. His eyes were becoming his most useful sense in battle, but his ears as well helped him navigate around the open field atop the Sky Court''s estate. With his eyes, he could see his opponent''s bad form, in a way that assessing magical capabilities did not. The way his opponent shuffled his feet uncertain, the way the strikes were too heavy and too slow. Daniel could hear the ragged breathing begin as the midling began to tire.


    Hope blossomed inside Daniel''s chest. Before, he may have noticed the magic loosening, but to see the physical state of his opponent degrade told Daniel that perhaps combat was not hopeless.


    Daniel had thought himself crippled with the loss of his power.


    Perhaps he had just to establish a new way.


    "I''m getting bored!" Lord Fredar commanded, sitting in a chair his attendant had placed on the edge of the field.


    The mountainous opponent started pushing forward. He was certainly strong, Daniel acknowledged.


    Daniel turned his eyes over all of Lord Fredar''s troop.


    Surely, they must know that Lord Fredar was playing with them, giving them older equipment and running them through an outdated pattern of fighting long replaced by better series. But since Lord Fredar was not taking it seriously, they were not taking it seriously. They were more afraid to question than continue to train incorrectly, if the tall midling was any standard. His arms were strong, but he moved only his arms with each strike, neglecting his body.


    They knew that they were toys. They were neglecting their fools errand. Yes, the equipment was old, but not broken. Yes the outdated pattern of fighting had been long replaced, but it was famous for a reason.


    Daniel sighed, conflicted.


    There was a chance for anyone in the Enforcers to become a full fledged Knight Commander. But for this little group of rank and file was probably only an offshoot of the Enforcers, more likely to just be a plaything to Lord Fredar, Knight Captain. No doubt it was easy to serve under Lord Fredar, but that easy time would prove fatal in battle. Did the lowling fae from the far flung places even understand that their place here was for the amusement of Lord Fredar as he settled in his power, and his family prepared a more distinguished position for him? Did they even guess that their lives were forfeit the moment danger reared its head, to be left to absorb the damage and allow the new Lord to retreat?


    Time to end this, he decided. Crash. Crash. Crash. Each strike, Daniel countered with own baton.


    Then Daniel pivoted, and let Marrin reach open air. Marrin had been counting on Daniel''s weapon to stablize himself. Meeting nothing but open air, Marrin''s momentum made him stumble forward.


    Time seemed to slow as Daniel observed the giant loose his footing, overbalanced and overreaching, stumbling forward.


    Yes, what training these lowlings and midlings did was also a fool''s errand, to Lord Fredar. But had they attended it diligently, they would have improved and grown. Marrin, the mountainous midling fae, would have known better. But he had not. Better to learn now than later.


    This was Daniel''s favor to the midling. Do in diligence all things.


    Stumbling forward, the mountain almost regained his footing.


    Until Daniel gave one, tiny but perfect push.


    And the mountain crashed down.


    "This humble one praises Lord Fredar for the spar. As the lowly commoners say, ''Who''s next''?"

 Chapter 10: Once there was a Mouse who lived in a little cup

    After that, Lord Fredar instructed Daniel to hold a shied while his troop took turns pounding attacks into it. They often missed. After the sixth blow smashing into Daniel''s exposed shin, Daniel remarked that they needed to practice their aim as well. Lord Fredar also explicitly forbidden Daniel to retreat. The Sky Court''s youngest heir knew how to play the game, if he put his mind to it.


    But there were limits to the direct abuse one could order a bounded servant. Lord Fredar eventually had to release Daniel or risk weakening the binding that compelled Daniel to obey. Instead, he was ordered to fetch drinks for them. "Branch, bring up something to ease our thirst. Each person you ''sparred'' must drink."


    "As you say." Daniel said, arms feeling numb and glad to be allowed to put down the shield. He started to a table set up for that purpose.


    "Not those. We are in the mood for hot tea."


    Daniel sighed. Tea was not in season, as the days of summer turned hot and it was still before two in the afternoon. Unsurprisingly, there was no tea. "Should this Branch acquire some at the market, good Lord Fredar?"


    "Do not be ridiculous. There is some in the kitchen on the first floor. Prepare it there and bring it up for our pleasure. You only have...an hour of time left with us? I hope you can complete this duty before you have to depart to your other duties. It would be a shame if you fail on your first day."


    No doubt there were kitchens in floors nearer, and just as assuredly he was forbidden to make use of them. "I will prepare a pot."


    "I prefer each cup made individually."


    "I will bring the teacups up then."


    "No tray. Trays make servants lazy."


    Daniel straightened. He still felt sweat streaming down his face from his time shouldering the attacks of the midlings and lowlings. "Idleness is a danger, my Lord Knight Commander. If I am to understand your orders, I am to retrieve tea from the kitchen on the bottom floor. I am to make each cup individually, and I am to bring them back up without a tray. I must attempt to complete this duty within the time limit as well." The Law of Fae danced in Daniel''s word. What Fredar said next, they both must abide by. "And all who sparred with this servant Branch, must drink their own individual cup?"


    "Without a drop spilled, without a drop lost, Branch of the Sky Court must comply, and within the time. Each cup, single and done, ferried up and down by the Servant''s arms. And until all who did attack thirst is slacken by the drink of tea, let there be no rest. As ordered by Lord Fredar, Knight Commander of the Sky Court''s Enforcers, blessed be the might of our king. That is what I instruct thee do. Toil for thine betters."


    Daniel bowed, face solemn. "This servant Branch hears, and obeys. Each command must be kept, lest there be shame."


    The Law of Fae danced in the air. It was possible. The Law of Fae never sealed any command if it be impossible.


    After all, if Branch was a squire...then fetching refreshments was par for the course.


    There were over thirty people he had ¡®sparred with¡¯, who needed tea.


    And there were the countless flights of stairs, first down, and then up.


    Without delays, he started his journey. Down the first flight of stairs, then he was halted. "Name, and mission?" the guard said.


    "This squire Branch is ordered to retrieve refreshments." he said.


    The guard grunted. "I thought you were a page."


    "Lord Fredar just ordered me to drill with his troop. Would a page ever be instructed to participate in an armed drill?"


    The guard grunted, and shrugged. "I''ve been a guard at this post for fifty years. I have no idea. Just don''t cause trouble for me, please. I am up for a promotion in another twenty years. I may finally get stationed near a window next time."


    Daniel nodded "I will give a recommendation for the others attempting for the position. Lord Fredar may give it to you out of spite."


    "What a kind thing to do. I owe you, Branch." The guard said, gifting Daniel with a small wisp of Favor. Not Authority, but Favor was enough. "Go ahead now."


    Daniel did so, moving down the shadowed stairs. As he moved, he watched the cycle of servants move up and down the stairs in shifts, and he was beginning to understand their patterns. The danger would come when it was crowded, but there would not be enough time to ascend multiple flights of stairs without being halted at each level if he waited for the stairs to be mostly empty. Balance would be key. When he was stopped by the guards after the next flight of stairs, he used the time to count the flow of servants.


    He decided he needed three trips to practice, and understand what he could do. On the final attempt, he would ascend all the stairs without pausing. The size of the teacup had not been specified either...


    Down the stairs, identity checked multiple times, build rapport with each guard while he waited. Finally he was on the lowest level kitchen, found the tea and the cups. He was blessed with a pot of water already boiling for the washing. The washing girl was happy to let him use the water there, for a feather. He traded her, and his hot water was secured.


    Then back up the stairs Daniel went, tea in two dainty teacups. Dainty, but with wide bases. His muscles ached, but he was determined, and like his old training, he established that his head never bobbled, and his arms remained balanced. Up the stairs meant his identity checked again, but the guards were already feeling bored.


    Daniel came and gave the first two tea cups away. He memorized who he had given tea to, and watched as they drank the first gulp.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The trip had taken twenty minutes. He had forty minutes left by the large clock he could see from the Time Court.


    And down he went. He repeated much of the same things, but the guards started letting him pass without question. He brought four more cups of tea, under-filling them by a wide margin, but this time he had selected two tall narrow champagne glasses and two tiny cups, one the size of his thumb. Daniel timed his integration with the throng of servants ascending. He timed it wrong, and was held up for several minutes. While he waited Daniel experimented with how he could hold probably three of the champagne glasses in each hand, though the hot china would scald his hand. This trip had only taken thirteen minutes.


    The lowlings laughed when Marrin was handed a tinny tiny teacup no bigger than his own thumb. "That''s not enough to slacken anyone''s thirst." the giant muttered.


    Lord Fredar snorted, "Deal with it." he told the green hatted Midling before returning his attention to Daniel. "Better hurry up. You only have twenty-seven minutes left."


    Now, an impatient Lordling would have have then and there brought up twelve little thimble cups. But then an impatient Lordling would have missed an opportunity for pay back. Lord Fredar had not disapproved of the different sized cups, but he had yet to approve it. And Daniel had another condition he wanted to be put in place before his final trip.


    "Of course, My good Knight Commander." As a Squire, he reasoned to the Law of Fae, he should obey his captain.


    The third time he made it all the way down without being held up once, either by servants coming up or the guard''s interference.


    After readying everything in the kitchen, Daniel then ascended, his pace steady and quick, never pausing, testing his balance and his ability to keep the tea in the ''cups'' from sloshing over their rims. He swore there were more flights of stairs than before, but he never slowed his pace. This time, he felt the flow of the servants flowing up the stairs. Most knew of his plight by now and even seemed...sympathetic.


    Once he finally made it to the open roof, seven minutes had passed. He displayed four differently sized cups in which he had brewed the tea. He could have brought six, but he needed to establish that the different sized cups were acceptable. One was normal sized, one was a champagne glass, one was tinny tinny tiny, the size of a pinky finger. And one was basically a punch bowls rather than a cup. He presented the large punch bowl to the first lowling he had sparred with.


    "Eh, Branch. What is the meaning of this?" Lord Fredar asked, idly. "First too small, now too big? Do you not know what a tea cup is?"


    "This Lowly Servant found that any cup is capable of holding tea, Lord Knight Commander. And even the ones who have disfavor with you must drink. Perhaps enough tea will increase his strength."


    "I cannot drink all that tea." The lowling said, looking miserable.


    Lord Fredar said, his disfavor of the lowling stronger than his common sense. "I see no reason why not. Remember not to spill, even a single drop. Drink it. Drink it all." Because the Law of Fae heard his words, and the statement was mended. Daniel spied several lowlings sigh as they had to finish their own tea. "You only have 20 minutes, Branch." Lord Fredar said, offhandedly. "Best you hurry."


    Then Daniel bowed his head, and prepared his final trip. Three was a magic number, but four was the number of trials and mischief, after all.


    Servant Branch had a terrible plan.


    Daniel prepared his final trip, his helper in the kitchen in stitches as she helped him place long neck champagne glasses filled with tea between his fingers, tiny thimbles of tea balanced on his flat palm, broad base ale mugs full of tea all held together by his forearms and chest. And finally, one old forgotten dainty teacup placed on his head. Twenty one cups.


    And Daniel ascended the stairs upstairs for the final time. He timed it perfectly, the ebb of servants ascending like a buffer, the servants waiting to descend holding back. The guards laughed as he went. No doubt he looked comical, ash blond hair adorned with a dainty old tea cup balanced perfectly on his head, arms beholden with variety of cups.


    The lowlings and the midlings froze when Daniel entered the yard for the final time, the clock tower proclaiming that he had five minutes left. With determined steps he approached each person and handed them their cups. Starting with the champagne glasses, then the thimble tea cups, then the ale mugs of tea.


    Finally he stood before Lord Fredar, taking down the last dainty cup from his head. Lord Fredar looked annoyed when Daniel presented the old little cup.


    ¡°What is that for?¡±


    ¡°You ordered me to bring tea to every enforcer I sparred with. Then you ordered them to drink it. Regardless the cup. I sparred with you. Unless you actually meant to attack this obedient servant earlier?¡± Daniel pointed at where Fredar had hit him.


    ¡°No. That was obviously to test your reflexives.¡± The Lord Knight Captain spoke, sounding stuffy.


    ¡°That is as I thought. So here is your tea.¡± And he held out the cup. ¡°Drink, good Lord.¡±


    The Law of Fae purred around them, considering the words before it deemed them true.


    Lord Fredar must have been feeling the same thing, as he took the glass from Daniel and looked at it, frowning. ¡°Did you spit in it?¡± the Lord muttered.


    ¡°No. This page wouldn¡¯t dare.¡±


    The smell coming from the dainty tea cup reached Lord Fredar''s nose.


    ¡°Then what did you to it?¡±


    ¡°Nothing at all.¡± And he hadn¡¯t. When he had taken a dirty cup from the kitchen, he hadn¡¯t done a single thing to it. A dirty teacup Daniel had spied during one of his visits to the kitchens. He had only seen it as he had pressed his body against the wall as the servants from higher floors had descended and he had waited for the throng of attendants to pass. It had been behind a cabinet that a mouse had converted into a little nest. But other than placing the mouse into a new larger cup with soft cloth napkins upon which to slumber, he was free to use the nest as a tea bag, and added hot water.


    And under the scrutiny of the Law of Fae, lord Fredar drank from the cup. Then he sputtered out the mouthful of nasty hot water.


    "How dare you! How could a servant be so spiteful?"


    A servant could be so willful, when he was not treated as a servant should be.


    "I did exactly as I was told. I fulfilled the orders. Law of Fae be my witness."


    "You go too far."


    "The Servant follows as his Master does." Daniel bowed, showing his bruised arms and legs from where the midlings and lowlings had ''accidentally'' missed the shield and struck Daniel instead. as the clock tower rang in the new hour. "Fare well." He had timed everything for this moment.


    "Get back here!" Lord Fredar ordered, face turning red with anger.


    "My apologies, Lord Fredar. This servant now belongs to the O''Tells. If you have a need, please make a formal inquiry with the Surmount Butler." Daniel neared the staircase, back straight.


    "You are mine tomorrow. I will make you pay for this!" he grimaced, holding the dainty tea cup up as if to smash it.


    "Yes, dear Lord Commander." And the more Lord Fredar misused Branch, the looser the Sky Clan binding would become.


    The worst thing Lord Fredar could do to Daniel, would be nothing. Treat him as a servant and nothing more.


    As the clock struck the final bell of 12, Daniel paused. "My Lord, I remembered that you ordered all of your troop to drink all their tea. Every. Last. Drop." Daniel made eye contact with the lowling still drinking the punch bowl of tea.


    Lord Fredar held the cup of offending tea, as if it might bite him.


    Daniel bowed again. ¡°Good day, Knight Captain. I have duties elsewhere.¡± And he bowed, politely, and left.


    Daniel knew every step now along these stairs, and his feet danced along. Not too bad for the first part of the day. The Game was stirring, but the Match seemed far away. Three Matches, to be completed at his opponents¡¯ discretion.


    Not a bad day at all.


    ¡°New Servant, pause a moment.¡± A different voice called.


    Daniel stiffened. Through the corridor, outside the staircase, was someone he didn¡¯t want to see.


    Kane.


    The fae girl he loved once.


    The one who betrayed him and laid him low.


    The one who gained power from his removal of power.


    The one who literally stabbed him through as the terrible truth of Daniel''s heritage was displayed for the High Fae in the Senate.


    Why was so she beautiful?

 Chapter 11: Black Valentine

    A part of him felt embarrassed to be witnessed in the game. The High Fae were watching his movements, but the High Fae were like the sky. Always there and always overhead, and almost always just as impartial. But Kane was different. Kane was here. Kane was here and saw him like this. Had Kane seen him suffer under the lowlings mock sparring?


    It was strange, Daniel mused. There was a part of him that was delighted to see her. The betrayal seemed too...otherworldly, unreal. Surely his friend had some end game in mind. Then he saw her in her new position, and he knew.


    She had joined the Enforcers a year ago. Lordlings were placed together when young in cadres, called Circles to train and establish connections between houses and courts. She had been a member of his Circle, called the Red Circle, but had been the first to leave. She was born into a crowded house, with too little authority left over to grant all of its younger members good positions. Despite being the same age, while he was reaching the end of Lordling, and almost had enough authority gathered to ascend to proper Lord, she had been decades out.


    In fact, many Lordlings remained Lordlings all the days of their life, aging faster and dying before their peers if their fates were bad. Many Lordlings found it preferable than the cut throat world of high politics of the Seelie Court. But Kane had always wanted more. She wanted to do so much, explore, learn. Change the world.


    As young Lordlings, that had drawn Eliswith and Kane close. So different in status, yet with the same needs and drives for success. For Ellswith, anything less than that would see him slain by his own house. The Red Lord had no time for weaklings, and no patience for fools. For Kane, anything less than her maximum effort may mean she would be forever barred from being a Lord in her own right.


    As they grew older, Elswith and Kane grew closer. There were many times when they had watched the stars in sky and spoken of their dreams. The responsibility and burden of his duties of being the Heirling of the Red Sword forced them to remain close friends, and nothing more. Once he was Lord, he would be free to pursue a relationship, but who knew when he would be able to achieve that. The Law of Fae would not honor a liar, and Elswith knew he needed all the power he could have, to escape his Lordly Father.


    So he could promise her nothing. Despite at one point she meant the world to him.


    So when an opportunity for advancement came from the King''s Enforcers, Kane had left the Circle and received the position of squire. Elswith had understood. He had been proud of her. She had not waited for anyone to help her, but seized her own opportunity.


    He did feel it was shortsighted, because while being the equivalent of a Lord was guaranteed eventually, it was by no means certain and no means swift, and fraught with dangers. She would be a squire for perhaps another decade. True, her aging would slow, but she also cut herself off from the success of the Circle which had just begun to bloom.


    And the Circle had started to accomplish great feats. Elswith and the remaining Circle had saved several rural towns, defeated three ogres, and interacted with a human king and brought glory to their courts. Another Circle member, Hollis, had invited Kane to rejoin at this point. It would have been in slightly bad faith to the Enforcers, but many Squires returned to their former Circle for a time, especially when a good adventure seemed promising. Kane had hesitated, as she claimed she was earning the favor of her commanding officer. She had asked Elswith his opinion.


    The way she touched Hollis'' hand told Elswith perhaps...they had spent just as much time together as she had with him. Perhaps while he was away with his studies, she had sat next to Hollis looking at the sea and shared her thoughts to the only other male heir of any political worth in the Circle. Like she had with him during those last few years. Hollis was from a less powerful Court, but he was still the heir. They could have made an attractive match. Hollis was a good person, if a little weak in the lungs due to curse that befell his people, but kind. If she chose either one, the other would have blessed the union. But it seemed to Elswith, in that moment, she had chosen the best opportunity for herself at every interval.


    Uncomfortable with this suspicion, he had stated that she should be the one to chose her loyalties, and he would not decide for her. She stayed with her squadron, and the Red Circle went off to campaign again, riding their griffin steeds to the wild places. In a way, he was glad.


    Then the Red Circle began to make Achievements, with a capital A. Something accomplished that the Law of Fae declared worthy.


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    Meanwhile, Kane was still just a squire with no more authority or fame than she had had before. She had never forgiven him after that. She had joked that he should have forced her to come back. That with those Achievements, she could have just enough to be to forgo the rest the of her squire-hood and move to full Knight, the equivalent of a Lord. But there were barbs under her jests and her relationship with the Circle after that point was strained.


    And then the night of his plan. When his loose ideas for how he would escape his Lordly Father and become a Lord independently.


    And she had stood against him.


    Kane, wearing armor the same shade of auburn as her hair. Kane, eyes always dancing with mischief and delight.


    Kane, who had hauled him down in front of everyone during the Senate Hearing, who hadn¡¯t stood with him, who perhaps caused everything. Her actions and inactions had been the first cut that stripped him of his power.


    Kane, who had gained her new position due to her actions in his humiliation.


    Daniel shook her head, realizing that he had stared at her for several long moments, lost in his own thoughts.


    She was smiling softly at him now, bemused. "Thinking big thoughts again?" her tone friendly, just like the old days.


    Daniel closed his eyes and bowed his head. Elswith may have once harbored love for Kane, but she did not know Daniel. ¡°This servant listens to the orders of the King''s enforcer.¡± and he followed her inside.


    She looked at him, amused, like he was just playing being a servant. ¡°What is your name?¡±


    ¡°Branch.¡±


    Her tone changed as she realized he was not playing with her. ¡°That is all you can keep? A branch of yourself?¡± Concern touched her words.


    ¡°My lordling,¡± Daniel said, avoiding his friend¡¯s beautiful eyes and auburn hair. ¡°This one has nothing else but a small branch to cling to.¡±


    ¡°Elswith.¡± He heard her murmur. He couldn¡¯t blame her. He couldn¡¯t afford to. He needed to escape. Any situations where he became entangled with the enforcers only prevented him from establishing stability. ¡°Elswith, wait.¡±


    ¡°Lordling Elswith is dead.¡± He died screaming as they ripped his power from him, Daniel wanted to add. He wanted to scream about the humiliation, the weakness, the alien sense of not being who you thought you were. About being one of them. But instead, Daniel kept his face pleasant and nodded. ¡°I must report to my other duty.¡±


    ¡°The Heirling Lordling of the Red Sword is here early.¡± Kane said, hair spilling over her shoulders as she started to take a step forward.


    Daniel did not need her to clarify. He flinched. He was starving, from not eating since the day before and his muscles ached from the over working and the mock training.


    He felt his hand shake but schooled it smooth. He wasn¡¯t a horse to get spooked. He had known the Game was set against him to begin with. ¡°Good day.¡± He nodded his head.


    ¡°I heard that they say he took your power in moments. That he understood it like a fish to water.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t turn his back to her, but he could walk away backwards, nodding his head pleasantly. ¡°Good day, lordling, good day.¡± He paused. ¡°Or is it Lord, now? My apologies, I wouldn¡¯t want to diminish the effort it took to reach such heights of power.¡±


    ¡°They say that he is gathering information and will strike soon.¡±


    Daniel didn¡¯t even flinch, as he evaded her barbed words. ¡°Fair well. I must work work work.¡± He turned into the entrance of the hall.


    ¡°Elswith! You coward! What are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°What can I do, Kane?¡± he said, matter of fact. But he was speaking to her like they were equals again, like he was Elswith again. ¡°What can I do? I have nothing. I have no time. I have no power. My allies¡­¡± He said that last word hard ¡°¡­abandoned me. I am bound and chained and barred entry. I cannot run. I cannot fight. I have only the Game left to me.¡±


    Kane looked away, with tears in her eyes. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t you kill that thing? If you did nothing it would have bled out! You just had do to nothing, and let it slide!¡± Her voice shook. ¡°Why did you make me do this? This is all your fault.¡±


    Daniel straightened. Whatever intimacy between them destroyed, he said ¡°Good Lordling.¡± Using the word Lordling purposefully, as he returned to a polite speaking pattern. His mask of Branch the Servant reestablished. ¡°This humble one has never been powerful enough to control your actions. Even when he could bring storm and lightning upon the land, he could not force your hand to treachery. You overvalue this humble one too much.¡±


    He looked at the device held in her hands, low in her palm but high on her wrist. ¡°Do with the recording what you wish. If you bring new dirt on me too early, you lose your advantage.¡± Daniel¡¯s voice called back in the room. ¡°Really, you have to make them work for it, or else they¡¯ll take it for granted.¡±


    ¡°Elswith! It¡¯s not that! I¡¯m trying to help you.¡±


    ¡°Good day sir. I said, good day.¡±


    He left the room without permission. Had he stayed, he would have seen Kane biting her fingerstips. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She whispered to the place where he had stood. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She looked at the recording of his outburst, and lingered over her future actions.

 Chapter 12: Collusion Between, Secrets Within, Danger Without

    The servant Branch arrived, almost late, and in a state of disrepair akin to a refugee from a battle zone. He would have been late, no doubt another aim of Kane, except he ran through the Citadel as though he was fleeing a dread creature hoard.


    Elswith''s knowledge of the Citadel''s landscape, and its temperament, had proved invaluable. He knew, for example, that the O''Tell House was nearly near the Lagoon region and the Lagoon region bordered the Pine forest of the Castalas faction. Daniel was able to shave off several minutes of travel by cutting through the foliage and leaving the relative safety of the road. He had to use several such roundabouts to arrive in time.


    So the Servant Branch, attendant of the O''Tells House, arrived disheveled, but on time. Had he been late, he would have been subject to punishment. Instead, he humbly accepted the O''Tell''s House''s own Surmount Butler wise biting critique and criticism. He had to because while the Surmount Butler was berating him, he behaved within bounds.


    The Surmount Butler was everything that Lord Fredar was not. The polished fae was elegant, precise, and unmoving. While Lord Fredar had been careless, and Daniel was already working his way free of the bindings, the Surmount Butler of the O''Tell Family treated the servant Branch precisely as a servant, specifically an Attendant. And a servant with a dutiful master must attend his duties dutifully.


    This meant Servant Branch, and Daniel by extension, had to stand there, seeping wet lagoon mud caking his boots, vest dusted with pine needles, and disheveled and spent from his time at the Sky Court, listening to his failures as a servant and how he had brought shame to the O''Tell household. Daniel at least had straightened his cravat before he had arrived. He may be in mortal peril, but at least he was somewhat presentable. It had been the only thing he had the power to change.


    It had not been enough.


    A servant girl had attempted to bring lunch, but the Surmount Butler, in all vainglory righteousness, had scorned her and rejected her attempts to bring in a covered tray. "The only food this Butler needs is to bring glory to the O''Tells Family! That is sustenance enough for all lowly servants."


    Daniel''s stomach had chosen that time to grumbled loudly, perhaps roused from its own apathy and despair to hope and imagine that food could be obtained.


    "Let me tell you the virtues of our proud Family we serve!" The Surmount Butler said, after elegantly turning judging eyes at both the servant girl and then Daniel. And he did. Proudly, elegantly, pointedly, as though he had personally accomplished each feat. After several minutes the servant girl slinked away, and Daniel''s stomach made more noise. This needing to eat thing was troublesome.


    From there, the Surmount Butler had dithered about ¡®new servants mustn¡¯t embarrass the house¡¯, and ¡®new servants accept all criticism with a peaceful disposition¡¯, as well as several more insulting gems such as ¡®mustn¡¯t make the House dirty¡¯, somehow implying that Daniel¡¯s very presence sullied the house by him merely existing there.


    The sound of wet mud plopping to the ground accentuated the Surmount Butler''s words as the mud finally dried enough to fall off of one of Daniel''s boots. The proper fae sighed. "I am given an impossible task. Clean that up, and then take a bath. Your duty begins when the bells chime two, make all haste lest trouble befall you!" The Surmount Butler''s voice rang in verse. Practically calling the Law of Fae to attendance.


    Daniel couldn''t even sigh, because that would be unbecoming behavior for a Hall Attendant. Daniel''s bindings began to arc and arch like lightning dancing in the sky. He quelled his rebellious thoughts and mustered his own reply. "As you say, and let all mischief keep away." a rather bland response, but all he could muster.


    The Surmount Butler made a slightly undignified sound and retreated away.


    Daniel did his best to clean the mud, but without any cleaning supplies, it was almost pointless. But he gathered what he could and threw it away.


    As soon as it was finished, a servant girl arrived and he was led away to the servant''s bath.


    The water was cold.


    He sighed as his clothes were taken, everything except for his undergarments and the silk stockings. The undergarments were clean because the outer layers had taken the brunt of the damage. And he would not allow himself to ever be completely free of his clothes. Besides, watching his old garments being bundled and hurried off to be washed, Daniel felt sadness and regret. Even odds some accident would befall the garments. He had only had them for a few days, but at least they were his.


    He made sure that the bandage wrapped around his arm was still bound tightly. There was no need for anyone to see the unsightly scab and its sickening color.


    Daniel was left with a uniform, which made sense. This was the only post with a proper uniform, the other two just required he be decently but modestly dressed. The red color reminded him of his own, old formal wear for those times he needed to appear as the Heirling of the Red Sword. The material was a far cry from the imported silks and rich linen and brocade, but it was finer quality than anything he had touched in the last month. Red was his color, he chuckled to himself. He was finally away from the Red Lord, and yet red was so much his color one could even say it was even in his blood. Oh, the irony. His Lordly Father surely had a sense of humor.


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    Tired and exhausted, Daniel found himself chuckling as he finished donning his coat, straightening the lapel, and buttoning his sleeves.


    "Why are you laughing?" A reluctant voice interjected, as though it would rather be anywhere and dealing with anything than where and what he was.


    A new fae had entered. He had actually entered several minutes ago. But he had not introduced himself, and Daniel has been midway through buttoning the many buttons of the vest and so deemed not to speak first. Daniel had successfully ignored the newcomer for several minutes until finally, the silence had been enough to prompt the interjection. Which meant Daniel won, as he hadn''t spoken first. "As the poets say, either laugh or cry."


    "The poets don''t say that." the fae said again.


    "Do you know all poets?" Daniel said, turning and facing the newcomer at last. "Nice to see you again," he said, with little meaning. "You may call me Branch. What may I call you?"


    The newcomer must have hailed from Glasbin, given his ears. He was nearly exactly the same height, weight, and complexion as Daniel, but his hair was more dusty bark than ash blond and his ears protruded from his head at an acute angle. His eyes were shaped completely differently, brown and curving at the corners like he was perpetually smiling. Except the newcomer was not smiling at all, but hardly-just-barely-not-quite glowering. But everything else was nearly enough identical to Daniel.


    "I''m not telling you my name. You can call me Glasbin if you must."


    Daniel sighed, understanding at once. Hall Attendants were matched with someone as near an equal as possible. For parties, a Hall Attendant pair may open a set of doors, act as guides, or serve the guests together, one bearing the tray and one serving the guests. The wealthy houses enjoyed their luxuries. Some even had enough trained Hall Attendants that during formal banquets, there might be two Hall Attendant pairs serving a single diner in concert, so that the service was flawless and seamless. The better matched the two servants, the more the prestige. The most important aspect was that the servants be as similar as possible. Twins could make very good money in this field, as they were prized above nearly all others for this role.


    Daniel sighed, and laced his new pattern leather black shoes with a slight heel. It was a popular elf style, but Daniel was no elf. But then again, this uniform was not created with him in mind, tailored to suit him perfectly. Instead, his purpose was to fill the uniform and perform his duty well.


    Daniel regarded his new partner with an appraising eye "The O''Tells did a good job matching us. Not many people are as broad as me at my shoulders."


    The Glasbin fae grimaced as if he found Daniel''s entire presence offensive. ¡°I spent four years working my way up from the kitchens, all the way to hall attendant. What are your qualifications?¡± For the Servant Class, Hall Attendant was a prestigious role. Those servants worked directly for and around the lords of Fae, and could have high opportunities for favors and advancements. With time, one might be assigned a full Attendant. It was the beginning of the good life, for any fae in the Servant Class.


    For Elswith, it was so laughably lower than his former rank it was the difference between a puddle and the ocean.


    For some reason, Daniel felt this fae had resentment against him. Curious. The glare seemed to indicate hostility. There were entire courts who despised Elswith so much that they twice attempted to have him removed before he was nine years old, and they had more pleasant facial expressions toward him than this fae. If the Glasbin fae felt free to be so negatively bent, there was little Daniel could do to lower hostilities. "I almost think you don''t like me."


    The fae pointed an accusing finger at Daniel. ¡°And you get to just waltz in here and take my partner''s spot? He got demoted to lesser Hall Attendant!¡±


    ¡°This humble one,¡± Daniel said, with a pointed look. The Law of Fae was almost listening, so Daniel removed the severity of his tone. ¡°This humble one was also recently demoted. I believe you were in attendance the last time I graced this hall. And now here we are. Funny, the entropy that occurs in life.¡±


    The fae looked like Daniel had just smacked him in the nose.


    The bells of the clock chimed, fifteen minutes before the start of the new hour.


    "Time to go. Would my kind partner assist me and instruct me in my new duties?"


    The Glasbin fae was muttering under his breath but took the lead reluctantly.


    So Daniel followed the Glasbin fae. The servants'' area was rough and unfinished, with exposed beams and old creaking wooden floors, ancient walls sagging despite clusters of spells to support the ceiling. Daniel saw a notch in the wall, near the ground. He¡¯d been here before when he was small and allowed to play with the O¡¯Tell lordling for the first time. Young Lordling Elswith and Young Lordling Orville had promptly disobeyed the order to stay in the garden and instead tried to explore the servant¡¯s areas for treasure. The Lordling children believed they had found treasure and tried to break through the wall. It was an ancient trap instead, and it required eight enforcers to seal it back up again. Daniel smiled despite himself. It was a good time in his life.


    The Glasbin fae frowned when he noticed Daniel''s steps slowed, but probably not understanding the danger of the potentially lethal trap trapped in the wall. ¡°You better not make a scene. If you mess up, I¡¯ll get in trouble.¡±


    Daniel wondered how much trouble he would unleash if he set free the ancient trap, the Shadow of the Spinin Warbringer. That would cause a fair amount of chaos. "I agree. If I do ''mess up'', you will be in trouble."


    Glasbin grunted in annoyance, then made a shoeing motion. ¡°Come along, then.¡±


    He was in authority over Daniel, and his simple action pulled at the bindings. Left one hurt the worst. So that was the one that belonged to the O¡¯Tells.


    However, the Glasbin fae himself slowed dramatically right before the main chamber, spying out of the servant''s passage and blocking Daniel. He made eye contact with someone unseen and nodded.


    Daniel did not push but was not surprised when the Surmount Butler entered the servant''s passageway a few seconds later, purposely not making eye contact with either of them.


    Collusion then. Daniel felt he was understanding the dynamics. The Surmount Butler was to be the perfect authority figure, limiting what Servant Branch could achieve, but the Glasbin fae would poke and prod Daniel. Or lead him into a trap.


    No matter how it appeared, there would be danger. The Surmount Butler could orchestrate endless scenarios, and use the Glasbin fae as his tool. Whatever reason, the Glasbin fae already despised Daniel, and was no doubt willing to be used as such an instrument of chaos. Whatever lay before Daniel was a trap. Whatever secret grudge no doubt festering, and all designs would be set against him.

 Chapter 13: The Lren Style of Opening Doors; the Art, the Style, and all the Majesty in 3 easy steps

    The Southern Wing contained a large foyer where the guests would first arrive from that main entrance, after disembarking from their horse, unicorn, griffin, or carriage. After entering the foyer, which was just as long as the lesser banquet hall, there were seven double doors that led to the lesser banquet hall, several meeting rooms, and a very beautiful garden. The lesser banquet hall was like a stretched out rectangle, with windows and doors permitting entrance to the gardens to the east. The north side had the doors for the kitchen. The south side led to meetings rooms and smaller lounges.


    Daniel found himself with the Glasbin fae standing in the foyer, facing a pair of doors that led to that banquet hall.


    The foyer looked like he remembered it. He had been a guest here not a month and a half ago. The floor was only marble, not a good catalyst to magic, so only used for ornamental purposes. But it was nice to look at, he supposed. The walls rose high and met dark, shimmering ceilings. There was always some new art on the walls, as one of the O¡¯Tell Lords was a patron to many artists.


    Daniel brought his attention from the art to his new minder. Technically the Glasbin fae was to be Branch''s partner, but it was clear that the Surmount Butler and the Glasbin fae were united against Daniel.


    Daniel¡¯s steward Matheus had explained, years ago, that the main difference between Hall attendants and ordinary workers was rather simple: Did the servants have good temperaments and ability to navigate the complex workings of Lords hundreds of times more powerful than the servants? If not, then they couldn¡¯t survive being a public facing servant. But there was more to it. They needed to be sharp, with a certain degree of awareness and conniving. These were the ones who were often used to send messages, threats, and something even violence.


    Matheus had said it simpler, however. All he had said was ''watch the servants who serve you. Each one has the potential to thrive as spies, thieves, and sometimes even assassins.''


    Daniel kept his suspicions to himself, and looked back at the Glasbin fae who was explaining their duty for this evening.


    "We''re going to open doors. Do you have a problem with that?"


    Ah, gems of wisdom indeed flowed forth from the fae from Glasbin.


    The task tonight was simple, to open the door as banquet guests appeared. Daniel briefly considered forgetting how doors worked. Everyone assumed he knew. Which he did, but they didn¡¯t make sure he knew.


    He disciplined himself. First day. He¡¯d lived for a month for this day. He had lived his whole life for this opportunity to be free from his Lordly Father. He would perform as well as he could. He doubted the first Match would begin today, but it might. And he had to be ready for that.


    "I''ve opened doors before. I assume we are going to open them in the style of the Lren dynasty?" Daniel demonstrated what he remembered of the style. He made full use of his height, with his left foot pointing away from his body while his head cast to the left, chin pointed toward the ground, as he moved his right hand and mimed opening a doorknob.


    Daniel felt the weight of the glare of his new minder, but a touch of surprise as well "How do you know that?"


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    How could a Lordling be expected to know if they had been insulted if they are not taught all the customs? "Lren is the style that the doors are normally opened here, as well as the serving, but the tea service is normally Trexilan, which is only right considering that the Trexilan lord saved the O''Tells Family two centuries ago. Which is also why I may need your harbor name during the event...if we are called to the main serving room, I''ll need it to refer to you in proper Lren fashion."


    "Always trying to get the name. Don''t be so superior. I don''t care what you did before." The Glasbin fae said in a tone of voice that implied he very much did care and find offense with what Daniel did before. "But you''re the lowest rung on the ladder."


    Daniel sighed. It was always bad manners to use someone''s name before you were introduced.


    How quickly they forgot, how much they assumed.


    "Was this humble one incorrect?" Daniel said.


    "No, but we''re just opening doors tonight. No one starts work as a hall attendant inside the banquet hall."


    Daniel sighed, and moved to the door on the right, doing as he had seen all his life. to the position of door opener.


    ¡°Not that one!¡± The Glasbin fae said, for the first time lively and cranky instead of just cranky. ¡°Use the other one, on the left. This one is mine.¡±


    Daniel observed the door to the left. Ah, it was hexed.


    The first ordeal. Was this what the Surmount Butler had arranged? If he were to touch that door, he would find himself in trouble. These troubles came in threes and no doubt it was the first.


    Considering if Daniel let the hex reach him, it seemed like his minder was setting him up for failure. Matheus had left out that even public facing servants could be rude and openly hostile. Or perhaps this was the true face of power? Good to those above, cruel to those beneath?


    ¡°Did you hear me? If you mess up, I¡¯ll get in trouble.¡± The Glasbin fae said again, pulling at the bindings.


    Daniel nodded, and tried, while they were nearly alone, to reclaim the favor this Hall Attendant owed him. The Law of Fae stirred, and Daniel thought it almost connected, but then the law of Fae returned to him void. The favor was owed to the defunct Lordling Elswith, and could not be transferred.


    ¡°No, I mean, answer me that you heard me!¡± The Glasbin fae demanded.


    The bindings pulled at him, and Daniel¡¯s face pulled tight as he grimaced. That hurt. He¡¯d need to get used to it, or find how to override it. ¡°I hear you.¡±


    The Glasbin fae frowned, like he suspected that Daniel had tricked him somehow. Daniel had, but only slightly. He hadn¡¯t agreed to not cause mischief, only that he heard the Glasbin¡¯s words.


    Daniel had tried to organize his thoughts and what he had learned throughout the day. One of the three operatives had definitely had orders from the O¡¯Tells. What games did they have? What was their angle? It was much easier to wonder these crazy questions when one wasn¡¯t exhausted. As the day went longer, he felt his deductions becoming skewed, and he didn¡¯t want to poison his thinking with cloudy logic.


    There were no guests yet, and it was the quiet before the storm. Daniel wished he¡¯d have gotten something to eat earlier. Stupid hunger was making paying attention to a dangerous situation hard. Seriously.


    He changed focus. Stop trying to find every big angle and instead look at what was before him. Daniel stood in front of his door.


    The Glasbin fae knew of the hexed the door Daniel was to open. Daniel considered how or even whether he wanted to address the potential insult and attack. The Surmount Butler had no doubt orchasted this, but Daniel was powerless to overcome it. Or rather, he was supposed to be powerless to overcome it...


    If only it had been the Glasbin fae, Daniel could have absolutely crushed the small insults and jabs of the lower fae. If he let them think they could bully him, then his life would be miserable, the subject of scorn and open to attack at all times. But if it was an attack by the Surmount Butler...


    Did he dare overcome the hex, or was this to be something to be endured?

 Chapter 14: The Gaggle of Gawkers and the Dangers of Doorknobs

    Daniel stood in front of a left door of the foyer of the O''Tell''s lesser banquet hall, problem looming before him.


    He was to open the door on the left. That was not hard. What would be difficult would be if he touched the doorknob, a hex would be enacted.


    If he refused to open the door, he would be punished.


    If he opened the door, the hex would begin it''s dubious purpose, and he would be blamed for it, which also meant he would be punished.


    Perhaps the very worst thing he could do was if he unraveled the hex. He may avoid temporary pain, but he would reveal more than he desired. A truly observant observer may even grasp what Daniel was holding in reserve since his earliest days.


    The first guest arrived, and forced Daniel''s hand. He watched them enter.


    First to arrive meant fodder. Fodder was always invited to these events. The very important people always entered exactly when the event was started. The unimportant ones were to be the fanfare, which meant they needed to arrive early enough to applaud when the important people arrived. He vaguely knew the trio of elfin maidens, they were noble attendants of some minor house. Elswith had danced with the one with the softly glowing hair before. Claudian. During a wedding alliance between two Courts, Daniel had attended to represent his Faction. It was one of the few times he was entrusted with the Red Sword, though it remained dull and inert in his hands due to his own lack of standing. During that event Claudian must have finally realized that Elswith had the potential to become very important, should he survive long enough. Because for the first time at any event they had both attended, she had thrown herself at him. Literally lunged and jumped yelling ''Catch me!''.


    He had politely refused her advances the way a sane person avoids a charging predator.


    After she picked herself up from the floor, she had tittered and laughed and said ''it''s just a joke, teehee.''


    Elswith had wished her well, and had even implored her to seek the Grey Court for mental healing. She just ''teehee''-ed her way out. Last Elswith knew, she was still pursuing anyone of any stature.


    If there was justice in the world, she and her two companions would stride straight forward, and choose another doorway to enter. The lesser banquet hall had seven doors granting access to this space from the foyer. She could have chosen any other door.


    She did not. She stalked forward, awkward in her heels and stepping on the hem of her gown. Where Kane had been sharp and subtle, with keen eyes and a graceful form, this...creature seemed to believe that by continually applying more and more shiny things, she would be more attractive. Her hair glowed, her gown was like polished satin that seemed more like a costume polyester, whatever polyester was...cheap jewelry layered across her body, gaudy and tacky.


    She stopped in front of the door.


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    Was this the event designed by the Surmount Butler, Daniel wondered. But given Glasbin''s face, it seemed like he had no idea who this person was.


    So just a naturally occurring hazard, then.


    She flipped her hair, and stood as if they should open the door.


    "I''m very important." she said, sounding very important. "I''m always the first one to these events."


    As the first arriving guest, her lack of importance was clear to everyone but her, apparently. There would be servants with higher rank than herself, after all, such as the Surmount Butler or even the Hall Attendant pair opening the grand entrance doors. The first to arrive literally was the lowest position. In all honesty, the Glasbin fae may hold higher position than this she-elf. She was a hanger-on of a hanger-on.


    "It is not yet time for the Banquet doors to open." Glasbin said.


    "But I''m here now." Claudian said, and flipped her hair again.


    More guests entered, all similarly low ranked. However, while many gawked at Daniel as their eyes found him standing in his Hall Attendant Uniform, no one made way for his section.


    "The bell will ring within moments, honored guests." Daniel said, matching the Glasbin''s tone of voice.


    Her half lidded eyes focused on him, her smile curved, and she tittered at him.


    "It is so wonderful to see you again!" the she-elf said, and winked. "If I were to jump at you again, I''d bet you''d catch me this time."


    If only Daniel could get her to open the door for him...perhaps when she jumped at him, he''d step away and she''d slam face-first into the hexed doorknob...two birds with one stone...


    No, Law of Fae wouldn''t like that, regardless of how unsettled this creature was. However tempting it was....it would solve both issues....


    He was saved from his moral dilemma by the bell sounding inside the banquet hall.


    Daniel felt the brown eyes of his minder. It was strange to be with someone who looked so similar to him. The O''Tells really knew their stuff, Daniel admitted to himself. It was an art to pair someone.


    As according to the Lren Style of Door opening, all the Hall Attendants moved together.


    Daniel began to open the door, in the Lren style, his mind whirling.


    He had concocted one counter measure. The spell seemed to be based on the doorknob itself. Only the doorknob, a crystal craved like a rose roughly three inches across and round. Not on the stem of the doorknob, which was made of a different material. It was a small oversight.


    An oversight Daniel would exploit.


    If he was wrong, he may ''fail'' in his first duty of the day.


    Moving in tandem, the Servant pair Glasbin and Branch moved as one. First the foot pivoted, left for Branch, right for Glasbin. Then they raised their hand up, right for Branch and left for Glasbin, both as if reaching for the sun, then swept their arm in a circle like a dance. Daniel could hear the sound of cloth rustling as all fourteen hall attendants more in unison. Daniel could feel the gentle power of purpose flow from them. They honored the O''Tells Family with this, who had blessed them and provided for them. Daniel had never realized the Law of Fae was in attendance with even the ordinary things.


    As the circle gesture was completed, all Hall Attendants reached for their respective knobs, as was the style of Lren door opening.


    All except Daniel, who reached with his fingers to the little stem of the doorknob. His fingers, careful as a wisp of smoke, applied pressure, and twisted the stem.


    The inner workings of the door shifted, and then opened.


    He barely remembered to complete the Lren style of looking away from the opening door, chin pointed to the ground. He knew if he slipped and any of himself touched the doorknob, he would ''fail'' this duty.


    But he did not.


    And the Glasbin fae stared at him. The Hall Attendant Branch had avoided the danger, even if only temporarily.


    "Please, honored guests," Daniel said, almost giddy with releif. "Please enter the banquet hall of the O''Tells Family."


    If only the problems had ended there...

 Chapter 15: Favors fall through, but your debtors and detractors always remain

    The Servant Branch had just overcome his most daring duty of the day so far: Open the door from the foyer to the lesser banquet hall.


    It was harder than it seemed, of course. The doorknob was hexed, and hexes are nasty tricks. Relatively harmless and difficult to prove intent. Had he not opened the door, he would have failed his duty. Had he opened the door and the hex activated, he would have failed his duty. Had he removed the hex...that could be failing the Game itself.


    First danger arranged by the Surmount Butler avoided.


    The first stream of guests arrived and quickly entered through the doors, then Daniel had to close the door in the Lren Style. Which was easy enough, it was basically the same movements backwards. His fingers were normally dexterous, but felt so clumsy in that moment. But he managed to close the door. He didn''t manage to keep it within the Lren Styen completely, but it was his first day.


    The Glasbin fae kept watching Daniel, probably waiting for the hex to activate. Daniel ignored him and let his mind wander to other things.


    No one had told Daniel what the banquet was about. But Daniel really didn¡¯t need to be informed about this. He was hungry and tired, but he knew his way around the block.


    His way around the block? That was a weird sentence. Regardless, he just needed to see the people entering to understand the purpose of this luncheon gathering. Location was the first clue.


    This was the O¡¯Tell residence, a main family and a House. A House was a group or family who ruled or held significant influence over several courts. The O¡¯Tell House was controlled by three siblings and their spouses sharing responsibility of the house, unlike the Red Sword Faction, which had only his Lordly Father as its sole head.


    A House may be under the influence of another, or the very powerful could stand alone and answer only to the king. The O¡¯Tell house was the latter kind.


    The more decision making Lords, the more complicated the politics of the House. The O¡¯Tell House was therefore involved with more factions and groups, as each member would join as best served their area of influence, sometimes in opposition to the other groups and factions of the other ruling O¡¯Tell members. This muddied the water, but Daniel still needed only to see who arrived to figure out which group was meeting.


    There were the usual bunch that attended gatherings, a gaggle of Lordlings or Chief Stewards who attended such parties to show face, but not there for any true political reason. He ignored those. Next he looked for who was in attendance that normally wouldn¡¯t attend this type of gathering.


    He saw over a dozen Friggans arrive and descend down the carriage or dismount their horses. So it involved the Mist Court, as Friggans were few in numbers and only attended banquets in mass when it involved their home territory. There were no high level enforcers or knights present, so the Justice Senate was not in attendance, nor the Knights alliance. This ruled out a several possibilities. In fact, Daniel saw no enforcers or knights of any rank.


    He saw a few Mages but dozens of Wizards, all of them old and important members.


    With these key factors, he suspected this was a luncheon banquet to start the formal talks about the creation of a new Magic Academy, probably with the financial backing of the Mist Court, or that the Academy would be placed in the Friggans homeland.


    It wasn¡¯t all pure deduction work, however, as he had seen indicators that the Friggans wanted to expand away from pure brute force of knights and start strengthening its magic prowess. The Mist Court was in the same faction as the Sky Court, the Walsa Alliance. But recently there had been signs that the Mist Court was trying to distance themselves from the powers that be in that faction and strike out on their own.


    If they built an Academy, they would be able to create a powerful force that would allow their freedom.


    The Walsa Alliance was highly ranked in the Sword Faction. If a small but important Court separated themselves, both the Sword Faction in general and the Walsa Alliance in particular would be viewed negatively.


    So Daniel realized he would have to watch different members who were technically allies and stay away if they began actively sabotaging each other.


    That deduction completed, he considered when and how he would be in danger again. Even if hostilities did not break out between the attendees, the Surmount Butler no doubt arrange other dangers for the Servant Branch.


    Nothing major, but something that would truly upset the balance, or open a door for later trouble. But outside of awkward moments of gawking as guests arrived, everyone politely ignored him. If he was here as Lordling Elswith instead of Servant Branch, this would be an insult. Currently, he was just hoping a food fight broke out when the lunch was served and he got hit in the face with a potpie. But given this lunch started long before the sun went down, it meant that there wouldn¡¯t be heavy drinking involved, so no such thing was likely to happen.


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    Before the incoming guests were a consistent flow, but the tide of guests slowed to a trickle, then down to a few stragglers as the opening hour passed. The important people always arrived almost midway through, late enough to make an impact but not too late to miss out on having secret conversations. Daniel opened his door for more ministers, people who arrived late to make an impact.


    The stragglers changed from the very important people to those stragglers would weren¡¯t important enough to mind being late or what impact they made, and no one would mind their late arrival. Finally, minutes would pass between guests.


    A gaggle of Lordlings too incompetent, err, too important, to be set loose in any Campaign arrived. They were a little older than Daniel¡¯s group, but near enough in age that they had contended with each other a few times over the years.


    The term Lordling was a broad one, covering several different levels of existence and power. Young fae children of certain dispositions were called Young Lordlings, and as they grew older, through their teen years and then twenties, they settled into being called Lordlings. If one did not amass enough power to transcend the limitations, beyond a point they were called Old Lordlings, but never to their face. To their face, one was supposed to talk about their experience and maturity and the valuable experience they brought to the team would help it mature.


    None of this group was Old Lordlings, not for another decade, but Daniel was pretty confident that many in this gaggle would never rise to Lord.


    There should be no issues. They were from a different Circle, and had once contested, but not seriously for the last three years, and not at all for this last year.


    Until of course there was. Lordling Parcel faced Daniel directly.


    Why had Elswith''s problems continued to haunt Daniel, when none of Elswith''s blessings had seen fit to follow along?


    Elswith had been motivated. He had begun his tenure as the Heirling of the Red Sword rather despised by the Red Faction. His weakness to most elemental magic was well known amongst the Lords of that Faction, and their allies. Especially fire. How did the Heirling of the Red Sword, the sword known for erupting in brilliant scarlet flames, not have aptitude for fire? So young Elswith had become very motivated to prove his place. During Seasons, when the Courts and Houses and Senate met, the Citadel would be very busy, but also offer many tournaments and challenges for Lordlings. Elswith had never truly excelled, but he always placed well enough to slowly change how others viewed him. It also meant that when he had felt he had the advantage, he would press forward and never let up.


    Which had soured a few relationships.


    One such person was Lordling Parcel. Daniel had won against him in the single battles part of the Lordling¡¯s Tournament. Lordling Parcel was Sky Court, not son of anyone nor Heirling, but a cousin of a nephew or some such. Also, Lordling Parcel had remained in the Fae Citadel instead of returning to the home court between seasons, as had Elsiwth. There were only two reason to remain. The first was being in a position of high authority and expectation, and being groomed to handle the political elements and working with the other Courts and King.


    The other was because no one from home wanted you to come back.


    Elswith had been the first. And Lordling Parcel was the latter of the two categories. Lordling Parcel was seemed as though he would remain a Lordling for the rest of his life. Not for any lack of talent, resources, skills. Perhaps that was the problem. Lordling Parcel was too talented, and never devoted the hours of work to grow through the patches talent didn¡¯t cover. He had excelled early, and then froze there, never having the ambition to grow again.


    Daniel and Parcel hadn¡¯t gotten on.


    This could be interesting.


    The group of Lordlings sauntered over, and Daniel and his counterpart moved to open the door. The sounds of easy conversation drifted through the doorway. There was no announcer, indicating the low formality of this meeting. Perhaps this was the first official meeting between the two groups, or the last of the informal meetings before a deal was officially struck. However, the group of Lordlings stalled, right before they were to enter.


    Lordling Parcel made eye contact, and dropped something to the ground. It fell with a distinctive soft flutter. A handkerchief.


    ¡°Pick it up.¡± Lordling Parcel ordered.


    The gaggle of lordlings behind him started to giggle.


    ¡°Good Lordlings,¡± Daniel said, with a smile. ¡°Apologies, this humble servant wasn¡¯t listening.¡± It was a good thing Daniel had practiced with the goose boy that morning. He was aware of how his bindings felt when it seemed he disobeyed, and he had learned how to...side step them for greater clarity.


    The giggles paused.


    ¡°Servant, pick up the handkerchief.¡±


    The Glasbin fae looked like he wanted to run and hide. "Servant Branch, do as you are ordered." He said, eyes huge, face becoming pale. The other hall attendants were watching, and even stepping away from their posts to get a closer view.


    Daniel made a very embarrassed face, and held up a placating hand.


    Things could be said in threes without becoming trouble.


    ¡°This humble one apologizes." the Servant Branch was not disobeying, he was clarifying. The Law of Fae paused and considered. "Please, speak once more.¡± Daniel said. He was being cheeky, but he would not be trampled over without showing teeth. Not when he would be trampled over regardless. ¡°And slowly, as well. Servants, as the good Lordlings know, are such silly deaf creatures.¡±

 Chapter 16: A Handkerchief and a Bluff

    <div>


    ¡°Pick. It. Up.¡± Lordling Parcel said, in the same way one threatens a dog after it has already eaten your food.


    Twice the Servant Branch had been commanded.


    Twice he had denied the request.


    "Branch!" the Glasbin fae ordered. Why was he so worried?


    Daniel observed Glasbin.


    Ah.


    This was the second attack by the Surmount Butler. It made sense, why else would a Sky Court Lordlings be attending what must be a rather sensitive meeting of the Friggans of the Mist Court and several key Wizard factions? The Surmount Butler could have colluded with Lordling Parcel or even the main force behind the Sky Court.


    Clearly, the Surmount Butler was allied to a different O''Tells Lord than the one hosting this event. Infighting was the expected outcome, but if the Servants began acting against Lords...


    That often ended poorly for the Servant. No matter how much the lord values the servant, there was hardly a single lord who would see his base of power be destroyed rather than...retire their servant, or allow their feuding rival the opportunity to remove that servant.


    Whatever blackmail the Surmount Butler possessed must be very critical and damning indeed. Either that, or he was a spymaster and allowed certain privileges.


    Surmount Butler and the Sky Court were allied then. This meant there was at least one O''Tells Lord allied with the Walsa Alliance.


    Daniel felt his head hurt as he struggled with the implications. The O''Tells House may be headed to civil war.


    This meant that Lordling Parcel was the main threat. The second attack was often the most difficult to avoid. The first was the doorknob, and the third was no doubt planned and ready to enact, but could Daniel avoid this conflict without bringing the hall into chaos...A hex on a door was a pale comparison to ruining the beginning talks of a budding relationship between these new, and untried allies.


    The Glasbin fae must know that this was a scheme, but one that he was afraid of being caught in the backlash.


    Perhaps the Glasbin fae was not so willing to go against Daniel but had similarly been ordered...


    Interesting.


    Or the Glasbin fae had been hoping that Daniel would touch the hex, unravel it, and then not have to go through whatever second scheme concocted by the Surmount Butler...


    The Surmount Butler had arranged chaos with Lordling Parcel. Servant Branch was too small to ever overcome it.


    But Daniel, the True Named former Heirling? Perhaps he had a chance.


    ¡°Pick. It. Up.¡± Lordling Parcel said, the third time.


    The binding on Daniel was enacted, especially since he had made the guest speak their demands three times. The twisting of the binding hurt him.


    What to do? How to avoid a fight? Elswith had no love lost with the Sword Faction, and the Wizard Alliance was always...interesting, the Mist Court had good relations with Elswith. He hoped to see it prosper.


    What did he really know of Lordling Parcel? Very little....once talented...excellent seat during Griffin riding...lazy...romantic interest with Silvia, which her court denied due to Lordling Parcel''s poor standing...


    Ah. Daniel saw a sliver of a path forward.


    He could do little to stop this...but he knew enough to at least temporarily halt the conflict.


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    He would just have to pick up the handkerchief. He didn''t want to. He hated bending the knee. But this was a part of himself he could break. It wouldn''t be enough to cease the conflict, but the words that he would speak would do...something. Hopefully, make Parcel rage, change career paths and try the role of Servant, and reach for the doorknob and activate the hex. Parcel would disrupt the meeting, but a Lordling being rude and loud was something all at the Citadel had come to expect in some way.


    If not for the misdeed of the hex on the doorknob, Servant Branch would have been too tightly bonded to answer as he needed. The hex had created just enough space for him to do as he needed.


    ¡°This servant thanks you for such clear instructions,¡± Daniel said, his words smooth despite himself. The former Lordling Heirling of the Red Sword bent and collected the loose handkerchief. He felt the muscles in his jaw twitch, but he schooled his face.


    As his fingers collected the handkerchief, the Servant Branch paused, deliberately, by Lordling Parcel¡¯s shoes. ¡°My Good Lordling, might this one suggest avoiding the area near the bog leaf plants?¡± He saw nothing, of course. The shoes were clean. But Lordling Parcel reacted anyway.


    Daniel''s bluff was not caught.


    ¡°Stop talking nonsense!¡± Lordling Parcel ordered sharply.


    Daniel straightened and offered the handkerchief.


    The bluff was a simple one, one designed to separate Lordling Parcel from his Circle.


    Last year Silvia had rejected Parcel¡¯s suite of a marriage alliance. Daniel was bemused, either the romantic feelings had gone both ways, or Parcel had haunted the land near her dwelling again.


    ¡°I only comment that you should wash that out. Stains very badly. Lordling Silvia, you live near the bog leaf plants. Perhaps your valet may lend some knowledge to Lordling Parcel¡¯s valet.¡±


    Given Silvia¡¯s face, Parcel was in the latter category again. ¡°Lordling Parcel, I told you that my parents insist that I focus on growing my influence and improving my use of authority before serious marriage alliances are discussed! Stop stalking my land.¡± She lifted her chin. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think the alliance you offered is for my land, rather than me.¡±


    Daniel was bluffing. But was it bluffing when one knew one''s enemy was a hopeless romantic? And it seemed, even if he was not correct, it was plausible. And he knew these people, and he knew that even if he was a little correct, Parcel¡¯s reaction would condemn himself.


    The Law of Fae became thick in the air. The various Lordlings no doubt were under compulsions by their various Courts, Houses, or Elders, to prevent the continued attempted union of Parcel and Silvia.


    Silvia stood straight, and her hand fell to where her sword would normally rest. Anger, embarrassment, shame...


    Oh, she had known that Lordling Parcel was there but wished for deniability. Perhaps they met up there.


    She could not reveal this information either.


    If Daniel gave them a minute to catch their breath, they would realize the nature of the bluff.


    Best to keep pushing forward then.


    "Lordling Silvia, do your Lordly parents approve of your growth? This humble servant has heard that you have been practicing alone in the forest. Surely you must have seen large improvements...."


    "Leave her out of this."


    "Lordling Parcel, you don''t have to defend me. It makes it seem as though I am not capable of handling the Servant class."


    Compulsions are tricky things to avoid. Also called geis. Like bindings, but with no pain, it was basically a promise of a set of behaviors or conditions. Silvia and Parcel, and to some extent the entire circle, were purposefully ignoring the orders to ban the relationship.


    ¡°Elswith is being duplicitous." Lordling Parcel said evasively. "He is gambling again."


    Lordling Silvia crossed her arms. If Daniel remembered correctly, she was kind but very very proud. Hopefully, that had not changed. ¡°Perhaps I should have Elswi¡­.this servant eat with us and leave you out here to open doors. Won¡¯t you eat with us?¡± she said, looking at Daniel at that moment as an equal.


    "Lordling Parcel can attempt to open the door, but it is very difficult. This Servant doubts he has the skill." If Lordling Parcel opened the door, the hex would go off. A lordling could stand to the disruption better than a servant, after all.


    Everything had been going well so far, following along with his designs. But Lordling Parcel did not move to open the door. No helping it then, Daniel mused. He had to keep the pressure up between the individual members of this Circle. ¡°Apologies, good Lordling Silvia. This servant has a strict duty today.¡± Lordling Silvia appreciated order being maintained, especially where it regarded her.


    What he said pleased her, and Lordling Parcel was still clearly in her disfavor. She nodded. ¡°Next time, then. I will speak compliments of your service to the house. You do it credit. More than some people.¡± She glared at Lordling Parcel and sauntered through the door into the meeting beyond.


    The other Lordlings followed her, leaving Lordling Parcel behind.


    Daniel felt relief wash over him. The worst of it is over. Whatever trouble Lordling Parcel had planned seemed momentarily abandoned. If he caused trouble now, he may suffer further consequences within his own Circle. A Circle of Lordlings causing trouble would be forgivable. But a singular Lordling...Former Lordling Elswith would testify that it had very far-reaching consequences.


    But Servant Branch had over-spoken. The Law of Fae would allow some small retribution. And what a Lordling considered small could be enough to crush a servant.

 Chapter 17: The Offical Way to Inquire to begin Cruisin for a Bruisin and Invite a Smack-Down

    Lordling Parcel remained in the foyer with the Servant Branch and the Servant of Glasbin origins.


    Daniel had discouraged the first opening salvo of civil war from starting in front of his door during an important luncheon. The luncheon was in slightly less danger, but now Daniel was in immediate risk.


    Like a duel, Parcel and Daniel eyed each other. Lordling Parcel. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, bronze skin. If not for the slouch and the way his shoulder''s hunched, he looked every inch the once great rising star of the Sky Court.


    And the Lordling had the advantage. ¡°What kind of servant runs his mouth like that?¡± Parcel said, his tone cutting like glass "What should a Lordling do, to one who presumes to know better?"


    Daniel found it was getting harder to act out with the binding. He had done wrong, and he knew it. The Law of Fae knew it too. The Game would give him latitude, but the Game was mostly still slumbering, waiting and watching for when to begin. "This Servant''s zeal for all guests of the O''Tells overcame him, and he offered unneeded advice for removing mud and plant stains from garments."


    "No, you don''t get to hide behind being a Servant." Parcel cast muting magic. Nicely done, the runes were sharp and focused. Too focused, in Daniel''s opinion, because the harsh lines were almost counterpoint to the intention of the spell, but that was probably a difference in how they were educated than any failing of Parcel. Daniel would memorize this to use later, when he had more magic. If he could get the signature close enough, it should be different enough from Daniel''s own style to use as a camouflage. He could still hear the noise of the room around him, but he also felt it, that the sound inside the radius of the magic was being captured. It was not perfect, but it was still preferable than having a conversation in the open.


    Suddenly, much of the constrictions lifted. It was a private conversation, and Servants had more freedom there.


    "Now, Servant Branch, tell me, how should I handle you? The Law of Fae attends us this hour, and one of us overstepped."


    Daniel saw his only hope was to receive a loss in a duel. Something physical. He did not wish to owe a long standing favor, no matter how small, to Lordling Parcel. Depending on whose authority Lordling Parcel came to attend this luncheon, Daniel desired to owe nothing that the Surmount Butler or the Sky Court could receive and manipulate. He would have to antagonize the resulting conversation, pushing to a un-peaceful resolution.


    "Why was a Lordling of the Sky Court trying to interfere with the politics of the Mist Court, the Wizards, and the O''Tells?" Daniel asked back. "This Servant humbly counters that he acted in the best interest of his House, no matter how temporarily."


    The Glasbin Fae, standing at the other door, mouth hanging open like a fish, face entirely bloodless. Had the tapered eared fae suffered an apoplexy? The other hall attendants leaned toward them, but it was clear that they could not hear anything. The Glasbin fae no doubt wished that he could not hear the conversation unfolding before him.


    Lordling Parcel grinned, dangerously. "When did a Servant gain the authority to dare presuppose the machinations of his betters?"


    "When did a Lordling seek to initiate a fight between Lords?" Daniel countered again. If he could just have the stone continue to skip long enough....if he could explain to the Law of Fae that the Servant Branch was in the right...


    Parcel sighed, like Daniel was a stupid child who argued that Promises could be broken with no repercussions. Ridiculous and foolish.


    "All words aside, the Servant Branch overstepped and spoke out of turn. Punishment is in order."


    For his part, the Glasbin fae looked anywhere else. It was clear this was his worse case scenario. Of course, Daniel realized. Branch and Glasbin were an Attendant Partners...if Daniel was punished, the punishment may extend to the Glasbin fae as well. Partners'' shared rewards and trial. It was almost enough for Daniel to pity him. Almost.


    "Furthermore, the Servant Branch strained an already strained relationship between myself and my cadre." Parcel added. "The other members already distance themselves from me, no doubt an attempt to reach greater heights."


    "You think your friends dislike you?" Daniel asked.


    "My cadre is a far cry from yours. We aren''t friends. Friends fail. Friends lie. Friends steal. Lordlings do not enjoy those simple pleasures, they are taken from us. Friends betray each other, use each other, and leave. Look what happened to you. Where are your friends now?"


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    Daniel could not counter.


    Lordling Parcel continued speaking, ¡°Do you think that you¡¯re the same as you used to be, Elswith? That you dare to speak and act like that? You are a far cry from where you once stood; you have lost everything.¡±


    Breathe, Daniel told himself, the tension tight. Lord Fredar couldn''t hit him, the difference in power too great. But a Lordling could more easily go through the protections offered to servants, simply because the power difference was lesser. And Servant Branch had to a certain extent, invited it. Lordling Parcel could in fact provide a vivid education in form of repayment to address the wrong doing. It was still better, it would defang Lordling Parcel, and the Surmount Butler would have to try again another day to start conflict between the courts. Besides, it would still look bad on Lordling Parcel if he beat the Servant Branch.


    Daniel just needed to keep up the pressure.


    "This humble Servant is grateful to have such fine examples of failure to follow in their footsteps." He said, his words like ice.


    Lordling Parcel looked as if he had been slapped.


    Lordling Parcel clearly hadn¡¯t anticipated Daniel''s retort. What stung worse was that the Law of Fae said truth and seconded Daniel''s statement. Even the Law of Fae felt that that Lordling Parcel was in many ways the epitome of failure for Lordlings; from raising star to disappointment and embarrassment of his Court.


    Daniel bit his tongue. He had not intended to wade into that.


    Even Glasbin looked horrified. "That was a burn." The servant muttered under his breath.


    "A Lordling out of favor with his court is a far cry from a Servant abandoned by everyone." Lordling Parcel said, voice low. "No matter how lowly, a Lordling has more significance than a servant."


    "Does a Lordling have more significance than a Servant in the middle of the Game. A Capital G game. My actions will determine the outcome directly." Daniel said.


    Lordling Parcel touched his side, where his sword no doubt normally rested.


    The air of danger swirled around them. The other servants could not hear, but they were adapt at facial cues to know intrinsically that violence may spring forth.


    "A Game centered around a Servant who is destined to lose."


    "I beg to disagree, sir." Daniel said, feeling determination fill him. It was as if, in that moment, the Red Sword was in his grasps once again. He almost wondered, if he were to look down, would he see the hilt in his hands?


    "Your partner clearly fears and despises you; hatred is written in his face. The Surmount Butler acts against you; he will press forward without ceasing until you find yourself with no where to run. The Sky Court seeks to destroy you; Lord Fredar was merely the first wave to reach you."


    Daniel straightened his shoulders, and said with the ghost of presence that was heritage of any Heirling. ¡°This Servant beat you before during a duel. One may be tempted to make it a challenge this time." Beatings were no fun, but as long as Daniel managed to keep the violence to Duel style, he would be back up on his feet in time to let out the guests after dessert was served.


    Regarding his handling with Lordling Parcel, he would have acted the same regardless of where he encountered the Sky Court¡¯s least motivated Lordling. Perhaps escalating matters into a fight was not wise, but the Game would protect Daniel to a certain extent, and he was desperate to avoid becoming indebted to the Sky Court, while also succeeding in his Hall Attendant duties, and if not succeed, then at least not fail.


    This would take care of both factors. A quick duel, lose, then back to work.


    The Fae Light danced in Lordling Parcel''s eyes, repayment in mind, beginning to speak with poetic rhythmic voice. "Know this and punishment be...the Servant Branch must duel..." But Lordling Parcel stopped and turned to the massive entrance door.


    A final guest arrived before the opening hour passed. There was a moment of trouble outside at the entrance door


    Daniel heard muffled complaints come from outside. Whoever had arrived had arrived without carriage or mount at all. That limited a very small pool of suspects to very few indeed. The Door Keeper standing watch outside raised his voice. ¡°You can¡¯t come in! You do not have an invitation!¡±


    "Oh no." Daniel found himself muttering.


    "It can''t be. I thought he was still out in the Rural places." Lordling Parcel said, equally pained.


    More muttering, but becoming clearer as if the speaker was drawing nearer to the large, somber heavy stone doors.


    The Door Keeper spoke again. "Sir, even then, if your name isn¡¯t on the list you cannot enter."


    "Not him." Parcel said, running his hand over his hair with worry. "He has no respect for the Law of Fae, the game, or anything at all."


    "Do you remember when he was challenged to a duel for honor, and he just shrugged and walked away. He left the glove on the ground." Daniel conspired, finding himself worried that the situation was spinning out of control. He and Parcel had a good argument going, nearly resolved. But if that person entered...


    "Did you hear about the sword festival that went on for three days longer than it should? It was because that lunatic completely disregarded the hunt, ignoring centuries of tradition." Parcel snapped back, with a grimace. "Three days longer. He played cards. For hours. How could the youth find the hidden places when the Mage decides he''s done for the day and goes back to camp to take a nap?"


    "He played cards with you too?" Daniel asked, surprised.


    "All the time. Whenever there is official duty between my Court and the Magic Alliance, it falls on me to be his guide. He never goes without the pack of cards."


    "Did you ever play the one where you had the card on your forehead?"


    "That is not as bad as ''Go Fish''. There were no fish. What was the point?"


    The Lordling and the former Lordling both grimaced when the voice grew loud enough to be heard clearly from inside the foyer. ¡°I¡¯m a flippin¡¯ Mage." the muffled voice yelled. "This is a gathering for the Magic Alliance. Put the pieces together."


    "It is him." Parcel said, horrified.


    "Esra, the Great Gravity Mage." Daniel said.


    Or his other title.


    The Game Killer.

 Chapter 18: The House of Cards trembles as Esra draws near, in future use superglue

    In the Fae Courts, there were many sources of power. They all built on the Law of Fae, but each was a different expression or variant. There was Authority, the most direct power, most often used by Lords. There was Favor, very often used by individuals; especially useful for interacting with one not beholden to oneself. Another great pillar of Fae power was Influence, useful for the Senate and other governing bodies; and very subtle. There were other powers, but these were the big three.


    And Magic Alliance used none of them.


    They drew on a different power. It meant it was harder to bind them to their words, and it also meant that many of the complicated interpersonal relationships between the powers that be were often missed by the magic users.


    Wizards were easier to accept, after years and years of training, they learned enough about the laws of reality to change that reality. By the time they were powerful, they were almost always wise, cautious, and too old to cause trouble. Mostly only the wealthy courts and factions had the money for that extensive level of education, which meant that wizards were often beholden to one court or another, either as a descendant of that house, or were patronized by that house or court. This meant that for the most part, Wizards at least conducted themselves within the accords of the Law of Fae, even though they were not governed by the magic directly.


    Mages on the other hand...


    Sometimes random individuals, of any age, race, or station, would be handed significant power over a force of nature with no training and no requirements. Some realized their humble origin and strove to find their place in the world of the powerful, spending careful years understanding the complex politics and machinations of the Law of Fae, the Seelie Courts, the Factions, and the Senate, before attempting to change things.


    And then there was Esra.


    Lordling Parcel and Daniel both cringed as Esra''s voice continued. "I''m done arguing. My buddies are inside. I know I saw Parcel come this way. I''m not leaving until I talk to him."


    Thankfully, the conversation grew muffled again for a moment.


    "You handle it," Parcel said, gulping. "I cannot get stuck playing 52 pickups from the ceiling again."


    "No, no, no." Daniel countered. "Esra, the Great Gravity Mage is looking for you! What would your Court say if they knew you were avoiding such a key ally?" Daniel said, gesturing with his hand for emphasis. "What. Would. They. Say."


    "I spent months trying to create distance between myself and Silvia. Esra''s just as likely to ruin it. He says he ''ships'' us. I don''t even know what that means."


    "I think it means relationship," Daniel said, thinking back to the days he''d been stuck on campaign with Esra and the rest of his Circle in the far rural places. Esra had spoken long about the different people he ''shipped'', and their unique names combined. That explained who ''ParSiliva'' was. The strangest part was Esra would ''ship'' characters in plays and books, not only real people.


    "Really?" Parcel looked touched, then troubled. His dark wavy hair fell in front of his eyes. "She needs to focus, but she''s too loyal to me. I need her to leave me behind already. I''ll just hold her back."


    Daniel felt surprised. He had known Parcel was a hopeless romantic, but this was a new angle he hadn''t considered. It was rather... selfless. He did not enjoy learning new things about former rivals that made them more personable. It threatened to make him question other aspects.


    If that was the case...what else must he reconsider?


    The thoughts were halted when Esra''s voice pierced the large grand foyer again. "But I am a mage. I got the hat and everything. Oh, wait, I lost my hat. But I do have a Mage hat somewhere...Let me in, or do you need me to prove it?¡±


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    Parcel suddenly smiled. "I, Lordling Parcel command, the Servant Branch to lend a hand, and handle the dreaded Mage Esra please, at least until after tea!"


    The Law of Fae was enacted, and the debt between them was cleared.


    "No!" Daniel said, upset. "What was wrong with a little violence to settle things? It was going to be an amazing duel."


    "I wanted to see how much you had regressed," Parcel added, regretful. "I would have smacked the floor with your face."


    "You would have tried," Daniel said and didn''t voice the second part, that Parcel would have probably succeeded.


    "We had such good vigor going on too." Parcel sighed. "Well, next time I get sent to cause trouble for you, I''ll see what I can do about that rematch."


    The Glasbin fae was staring at both of them like they were insane.


    Lowlings had no appreciation for the finer things in life.


    Daniel felt touched by Lordling Parcel''s show of faith, but then he remembered Parcel was leaving him to handle Esra. The good feeling became cold again. "Parcel, don''t go. Just because Esra is here for you doesn''t mean he won''t wreck the Game."


    Parcel started striding toward the hexed door. "Just do what Servants do. You can handle it. You were always so good at coming out ahead."


    The noise at the large entrance door grew louder.


    Parcel gripped the stem of the door handle.


    "At least handle the hex on the door before you leave!" Daniel complained. This was not going well for him at all.


    "And risk you becoming indebted?"


    "You could tell the doorknob was hexed?" The Glasbin fae said, then realized he had spoken aloud and went back to looking horrified.


    Parcel and Daniel shared a look. Lordling Parcel lifted an eyebrow, "You saw something that a servant should not. So I will tell you, to balance the scales of this unsightly behavior. Adjust your thinking, for you regard us Lordlings too lightly. Do you think we just attend parties and drink and play? I know of several Lordlings who hold debt over you in secret, having suffered in your stead. Your mistakes as you serve us at parties are not missed because we do not see, but because we pretend we do not see. Parties are in fact some of the most stressful times for us. We must find everyone''s else agenda while hiding our own. Poison, treachery, assassins, people who want you for your power, people who want your power..." His piercing blue eyes were unfocused as if he was seeing a distant place. "I look forward to being an old Lordling. People leave old Lordlings alone."


    Of course, the moment was ruined by Esra.


    Afternoon sunlight spilled in as the main entrance doors crashed inward heavy and then stayed open as if they were dangling from their hinges over a chasm. The doorkeepers dangled dangerously from the door handles, their down now the opposite wall instead of the floor. Dust was kicked up, and rain of leaves and flower petals drifted in, caught in the vortex of the great working of power.


    Esra''s shadow then spilled into the room, showing the figure of a tall and gangling person, head completely hatless.


    "I''m out! Remember, Servant Branch! After tea time! That''s all I need." And the Lordling opened the door much the same way Daniel had, and closed it.


    Daniel felt anxiety rising inside his chest. This was still perhaps the worst-case scenario for himself.


    Esra entered, wearing blue tweed trousers and a thin shirt with a picture of some kind emblazoned on the front, long faded. The garments were a far cry from any clothes that would denote Esra''s affiliation, hat or otherwise, but they were unique. He had taken great pains to repair them over the time Elswith had spent with him. Perhaps they were sentimental. His shoes were finally replaced with new simple brown leather shoes, instead of the crazy neon shoes with strange soles that did not conduct electricity. The Mage had grown at least a foot taller over the five years Elswith had known him, no doubt his foot size had grown as well. Perhaps he could no longer cram his too-large feet into the shoes after many years, or perhaps they had simply fallen apart.


    Esra seemed completely unashamed for crashing a party. He scanned everyone, looking distracted. He almost missed Daniel, but on a second look through, Daniel felt the Mage''s eyes lock on him.


    The bindings on Daniel started to enact, and Daniel sighed. Two bindings, the first because of his duties as a Hall Attendant, and the second his duties to attempt to keep Esra from finding Parcel until after tea time. Tea time...was 4 o''clock. Which was now. The clock tower rang in the new hour.


    Did the Servant Branch just have to ensure that Esra would not bother Lordling Parcel during that time, or did it mean that he would have to keep Esra engaged for an hour?


    Esra walked through the doorway, ignoring the doorkeepers clinging onto their knobs to keep from crashing down.


    "Spikes!" he called. "Have you seen Parcel? I''ve been looking for him everywhere."


    Well, he hadn''t called him Elswith. At least that was a good start.

 Chapter 19: Esra, the Great Gravity Mage

    All Daniel had were carefully laid plans and several certain beliefs about his capabilities. That he would succeed because he had no other choice. That he was smart enough, strong enough, and determined enough, to overcome.


    But there was no planning for every eventuality, and there was certainly no planning for Esra.


    Esra shambled in, hands in his pockets. The Game Killer himself.


    The champion of a newly formed Game had encountered the very danger that threatened to overturn the careful plotting and schemes of Lords, both High and Low.


    Parcel had been wise. Esra was a greater danger to Servant Branch than any shenanigans a Lordling could have schemed.


    Dual duties compelled Branch to act.


    The best course of action: Find actions that answered both problems.


    "Great Gravity Mage Esra, please be welcomed to the O''Tells House during this time. These humble servants are amazed at your show of strength. Could the great Mage perhaps...cancel the spells on the doors?"


    The lanky Mage paused. "Oops, I''m at fault," he said. The Law of Fae remained dead in his words, however. Debts were difficult to accrue on Mages. Not impossible, but rarely worth the effort.


    Then Esra snapped, and the two front doors moved normally again. However, the Door Keepers fell to the ground, sprawling and stunned.


    Time to mop up the first of the mess.


    Daniel strode away from his hexed door, his steps graceful and confident.


    He found a rhythm and spoke directly to the Law of Fae, shaping the narrative. "Asked and was answered, this one did hear. A Mage was challenged, and persevered! Magic shown and magic done, now all servants back to as begun." He was also firming his interpretation of the event to the Law of Fae.


    The Law of Fae found it acceptable.


    The doorkeepers looked up at Daniel. Daniel was expecting anger or resentment. Instead, there were expressions of gratitude. Oh, they were afraid of getting in trouble somehow.


    "Put the pieces back and all are blessed, no one need find distress. The party goes on, for no one did hear, as this show of strength was for our eyes and ears." Daniel was telling the Law of Fae and the servants that no one need get in trouble and that everyone behaved within the bounds of their duties. It must be true, his bindings did not react. As long as they restored everything before the Surmount Butler finished his rounds inside the Banquet Hall, it would be in everyone''s best interest to overcome this incident.


    Besides, if one of these fellow servants did take the pains to tattle, Daniel would be able to identify an informant.


    The various servants acted quickly. Two maids arrived from somewhere and began sweeping the leaves and petals Esra''s gravity well had pulled in. A lesser hall attendant, probably the Glasbin''s former partner considering how similar he appeared to Daniel, rushed in to check on the Door Keepers, who started moving again. Another lesser hall attendant polished the fancy knob of the entrance door, which had been smudged by the doorkeepers'' wild struggle to hold on. The Door Keepers, standing again, closed the massive double entrance doors in the Lren Style.


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    And then it was like the havoc that followed Esra everywhere never happened.


    Leaving a very confused Esra. "I don''t know what you just said. Did you do a magic thingy again? You promised you''d tell me so I could be ready." Esra said, approaching Daniel.


    Politically, Elswith had been allied with Esra a few times, but their spheres of influence hadn¡¯t crossed much. The Mage Affiliation was situated apart from the Fae Courts, and the Mages'' influence was directed toward different objectives. Esra was a Mage. He was lax, sloppy, and brilliantly talented in his field.


    Surely, Esra would realize that something had happened, and he would behave. Surely, this one time.


    "I like your new costume." Esra drawled.


    Daniel said nothing, but inwardly he was fuming and begging that Esra would respect the Game for once in his entire life.


    Esra the Game Killer smiled, almost as if he had heard Daniel''s thoughts, as he stepped closer and tapped Daniel''s arm. "Let''s talk."


    With that contact, he slapped Daniel with a gravity spell.


    Of course, Esra couldn''t be trusted for even five minutes.


    The world was moving out from under Daniel''s feet, suddenly lurching up, so the floor was now a steeply banked wall, as Daniel¡¯s center of gravity changed. The leather soles of his shoes squeaked as the floor resolved itself to be the wall. He almost lost his footing.


    But this was not the first time he¡¯d experienced this. Daniel leaned into the slide, pushing himself against what was once the floor to distribute his weight and keep himself from tumbling all the way down. ¡°This again?¡± he muttered. A Duel with Parcel would have been preferable to the uncertainty of Esra.


    Daniel hurtled sliding down, passed several hall attendants and more than a few maids.


    His bindings all twitched and fluttered, confusion as there was no response prepared for such as situation as this. No doubt the High Lords were laughing. Did the High Lords laugh? The Red Lord certainly did not.


    The foyer was long, but it did not run forever. The new ''floor'' soon rushed to meet Daniel. What was normally a wall was fast approaching, so Daniel angled his sliding descent so as not to land on any valuable works of art framed on the wall. He was going pretty fast now, had to land carefully or risk his ankles getting damaged. Inside, Daniel fumed over this action.


    ¡°Oops, I¡¯m so clumsy. Let me fix this.¡± Ersa exclaimed, voice dripping with innocence. Great. What was Esra doing now? Anyone else wouldn¡¯t be so forward. If Esra had belonged to a fae court, he wouldn¡¯t have dared do so.


    No helping it. Daniel stood on his new ''floor'', the wall. He stepped toward the middle of the wall, carefully avoiding marking the walls with shoe prints. He righted his clothes and craned his head up and saw looking up a high hill the rest of the staff staring at him with wide eyes while Esra hustled down.


    The Mage walked down the foyer and upon reaching the wall, took a step off the floor until he stood on the same ground as Daniel. He was powerful but blunt and stubborn enough that it was a wonder he was even still breathing.


    Daniel felt the spider sock shift for a moment, but then remain inert. Daniel felt real regret. It would have served Esra right to be covered in spiders.


    "Hey Spikes, did you see Parcel go through here?"


    Spikes. That nickname contained no power and was useless.


    The first barrier arrived. How to dissuade the Game Killer from ruining the game while also keeping commands of stalling Esra from finding Parcel?


    "Esra, do you have any idea of what you''ve done?"


    "Oh, it''ll be fine. It''s nothing you can''t fix anyway, and the O''Tells love me. Orville''s mom asks me to make sure Orville doesn''t get in trouble."


    "Say that again?" Daniel asked, realizing something important.


    "Orville''s mom has questionable judgment?"


    "No, the first part."


    "Oh, it''s nothing you can''t fix with your Lordling powers. People have to listen to you or something."


    Esra didn''t know that Daniel was a Servant.


    He didn''t know what happened to Daniel.


    The Game Killer didn''t know the danger that would happen if he recklessly intervened. He didn''t see the Game at work, perhaps because he couldn''t. This meant...as long as no one told Esra, explicitly and in clear faespeach, that Lordling Elswith, Heirling of the Red Sword, was the champion of a Capital Game that would determine the survival of hundreds of children, several rural villages, and Lordling Elswith''s own future...then Esra may never piece it together. If no one told Esra that Elswith was basically stripped of all his power and vestiges, then he may never realize on his own.


    Esra couldn''t kill a game if he didn''t know it was there.


    Daniel would just have to mislead him. This was one of the few times Daniel wished he could directly tell a falsehood.

 Chapter 20: Parsilvia

    Standing in the middle of a wall with the Great Gravity Mage Esra, the Servant Branch had an opportunity.


    Esra was destructive.


    Initially, all Daniel had seen when Esra arrived was his own vulnerability. Daniel had hyper-focused on every way he himself was open to attack. But he had been thinking too narrowly.


    Could Daniel use the Game Killer to strike back at his enemies? Did he dare?


    If he was to have any real chance, he may have no choice but to dare.


    Where Elswith had been hesitant, Daniel would have no choice but proceed as if it would work.


    How could Daniel use the Game Killer in a way that would serve him? If only the Senate was meeting this week. But most of the Senate members were still at their home territories. Daniel could imagine Esra striding inside a Senate Assemblage, to demonstrate his mockery of Lightning magic.


    They would stink for days. Esra''s attempts at any other magic led to dubious results.


    But that was too big, and Esra was no fool.


    There was a sound, of canvas suddenly bearing weight, of wood being strained. Daniel was roused from his thoughts in time to observe Esra removing his foot from a painting. Anyone else may have assumed he bore some spiteful or evil motive for his actions. Daniel knew it was because the Gravity Mage hadn''t checked under his feet before he took steps, forgetting he was walking on a wall, and not the ground. From what Daniel had seen in the past, Esra never tripped. Gravity just didn''t do him that way. The rock would ''fall'', other people would ''fall'', but Esra just kept walking. This had led to him sometimes forgetting to watch where he walked.


    "Oops," Esra said, and bent to brush the painting. The lady painted inside now had a shoe print on her forehead that rubbing did not make go away. "I''m sure it''ll come off," Esra said, standing upright and walking away from the painting as if to create distance.


    Well, perhaps Esra was foolish...


    But if Esra realized what Daniel was up to, he may bring even more harm to Daniel. Worse, if Esra realized Daniel''s situation and attempted to help in Esra''s signature fashion, then that would be very bad for Daniel indeed.


    Daniel would have to handle Esra carefully, just like the hexed doorknob.


    "So, Spikes. Where did Parcel go?" Esra asked, moving further away from the painting he had stepped on.


    Daniel''s plan began to unfurl. "Esra, why are you looking for him?"


    "He''s been avoiding me ever since last season. I think he''s depressed or something. Sil thinks that he''s trying to sabotage himself."


    "Considering how he has successfully sabotaged himself over the last few years, I feel that is an accurate statement," Daniel said, mind calculating.


    What did he need right now? What enemies could Daniel point the Game Killer toward?


    The Surmount Butler.


    Great.


    But if Esra engaged now, it would damage the potential alliance between the Mist Court, the Wizard''s Alliance, and the O''Tells. Civil War was brewing in the O''Tells House, and Daniel needed to make sure the first battle happened when he was away. As much as he valued the O''Tells as a whole, he would not sacrifice his Game for them.


    Wait...


    Daniel thought over his day.


    This was the Lesser Banquet Hall. Why weren''t they using the Main Banquet Hall? It was understandable not to use the Grand Banquet Hall, but the Main Banquet Hall would have been more appropriate for a meeting between so many factions. Lordlings used the Lesser Banquet Hall for their events, which was why Daniel was so familiar with this space.


    But any real moves of power, any truly important meetings, happened at the Main Banquet Hall, which Daniel had also frequented, just not as often.


    There was no reason, certainly, it was not due to secrecy or else this meeting would be held in the Secret Banquet Hall. Unless there was already another meeting scheduled there.


    And where was the Surmount Butler? Daniel had assumed he would be inside the Lesser Banquet Hall, making his rounds, checking the servants and the meal. But surely a runner would have fetched him by now. Between the almost duel and Esra''s bombastic arrival...The Surmount Butler should have been here.


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    Unless he was at another Banquet held at the same time. A Banquet where his patron attended perhaps.


    What was going on in the Main Banquet Hall?


    Other clues emerged. Lord Fredar had remarked about an event later in the day. The kitchen in the Sky Court had been relatively idle, with little dinner prep beyond normal fare. Given the state of the meat they were preparing, it was not for the important members of the Court. The Kitchen should have been preparing a lavish meal unless the core members were going to be absent for the evening.


    "I thought so too. Pockets hasn''t been the same for a while now. Poor guy." Esra said.


    Daniel barely paid attention to Esra''s ramblings, though, his mind racing fast. Why had the Surmount Butler kept the Servant Branch in one spot for so long? Why waste his time? Because there was another meeting happening now. Another meeting he did not want Daniel to discover. A meeting between the O''Tells and the Sky Court, at least.


    If the Walsa Alliance managed to keep the defecting Mist Court and bring such a powerful House as the O''Tells into their fold, it would be a major victory. Not all the O''Tells Lords were for this plan, which may have led to another Lord assisting the Mist Court in their bid to cede away from the Walsa Alliance.


    The Walsa Alliance had benefited greatly from the fall of the Heirling of the Red Sword. While Elswith had been a mere Lordling, he was a very important Lordling, and his faction had simply been bigger than theirs. He had objected to several questionable enterprises of the Walsa Alliance that endangered the Rural villages of the Dragon Scull region. So while Lordling Elswith''s fate was teetering in the balance, they had been most vocal about his removal, before the decision of the Game.


    This was an educated guess. Merely wild speculation. Elswith would have never acted with so little information.


    Daniel would have to be different than he had been before. This was another piece that he would have to surrender.


    If there was a time to use Esra, might as well be now. If Daniel was wrong, then at least he would have only caused trouble for the Surmount Butler.


    How to do it, though?


    "You''re been staring at the wall for like a minute," Esra said. "Are you worried about the picture? I''m sure we can fix it before anyone notices."


    Daniel looked at the servant hustling, bringing delicate linen rags and special cleaning solutions, and a ladder. The painting was rather high on the wall for them...Maybe Daniel could help with the cleanup after he sent Esra on his way.


    Daniel waved his hand. "Walk with me," and started walking along the wall toward the doorway that would ultimately lead to the Main Banquet Hall. "Watch your step."


    Esra followed "I won''t step on another painting. That one surprised me."


    What motivated Esra? That was a question that haunted many Lordlings and Lords. There was nothing he wanted, no wealth, no power, no authority.


    But maybe Esra wanted simpler things.


    "Esra, you are team ''Parsivlia'', correct?" Daniel hated that he had to say it, but he needed to speak Esra''s language, even if he didn''t know what it meant.


    Esra smiled. "They''d be so good together. She won''t put up with his nonsense, and he won''t settle for anything less than the best for her."


    Daniel changed his path so to avoid looking through the window. It was one thing walking on a wall, looking at the floor and the ceiling like new walls, but it was another to see the land beneath your feet rolling away as if it was an endless void. "What if I told you some misguided members of Silvia''s faction are against her marrying Parcel? Creating many problems. Some say it can never be."


    "Why?" Esra said, aghast.


    "Eyes on your feet, Esra." Daniel avoided a decorative light fixture that was mounted to the wall/ceiling. "Perhaps because some view Parcel as unmotivated, lazy, avoids responsibility, and hasn''t placed in any tournaments in the last three years?"


    "But besides that?" Esra said, looking baffled.


    "Besides failing as a Lordling, losing significant amounts of Authority in a duel against me, and embarrassing his Court, he''s an absolutely wonderful person," Daniel added. He didn''t want to argue with Esra, but Esra nodded as if Daniel had agreed with him completely.


    Esra avoided the gilded and jeweled sconce, but stepped on another painting, just the corner of the frame. Did Esra the Great Gravity Mage really not look where he was walking?


    Daniel kept talking. "If you want to help Parsivlia, we need to change these people''s minds."


    "Will you talk to them? Maybe give that authority stuff back to Parcel?" Esra said, carefully shifting his weight so as not to harm the frame any more than he had...but the frame was loosed from the wall, however, and fell to the true floor...but it was caught by a Hall Attendant who had slid the last few feet across the marble floors to intercept the painting in time.


    The bindings tried to enact, but Daniel informed them that he was following Lordling Parcel''s orders, as a proper Hall Attendant must. And this plan would eventually benefit Parcel. Fredar and Parcel had once competed for the same position. It seemed laughable now, but once Parcel had been the favorite. If Fredar was in attendance in the Banquet Hall, and Esra caused a disturbance, Parcel would look good just by comparison.


    Honestly, Lord Fredar was a person multiple people wished to take Griffin riding with a loose saddle.


    "Someone must speak to them," Daniel said.


    "We should get them a present."


    "Parsiliva?"


    "No, these naysayers."


    "We need them to change their minds about Parcel," Daniel said. The idea of Esra attempting to gift Silvia''s faction any gift was laughable...Esra''s idea of a gift often was baked goods. Courts long used to receiving jewels, gold, and precious magic items, may not look favorably to Esra turning up unannounced with ''sticky cinnamon rolls''.


    No, Daniel wanted to know if the Main Banquet Hall was truly being occupied by the Sky Court and the Walsa Alliance. "I heard, there is perhaps a meeting going on currently. Between Parcel''s people. If we can change how Parcel''s people view him, this would begin changing how Silvia''s faction sees him."


    Daniel stopped near the entrance to the hallway that would lead eventually to the Main Banquet Hall if one went straight past the indoor gardens and around the swimming pools.


    "You want me to crash the party and tell them how good Parcel is?"


    Daniel wanted to do that, very much.


    But that wasn''t the impact that would serve him best.


    "No. I want you to go, and spy."

 Chapter 21: If games are knitted sweaters, then Esra is a kitten determined to unravel them

    Standing on the wall before the hallway which led, eventually, to the Main Banquet Hall, the Game Killer''s voice dropped an octave deeper, and he repeated a single word softly. "Spy." He grinned.


    A dangerous word.


    If Daniel meant it in the usual case, he would never use Esra. But he did not need Esra to actually spy.


    Esra was a wild card. He was unpredictable and unfocused. He would lose interest and wander away from his assignments. He would find new projects to amuse himself. He would disregard his own destructive magic in favor of trying some element he bore no affinity for.


    Esra was known to be this way. He had little patience, little skill, and little desire for things to continue as they had before.


    What was the most destructive, disrupting function Esra could perform?


    Being quiet and saying nothing. If Esra went there and stayed quiet, he may be more unnerving than if he came in flipping tables. While Esra was powerful, there were Lords present strong enough to silence him and cast him out. But if Esra entered and said nothing...


    It may disturb the meeting more effectively than if the sky opened and the moon disappeared again.


    "I think there is a meeting going on in the Main Banquet Hall at this very hour, or very soon. It should be an important meeting, but Parcel wasn''t invited. If we can find out what is going on there, you could help Parcel."


    The Game Killer frowned and kicked at the ground at his feet. Which was the wall, and a new shoe print smudge was left on the wall. "So he''s not at that meeting? Where is Parcel now?"


    Daniel''s bindings tried to activate, as a Hall Attendant he was expected to help the guests.


    Esra isn''t a guest at the event in the Lesser Banquet Hall, Daniel told his bindings. Esra was merely welcomed into the O''Tells House. An invitee of one party was not invited to another party even if they occurred near each other.


    The bindings loosened.


    No, Parcel was sent to this meeting to act as at least an informant himself. But Daniel didn''t say that part aloud. This could still backfire on Daniel. Esra might grow bored and just ''peek inside the Lesser Hall real quick and say hi!'' or something.


    "Do you want to help Parcel?"


    "Yep. He''s our friend after all."


    Daniel sighed. If Parcel thought Elswith had been too liberal with the use of the word ''friend'', he would absolutely cringe at Esra''s blatantly exaggerated use of the word. He called anyone a friend for the smallest of reasons.


    Yes, Parcel, Elswith, and Esra once survived out far at a campaign for three days pinned down in an old thatch hut amidst wandering hordes of ''infected'', corpses that became infused with chaos energy and arose again after death. Honestly, neither Parcel nor Elswith had truly been afeared nor worried. Infected were unpleasant and smelled terrible, but so long as they kept out of sight there was little danger. Parcel had been pleased to skip lessons for several days, and Elswith had enjoyed being able to focus on his Lightning control without other interference, but Esra had been nearly catatonic and wouldn''t listen to reason. He did not like the infected, even to this day.


    There was little truly upsetting about the event.


    Of course, there was the one time the three of them, two young Lordlings and one untested Mage had had to leave to the hut to lead the infected away a few times.


    And yes, there was that time in the middle of the night were an infected crawled inside under a rotten wall of the house and they had to band together to cast it out.


    And then there was the time when Parcel had to race in full view of hundreds of infected across a sizable distance to reach the copse of trees on the far side of the field to retrieve supplies for Esra''s wound. All the while Elswith had to strike down about three dozen that swarmed near the hut after smelling Esra''s blood.


    But all in all, it was hardly worth remembering.


    Beyond that, they just waited until the Dawn Court''s Guard swept through like shining sunrise over the darkness, purging the land of infected.


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    It had been before Esra had playing cards, so the time had passed unreasonably slow, but beyond that, it was not too notable. It certainly changed nothing for how Parcel and Elswith competed.


    Daniel sighed. Had he come to enjoy card games after all that time?


    But that was nearly five years ago when Esra was still short and Parcel was still excelling.


    "Look, if you go and spy on this meeting, we may learn about the events in the Sky Court. The Sky Court power structure is still soft, Lord Fredar ascended, but has yet to truly grasp power."


    "But why does Pockets need power?" Esra said.


    "Even if he does not gain power, if he knows enough of the happenings, he can gain position."


    Esra sighed, then grinned dangerously. "This is one of those fae favor things, right?"


    Daniel grew still. "For Parcel?"


    "No, there''s some reason you can''t go to this meeting, right? Which means I get something in return."


    Daniel said nothing. For all the times Esra to be dragging his feet, why was it now? Esra never did things the right way.


    "I need more lightning in a bottle," Esra said, and removed a crystal goblet from a small shoulder bag. The same crystal goblet Elswith had given him not two months ago with enough condensed lightning to last Esra for a year. "Easy for you!"


    "How did you use it all up in two months?"


    "I found something else to power. Something big. I''ll show you later."


    Elswith had little control over elemental magic. Lightning was the only affinity he gathered that he could use well in combat. If not for his mastery of runes, he would have been constantly outclassed and overpowered, instead of merely overpowered by other Lordlings'' abilities during tournaments and contests.


    But while he still had all the technical knowledge for Lightning, Daniel had nowhere enough power to generate Lightning. He had so little magic he needed to eat. How was he to work magic on a large scale?


    How to get the Mage Lightning in a Bottle, when Daniel could no longer generate and manipulate Lightning?


    If he refused, Esra would know something was up. Elswith had never denied Esra Lightning before, mostly because the lanky Mage was so insistent it was easier to help him and send him away.


    Esra claimed that without the Bottled Lightning, his ''iPhone'' would go dark forever and he would be without good music. The care of his rectangle was the only thing Daniel had ever seen the Mage truly passionate about. Esra cared nothing for wealth or fame, but anything threatened that rectangle, Esra was like another person entirely.


    And Elswith had been the Game Killer''s only supplier. It had been easy, and it kept the most dangerous threat to any scheme relatively pacified.


    How to get Lightning in a Bottle with...


    The Stable.


    His next duty and last for the day: The Grant Stable, one of the original buildings of the First King of the Seelie Fae. It would be risky, and Daniel would have to...bend the rules to ensure he found himself in a good place with one of several creatures housed therein that produced lightning. With his technical knowledge, he would be able to transfer it into the crystal goblet...


    It would be risky. But Esra''s destructive powers may benefit him, and the longer he went without Esra discovering the Game, the most stable his condition.


    "Stables. Meet me at the Stables after 9 o''clock tonight. Tell me what you learn, and I''ll see if we can help Parcel in his situation."


    Rattling frames sounded around them. The pull of ''down'' being the wall began to feel soft. ¡°You can¡¯t just use your lightning right here?¡± Esra said, and several of the framed trinkets on the wall started to clatter. Esra was upset. Creating two gravity wells atop each other was never a good idea for any innocent bystanders. It led to unpredictable results.


    The bindings tried to force Daniel to answer, but he was ready to sidestep and redirect.


    Time to calm him down. "Esra, if I gave it to you now, I have no trust that you would fulfill your job. Besides, if I filled it here, you would be listening to ''music'' instead of observing the meeting. You get distracted."


    "I probably would." The rattling settled down, and gravity returned to as before, with the Wall still ''down''. "But the meeting won''t be that long right? I don''t want to spend nine hours at a meeting. Is there lunch?"


    Daniel sighed. "It''s four in the afternoon."


    "Is it? I thought it was noon. Wow, where does the time go?"


    "To the Time Court."


    "It should go to me, time and gravity are related after all."


    Esra said weird things sometimes.


    Instead of calling the Great Gravity Mage mean names, Daniel vetoed his point in another way. "You aren''t the Master of Gravity Esra, even then."


    "So...how do I spy?"


    "Go in, sit down, and say little. Don''t reveal why you''re there. Just be an observer. Find out who is there, and which group they are with."


    Esra sighed. "It almost sounded cool for a minute there. Well. I guess I can do that. I''m good at being sneaky."


    Daniel doubted that greatly. Whatever game the Sky Court was playing, hopefully, Esra would become entangled in it like a kitten entangled in yarn. Tear down their aims, destroy their careful planning and machinations.


    If Daniel did this right, Esra may become very valuable, provided Esra did not explode around anything Daniel considered valuable.


    So the great disaster that was Esra the Game Killer shrugged, and left, changing his own gravity''s pull to now walk along the ceiling of the hallway.


    "Watch where you are going." Daniel reminded.


    Esra scurried around a chandelier and not through it, so that was already an improvement. ¡°Hey, there¡¯s dust up here! Tell them they need to clean better.¡±


    Something important occurred to Daniel, too late in fact. He was still standing on the wall.


    ¡°Esra,¡± Daniel called, still standing at the end of the hall. As much as Esra was an overall waste of a Mage, his work was very tidy, woven so tightly and so completely solid that reality itself got a little confused. ¡°Esra, you need to let me down. Esra.¡±


    "You can do it. I believe in you Spikes!"


    Daniel sighed, and turned around to face the servants watching him on the wall.


    He was stuck on the wall. Great. This was just great. The other Hall Attendants and the myriad of Servants stared at him, looking for some explanation.

 Chapter 22: The Not-Scent of Dreadful magic

    Daniel found himself stranded on the wall with the servants and the Hall Attendants glaring at him.


    Esra''s last gravity well had caused some damage, several potted plants found themselves tipped over, and the framed art was no longer hanging straight. It would need a careful eye and a speedy use of the ladder.


    Either that or someone already standing on the wall.


    The Surmount Butler was still absent. This made Daniel realize that he had time to set this event to rights. That the Surmount Butler had not arrived meant that he would not arrive before the turning of the hour.


    "Who''s going to take the fall for this?" one of the Hall Attendants finally spoke. "It can''t be me, I''m on my second strike this month."


    "It cannot fall to the base servants every time! I have three dozen mice to feed at home, I cannot have my pay docked." Another servant spoke, albeit more hesitantly.


    "If we get in trouble, we could lose our position!" cried out a Hall Attendant.


    Multiply voices arose in protests that they could not accept blame for this incident with the Surmount Butler.


    Esra''s last attack on gravity had caused a new mess to grow. But Daniel learned the turmoil was not only external. Strife reared its head with the servants themselves. After asking a few pointed questions, different groups spoke copious details, often speaking over each other.


    And Daniel discovered the first divide he would use: the base-level servants; the maids, the cleaners, the dusters, were at odds with the higher servants; the Attendants, the Hall Attendants, the butlers, and the doorkeepers.


    After a few minutes of listening to the different groups, Daniel raised his hand and, politely, interrupted.


    "Let this humble one understand. The lesser servants are afeared that the higher level servants will blame them for the distribution that is Esra. The higher level servants are afeared that someone will pin the blame on them, so they are most eager to pin the blame first." he summarized in two sentences what had taken much longer.


    The servants shifted, and Daniel felt very much like a schoolmaster at that moment.


    "That was cut to the quick...but it''s more complicated than that, surely." One of the Hall Attendants spoke.


    The lesser hall attendant, with a far more pleasant personality than the Glasbin, spoke next. "That...sounds too simple."


    "It''s perfectly simple." Daniel countered, not unkindly. "If this incident becomes known, all secret keepers will be...viewed negatively."


    A maid with perfect braids spoke next, "So you are saying we need to all keep Esra''s arrival a secret?"


    The eyes turned to Daniel again.


    He barely stopped himself from laughing. "No, in fact, the opposite. We cannot stop others from learning what happened here." That was a mistake. Secrets grew in danger the more mouths may speak it. Therefore, if it was never secret to begin with, it lost its power. "And there is no reason to hide it. Esra the Great Mage blessed the O''Tells with his presence today. It falls to the servants to ease all the guests'' burdens. We work together, and remedy once more. There will be no scolding if the chores are completed before the masters return, so all make haste to straighten up this place!"


    The servants became excited. Well, most of them. Daniel spotted several regretful looks on some faces and pegged them as spies immediately. Secret information was only good as long as it was secret.


    "So we all agree to tell. And we all own it. There is no secret here, so we have nothing to hide." Said Daniel, with something to hide. But not about cleaning up after Esra, he told the Law of Fae when it started to discolor around him. The Law of Fae became translucent again.


    "All in duty did we do, and now there is not to be a spot remain or a spot to be seen!"


    And the second time in a few minutes, the brooms and the mops and the polish was brought out. The Hall Attendants went back to their doors, except the Glasbin fae, who was glaring at Daniel as Daniel reset the higher frames back to alignment. It was easy for him, as he was still standing on the wall.


    "Aren''t you pleased with the resolution?" Daniel asked his partner. "The brunt of the trouble is removed."


    The Glasbin had to step back as a nimble servant girl swept the dust away with a broom.


    "Good work," he said, sourly. "Now no one else is in danger of trouble. Except us."


    Daniel had walked over to where several smaller fae, all perched on a top rung of the ladder, were expertly working to remove the shoe print left on the portrait. Daniel smiled as the cleaning was perfected. "You guys have practice with cleaning up after Esra, don''t you."


    They nodded, and Daniel helped them finish with one persistent smudge over the painted lady''s eyebrow. Daniel dropped the rag down, and as it left his hand it returned to the normal pull of gravity.


    It also fell on the Glasbin fae''s head. The Glasbin glared at Daniel.


    It truly was almost a non-issue. Once the servants knew what to do, they set about it with speed and unity. Soon, the room was reset and the base-level servants again vanished into the servants'' area.


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    All the Hall Attendants regained their positions with aplomb. All except for one pair.


    Daniel was still on the wall afterall, and the Glasbin was staring at him like Daniel was staying on the wall on purpose.


    "Aren''t you coming down?" The Glasbin fae looked at the Hall, and at the lonely double door that stood without a pair of Attendants. ¡°Return to your post.¡± The Glasbin compelled him.


    Daniel cocked an eyebrow, nodded, and walked into what was to him the wall. Then he jumped, and slide back down the floor until his feet were once more returned to the wall. He was proving his point. It would be a nearly vertical climb for him to return to where his post was. Unless they lowered a rope or something, he wasn¡¯t able to get there. Bindings stopped when it became impossible. That was the difference between binding and enthralling. Binding someone left them with the compulsion to do something. Enthralling someone¡­Daniel could imagine the crazed eyes of the servants of the East Court and shivered.


    Daniel¡¯s head was level with the Glasbin fae''s feet. He didn¡¯t like that and took several steps up the wall until he was closer to head height. ¡°As a parting gift, the Great Mage seems to have left a puzzle to test the wit of this great house¡¯s staff. Given time, this humble servant will do his best to unravel it.¡±


    ¡°I don''t know much about Gravity magic, but I know it''s not hard to break. If the Surmount Butler arrives and the Great Gravity Mage has caused trouble, it will be easier to blame you. Stop making me look bad."


    Daniel sighed, conflicted.


    Here was his first conundrum: the general perception of gravity magic versus Esra''s mastery.


    Gravity Magic was ill-suited for battle, as the magic was difficult to affix on anything, let alone a moving target. It was so cumbersome that few wielded it proficiently. Few were better or more competent at it than Esra, which only added to the mage¡¯s unchallenged status. Gravity Magic was slow and steady. To change the flow of gravity to another direction was Esra¡¯s specialty, which few recognized and few understood its true devastation.


    Which led to Daniel¡¯s current problem. Most people who cast gravity magic did full of holes, more like a rotting old fishing net, prone to tear apart with a firm touch. But Esra created his more like a woven canvas, strong and nearly watertight. Daniel could unravel it, mostly because Esra had not been truly malicious, and Daniel had...certain skills he was holding in reserve.


    But that led to another problem. If any analyzed the structure of the spell, they would realize that Esra¡¯s spell was more solid and firm than most average masters could replicate.


    If Daniel succeeded in undoing the spell, it may betray the depths of talents he admitted. The Surmount Butler would hear of this, if not be able to see it dimly in a scurrying mirror.


    Especially since it seemed like the Surmount Butler was actively working against Daniel, and sowing seeds of chaos at the beginning of a civil war in the O''Tells'' house.


    If afterward assumed it was an ordinary level spell, then almost anyone of modest training could break it, and the Butler would assume that Daniel was shirking his duties and having a temper tantrum.


    Daniel sighed, and made his decision.


    He would break the magic.


    The Surmount Butler was not present in person, and Daniel wished to end his first day at the O''Tells quietly. If he was caught later, he could allude that it had run out of power at the end.


    So Daniel spent several minutes untying the gravity well. It was hard to do, like untying a knot with short fingernails. It was much harder than before, without his power, it was hard to needle his way into it. And the worst aspect was that stupid Esra had made it too rich for him to absorb the power. He gathered a few little wisps, and then reapplied it to untie the rest of the knot. He paused a moment and stared as the outside the window at his feet. It was strange and beautiful, to see the world from a new angle.


    Feeling the tilt of gravity shift around him and sway gently. Careful not to make it taunt again, he pulled it apart with his touch. He teased the spell loose, then placed one foot against the floor and gently eased out the last of the gravity well as he stepped down from the wall to the ground smoothly.


    As Daniel strode forward, he felt regretful that Esra was one of the greats when it came to gravity magic. His control of Gravity was beyond the imagination of most Wizards and Fae Lords alike. And if the Great Mage was content to work magic like that, he could rise to unimaginable positions within the alliance. But instead, Esra wanted to learn and study anything that wasn¡¯t gravity related. Which he had no talent for, at all. That had led to a lot of conflicts between Esra and any faction he joined.


    At long last, the Hall Attendant Branch rejoined his partner at their door.


    Daniel spent nearly the rest of Tea Time standing in perfect Lren waiting posture, with his partner that was clearly vying against him.


    All was well in the Foyer of the Lesser Banquet Hall. The floor was perfectly swept, the works of art perfectly resplendent, and even the stubborn shoe prints had been removed. The hustle of servants had retreated to the servants'' sections, and only the Hall Attendants remained. It was even pleasant. Daniel could imagine this kind of work is rewarding over time. Peaceful. Surely inside a banquet would be more stressful for the servants, but outside, in the near perfect quiet, there was a gentle purpose in waiting to open a door.


    Then the peace was broken.


    The first thing Daniel heard was discordant disruption.


    Daniel briefly relaxed his perfect Lren waiting stance and leaned away from his post to glance up the main hall that led to the Main Banquet Hall, eventually.


    Then after noise, arose the use of Authority and Influence from that direction.


    "He lasted longer than I thought." Daniel said quietly, returning to his perfect Lren stance.


    His partner standing next to him was either glaring or forgot how to blink. Daniel hoped it was the former because blinking was rather important for sight.


    The noise level rose again, so much so that people inside the Lesser Banquet Hall must have heard.


    The Authority that ensued from the Main Banquet Hall was sharp, and Daniel could feel several factions. Differently, distantly Sky Court. There was the signature O''Tells brand of magic...but not a main Lord, so some cousin or Lordlings of the Lords of the O''Tells House was present. A smattering of influences and authority came also, too distant and too removed for him to identify.


    And another...


    The not quite smell scent of some...magic that Daniel could not place. The hairs on the back of his neck rose.


    It wasn''t that he couldn''t place it, he did not even recognize the kind or type. He had spent the last ten of his nineteen years becoming familiar with most kinds of magic. Even the Unseelie court. Even the Wizards and the Mages. Even the visitors from the Far Reaches.


    What was this?


    The Glasbin fae indignantly inhaled, grimacing. "You just had to cause trouble for me."


    "There was no trouble caused by this faithful Hall Attendant, so as my partner you need not fear."


    The Glasbin fae shifted and returned to his post, but his posture was stiffer than strictly necessary.


    Daniel looked down toward the Main Banquet Hall once more, where Esra had undoubtedly caused some trouble. That the Game Killer had made it so long in what must be a very boring meeting was impressive.


    Daniel hoped that Esra would come to the Stable that evening. There may be useful information for him.


    The almost smell scent of the strange magic from that direction remained.


    Dread grew inside Daniel''s chest.


    He feared that he would discover the mystery sooner than he could prepare for.

 Chapter 23: The Third Attempt of the Surmount Butler

    Whatever happened in the Main Banquet Hall, Daniel did not discover more. Hopefully, he would find gossip during his next shift here, if not directly from Esra''s mouth.


    The Servant Branch was nearly two-thirds done with today¡¯s duties.


    Glancing at the hexed doorknob, he reviewed that so far, he had managed to overcome two of the three hurdles of the Surmount Butler.


    Perhaps the Surmount Butler had other designs, but Esra had disrupted those plans. That would be within the character of Esra, he certainly seemed to live to disrupt carefully crafted plans and ride the winds of chaos. The invitation of trouble remained from both the Surmount Butler and Lordling Parcel. Anywhere Esra went was automatically in trouble, so Daniel didn¡¯t need to worry more so than usual.


    He spent the rest of the time attempting to convert magic into food to stop his stomach from rumbling, only to learn too late that whatever meager amount was much too little. All he earned for his efforts was a headache. He wished he had been allowed to eat whatever lunch he missed.


    Daniel felt his spider sock quiver and then re-congeal. His mind, not actively focused on any specific quests, wandered. What would be more stratifying: Thousands of spiders, jumping on Esra, or thousands of spiders, jumping on Lordling Parcel? Or, he smiled to himself, thousands of spiders jumping on both Esra and Lordling Parcel.


    Right before the top of the hour, the Surmount Butler arrived, steps striking the ground like a blow. The impressive figure grimaced as he beheld at the perfect lobby, the gleam floors, the Esra print-free walls and ceilings. Clearly, the Surmount Butler had expected some kind of disarray, and just as clearly he was disappointed to be mistaken.


    Daniel judged that whatever Esra had done, or didn''t do, had left an impact in that meeting.


    The Surmount Butler ran his hand over the top of one of the framed art works, and grimaced as his gloved hand returned un-smudged.


    "You, servant girl." he barked at one of the waiting maids, taking looming strides toward her.


    "Yes sir," she said, meekly.


    "What happened here?"


    "We...are hosting a banquet." her dewdrop wings trembled.


    The Surmount Butler leered at her, casting a dark shadow over her. It was more intense than any reaction should be for her answer. Daniel''s instincts warned the girl may be in danger.


    Daniel fought himself to not step forward.


    He didn''t have to. The lesser attendant, the one he no doubt replaced, stepped in front. He had crossed the room quickly, but without making a sound. No doubt a spy then. "Sir, this attendant is willing to answer. Do you mean the unexpected arrival of the Gravity Mage?"


    "Was he truly unexpected?" The Surmount Butler said, and Daniel felt the question was directed at him. But he did not answer.


    "I cannot say." the lesser attendant said gravely. "All this servant knows is that the Great Gravity Mage Esra entered, great sir. He proved he was a Mage and came in. Then he left."


    "You, what happened here?" he asked another Hall Attendant, standing in front of a set of doors much like Daniel was.


    The dark haired hall attendant cleared his throat uncomfortably. "We were honored with the Great Gravity Mage Esra''s presence, great Surmount Butler. He demonstrated his abilities, and left."


    The Surmount Butler''s nose wrinkled in disdain as he took strides to stand in front of Daniel. "You, Hall Attendant Branch. Tell me, under the Law of Fae: What games did conspire here, while the menace Esra did appear?"


    The bindings enacted.


    "New Attendants must be perfect in all actions," came the blows of the Surmount Butler''s word.


    The bindings hurt.


    The Surmount Butler continued. "Perfect in all actions, lest they anger the very powerful."


    Around each limb, and in his heart. Daniel felt he may crumple from the pain.


    The Surmount Butler grinned, evilly at his suffering. "As the one in charge of such a wayward servant, I implore you to Improve your skills, whenever an opportune moment arise."


    Daniel breathed. He breathed hard and forced himself to remember the goose bite from earlier in the day. He remembered the beating he took from ''sparring'' as a newly minted and not quite official squire. He remembered the hours of the labor of standing perfectly still that day as the Surmount Butler had scolded him and berated him, depriving him of his meal. A little temporary pain paled in comparison.


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    "This humble servant," he said, through clenched teeth. "Is honored to answer such an estimated question."


    The third affront, the third attempt. This was the conclusion to the Surmount Butler''s attack today. It may not have been the initial plan, but blaming chaos on Branch could have worked for any person. For example, if Parcel and Daniel had dueled, this line of attack would have still been valid.


    Daniel pushed back against the bindings. The Servant Branch was hiding nothing. The Servant Branch did his duty to his full capacity.


    The bindings quivered for a second. They did not go away, but the intensity lessened.


    Daniel kept up his momentum. "The Great Gravity Mage Esra played no game. The Mage entered because he decided to, and the Great Surmount Butler was not present to clarify the situation." Daniel''s small counter attack. It was true, what servant would throw out a Great Mage such as Esra? What servant would dare? "The House did not remove him, so the Great Lords of the O''Tells House must have welcomed him in, in one form or another."


    "Is that so, servant?" The weight of the Surmount Butler''s words pressed against him, like a mighty downpour against the canvas of a tent. But the canvas overcame and superseded, it withstood the pressure and the weight.


    "Yes." Daniel said. The pressure of the Surmount Butler made his knees shake. Elswith had stood against the Red Lord, a High Fae. He would not bow his head to such a lesser threat as the Surmount Butler. He may frame Daniel, derail Daniel, even led to Daniel''s loss in the Game, but Daniel would not yield.


    And then the Game intervened, and the pressure broke as if it had never been there.


    Others must have felt the effect because scant moments ago the Surmount Butler''s presence had felt dark and menacing, now it felt almost laughable. He had miss used his authority, and that authority was if temporarily, revoked. Was the Surmount Butler implying that some servant colluded with the Great Gravity Mage? Ridiculous.


    Daniel almost feared he would have flown upward just from the removal of pressure. He had to stop himself from grinning. Was this the third attack from the Surmount Butler? The doorknob, the Lordling Parcel, and then this?


    Losing the presence of Authority in front of an audience was unsettling. The Surmount Butler stood in front of Daniel, clearly trying to find one last thing to critique. But Daniel''s Lren Style was polished, his uniform impeccable; the vision of a perfect Hall Attendant for the O''Tells House.


    The Surmount Butler opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Make way, I must attend this event," he said, his words chipped.


    So Daniel and his partner opened their doors perfectly. The sounds of a conclusion to a speech drifted in as the Surmount Butler entered, body stiff and stoic. Daniel saw just the Surmount Butler tilt his head just slightly, taking the smallest glace at the Glasbin fae.


    Disquiet filled Daniel over that look. He should ensure that he was not left alone with his partner. Daniel knew that theoretically, he safe to many dangers. Killing the pawn would end the Game, so threats to his life were...lower than they had been when he was a Lordling. But as the poets said, ''You''d be surprised what you can live through.''


    As Daniel and the Glasbin closed their doors, silence fell over the foyer again.


    "Are we...okay?" asked the servant with 3 dozen mice at home to feed, peering out from a curtain.


    The dark haired Hall Attendant who had spoken before smiled. "I...think we are."


    The lesser Attendant sighed in relief.


    Daniel interrupted. "We are not done yet. This banquet must conclude perfectly. Then the event becomes something that happened in the past." Daniel said. "Do not relax early, or you will fall in defeat."


    The goodwill that was forming seemed to freeze over, but the well regard of his fellow Servants was not as important as surviving this coming Game.


    The remaining minutes passed slowly. Daniel considered what Esra had done, or did not do. If only Esra could be reliably counted on, Daniel could make much chaos as a cover for himself.


    But that was also Esra''s problem: He did what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted, regardless of the time or place or what was at stake.


    Daniel''s musings were at last put aside as the clock struck five, and the Time Court''s bell rang. And like clockwork, the Hall Attendants opened the doors in the Lren Style as the Banquet was officially finished.


    Midday and late-day luncheons were always fickle; sometimes the crowd would linger for hours, but other times as soon as the top of the hour arrived, all left with haste. Today was the latter kind, as tea time passed and all the important people and all the not-so-important people left in a parade of colors and patterns and finery as befitting their ranks. The eyes still gawked at him. Lordlings'' conversations lulled as they drew near him, the Midlevels muttering and murmuring, and the wizards whispering wild and watchful. At this point, Daniel merely stood and held the door open.


    Daniel had to give praise to his old Steward, learning the Lren style had indeed proven useful, if for reasons other than what Matheus had intended.


    Perhaps if he both won the Game, yet failed to achieve full Lord, he could earn influence on the side as a Lren instructor.


    It certainly felt climactic, seven pairs of hall attendants all in perfect sync, holding their doors open with such poise and dramatic stances, while the main Door keeper pair opening and closing the doors like the snipping of scissors or shears for the departing guests.


    Several Friggans looked at Daniel more openly than before. He had nothing against the Mist Court and secretly wished them well.


    Daniel saw Parcel leave separately from Lordling Silvia. For some reason, he felt pained. Perhaps he was too tired to think clearly. The union of ''Parsilvia'' was a childish ideal that would benefit neither faction.


    The Surmount Butler left, following after a Lord of the O''Tells house that Daniel knew. Orville''s mother. She did not even look toward Daniel once. She was more like a statue than a living person, so far removed from the realms of a servant it almost hurt to behold her. From her steps and the way the Surmount Butler followed her, it was clear that the Surmount Butler would be occupied for some time.


    Time enough for Daniel to finish and arrive at the Stable at 6 o''clock for his last duty of the day.


    Then all the guests were gone. All the powers that be removed. The last door closed and the Servants were left to their own devices.


    It felt like the air was moving again, and the mood was suddenly bright.


    After the last door closed all the servants let out a cheer. "They''ve left, they''ve left! We''ve endured. Give it a cheer, and bring out the beer!" Even the Glasbin fae took part in the chant and cheered.


    Wait, did servants do that every time after an event?


    It was news to him.

 Chapter 24: When the Masters are away, the Servants come out and play

    The Banquet was concluded and the servants cheered, meanwhile the former Lordling Elswith felt baffled.


    It was news to him.


    Elswith had attended banquets, galas, parades, promenades, celebrations, festivals and festivities, assemblies, balls, rehearsals, recitals, homecomings, sorries, sways, plays, masquerades, concerts, concertos, jubilees, pot-lucks, picnics, shindig, receptions, consecrations, commissions, ceremonies, and carnivals, to name just a few. Thousands of them, over the years.


    When Senate was assembling and the King held Court at the same time, there were times the Heirling of the Red Sword was so busy he would be forced to make an appearance at over seventy-six meetings in 24 hours.


    Those were not fun days, a confusing mess rushing, changing clothes, aids handing speeches to him as was he pushed out on stage to deliver a speech to open the event, then stumbling into a carriage to be delivered to the next gala to cut some ribbon, to the next ceremony to raise a glass in a toast, to the next recital to reignite tensions with rivals. Best not get those confused. The intensity of high-level magic that would be used so he could make all those appearances on time was staggering. Sometimes he would spend only four to five minutes at an event, to be whisked away to another function beginning in ten minutes, to repeat the process again and again and again.


    These events were often just a critical as a battlefield. So he spent time learning everything he could. Everything he needed. He even memorized all of the major styles of serving, even so far as the style to open doors.


    It was important to know if his Faction was being disrespected, for example if the insult was against Lordling Elswith, or if it was against the Heirling of the Red Sword. Insults against the Red Sword would not be tolerated. Lordlings could be insulted, but never the death-defying sword and the faction it represented.


    So Elswith''s knowledge of these events had been thorough. There were many times when he was able to clarify that the Red Sword had not been insulted, only the lacking Lordling Elswith.


    Elswith had lived and breathed these events. He thought he knew every angle.


    But he had never known that after the events were over, the servants cheered.


    The sudden good mood and exuberance from the servants washed over him, leaving him feeling lost.


    The young servant maids were suddenly very childish, acting very much like the children they probably were, with smiles and playful little hops as they scurried around the foyer. The older butlers and attendants were suddenly chatting, despite the different factions they followed. Buttons were loosened, jabots and cravats untied. A butler was dancing with a lady attendant, their fingers intertwined as they swayed to music only they heard.


    "This is...interesting," Daniel said hollowly, watching as several Hall Attendants were even removing their outer coats, wearing only their long sleeve shirts and vests. Some even removed their cravats completely.


    "This too much for your sensitive self?" the dark hair Hall Attendant said, and Daniel could almost pretend that it was not provocative but only assertively friendly.


    Daniel watched this. In all his time and all the thousands of events he had attended, he had never once seen the truly relaxed side of the Servant class. He had spent years surrounded by people who shielded themselves so completely. Then again, did the servants have any notion of what he did on campaigns? All they ever saw of Lordlings was someone obsessed with structure and parties.


    Did everyone live separated from each other, never to truly know another soul?


    Daniel watched the crowd of servants as they started to migrate into the Lesser Banquet Hall through the double doors which remained open after the guests left. "No. I am pleased that underneath all that separates Lordlings and Hall Attendants, we are all waiting until we can take off our cravats and slip out of uncomfortable clothes. Is there beer?" What would beer do on an empty stomach, he wondered...considering what he had seen before on a full stomach....probably nothing good. But it was made from grain, so it was like food...probably?


    The dark hair hall attendant was taken aback, as though he was expecting a different response.


    "No beer, nor ale. Still too early. But we always say that when the Lords finally leave. The weight of all those uppers is enough to make it hard to breathe. When they go, it''s like...suddenly getting a drink of some good ale. So..."


    "I understand that. Oh, I do." Both the Glasbin and the newcomer looked incredulous.


    "When you are around the High Fae, it feels like the air is compressed so tightly that your lungs labor to breathe. If you stand too near the High Lords of Fae, even reality becomes dim and mutable."


    "Ah...well, truth be told, after a big event we do go for ale afterward. Perhaps later..."


    The Glasbin fae made a rough, throat-clearing cough, and the newcomer flinched then coughed as well. It was clear that Servant Branch was not invited to any after-hours gatherings.


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    "Well, I need to...leave now." And he left, moving into the Lesser Banquet Hall.


    Daniel removed the handkerchief that Lordling Parcel had left behind. He held it in his hands.


    He beheld the hexed doorknob. The hex was slowly unwinding, it would be gone in another hour or two.


    Daniel covered his hand with the white cloth and finally gripped the hexed doorknob.


    The Glasbin fae saw his movement out of the corner of his eyes, and, with a curse under his breath, dove to the floor.


    But nothing happened.


    Because while Daniel had been moving, he was already pulling the hex into the fabric of the handkerchief. The hex, already losing its form and structure, was bound up and captured by material. If the cloth were worse quality or the hex any higher, then it wouldn''t work. Daniel was not skilled at making hexes, so he decided to keep it for later.


    Waste not, want not.


    "Hmmm. I guess the hex wasn''t very impressive after all." Daniel said, as if it had disappeared and not that he had captured it. "Tell me, what was it supposed to do? Something nasty, loud...or something that splatters."


    The Glasbin stood up and glared at him. He straightened his uniform. "Is this all a game to you?"


    "Yes." A Game that decides who lives and dies. A most urgent Game. A Game that he could not lose.


    "That is Lordling Parcel''s handkerchief."


    "I will be happy to return the good Lordling''s items if he returns and seeks it." Between a curse pretending to be a sock and a hexed handkerchief, Daniel wondered how many negatively imbued garments he would have eventually. ¡°But as all know, the Law of Fae despises things being ownerless. So in its owner''s absence, I will keep it safe.¡± Daniel declared to the room. He tucked that handkerchief away, feeling the tethers of ownership pass to himself. Abandoned things were easy to claim ownership of, abandoned places, abandoned people. Really, most of the Law of Fae seemed concerned that nothing ownerless remains ownerless.


    His minder was glaring at him.


    Daniel moved to remove the hexed handkerchief and offer it. ¡°What, do you want it?¡±


    "No." The Glasbin Fae hastily shook his head.


    Daniel let him go before drifting slowly after. He entered the Lesser Banquet Hall. The Lesser Banquet Hall had doors on all sides. The seven double doors leading into the foray. Across the room glass doors that  allowed entrance to the exterior gardens that buttressed against the building. There were doors on the south side of the room that led to parlors, and three doors that led to the kitchens. The Banquet Hall itself was beautiful, tastefully decorated in greens and blues. No dancing space was available, instead a myriad of tables set out, and chairs. Natural light spilled from the glass doors, casting a golden tone over the room. Beyond the glass doors in the garden, Daniel observed an old willow tree that once had been his favorite climbing tree, long ago when Young Lordling Elswith had met first met Young Lordling Orville.


    This was the room that had celebrated his circle''s victory over the dragon''s corpse, one of the parties, but his most meaningful.


    This was the room that housed the event that launched Elswith, Regis, and Cleo''s plan to save the unprotected Shanty Town that grew beyond the borders of the City Wall by expanding the wall.


    This was the room he had danced with Kane, and held her close enough to feel her heart beat and the warmth of her against the cold world.


    Forlorn filled his being.


    Daniel believed that he could not live had he not acted. But he truly was risking everything in this gamble. His values could cost him everything.


    His True Name seemed a hollow victory at this point.


    "What''s wrong with you?" The Glasbin said, bitterly. "Upset to see the lowly helping themselves to the finer things in life?"


    "When you commit to some action, even when it seems pointless, you have to keep going." Daniel said in response. "It is better to die in pursuit of truth, of justice, of goodness, even against the inevitable. The only consideration is wisdom to ensure that you chose well."


    "You didn''t answer my question."


    "You didn''t ask a question. You aimed to strike at me with your words. I merely allowed them to go past me, and now I am offering a piece of wisdom. Do not let others chose your battles for you. Then you are the pawn, and you have little to no control whether you are even fighting for your own self interest. They will use you, then discard you."


    The Glasbin glowered at him.


    "Ignore it if you desire. But this is the part where we get the leftovers, correct?" Daniel asked, trying not to betray how invested he was in the reply.


    Glasbin said nothing but moved ahead, his face stony.


    Daniel ignored his partner and joined the other servants and followed them to the kitchen window. The luncheon had prepared too much food, so it was custom for the kitchen to portion it, wrap it in paper, and distribute it.


    Daniel had been banking on this meal since he learned he¡¯d be a Hall Attendant in the O¡¯Tells House. Well, he had been banking on lunch too, but that ship had long sailed. Hunger was a new sensation, quiet, slowly crawling and clawing his insides.


    He had been inside the Lesser Banquet Hall before when there were no banquets, but this was the first time he had seen it when only the servants remained. Workers were removing the dishes and collecting the linen table clothes, but they were also singing and gossiping amongst themselves. They were not deploying the Lren technique for dish gathering, nor the Ibanz. Had he wasted his time? No, perhaps it was more fair to say the O''Tells Family were a more casual Family, and it showed in how they allowed their general servants to behave. Instead, the workers were laughing, one even attempted to juggle tea cups, the mood bright overall. The servants were seizing the fine treats left on the tea trays or pouring themselves new glasses of tea from the still-warm pots left on the table. It seemed much more lively than Daniel had imagined.


    The saying "when the masters are away, the servants come out and play" seemed more true than Daniel had realized.


    Daniel followed the other Hall Attendants to the kitchen. The portions of the leftover banquet were piled and handed out. It was mostly the servants who had been in the foyer with him earlier around him now. Daniel took the food and unwrapped the paper.


    It was food, all right. Good food, nice quality. Not the best stuff, but no one ever used the best stuff outside of formal signings of treaties or marriage alliances. But good enough. It had been sliced meat, carrots purple and cooked perfectly to bring out the zesty flavor, and tea cakes.


    And there were worms wriggling inside. Magic worms, not the friendly kind that worked at the library.


    Daniel looked up and saw the other Hall Attendants and Serving Maids grinning wide mocking grins at him.


    And as he looked back down to the food in his hands, the food began to mold and fester.


    They made it rotten.


    The food was spoiled now.


    "Now tell, Lordling. How do you like it?"

 Chapter 25: Where the ungrateful bite the hand that no longer feeds them

    Cries came from outside, in the Lesser Banquet Hall. Daniel had a notion of what had occurred. "Allow me to guess." Daniel heard his own voice speak softly. "If I were to go back to the banquet hall, I would find all that food is similarly spoiled."


    The fae light gleamed in their eyes. He had guessed correctly.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to eat, eh, Lordling?¡± the Glasbin fae asked, gleeful mockery in his eyes.


    The others chuckled ruefully.


    ¡°Don¡¯t play with your food now!¡±


    ¡°I thought Lordlings had good manners?¡±


    ¡°How do you like being a lowling now, eh?¡±


    ¡°Bet you have never worked hard in your life.¡±


    Daniel struggled to compose himself. Or restrain himself.


    But what remained in his mind was how could a person feel both cold and hot at the same time?


    Cold, plotting, planning, revenge. How to return the retribution? How to slowly build a web that tightened so slowly it would be completely unavoidable long before ever feeling the strands grow tight.


    Hot, burning, anger, rage. Immediate response, how to ruin these people''s lives quickly, dynamically, brutally. It would be difficult, but not impossible.


    The food was spoiled now. Just a prank. Don''t over react.


    Daniel felt hollow. Numb, yet hot. Forlorn gave way to cold floating disconnection.


    If he had still been Lordling Elswith, he would have walked away, cold and detached and plotting. But as his position left him, he felt like his blood was hotter than it had been before. Was this another holdover from his heritage? Or was it the realization and reaction of a powerless person, standing against a collective that had already decided how to view someone?


    His stomach growled.


    He straightened his shoulders, frustrated and raw. He needed to survive this game. He had to save those towns. If the name Branch wasn¡¯t made official, then Dragon Scull would fall. Why didn¡¯t the lords care about that region? Why did they let it all rest on him? Why did these¡­lowlings not understand that he was suffering this for people like them.


    If he had been a Lordling, he would have walked away. If he had just been a servant, he would have launched into a fist fight, or thrown the rotten food at their sneering faces.


    But he was Daniel, and the rightness of his True Name gave him pause. What position he held was of little consequence to who he was.


    He was not hungry. He was not hurting. He was not tired. He was not overwhelmed.


    He was Daniel.


    He felt hungry, he felt hurt, he felt tired, he felt overwhelmed. But that was not who he was.


    He would overcome those things. He could not do it as Lordling Elswith would. He needed some thread of reason, some...touch of conscious. But he would also need to face them. Just to understand.


    Did they not understand? Did Daniel not understand?


    Some common ground must be established.


    Daniel set down the rotten food on the countertop above the basket of squirming spoiled food, ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± Daniel said to the Glasbin Fae. ¡°When I was a Lordling, I saved your job. Jasper.¡± He pulled on the name that owed Elswith much. ¡°Jasper, I know you.¡±


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    The room became quiet.


    ¡°Who told him my name?¡± The Glasbin fae whispered to his former Hall Attendant partner next to him.


    Another one spat, darkly. ¡°What would a Lordling know of what we do?¡±


    Daniel pushed forward. He didn¡¯t know enough about being a lowling servant. But he knew everything about being a Lordling.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know everything a servant faces. I know more than most. I know that you cut corners. That you are mouthy. That you spit on food of those you dislike. I know that you are surrounded by beings so powerful it makes your knees weak. I know that you are brave and courageous. I know that most of you support families in your home courts, and that this is your only chance to ever advance from lowling fae, disposable, replaceable, and unremarkable, into midling fae, able to have property and position in your local courts."


    The sneering looks paused, as Daniel behaved differently than what they expected.


    "I don''t know everything you did. I am sure I will never fully understand."


    He glared at Jasper, then the rest.


    "But what do you know of what I did? I have survived over three dozen assassination attempts, nineteen campaigns, and the burden of being the Heirling of the Red Sword. Most of the assassination attempts came from my own faction. What do you really know of me? Nothing. You know nothing of the hours of training, the years of work, and the little, rural places that I have shed blood defending. Do you know of the advancing Dread hordes? Forging Alliances with those who despise you for the greater aim to keep those who cannot defend themselves alive?¡±


    He felt so hot, so close to enraged. He needed to catch his breath and distance himself from this moment. Distance himself from his hunger. He needed to play the game. But right now the Game was bitter in his mouth. This was the reward for his efforts?


    He looked at his minder. From what he could tell, the Glasbin fae seemed to be the inciting factor, who had stirred up the other servants'' dislike. ¡°Your name is Jasper. Five years ago, it must have been, your hand slipped and a priceless wine bottle crashed into the floor, shattering. I was there. I saw. And I said nothing. You owe me a favor. You owe me your position. You would have been sent back to whatever place you came from, unable to join the servant class again. At least not with any reputable influential family. But apparently, you have a short memory.¡±


    The hall attendant paused. ¡°You can¡¯t remember that. You can¡¯t possibly remember that. There were hundreds of servants present. How did you remember me out of all of them?¡±


    Daniel sighed and pushed his poisoned food onto the basket with the back of his hand. The worms crawled and squirmed inside, and the stench of the food reached his nose.


    ¡°Did thee never consider what suffering I accepted in thine place?" Formal words flowed from Daniel''s mouth, the Law of Fae suddenly in attendance.


    The lights around them dimmed and flickered.


    "How careless and crass, bite the hand that fed thee? Can thou design a smidgen of what sorrow followed? Of that shame was that twas mislaid at mine door?"


    "Why?" Squeaked Jasper. "Why didn''t you say anything then? Why did you cover for me? You acted like it was no problem..."


    Daniel stared at him. "Had it befallen thee, Jasper Dunlap of Glasbin Landshire, it would have been as if a death had covered thee, and thine entire future stilled and barren."


    The room became silent.


    Daniel forced himself to breathe. He was hungry and his head hurt. ¡°My Lordly Father..." he breathed. Daniel stopped himself from finishing, least he draw too much attention from the magic of the Fae realm. He felt the light of fae leave his eyes, and they returned to blue-gray. When he spoke again, the rhythm and formality was gone, and plain speech was all that was left. Little magic attached itself to plain speech, "I was punished duly for shaming my house and my Father." The bindings were sharp and cutting. And these lowlings thoughtless hurt him. Just a prank. Just a little mischief.


    He was Daniel. They may tell him what he was now, but he would rather suffer than beg. He knew more about the Law of Fae, he could see it too. The Law of Fae was listening to him. It was considering his words too.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t cover for you to earn favor. I did it because it was the right thing to do. Because I could heal from a beating, from having my senses shredded and slashed, from having the unmitigated wraith of the Red Sword faction against myself. When I attended this house as a guest, I never hurt any of you." He looked each fae in the eyes, for just a few seconds.


    The servants flinched back from him, as the crowd itself grew. That was fine. He knew their names too.


    "I know your faces. I know your names. Dorian, Finch, Ellanher, Andric, Thayer, Roscoe, Vesper..." He listed every single name of every Hall Attendant in the room, the servants in the kitchen, and even the maid sweeping the floor "Need I continue? I know all your names. I have been coming to this place for years. I could have caused troubled. I could have strung you along. I have seen all of your mistakes and even shielded you."


    The Glasbin fae and the dark haired hall attendant, Jasper and Finch, looked at each other with shame.


    "Now you believe me to be declawed and weak. Is this how behavior is settled? Be polite to those you can¡¯t offend. Snarl and bite those you think are defenseless? I have seen Trolls with better honor, and goblins with higher morals.¡±


    He stood, straight even though his bindings tore at him, and straightened his clothes.


    ¡°I thought better of all of you.¡±


    Then he left.

 Chapter 26: A Catch 22 in the Laundryroom

    Daniel prowled through the Servants sections, dark thoughts and crushed expectations swirling in his mind. Outside of Esra and the goose boy, all of his interactions this day had been charged with threats, dancing with deceit, and overshadowed by the ever-looming Game. Even when he had ''won'' in the Sky Court, those were partly victories that promised more pain for the bother.


    Hunger pained him, and his growing dread at his remaining duties washed over him.


    The Grand Stable, or the Grant Stable, as the Lordlings called it. The Last Duty of the day. If he completed this day, then the Game could no longer be prevented. His name would be recorded and then dated.


    But before he could go there, he needed to find whatever remained of his garments brought from the wash. Considering the meal he had been denied, he had little hope that his rather plain garments were not terribly mangled beyond repair, and attempt to finish the last duty of the day.


    Daniel moved through a series of rooms, to the room he had left his clothes earlier that day. The walls sagged here, and the smell of mildew was slight but undeniably present. No one had followed him after he had left the Lesser Hall, and he felt some relief. What more could he do? What more would they do? The Glasbin fae was in a position of semi-authority over him, but even then the true danger came from the servants'' general hatred and vengeful spirit regarding a fallen Lordling.


    No doubt they would continue this frustrating game of pranks and small accumulating discourtesies.


    All the favors they had owed him had vanished like smoke. All tied to the name Elswith. All gone. Standing alone in this little room, he reached, even knowing it was hopeless, to reclaim the favor the Glasbin fae, Jasper Dunlap of Glasbinshire, owed him. The Law of Fae stirred, unexpectedly.


    Daniel tensed, surprised. Could it be possible...


    But then the Law of Fae returned to him void. The favor was owed to the defunct Lordling Elswith, and could not be transferred.


    He rubbed his eyes.


    He just had to finish today. Survive until midnight.


    He could imagine what wretched things were done to his clothes. Would it be a bottle of ink accidentally mixed in the wash? Loose fleas suddenly finding a new home? A Griffin bored and decided to make large gashes in the vestments?


    To his surprise, there was a fae waiting for him in the room. She was a fae creature, beautiful moth wings gracing behind her back. Her two lower arms held a bundle, and her upper arms were clasped. "Hello servant Branch!" the upper arms waved at him.


    "Greetings," he replied, trust withheld and frozen in his chest. His relationship with Glasbin fae was no doubt ruined beyond repair, the O''Tells house seemed like a dark fate awaiting him. This Mothkin fae was hesitant. "What is your purpose?" he asked, suddenly dreading the worst scenario: Not that his clothes would be ruined or mangled, but that his clothes simply would not be returned to him.


    "About your clothes..." the mothkin girl started, and began removing brown paper away from the bundle.


    The Servant Branch was not allowed to take his Hall Attendant uniform away from the O''Tells house. Would he be forced to complete his day in his undergarments? What if he had allowed even the thin shirt and half pair of breeches to be taken away? Would he be expected to walk around with no proper clothes, a thin shirt and in short trousers, with boots riding too high on the knee? Who would ever wish to see that? What if something happened to the thin shirt, and then he was forced to leave it behind also? He''d be forced to go about his day with his unfashionably defined abdominal muscles shown for all the world? His broad shoulders looked more appropriate for a common laborer than a...wait, he was a common laborer now.


    Still, he had some dignity left for his previous station. He hoped to avoid that.


    "So about your clothes..." the mothkin girl said, finishing pulling the paper away and revealing his clothes. "Tada! I saved them."


    But the clothes were completely unharmed. Daniel waited to take them until he verified, twice, there were no strings attached, to the Law of Fae or otherwise. Servants working together for the same group rarely garnered favors for performing their basic duties. His clothes were dirty in pursuit of his duty, getting to the O''Tells House on time, and she had washed them as part of her duties, washing maid.


    When he took them in hand, he saw that the garments were fresh, clean, and completely un-hexed, un-burnt, un-soiled, and un-dismantled.


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    This was confusing.


    "Why...what happened?"


    "It was tricky! I had to guard them." she lowered her voice. "There was an overseer with a dark cast to her face, searching high an'' low for them. Offered a reward if one of us washers turned the clothes o''er. See, I hid ''em, in me bag."


    Clothes washing and mending were one of the benefits of being a servant. Servants had little time to accomplish this on their own, so like much of the food preparations, the servants were allowed to make use of the washing services and the kitchen. But this was above and beyond a washer worker''s duties. He still had feathers left over from the Sky Court wild goose chase and the washing girl at the Sky Court had been pleased with that. If all washing staff liked long feathers, Daniel may need to note that.


    But he doubted it.


    He must discover what the mothkin holding his clothes hostage wished for in return for such a service. "What do you hope to gain?"


    "Pride in a job done well, sirling." Her dark eyes sparkled. The Law of Fae danced in her words. "It t''weren''t right, tryin'' to harm the clothes. Me job is to wash the clothes and mend ''em." she smiled then, standing as tall as her small frame would hold her. "Give ''em to me in the future," she said. "I swear that I will do me best to protect ''em sirling."


    Gratitude bloomed in Daniel''s heart. The Law of Fae danced true in the moth fae girl''s words.


    He beheld his clothing. They were indeed brought back to him. Nary a stain nor mar upon the garments. The small tear that he had inexpertly repaired with three rough stitches with course threat was now mended as surely as it had never been cut. He could only feel that the fabric was slightly denser than before where the cut had been. Impressive work. The quality was good enough for a Lordling.


    "T''was a hard stain, near the tear. But I persevered! Out spot, I said! Soap an'' bubbles never fail!" she said, wings fluttering proudly. "I mended it too, sirling. Used my family''s secret magic to get the threads to grab each other."


    "You do a service to your craft," he said, feeling strangely pleased. If his clothes were perfect, he may have enough time to forage for food, drop by an untainted kitchen, or even see if there were raw oats at the Stable he could acquire.


    He touched the repair again. While magic had been used in the mending, it was not what was holding it together. The threads had been rejoined physically, so he wouldn''t have to worry about the magic wearing off. Then he froze, as he felt a trace of her magic.


    The signature of magic was the same as the iridescent purple that had been cast on his boot, in the early morning.


    He felt his stomach twist, and not due to hunger. Was this a set up? Because if she was the one who had cast that magic...


    And the dark plan, that had been ruminating in the back of his mind, came to the forefront.


    After his name was dated in the book, after midnight, he would act. This entire day had shown him there was no compassion nor true softness in the ruthless servant class. Not for a former Lordling. Daniel would retaliate. He had to, or even the passive would devour him. He had to show them he was not so weak he could not strike back, not so vulnerable he could not defend. He needed to stand, not for himself or his betterment, but for the Rural Places and those depending upon him.


    He could not be weak.


    He could not lose.


    If there could not be peace, then the war would be fought on their territory.


    And this strangely friendly and dependable Mothkin girl was one of his targets for later in the day. He had memorized her magic earlier, to track her down.


    He had to respond to this morning''s engagements.


    Payback against the places he worked, such as the Sky Court, O''Tells House, or the Grand Stable, were removed and special. It was expected to be harassed in those places. The entire scenario was established as an obstacle in the Game, to begin with.


    But the events of this morning, in the Servants Keep, were different.


    The servant who spit at him first, the one who had mocked the Former Heirling of the Red Sword as he approached the former dais where the First King once ruled, and the clerk who had toyed with him. And whoever had cast that magic on his boot to change color. Four, the number of trials and mischief. Four repayments to establish his place in the servants'' hierarchy. Four strikes to declare that he was not weak.


    While the action of casting weak magic to change the color may have seemed small, Daniel had to react. In fact, it was an insult worse than being spit in the face. For the former Heirling of the Red Sword to wear a purple boot would have been tantamount to denouncing the entire faction, an action which may see him slain or detained, Game or no Game. It would have seen him alienated even more than he already was. Worse, it may have set the ancient Red Sword against him. Not his Lordly Father, but the Sword itself.


    There was debate regarding whether the thirty-seven blades were truly sentient or merely possessed some likeness to self-awareness. Elswith had not known which was the case.


    But the Amethyst Sword and the Red Sword always repelled each other. Not a single alliance ever prospered between the two factions. For hundreds of years. There was even a legend that long before Elswith''s Lordly Father was the Red Lord, a previous Red Lord had attempted to marry the beautiful she-elf Amethyst Lord to forage an alliance between factions.


    The Swords disagreed.


    Violently.


    There was no marriage alliance because neither the former Red Lord nor the former Amethyst Lord remained. Both factions lost their leaders, and the Swords passed to new hands.


    Since then, there had never been attempts for the two Factions to ever come to more than a none confrontational truce.


    "I like doin'' me work well, sirling! I always go above an'' beyond! Me family depends on me!" Her dark eyes glistened with sincerity.


    The Moth girl''s ''prank'' could have seen Daniel removed. Even if he was not killed, if he was taken out of play, the rural towns would lose their protection and no doubt be destroyed.


    She had been the one to cast his boots to purple that morning.


    Which meant he would need to make an example of her.


    He did not wish to.


    He did not have a choice.

 Chapter 27: The Stable and what dwells there

    ¡°Over in this direction is the pool of rhinos. No rhinos are staying here at this time, but if any arrive, you¡¯ll be expected to scrub the bird droppings off the tiles.¡± An overweight tolsen said, showing Daniel the ropes in the stable.


    Daniel looked through the hallway into the chamber with sunny yellow and muddy red tiles surrounded a pool of turquoise green water. The doorways were wide and open, with windows open to a large atrium surrounded on all sides by other parts of the Stable.


    Daniel doubted there would be Rhino staying here again, not after the contract debacle with the pearl rhino and the current King of the Seelie. Rhinos were known to try to steal fae and use the fae¡¯s hair for remedies and mumbo jumbo cure all¡¯s that probably didn¡¯t work at all. He hoped they didn¡¯t work. This naturally left the fae not desiring the rhino¡¯s return any time soon, and after the contract debacle, Daniel doubted the rhinos¡¯ had any intention to return themselves.


    The Tolsen paused awkwardly, then junted forward again, his little legs pinwheeling below his rotund round torso as he sped along to the next corridor.


    Daniel regarded the warmth of the Rhino room, and compared it to his current holdings. His mind whirled as he considered whether this room would suit his eventual needs, but decided against it. His stomach seemed to be jousting itself, both sides smashing into each other. He¡¯d really needed to get used to this needing to eat thing, before he started to neglect it. He hadn¡¯t eaten the day before, because he had been seized and examined one last time to make sure he¡¯d been completely stripped clean of his borrowed power.


    They hadn¡¯t thought to provide food. Or maybe they had, and had withheld it on purpose. Either way, was his head supposed to go a little light and fluttering now and again? He¡¯d managed to drink a little water earlier, so his throat was only a little parched. He should have known that the lowlings would be mischievous. He should have expected their contempt. He needed to show his own character. But he still felt bitter.


    It was now deep into afternoon, the sun¡¯s light red and bloody each time he saw it from the skylights. A few more hours, and then he would be released from his duties. If he hurried afterward, he may be able to get food from the Castle Keep before curfew. The worse thing was how paranoid he must remain and be careful not to become entrapped. But he couldn¡¯t allow himself to become too weak and fall prey either.


    ¡°Come along, come along. So much to do today!¡± The Tolsen said again, and headed deeper into the Stable.


    Daniel followed, hand touching the changing material as he followed deeper into the ancient structure. The Stable was an area of deep magic. Expansion of the ancient structure began during the fifth decade of the First King¡¯s rule, completed thirty years after his death. Each king in the following centuries continued to add to the Stable, and yet the exterior remained constant. Even now, the current king was known to add small changes, though no one was bold enough to add rooms and room as in the past. The Stable was perhaps one of the most impressive builds of that era. On the outside, it was a long, narrow length of building, perhaps ninety furlongs long and forty across, with a pale grey roof and sides constructed of darker stone. But that was only the outside.


    On the inside, it was so much larger. And more confusing.


    The Tolsen narrated as they traveled. It was almost sweet. Unlike the sardonic lectures and pettiness of the Surmount Butler of the O¡¯Tells, at least the Tolsen seemed genuinely excited about the stable. ¡°So many rooms and corridors had been added and added that it now spans uncounted miles. It''s like a circle but opposite. If you stay to the perimeter, you can go all the way around in about an hour. But it gets larger and larger to closer to the center you travel. And if you head into the deeper parts, it can add hours. So, remember for safety, never try to save time by crossing across...people get lost in here."


    Understatement of the year, Daniel thought.


    The Tolsen nodded, seemingly approving that Daniel was taking it seriously.


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    The former Lordling and the Stablemaster entered a new section. The smell of more traditional stable, hay, alphfa, and manure, wafted over Daniel.


    "As you know, most of the mounts are housed here.¡± The Tolsen said.


    Daniel nodded, feeling the ground change again as they entered a series of chambers and hallways that were made of marble. He knew where he was, if briefly. Along this corridor were some very impressive rooms for the centaurs when the Courts decided to insult the hoofed ambassadors by putting them with the animals. The practice of adding more rooms to an area was if not a completely lost art, then a mostly ignored one. What had truly hampered further creations of this kind was they forget how to make the outside part of the building. But the fae courts still knew how to add new rooms inside an old structure.


    But adding new rooms after so much time made the magic odd.


    Decidedly so.


    While technically one could add more and more space inside a building, making it larger on the inside, it left it open to mistakes. Which they had found out, after centuries of cramming new spaces inside such old buildings. Rooms had a way of disappearing and then reappearing. The passageways disconnected and then reconnected at odd intervals. Entire chambers would be joined awkwardly.


    The Tolsen continued, ¡°The rooms are unsteady here. We¡¯ll be heading back soon, although next time I do need to show you where you¡¯ll be working next time you come. Magic is too dense here, and a lot of the loose chambers seemed to wander here. But it¡¯s completely, mostly, safe.¡±


    Daniel touched another section, noticing how the wall itself seemed to flutter, as if it was actively considering moving while Daniel and the Stable Master were standing here.


    This overgrowth of a magic structure was still in use for two reasons. The first being that things housed inside the Stable grew stronger and luckier. It only worked for non-sentient beings, which was why there were housing chambers added here for additional insults. Insults aside, only non-sentient beings benefited from their time here, and they benefitted very much. So much so it was worth the effort to have droves of servants and stable hands and animal masters tend to the animals sheltered here, to navigate around the changing structure. The Stable itself could preform a number of tasks by itself when it so chose.


    The second reason was that those in charge rarely ventured into the deep parts of the structure. Many common mounts were easy to access, in the forefront of the Stable. But the deeper one went, the further from the windows and the sunlight one went in, the more twisting and curling the building became. So the people in charge never actually had to take those risks, and therefore didn¡¯t mind the danger.


    ¡°Careful, Lordl¡­eh, Branch. Don¡¯t wanna to get lost in here. Not in the deep places.¡± The Tolsen cawed ahead. Looking at the figure of his guide leading him deeper into the depths of the ancient structure, he thought back to himself as a child.


    Daniel remembered himself, nearly 12 years ago and small, with a number of other Lordlings. They had run off here, escaping the endless lessons and drudgery, trying to see a Cold One. He remembered becoming lost as they ventured deeper and deeper inside. He remembered losing members of his posse as the corridors changed or the others losing their courage, until he remained alone. He had found the Cold Ones, and they were¡­less cold than he had imagined. He had found an atrium that had windows that connected to that place. The eyes of the beasts burned hotly as he watched from the safety outside the chamber, doors bared. When he had returned, he had been praised by his minders for winning the game. The other little lordlings had lost face for losing their ways or their courage. That was when he began to understand the game. It didn¡¯t matter if you did wrong, as long as you won and others knew it.


    That hadn¡¯t sat well with him. That sense of justice clearly led him to his current predicament, so he tried to forget the entire encounter and follow his guide more closely.


    ¡°I will try to avoid becoming lost.¡± He said to the back of the head of his guide.


    ¡°It¡¯s big in here, faechild. Real big. They asked me one day how big, an¡¯ I tells ¡®em it¡¯s real big. Bigger than you¡¯d imagine. Doors and hallways don¡¯t always open to the correct place. Like what happened to that one Lordling who had become so lost inside the stables no one could ever find him again.¡±


    This was something Daniel hadn¡¯t heard about. ¡°That happened a few years ago. He isn¡¯t found yet?¡±


    The Tolsen turned his head slightly, a sliver of his silver eye seen gleaming in the darkness. ¡°Aye. Sometimes the staff hear him on the other side of the wall, but never reach him in time to rescue him. The lost Lordling still wandering around somewhere down here. When you go deeper, sometimes entire sections switch positions with each other, so it¡¯s like a big changing maze, with the path out never the same. Many times the process of getting out is much harder than getting in.¡±


    Daniel stopped, and looked back the way they had come. The open corridor behind them looked just different enough that he had to swallow a small fear.


    The Grand Stable. Or the Grant Stable. It had a way of changing things, Granting things. But what it granted was not always welcome.

 Chapter 28: Milking Eels

    Daniel followed the Stablemaster down a dimly lit passage. It seemed like they were traveling deeper into the Stable.


    As Servant Branch, he found it a different experience being in the Stable than before. It pulled on him, like the air gained heaviness.


    As Lordling Elswith, he would enter the Stable from the main entrance and he''d find a hallway that almost always led him to the Griffin stables. When he came for other business, he''d find that hallway as well. He had to intentionally interact with the Stable delve deeper into its secret places.


    But as he had discovered earlier, the Stable seemed to view him differently. He was a worker here now, so that made sense. Surely, it was no more than that.


    But he did not enjoy how it felt like it focused on him.


    "Fae child," the Tolsen spoke again. "You seem like you''ve seen a phantom."


    Daniel returned his attention to the Tolsen. "Not recently."


    "Why''d you come from the other side?"


    Daniel paused, hand touching a crumbling plaster wall, to hide his expression from the prying Stablemaster "What do you mean?"


    "When you arrived to begin your shift. You came from the north hallway. No reason for that, unless you were already inside the Stable."


    Daniel smiled. "This humble servant arrived on time, did he not?"


    "Aye."


    "At 6 o''clock, on the dot, on the double, the Servant Branch was here no trouble."


    "What were ye doing beforehand, I wonder?"


    "Ah, you are asking what I did in my personal time between 5 o''clock and 6 o''clock?"


    The Tolsen nodded.


    Daniel smiled innocently, finger stroking his chin "That is my business. If you wish to know, it will cost you."


    The Tolsen huffed. "Never mind. We better hurry to ye main duty." His spindly legs sped up and he plunged deeper into the Stable.


    Daniel looked through a passing window. He could vaguely see the blue light reflecting from the Aquatic pond from across the open-air atrium. Now how was that there?


    What he had been doing...


    He had been preparing to win the Day.


    No matter what. His mind went back to that time, not long ago. Actually, it was one hour ago. One very long hour.


    <hr>


    One hour ago...


    Across paver-stones and moss drive, near the Bricklin Court and the Stone Cutter''s Alliance, Daniel hurried to the Stable. The Citadel was bathed in golden light, but the residents, both Lords and Servants, were inside their domains, preparing for when the real business would take place, during the night. The next street Daniel took was cobblestone, and after a shortcut over the sunken portion of the Citadel, he was nearly there. Even now, ahead of him, Daniel beheld the structure looming long and tall, a rectangle that seemed too plain, too stationary, too gentile, to ever belong in the Seelie Court''s Citadel.


    Wrong on every count, of course.


    The Grand Stable, an original and unmoving structure in this shifting cacophony of rolling hills and territories and estates and buildings and roads that moved about day by day, night by night. It didn''t move position in the Citadel.


    Daniel forsook eating, revenge, or evening thinking and hurried ahead.


    He knew he needed more, and somehow he had ended up with time by himself. This hour was the first time that he was not handled by another. He was foolish for wasting his time with the servants. Nothing positive would come from them. They preyed upon him because they thought they could. After all, the opportunity to tear down one of privilege, especially a former Lordling, did not come often.


    No, he should have known the food was no good.


    He looked at the clock. He had 40 minutes left before he had to report to his shift. He had wasted time. Foolish, foolish little lordling, he chided himself. Letting his stomach get in the way. Letting hope of companionship sway him. Believing that playing by the rules would protect him. Allowing what seemed to be kindness blind him.


    What kindness existed in the world?


    None.


    The Mothkin girl seemed innocent. But that was probably a trap. She would use her sweetness to make him lower his guard. She did look very suspicious. With her darkly sparkling innocent eyes and soft little wings. Add the fact that the Mothkin were known to be generally honest, and it was a perfect cover. Or she was truly honest and had been used by another party?


    Elswith had been used before, for another Lord''s agenda. It hadn''t been pleasant to discover an innocent action had been used to harm his own Steward.


    He pushed away all thoughts for a while. He did not want to act against the gentle washing girl.


    But four was the number of Mischief and trials. This was the opening day. Many of the High Fae were watching him today, watching his actions as clearly as if they had been standing before him. Not just greed for success, but a desperate need for survival gnawed at him. He knew he could still lose, but so far he had succeeded in two out of three ventures. If he completed the Stable well, when he ended the evening after the Servant Name of Branch was cleared, then he could showcase his abilities.


    Even if she was innocent, no doubt she was kind and earnest because that was always rewarded.


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    Daniel reached the Stable. But instead of going to the main entrance, a huge stately opening with stone carvings and awnings, where the important people would enter, he continued north, on the west side of the building. He did not lope to one of the servants'' entrances, where things like grain and supplies were constantly unloaded.


    He was looking for the tunnels.


    The Stable was home to most of the mounts in the Citadel. Servants would fetch mounts and bring them to their Lords, for the benefits of housing a creature in the Stable far exceeded the inconvenience of the distance from the Stable to one''s domain. And the Stable housed mounts of all natures.


    Including aquatic.


    But unlike the other entrances, the tunnels were rarely used. The Sea Kingdom had fallen and had become a vassal state at this point. The myriads of ambassadors and dignitaries had been barred when there was no more prestige to be gained by admitting them. Once, the Sea Kingdom had been very powerful. So powerful, as a show of respect, hundreds of watery tunnels were added to the Citadel so the Aquatic races could roam in the utmost comfort.


    Hundreds of tunnels now were primarily abandoned. Including tunnels that led into the Stable.


    Daniel found what he was looking for, a grate on the west side, in a secluded and private green space near the Stable. He pried it open along one side and grimaced when he saw that the tunnels still had water flowing.


    If this worked, he could utilize this again. He was a strong swimmer, and the flow of water was gentle, the magic that governed it stable and unchanging. Furthermore, since no purely aquatic visitors roamed the Citadel, the tunnels were forgotten and lost. If not for Hollis, Daniel would never have realized what lay here.


    Hollis, the Heir apparent of the defunct Sea Kingdom, had his own share of troubles. Which was why Daniel trusted him.


    Hollis, of all his former Circle, had no reason to betray Elswith. He would never be trusted in the Seelie Court fully. He would never be accepted fully, not when his great-grandparents had once been enemies and rivals of the Seelie Court. Not when his mer family had lost power generation by generation to the Fae. Hollis was the child of a union between the two worlds and had come out the worst for it. His lungs were poor on land, and his ability to breathe underwater was even worse. Hollis had too much potential to be thrown away, but not enough to be truly be used by the Fae Courts.


    Too weak to thrive in what remained of the Sea Kingdom, too intelligent to be a lapdog of the fae, Hollis had nothing to gain and nothing to lose.


    He was like a riptide. Calm on the surface, with deep currents ready to drag one out to sea raging just below the surface.


    Hollis had shown Daniel this place.


    And if someone knew to intercept Daniel here, it would also inform him that Hollis was against him.


    It was risky, but if the tunnel could convey him safely and undetected inside the Grant Stable, it would be worth the peril. He would be inside the Stable early, without his minders finding him. Early enough to acquire certain items that would assist him for the conclusion of the first day. Including Esra''s order of lightning in a bottle.


    The only downside: Daniel would lose his opportunity to search for food.


    And he would get wet.


    Another bath.


    The tunnels wormed around and through many sections of the Citadel. There were many access points, but not always air. There would be air pockets every so often, but that stemmed more from mistakes in engineering than any intention. But what mattered was that he could make it into the Stable quickly. All he had to do was swim and follow the tunnel toward the stable.


    He had done this before. He could do it again.


    Of course, before he had been Lordling Elswith, Heirling of the Red Sword, imbued with Authority, Influence, and Favor as befitting a fae of his rank.


    But Daniel had realized that while his strength had decreased, he was not weak. He could do this.


    Just hold his breath.


    Daniel removed his clothes, his boots, his sock, and the spell of spiders pretending to be a sock, placed everything in the bag his O''Tells uniform had been in, and jumped into the tunnel, allowing the grate to close over him.


    It was brighter than he had thought. The water was cool but gentle. The tunnel was eight-sided, with glowing etched carvings, the script of the Sea. He could see different branches banking off to different locations.


    He checked his ''borrowed'' bag again and strapped it over his shoulder; the seal was holding well.


    He took a final breath of air and dove. He swam, destination firmly in mind. The water rushed about him, the blue lighting flickering. Barely a minute had passed and his lungs still felt strong as he recognized another grate overhead. Not the one he wanted. He considered coming up for air but dove deeper when he heard the muffled conversation.


    There were people on the other side. It seemed like a coincidence, but fear touched his heart.


    The first grate was near the teapot, he remembered. People lingered in that area for refreshments.


    It was just a coincidence.


    Sometimes, you just need to keep swimming, he told himself. Just keep swimming.


    While the stable was ever-changing, it was at least consistent with a few hard and fast rules. Like-kind creatures would always share connections and doorways. To go from the fire creatures to the water creatures would require one to return to the main hallway, but freshwater creatures and saltwater creatures'' chambers would share some sneaky corridors. Now, while there were hundreds of aquatic beast kinds here, each kind having unique chambers to suit their needs, there were also some places that didn¡¯t move. Or moved together. The Eels were always the second chamber after the minatoal turtles, and no one knew why.


    So when a certain grate was pushed open, and a very wet former Lording fell out, only the minatoal turtles made small turtle sounds of protest.


    He inhaled, feeling grateful to be alive.


    That felt longer than he remembered.


    He quickly pulled on his clothes, as the turtles calmed down. His hair was short now, so it would dry quickly.


    Time to begin taking what he needed.


    The Law of Fae bristled as Daniel thought of liberating what did not belong to him.


    "I know there are several key items that need a new, friendly, and welcoming home that I am selflessly willing to provide."


    It was an unstable position, the Law of Fae seemed doubtful, but like the Turtles, seemed watchful but not forbidding.


    After finding the correct chamber, he waited until another worker moved out of sight before he entered the room. The dry ground of the chamber was a small entry landing and a sandy berm that led over a deep, sunken tank of water. The electric eels were swarming and casting bright purple globes of electricity.


    When he entered the room, the eels stopped and all turned toward him.


    He pulled out the crystal goblet and a long pair of gloves he had taken earlier.


    The eels looked at him, inquisitive and defiant.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡± He said.


    <hr>


    Daniel accomplished very much in what time remained. He remained in the same section, taking careful pains to avoid any passageways that led beyond the exterior rooms that had an actual outdoor window. He was not confident to roam inside the deep places of the Stable. There were stories. Many stories. Some of them even true.


    Regardless of his approach to stay in the shallow places of the Stable, he was able to acquire several items that would allow for interesting events that evening. He had even managed to go back to the teapot for some tea. There were no biscuits, but it was a good brew.


    Then the Servant Branch took himself to the place he was to meet the Stablemaster who would be over him, just in time.


    Once there, he found some actual, baking cookies that were moments away from being pulled from an oven. But before he could...liberate some and carry them to safety in his stomach...the Tolsen had arrived.


    The Tolsen had begun immediately, and informed him that they should start their tour; someone else would tend to the cookies. A tour that led them away from all sources of feed for the animals, including grain, vegetables, and meat for the carnivores. Some of it was even cooked fresh for some of the more...picky residents.


    Daniel kept his resentment from boiling over, but it felt strained. He tried to remain positive: Books said that water was more important in a survival situation. His stomach had never read a book, however, and disagreed with this principle. The Tolsen had interfered but had not been cruel. If anything, the Tolsen was probably under severe instructions and limitations as well.


    Daniel turned his mind back to the present, as a familiar sound reached his ears.


    He felt forgiveness enter his heart for the Tolsen.


    That was the sound of something he loved.


    That was the sound of Griffins.

 Chapter 29: Griffins

    Griffins.


    Daniel raced ahead, disregarding the danger of the Stable, the looming watchful eyes from the darkness of empty hallways, and followed the happy mewing sound that he had not heard since his fall from power.


    The scent hit his nose not long after. It smelled like fresh hay, raw meat, with the biting undertone of ammonia.


    He rounded a corner and beheld the room.


    Griffins were kept in the Stable, but it was more so an agreement that they stay in place than anything else. This cache of Griffins was no different. There was a half door that kept them ''in'', but they were primarily staying because they choose to. The half door opened into a circular room, large like a circus tent, with perches and towers scattered throughout. There was a skylight, a second level with pads for bedding, and another door that led to the outside for leaving the Stable.


    And it was occupied by the Griffins.


    They were magnificent. Huge, with bodies larger than lions, wings like falcons along their torso, and heads and feet like birds. Their tails were decidedly catlike, however, and lively wiping around as they perched, played, and pranced.


    They turned toward him as he approached the door. Several opened their wings, to make their already huge bodies larger against an unknown predator, their fur puffing upward, and they opened their beaks and hissed.


    Daniel entered anyway.


    And sat down with his back against a wall, and pointedly did not look at them.


    He looked at their living conditions. The hay scattered around the floor was fresh, but it was covering older hay and waste. No one came in here. These were not socialized Griffins. They acted more feral than he''d ever seen a Griffin in the Stable. So the best thing to do was not to be afraid of them.


    The Griffins stopped hissing, and several fluttered away, huge wings unfurling and flapping upward to the second story. Others meandered behind the towers. The rest stayed where they were, feathers and fur both standing upright.


    Scaredy cats. They could crush him with a paw.


    He felt sad about their condition. The ones that flew were unstable. They spent too long inside, and their wings started to atrophy. They needed to be set loose to roam the blue skies, not kept in the Stable for untold weeks or months.


    The main Griffins that remained approached him.


    Daniel sat, keeping himself small and quiet. Not a threat. The most important aspect when making friends with a Griffin was that it was on their terms.


    The huge beastie approached, the weighty footsteps slight and hesitant, and drew near, huge somber cat eyes inquiring, meeting Daniel''s eyes. This one was at least partly socialized. The others must be nearly feral against so much neglect. But he could start slowly.


    Daniel blinked at it, slowly.


    He could feel the warmth of the large creature as it drew nearer, and it slowly blinked back at him.


    Daniel waited for a quiet moment, before offering out a hand.


    The large creature was massive, especially with Daniel sitting and it standing. But at that moment Daniel felt certain it was more scared than anything else. After several seconds, the creature pressed the soft feathers of its face against Daniel''s hand, and a slow and heavy purr emerged.


    With the body of a lion merging with the wings of an eagle, soft feathers, and warm fur on their torsos. Daniel wished he could causally run his hands along their body like he had when he was younger but restrained himself. Not yet. These were not his Griffins. They did not trust him. They may never trust him the same way. These Griffins belonged to a different court.


    They might not even be trained griffins at all. They were not the flock he had once ridden when he had been important. He probably won¡¯t be allowed to see any of the creatures that might remember him fondly.


    He slowly curled the fingers of his outstretched hand against the face of the Griffin, lightly scratching it under its chin.


    The purr paused slightly, then deepened as the Griffin slowly closed its eyes.


    These griffins were strangers to him. The Stable kept rivals away from each other mounts for the most part, and what need had Lordling Elswith for other griffins? Cinnamon Girl had been enough trouble as things were.


    But he missed just being around the large creatures. They were wild, capricious creatures, strong-willed, flighty, temperamental, impossible to ever trust around chocolate, and completely insufferable and yet so...sincere, real, and earnest. And in the ever-changing nebulous world of Seelie politics, a creature who is true is a rare find.


    Griffins, the right hand of any campaign waging Lordling.


    A Squeak interrupted this tender moment.


    The Griffin snapped its head upright, birdlike, saw who was at the door, and stepped in front of Daniel, wings unfolding to shield Daniel.


    Little Beastie was trying to protect Daniel.


    "Servant Branch....are you alright?" the Tolsen said, not entering.


    Daniel patted the hindquarter of the Griffin, to reassure it. "I''m alright," he said, to both the Griffin and the Tolsen. He arose slowly to his feet and rubbed the Griffin. "I''m alright." The Griffin looked at Daniel, over its shoulders and wings. Then, catlike, furled its wings, and darted up a tower, growling and chirping.


    Griffins were scaredy cats, all of them.


    "Be careful, there Lordling. These Griffins are rather...untamed."


    Daniel walked slowly to their food bowl. It had not been cleaned for a long time. New food was dropped on top, but the leftovers were never removed. That could make the Griffins sick.


    Daniel watched the large creatures as they lazed about in the warm glow of the red sunset. But signs of neglect were present everywhere. Their feathers were dull, their fur mangled; how long had it been since they had seen a brush? They were well fed...too well fed to be effective in combat. They would not be...aerodynamic. Worst of all, there was a dull, animalistic look in the large creature''s eyes. They seemed more like big cats than creatures capable of high levels of capacity and function. Only one looked like it had even flown recently, one that Daniel vaguely recognized.


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    It had been lingering in the second story, a strong female with the coloring of an eagle. That was Parcel''s griffin. She was well cared for and had been ridden recently.


    The Tolsen looked pained and cried out, too loudly and too urgently. "Servant Branch, come here carefully! They be dangerous, faechild. These beasts..." the Griffins all hissed at the Tolsen on the other side of the half door.


    Daniel sighed. As if standing over there was any safer than here. Griffins stayed because they wanted to. If they wanted to get out, they would just go. Griffins had abandoned their Lordlings before if they felt unloved or unchallenged.


    "Come along! You won''t have time to start tending them today, and there''s ever so much ground to cover. I only have you until 9 o''clock, and the nights approach ever so swiftly."


    "Which Court has right to these Griffins?" Daniel said softly. Griffins became excited to high pitch sounds. But that wasn''t always bad. Going into battle, it had been his practice to practically squeal ''let''s get dead things!'' to Cinnamon Girl in a high pitch. If she was excited, she focused on the task at hand better. But when it was nap time, but she wanted to play, he would speak calmly and soothingly.


    "Come along! You won''t have time to start tending them today, and there''s ever so much ground to cover. I only have you until 9 o''clock, and the nights approach ever so swiftly."


    The one he had petted earlier, the brave scaredy cat, jumped down and blocked the door with its body. It stared at him with huge amber eyes.


    "Oh no, Servant Branch, run away!" The Tolsen shrieked. The shrieking agitated the big cat. In fact, it agitated all of them.


    A cacophony of hisses, growls, croaks, chirps, and caws emerged. Multiple Griffins unfurled their wings again, and several perched threateningly.


    Daniel made his voice calm and soothing. "The Tolsen have no Lordlings, do they?" The words didn''t matter as much as the tone.


    "Not...currently." The Tolsen said.


    He kept his tone gentle. "Not involved in campaigns much, I would wager."


    "There have been no dread hordes in our territories for three hundred years."


    "It shows."


    Daniel held out his hand and cooed softly.


    The scarredy cat Griffin slowly blinked, and Daniel returned the gesture. Then it pushed its head into his hand again and purred. It did not want him to go. Daniel looked at them. This was the fate of many Griffins of failed Lordlings. "I will be back," he said. "Law of Fae help me, I will be back."


    Sad somber eyes met his, then the Griffin pulled away. It yawled after him. Daniel could almost imagine it saying ''come back.'' Daniel left the large bird cats, musing.


    The Servant Branch, officially a Stable Hand, followed the direction of the Stable Master and the pair began walking again.


    "Which glorious court''s griffins will this servant be attending?" he asked.


    ¡°These Griffins belong to the blue court, so you¡¯ll need to be attentive.¡± The Tolsen guide continued to narrate.


    Daniel smiled inside, catching the useless deception immediately. The Tolsen was trying to get around saying it was the Sky Court''s Griffins by trying to use a synonym for the word Sky, which was Blue. This would also try to mislead Daniel into imagining these were the Blue Court Griffins. There was such a court called the Blue Court, but they were in strong partnerships with the Amethyst Sword so Lordling Elswith had very few interactions. And they would certainly want nothing to do with the Heirling of the Red Sword. Daniel bet the Tolsen didn''t even visualize the ''B'' in Blue as capitalized in his head as he spoke it. The details matter when one prevaricates from the truth.


    But that failed, because Daniel knew both the breed the Sky Court preferred and he was starting to remember seeing some of the griffins from many years ago...when they had been more...aerodynamic.


    He weighed whether the Tolsen said something false to draw Daniel into the conversation and whether he would gain anything by playing that game, before leaving the lie alone, his face expressionless.


    Another thread came together. The Sky Court had been present at every one of his duties this day. His first assignment of the day was for the Sky Court, then during his time at the O''Tells, he had discovered evidence that the Sky Court was in one way or another inciting civil war with that Family, and finally his last duty of the day he discovers the Griffins in his care belong to the same Court...


    If he believed that was all a coincidence, Daniel would deserve whatever trouble that was about to befall him.


    The rotund creature on his spindly legs continued without commenting on Daniel¡¯s thoughts. ¡°Do take it seriously, faechild. Griffins need to be exercised daily, so you¡¯ll probably have to do that sometimes. Normally the Griffin Knights or their squires handle it, but sometimes they can¡¯t make it.¡±


    Daniel had to duck to enter the next passage, thinking about the griffins he had seen throughout the years. Those Griffins were a different breed than the ones he¡¯d flown with before, more eagle than lion, with the front forelegs more like a bird''s legs, ending with yellow feet and dark black talons. The hind legs were those of a large cat, but they elegantly tapered into an eagle''s talons around the ankle. The heads were like a bird¡¯s head, but with furry lion ears. That breed was temperamental, even in the best of times.


    ¡°Do new hands often get assigned this duty?¡± Daniel asked.


    The Tolsen turned stiffer. ¡°Well¡­well. I just assumed you¡­know how to care for ¡®em. We¡¯ve been short-handed since the beasties got Wayne¡¯s arms.¡±


    "Got to watch out for that," Daniel said causally. What trick could unfold for him taking care of Griffins? Griffins could become incredibly intelligent and motivated. But left to their own devices...they could go feral.


    Especially if they had once been cared for, then neglected. They could grow resentful. They could hold a grudge.


    Not exactly what he hoped for. But then again, he was good with griffins. And he couldn''t really say no...


    The potbellied tolsen led Daniel to another few rooms, sometimes speaking of future duties and other times issuing warnings to avoid certain areas. They certainly were heading deeper into the areas that Daniel had rarely ventured. And they kept going to more and more remote chambers.


    After they entered another chamber, this one with wooden planks and windows that opened into an atrium. There were windows and doors to outside spaces in many of the chambers at the stable, but they opened into an open aired atrium, not the windows outside.


    ¡°Sir, may this humble have a name to address you?¡±


    The Tolsen froze. ¡°Names are tricky, aren¡¯t they faechild. I tell ''em, just call me Stable Master of the Green door. Keep everyone nice and separate.¡±


    Not necessarily true, but then again maybe the Law of Fae worked differently for the different power levels. The King¡¯s true name was widely known because only a fool would dare try to call and compel the most powerful Fae in the Seelie Realms.


    Perhaps the game worked differently at different levels.


    A stable hand ran after them, echoing steps through the twisting tunnels.


    ¡°Kenton, what are you doing here?¡± the tolsen said, looking surprised and annoyed.


    ¡°One of the Red Circle Griffins escaped and is running through the Stable. We need you to come to help us! We must find it quickly, before the Emerraris return.¡±


    Daniel felt his heart speed up. There were people he hadn¡¯t wanted to see, like Kane and Regis. Then there were people he had desperately wished to see. Or perhaps, he should clarify, Griffins.


    Was it his Griffin? Was it Cinnamon Girl?


    He had broken his promise to her, that night, so many weeks ago now.


    He had headed into the tournament, plans dancing in his mind on how to cede from his Lordly Father''s influence. He had told his Griffin he would be there that night to take her to find yummy dead things. She liked hunting. She liked pets on the head. She liked laying near him and purring. She weighed over a thousand pounds, but she considered herself small enough to still sit on his lap, like when she had first hatched and he held her small form, no bigger than a house cat with little feathery wings.


    Despite her size, she was a fast griffin, born for speed. He was one of the few who could ride her, who could help her fly even faster than by herself. He could help her fly through storms, keeping the lightning off them both. She loved him, she was a good girl. She was loyal and smart, and swift.


    And that day she had clearly been mad at him, because the rest of his Circle had left that morning, and they would be late to the Campaign against the advancing dread hordes.


    He had lied.


    He hadn''t meant to.


    He had told her he would be right there that night.

 Not a chapter, just a rough Map of the Citadel and the surrounding landscape

    It''s the map! I finally got it up! Special thanks to WrenRiley for her amazing work and research.


    Now let''s see if it works!


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Random words go here because I need so many words to publish a chapter. Is is completely fictional and you don''t have to worry about Griffins stealing your socks. How did they even get into my suitcase and take only the socks? Seriously.


    I don''t know how I feel about Griffins. On one hand, they are loyal, dedicated, committed, and fun.


    On the other hand, a Griffin just ate my birthday cake. They can eat chocolate (so they won''t even get sick), and they have no remorse.


    Bad Griffins. Bad.

 Flight of Fancy

    This a a story about a beautiful, diligent griffin. A cinnamon colored griffin, with just the right amount of white fur, like a dusting of sugar on a cinnamon doughnut.


    A beloved Griffin.


    She was nice, and fancy. She was so wonderful.


    And she have a two legged friend. A stupid two legged friend who lied and left her alone...


    <hr>


    The narration was interrupted by the sound of a newcomer. There was some jowling, and a hiss, until the beautiful griffin narrating realized it was her friend griffin coming into the tent.


    "What you doing?" the newcomer griffin asked, his feathers darker brown with black spots.


    "Oh...I tell a story." the narrating griffin hesitated. "I found that redhaired lady''s computer. It has speak to text."


    "Wow. That fancy. It works for griffins too?"


    The cinnamon colored griffin purred happily. "Yeah. I told it too, and ''puter is too scared of me to no work. Work ''puter! Work!"


    "What story you tell? Is it about breakfast? Or find dead things, hunt them, yah?" the new voice mewled.


    "No. It is about my special two legged friend. Spiky Hair Guy."


    "I thought his name was Butler." the newcomer said, arching his back idly.


    "No, that his job to take care of me. But he have weird name."


    The newcomer looked over the small laptop, and snorted. "You misspelled that word. It says diligent, but I think you meant delinquent."


    "I am diligent."


    "Then get back to work. Redhaired lady gonna be mad at you for touching her ''puter."


    <hr>


    The mighty, beautiful cinnamon griffin was beloved of all people. No griffin was faster. No friend more swift. She was the boss griffin, and the kept all other griffins in her glaring in line.


    Except Diver. He scared her. But she would not tell him that, so she assumed no one else realized.


    But despite being so well beloved, there was only a few two legged ones that she loved. The rest were too slow, too dull, and too heavy to soar through the air like her station demanded.


    And the very best one was Spiky Hair Guy. It was a tricky name, for his hair was not always spiky. But when he was in battle his hair would rise up, just like a proper griffin, and be spiky. That was another way she knew she could trust him.


    He was very good to her. When they were away from home, when they were at this place called the Stable, and he would have to leave her, he always came back to visit. Even though he was so cruel, and left her alone for hours at a time, he would always come back. The cinnamon griffin knew that he was busy doing boring things that he insisted he needed to do, but because he was so earnest, she mostly forgave him.


    But the best times where when they were home. Or what he called ''Out in Campaigns.'' Out in the fields, the marshes, the forests, spending the days fighting bad things and making them into dead things, and the nights playing a game he called ''get off my bed.''


    Silly Spiky Hair Guy. Any bed she wanted was her bed.


    He was such a good two legged person. He played well with other griffins in the glaring too. He played a hide and seek game with Sparks, where he would try to hide things, and Sparks would get to find it again! He played ''chess'' with Diver. Sometimes he even won against the scary older griffin. He mended Manners'' wounded paw, that had no wound but Manners liked attention like a baby. Stupid Manners. Spiky Hair Guy was nice to Aquilus, gave him fish. He even was nice to Glare, the dumb griffin who couldn''t talk but just stared at the wall.


    But he loved the cinnamon griffin the most.


    She knew, because he told her so.


    But he lied.


    All the other Glaring went away, back home to ''campaign'', with their two legged friends. But Spiky Hair Guy was delayed. He said mean things, like ''we will go tonight'', and ''I promise I''ll be back.''


    Then he was not. Instead, after waiting for hours and hours as the night got deeper and deeper, she had realized that something bad had happened.


    He must have went to find dead things without her.


    She was almost sure of it.


    Then the strangers arrived.


    <hr>


    "Did Spiky Hair Guy?" the newcomer griffin asked. "Did he find dead things without you?"


    "Don''t interrupt the story."


    "Why you tell it like that? Who are the strangers?"


    "That part of the story."


    "You should just tell everything. This way no surprise."


    "Redhaired lady says that ruins the story."


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "I no like her. She so mean. She ate all the chocolate cake this morning."


    The cinnamon color griffin froze. "Um...yah, she do that."


    "That a terrible thing to do. It was a big cake. Big enough for everyone. And she no share"


    "Bad bad bad...and it was a good cake too..."


    The darker griffin narrowed his eyes "Why you look suspicious..."


    "I....um...no look suspicious."


    "You sound suspicious."


    The cinnamon griffin chirped a few times in distress, before uncovering a genius plan. "Um...um...let talk about something else!"


    "Hmmm." the dark colored griffin stared deeply at the narrator. "OKAY!" he chirped brightly.


    "That was close." the beloved griffin said.


    "Hmm?" the newcomer griffin asked back, tilting his head birdlike.


    "Back to the mean strangers!"


    "Okay! And then what happen?"


    <hr>


    Mean strangers arrived to the beautiful griffin''s room in the stable.


    They wore dark masks, and dark cloaks.


    And they were mean.


    They talked about her like she wasn''t there. She decided she would not talk to them either.


    "This her?" one of the scary cloak people said. "Elswith''s griffin always looked so...intimidating in battle. This thing looks like a freaking pet. It''s wrapped in a blanket. Look, it even has slippers on."


    Of course the beautiful griffin had slippers on. Without the other members of the Glaring, who would warm her cold cold talons and paws?


    "Aye Lord. We better hurry before the Stable removes us."


    "The Stable has other concerns tonight. But we should hurry."


    "Why are we even removing the stupid beast?"


    The cinnamon griffin looked around to see who else they were talking about. They must be mistaken, cause Glare was not here either.


    "Because if Elswith decides to flee, without his griffin, his choices are limited to options we control."


    Elswith...that was Spiky Hair Guy''s other name his two legged friends called him.


    The mean strangers pulled out a saddle. It was the one for going fast, but not the one for going far or carrying things. "Come here, come here. Let''s go to somewhere fun!" he raised his voice so it sounded fun.


    But the beautiful griffin was not dumb. She knew from the saddle they were not taking her to home on the campaign. They were liars.


    Spiky Hair Guy...maybe he did not go find dead things without her.


    Maybe he was in trouble.


    She should find out more.


    So she arose from her pile of blankets, which included blankets left by all the other griffins, and delicately removed her slippers with her agile tail. The scary cloaked figures were taller than her, but that was when they walked on two legs. If they prowled on all fours, they would be shorter than her. She allowed them to fumble about. They knew how to put on a saddle, but they were not smart.


    They must deal with stupid griffins.


    Because they did not notice that as they put the saddle over her back, between her neck and her wings, that she was being naughty.


    She took a deep breathe and puffed out her chest.


    So the girth of the saddle was loose. And finally, the second separate strap was the wrong kind for this saddle. It did not connect correctly. That also meant that the safety harness that it would attach it to was not as safe.


    She listened as they buckled buckles "Are the rumors true?" the stupid one asked.


    "About Elswith''s secret sibling? Everyone who is anyone has a secret sibling or two. Or people who your family prefer more than you so everyone pretends that they are related."


    "No. About the other thing...was the Heirling of the Red Sword really a..."


    There was a brief scuffle and the one speaking suddenly had a knife pressed against his neck.


    His partner spoke harshly. "Say whatever you want. But do not bring into question the Heirling of the Red Sword. The Red Sword accepted him. To say anything else would be to insult the Red Sword. And I will not so much as lift a hand as you are hauled away for torture or dismemberment. Do not finish your sentence."


    "Yes Lord." the stupid one said.


    "You should get going." the knife friendly one said.


    They went to the areas where the griffins could leave. The beautiful griffin followed along, plotting herself. For she was a clever girl.


    "Head straight for our holdings in the mountains." the knife one said.


    "I will, Lord, I will."


    The cinnamon griffin grimaced as the one who asked stupid questions got on her back. He was a good rider, but he was clearly used to flying bigger griffins. He didn''t know how to hold his weight. Not like her Spiky Hair Guy. She felt him shift his weight until he sat, back pressed against the cantel, the back rest part of the saddle. That was not how to hold on to her. That was for support when she did an awesome turn. That was not to rest while she was standing.


    "We cannot allow Elswith to win the Game. Our Faction would crumble. He must be stopped. Go and bring back the Poison Eater. She will have good ideas. We have a month before the Game even begins. Perhaps something could happen to Lordling...to the Former Lordling before the game begins."


    "Aye, my Lord."


    And the stupid one kicked at her sides.


    She nodded to herself. She was not sure before, but now she knew. He was an enemy.


    Because he did not say ''let''s go find dead things!'' or ''let''s show these guys who''s the fastest girl ever!''.


    Clearly he was an enemy.


    And Spiky Hair Guy should win all games. He liked games. He played them a lot. She could help him! She was bad at chess. But she was good at knocking the board over.


    So she took off. She unfurled her beautiful strong wings and ascended upward and away from her home away from home. The raw magic in the air was agitated and dense. No doubt the storms that would stop most travel was nearing. If she got too far away, she might get caught and trapped. When the magic was wild, it made flying hard.


    Especially with this stupid potato on her back.


    The Stupid one kicked at her side, and she followed instructions, flying level and steady. She wanted to see where his nest was, so she could throw bad smelling dead things there later.


    She watched the place Spiky Hair Guy called ''The Citadel'' zoom out from under her as she flew over it. There was forest and field for minutes until the yummy smell of chocolate touched her nose, but then that smell was gone too. She watched as the scary trees that never had leaves started to get closer as she flew.


    She felt more bad magic ahead.


    She looked backward, to the stranger with a dumb stupid mask and dumb stupid cloak, as he sat like a box of potatoes on her back and kicked at her sides.


    "Move to the right, you stupid creature."


    So she did. Sharp right, banking downward. She constricted her chest and felt the safety harness snap. Oopies. The girth was loose to begin with, and without the safety harness to hold the stupid one in place, a terrible tragedy arrived.


    Oh no.


    He fall down.


    "heh heh heh heh heh." She chuckled. "So sad." she said, not sounding sad at all.


    The beautiful griffin watched him go. She was not sure if he activated magic to save himself in time or not. But he was a bag of potatoes. She thought potatoes bounced really well. Then she looked where her glaring was, far away. The rural places. Dragon Scull.


    Her friend was not home. Bad guys got him.


    She would have to make sure nothing bad happened. Because she was, and is, the best, fastest, most beautiful girl in the world.


    She knew, because her friend told her so.


    <hr>


    "Who ate my birthday cake?" A new voice interrupted from outside the tent.


    "Oh no! The Redhaired lady is back!" the dark feathered griffin said. "And is trying to blame someone else for eating what she eat! So rude. Quick, publish it, publish it!"


    The beautiful, clever, and diligent cinnamon colored griffin peered at the strange computer. "Quick...where the publish button...click it...click it...click it....I find it. I so smart."

 Chapter 30: Not all who wander know where they are going. Sometimes they are actually just lost

    Daniel followed after the agitated Tolsen and a very quiet stablehand called Kenton. Daniel had worked with Kenton before. If he wasn''t so tired and hungry, he would have been vaguely embarrassed to be standing before the person who used to polish his saddle.


    But the stablehand Branch felt wrung out and tired. At least Kenton was friendly. And after Jasper, Daniel would take a crocodile in a powdered wig as long as it wasn''t actively trying to eat him.


    The Tolsen came to some conclusion in his mind and spoke. "I will handle this, take the stablehand Branch to the parlor and keep him out..."


    "Sir. We need Lordling Elswith...err, stablehand Branch. Red Circle griffins are...considerably more intelligent and capricious than most. The griffin stole a certain something that we were supposed to keep safe...We need someone the griffin likes and trusts."


    "Fiddlesticks. Then stay close!" The Tolsen said when he noticed Daniel was several paces away. ¡°Kenton, when and where did you last see the griffin?"


    "I didn''t see it. But one of the boys from central did. About forty minutes ago, near the aquatic zones. Which is strange as griffins dislike that region."


    Daniel kept himself from reacting but almost smiled. A little over an hour and a half ago, he had been milking electric eels. Griffins could hunt by scent. Had his griffin been hunting for him? Or was it a trap? Someone luring Daniel into a difficult position...


    It was not impossible. But at the same time, there was only so much harm that could befall him at the Stable...


    "The griffin stole something, and disappeared," Kenton said quietly. "We have been looking since lunch, and we are running out of time. We need him, someone the griffin would come to. We only have perhaps an hour and a half left or else we will be in trouble."


    "Which griffin?" Daniel asked.


    "Quiet, faechild. This is already bending so many orders." the Tolsen said, hands wringing his cap.


    Daniel felt his bindings enact. His overseer wished him to be quiet, and he was acting up.


    But a good servant needed information to do his job.


    He felt the bindings slacken just a touch. "Good sir, if you want my help finding it, I need to know which one," Daniel said through gritted teeth. "Aqulus is a sea griffin, Diver is a Northern Hyperborean griffin, Cinnamon Girl is a hybrid Northern Hyperborean/sonic charger, Manners is a giant-hill bred feathered beak, Sparks is a hybrid sunlander/shadowbourne. And Glare....is a griffin. Of some kind, we''re pretty sure. They have different likes and habits. That means they would go to different areas if they were wandering. So if I am to aid you, I need to know more."


    The Tolsen sighed, then put his fingers in his ears and hummed.


    Kenton took his cue. "I don''t know which one it is. The ones who spotted it believe it is one of the females, but none of the normal handlers who work with our birds have been able to lay their eyes on it, only standard hands have spotted her. The Red Circle is still out at campaign, with orders not to return until a certain game is over...But Lordlings have disobeyed orders before. Or worked around it. But this also means I don''t know who is in."


    "So it could be Sparks, Glare, or Cinnamon Girl," Daniel said, savoring the knowledge. He felt disquiet about meeting his former cadre again. Of the two lordlings of the Red Circle that had remained behind during the campaign, Kane and Regis, both of them had betrayed him. Were his odds any better than the rest of them? "Still tells us something. It is probably not Glare, unless you heard choking sounds in cobwebby corners or mewling ''GLARE''. That leaves Sparks or Cinnamon Girl. Sparks likes roosting in tall places, and Cinnamon Girl likes to play with drapes. So we can rule out short, windowless rooms. But more than that, the girls like starlight more than the boys, so rooms with skylights would be more likely. From the aquatic zone...there is a passageway to the moon bear rooms. It may be a step in the right direction." Daniel said, hoping that he remembered correctly.


    "That narrows it down a lot! Let''s hurry!" Kenton tapped the Stablemaster''s shoulder, and the Tolsen removed his fingers from his ears. "He gave us a good clue!"


    The newly formed trio broke into a sprint.


    As he sprinted, Daniel came to realize that the Stable was behaving much differently than it had in the past.


    There had been a number of busy workers before, in many of the occupied rooms. Removing soiled hay and liners, bringing feed in, taking a mount out. But through this doorway, the sound of others dropped away completely. The only sounds became the anxious huffs of breaths of the large critters. Deeper into the Stable they went.


    In the past, Elswith had been unable to truly explore the Stable. Well, beyond the few times, he managed to slip into the deeper places. In the past, as he had traveled deeper in, he used to feel as though he was pushed into the more populated places again, desolate zones giving way to brightly lit and friendly stalls of horses. Now, it almost felt like the Stable was opening forgotten places to show him things.


    Was it due to becoming a worker?


    Or was it due to something else? He was beginning to feel the Stable differently than he ever had before. Like it wanted him to explore it.


    Was it trying to show him something?


    Or was it just his overtired mind?


    The Tolsen and Kenton were oblivious to Daniel''s thoughts, however, and continued to race. It was beginning to feel unnerving, being in the deep parts of the stable.


    "Why are we angling so deep?" The Tolsen stopped. "This is the pathway to the Cold Ones."


    "I don''t know. I was thinking of where we needed to go, the Eastern red room to gather the others, but maybe I got distracted. I think I have it now." said Kenton.


    Daniel said nothing.


    The trio started sprinting again, and after a few minutes, they returned to the shallower part of the stable, where things and rooms only moved occasionally, and almost never when one was walking through it. The air of the aquatic creatures smelled of fresh seaweed and rotting fish, drifting in from the doorways to the left. But then Kenton went right instead, and after several minutes found the correct doorway.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    There was the entrance that led toward the Eastern Red room at last, a half collapsed doorway that anyone taller than an average doorknob would need to duck to enter.


    Daniel entered first, already familiar with this space. The warmth of the room touched Daniel as he entered, the scent of cinnamon and paprika and clove swirling in the air. Daniel looked around the room. The Eastern Red room was a massive room, the floors were a maroon jasper, the walls a cinnabar and a red marble, the fixtures amaranth red, and the furnishings were vermilion, crimson, and scarlet. There were pillars and columns of red jade. Even the distant ceiling dark beast blood red. The room itself tapered off, a massive triangle, with a doorway at the narrow point, and an entrance directly opposite it from in the middle of the wall.


    They emerged into the Eastern red room, where dozens of stablehands and workers were milling about. They looked exhausted, and Daniel truly believed that they had been hunting after the griffin for hours and hours. He recognized some, but many he did not. When the Tolsen arrived, the bedraggled workers quieted and merged upon him. Daniel was impressed with the Tolsen¡¯s ability to manage his people; orderly and calmly. He may not be the quickest or smoothest talker, but watching how he organized his people and answered a vast variety of questions, he was good at helping his people accomplish their tasks. That was a worthy skill.


    Daniel looked around the room. The Eastern Red room was a massive room, the floors were a maroon jasper, the walls a cinnabar and a red marble, the fixtures amaranth red, and the furnishings were vermilion, crimson, and scarlet. There were pillars and columns of red jade. Even the distant ceiling dark beast blood red. The room itself tapered off, a triangle, with a doorway at the narrow point, and an entrance way that led back toward the aquaitic zone most of the time.


    "First group goes to the moon bear room and the second group to the Owls Scope. Break out in pairs of two from any doorway you encounter. If you come across another team, then both go back the way you came until you get a new doorway and repeat. Look in rafters, and around curtains. I''ll take the first group. Kenton, you take the second. And keep your eyes on the little Lordling. We don''t have much time. Go, and be safe."


    The groups must have been predetermined, because everyone knew which group they were in. Daniel followed along as they jogged through the door on the tapered end of the Eastern Red room. There was a straight passage to from the back that led directly to Owls Scope, a circular tall room with long curtains and rafters. No griffins, but...


    One other stablehand called out "I see some fresh feathers, it could be griffin feathers." He pointed to a high loft overlooking the room. A boy was pushed forward and climbed from the various perches until he ascended to the top. He reached and took the feathers, before climbing down swiftly.


    Once on the ground, he handed the feathers to Daniel without asking, and Daniel took them without explanation. It certainly could be from a griffin. It was the right color to belong to Cinnamon Girl. They were newly dropped, the kind of feathers that are discarded after a recent grooming session.


    Daniel gave his assessment, aware that this may be a trap. "It seems possible that we have a lead. If it is from a griffin, these were dropped no more than twenty minutes ago."


    From the Owls Scope, the large group headed to the next passageway, "Let''s hurry!" People started calling out for the griffins, and the pairs split off at each intersection.


    Daniel eased his way back away until he was standing abreast with Kenton. He had questions he wanted to ask, and he didn¡¯t particularly care for the others to overhear him.


    Information time: "What exactly is missing."


    Kenton opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. "That''s weird." he tried again. Or he made it look like he was trying but was actually lying. Regardless if he was a double agent or not, Kenton shrugged. "Can''t tell you. The words won''t come out of my mouth. Is that because of the Game?"


    Another pair split off, calling for the griffin.


    "Perhaps. Or the Law of Fae has some complication regarding that information." Daniel stepped around a fallen pillar as the material of the hallway changed from stone to plaster. He decided to be brunt. "What is the Tolsen Stablemaster''s affiliation with the Sky Court?"


    There was another doorway, and two more fae departed.


    "None. Tolsens don''t get involved in much politics..." the Law of Fae rang true, but that didn''t matter much. Kenton believed the Tolsen had no interest in politics and no affiliation with the Sky Court, and the Law of Fae said Kenton did not lie. But that did not mean that the Tolsen did not, just that Kenton did not believe he did. Kenton continued after a moment''s thought "But I think the Stablemaster''s overseer is a cousin of an earl from there? Maybe?"


    The Law of Fae remained neutral. It rarely answered purely speculative questions.


    Daniel sighed. Kenton seemed to have no truly useful information for him. Or he was pretending not to know to avoid scrutiny.


    The group came into a room with three doorways. A pair went into the one on the left, and another pair went down the one on the right, and the main group continued down the middle path, as it was becoming very small indeed. , and the main group was becoming very small indeed. Daniel continued walking with Kenton.


    "Do you know of any activities of Lord Fredar?" he asked.


    "He does not come here often. He has little use for his griffin anymore, and little use for it before he ascended to his glorious Lord status."


    Another pair split off, down a small crooked doorway. Now there were only Daniel, Kenton, and two others.


    "Anyone coming into the Stable who normally avoids it?"


    "My primary duties are to polish leather saddles and tend to reins. I don''t get out of my workroom very often. So I won''t know. But no one has been telling any rumors."


    The last pair left down a grand marble entryway, and Daniel found himself alone with Kenton.


    Daniel was preparing his next question when Kenton surprised him. "I need to warn you. They are working against you. Funny you should mention the Sky Court because I saw the schedule. They are leaving the responsibility of the discarded griffins to you. These are the griffins that fail training, or their Lordlings failed. These griffins are nearly feral, and they have maimed fae before too. You must do whatever you can to avoid that..."


    "Does that include the Sky Court''s own Lordling Parcel''s griffin? What was that griffin''s name? Kyndal?"


    "I don''t work with the griffins, only their tack. No one flies them, so I don''t work with them. But the rumor is that she''s the worst of them. Completely unapproachable. She''ll attack on sight, raise her talons in the air!"


    Well, Daniel had just stumbled into another little game. Because the southland griffins didn''t attack with their talons. Their jaws were incredibly strong, and they had some small elemental attacks, but the front talons were significantly weaker. It was against their natural behavior to even faint that kind of attack. Unless someone had carefully trained it to do so. Parcel must have some game in mind.


    Daniel tapped his fingers against each other in a quick little pattern. "Those discarded griffins were to be a punishment for me?"


    "They are nearly feral. They are savage."


    Daniel remembered how frantic the Tolsen had been when Daniel had been inside the griffin chamber.


    They may have made a mistake. Those griffins were not bad. They were just bored out of their brains and so neglected that they had regressed. And they weren''t feral. If they were truly feral, they would have left the Stable behind and joined a wild griffin flock.


    They were waiting for their masters to come back and play with them again. And outside of Kyndals master, Daniel felt certain that those masters never would.


    But unless one had extensive griffin training and the patience to work with a wounded creature, they would only see the hissing, snarling massive creatures and see monsters.


    Well. If everyone thought it was terrible, Daniel had no reason to dispel their worries. He didn''t want to be reassigned.


    "In games such as this, one must do one''s best," Daniel said, to reassure Kenton.


    But Kenton was gone. And Daniel was in a completely different section of the Stable than he had been in a moment before. There were no exterior windows, no skylights, only light from old, flickering lighting rods along the ceiling.


    And for the first time in a month, Daniel could not feel the ever-looming Game.


    In fact, he couldn''t even feel the Law of Fae.


    "I might be in trouble," he whispered.

 Chapter 31: The Dungeon inside the Stable

    Daniel found himself in a dim room. It was large, too large for a casual meeting yet too small for any court function. It had yellow ornamented walls, though it seemed like it was some mass-produced paper plastered on the walls in repeating patterns instead of true artistry. The floor was a tired and ancient wooden floor, crumbling away into dust revealing ancient slabs of flagstone underneath in thin places. There were doorways, but they led into nearly identical rooms.


    There were no windows outside.


    And there was no Law of Fae.


    Daniel stood still, but inside he was reaching for the ever-present, ever-familiar touch of the Law of Fae.


    The Law of Fae gave power to promises. The Law of Fae revenged oath-breakers. The Law of Fae remembered words, actions, and deeds.


    And it was gone.


    The Law of Fae was constant. It was not always attending, but it was always there. Its absence was as disturbing as if the color blue just stopped existing and in its place was void.


    If not for his battle training, he would have fallen to the floor in a stupor.


    He tried walking backward, to leave the flickering lights of this unimaginable deep place in the Stable, back to the rim where the aquatic creatures dwelt.


    The floor beneath his feet squealed, but nothing else changed.


    The lights flickered for a beat, then went dark as if just now noticing him.


    "Get a weapon, Elswith," he whispered to himself like he used to in the early days of the campaign. "Get a weapon and find a place to hide."


    The name Elswith was dead on his lips, but he didn''t know if that was because Elswith was a bankrupt name or if the Law of Fae was gone.


    He sprinted away from the middle of the room, toward a wall. At least he needed one solid object at his back.


    He felt the papered wall to his back, considerably more flimsy than any wall he had experience with. But it was better than nothing.


    If he had come from the height of his power as Lordling Elswith and then lost all connections to the Law of Fae and its power, the sudden absence may have been too much. Just the absence of the little bit of power he had smuggled throughout the day was enough to shake him.


    The lack of the Law of Fae meant that he had to see exclusively with his eyes, listen only with his ears, and feel the coming events only with his mind.


    This was nearly as terrifying as when his own designs to be free from the Influence of the Red Lord failed as enemies, both within and without his faction, colluded against him. Where he found himself without support while trying to both do the right thing for Witness and save the rural places of Dragon Scull. Where he lost everything. Where even the Red Lord watched in amusement as Elswith''s existence was degraded, as Elswith''s position was given to an outsider. An outsider who would seek Daniel''s death. That was the only sure way. Or worse. Seek for Daniel to remain a bondservant serving the new Heirling of the Red Sword forever.


    The lights flickered back on. But this time, only a few of the rods in the ceiling lit up. Like a trail. Daniel traced it with his eyes, mapping it. The lights led to the next room, where a similar set of lights continued.


    It was a path.


    To stay, or go?


    As his teacher said, do not remain still for longer than seven heartbeats if in the presence of the unknown. He was already in someone else''s power. He was outside his knowledge, but staying still was not helping him.


    So he followed the trail through the dimness of the strange world. There were no epic stories naturalized on the walls. Unlike the other places in the Citadel where there were thousands of years of hidden secrets and stories legendized and immortalized upon the walls and monuments, it was completely...commercial.


    The dry wood cracked and crumbled beneath his boots. Daniel looked through different doorways as he traveled, but found nearly identical dim rooms beyond each. There was not much to see.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    What if this was the death of the Game? Was he out? Was the Game, the contesting zone of the High Lords of Fae, extinguished so easily by a single misstep in the Grant Stable?


    Was he still in the Stable?


    Was this part of a trap? Had the Sky Court planned this?


    But if he disappeared, they would lose their reputation. It was one thing to humiliate and destroy the pawn. It was another to smuggle them away to some unknown place where the ever-reaching Law of Fae was not present. While Daniel''s cause would not win unless he won, the other parties would not necessarily win if the former Heirling lost either.


    In fact, many of them would do their best to ensure his survival until the very end of the Game.


    No one would be so brazen. No one except the Eastern Court. But they were not involved directly. They barely attended the Red Sword function events, and this matter was nearly completely external. And he had not insulted the Eastern Court. And he would not. So he would be free and safe from their clutches.


    Yes, he had overcome an entire squadron of their elite soldiers. But that was an entire month ago, and those soldiers had been drunk. And he had used the High Lord of Knowledge to do it, so that shouldn''t count against him as Servant Branch.


    Dark musings aside, this was not the Eastern Court''s style. There were too few pointy stabby things.


    Coming to this place had not felt like a trap. More so that the Stable decided to change hallways right where he was walking and he accidentally walked into somewhere he had never been before. But he would not rule anything out. It could be a trap, or he was about to find the Lost Lordling.


    If it was a trap, Kenton was clearly suspect, but ultimately it could have been anyone at the Stable who arranged a wild goose chase to isolate the Servant Branch.


    And if it was the other option, he would need to find a way out and back into the shallow parts of the Stable before the ancient building decided it liked him and kept him.


    He continued walking, keeping his steps light and his ears sharp. But he heard nothing in the backrooms of the Stables. Nothing at all. Not even the sound of a creature.


    It left him time to ponder, fruitlessly yet again, how the situation of a month ago had spiraled so far beyond his control. He had sought to be free of the mind-altering Influence of his Lordly Father. He succeeded when he, at last, earned his True Name. All it had cost him was everything.


    He had misunderstood several relations and had underestimated their reactions to Lordling Elswith''s attempt to play the game. All he had tried to do was allow the Shantytown, growing like a weed outside the City below the Citadel, some small protection. Yet that action had drawn the Sky Court and the Walsa Alliance''s rage and fury and prompted them to seek Lordling Elswith''s removal. Meanwhile, agents within the Red Sword Faction had similarly reacted upon his request for additional support from Dragon Scull. The Red Sword Faction would lose respect if that region was damaged, he had argued. Yet that had drawn their ire.


    Daniel passed by a doorway that had identical chairs aligned around a long and cheap table. But the lights were dim in the room, and Daniel did not wish to stray from the lit path. So he kept walking.


    He pondered why the Sky Court was even involved beforehand. The Walsa Alliance had been against Lordling Elswith long before the former Heirling had defeated Lordling Parcel in a very public duel; the faction had been vocal against him for many years before that point.


    Why was the Sky Court so involved? Adding protection for the Shanty Town would have no impact on the Court. Their faction was strong. Besides, unlike many Fae Houses and Courts, which struggled to produce new Lordling offspring, the Sky Court always had new younglings to take on the needed mantles of leadership.


    Some courts had no children at all for decades at a time. Regis had been the only Lordling child produced by his Court in over seventy years. Many courts had children in clusters, then nothing for many years. Not that there weren''t children, but the children produced were unable to inherit positions to generate power.


    What had Daniel stumbled into, he wondered, that brought the wraith of the entire Sky Court and their connected faction?


    He entered a new room, and then the dim lights were shut off. He had yet to find a weapon but held himself in a ready stance.


    Then all the lights came on, fully illuminating the new space.


    He could see the details of the wall again, but this room was much less identical than the others. Yes, it was still similar, the yellow papered walls bearing mass-produced repeating ornamentation murals, but over that were garish paintings of disturbing images of tortured creatures. For example, there was an image of a young cat, clutching a rope desperately over the empty void. The vivid picture proclaimed ''hang in there'', cruelly taunting the small feline with the inevitable reality of falling into the abyss with no chance of rescue. There were others, but Daniel turned his eyes around the room.


    This room had furniture. There was a desk, made of some kind of composite wood and glue. So much work, when it was relatively easy to just grow wood into the shape one needed, with the correct training. There was a couch, though of a different design than Daniel had ever seen before. There was a large bag filled with some kind of strange bean shape material that was not beans. It appeared someone had sat in it like a chair from how it was slouched and positioned.


    But that paled in comparison to the new arrival that appeared in the opposite doorway.


    "Hello!" said a logarithmic feminine voice.


    A phantom stood in the doorway. She was blue and translucent. Shaped as a woman, but with a vague impression of clothes, like a griffin riding closer fitting outfit. She also floated in the air.


    Phantoms normally did not have much use for words, nor were they blue. But they did float.


    "I am very sorry that you are here. I regret to inform you that Magic is real."

 Chapter 32: The Construct

    The Former Heirling of the Red Sword, the one who had overcome nigh a full score of campaigns, proficient in Runes and Ancient Language, and a secret ability he dare not even breathe mention, stared at the Phantom that just said the most ridiculous statement he had ever heard.


    Of course Magic was real.


    He''d grown up so surrounded by Magic that it was more difficult to imagine a way of life without magic. In fact, as a small child, he had just assumed it was a part of nature. Why do rocks fall? Because gravity pulls them down. Similarly, why do some islands float in the sky? Because magic holds them up. Why do nightmares of humans create dread creatures? Magic, and specifically because their magic has no control. Why do certain words written down cause rifts in space and portals to other lands? Magic.


    In that way, it was a profound statement. Perhaps many grew up so surrounded by Magic that they had trouble distinguishing the very real aspect of reality.


    Magic is real.


    Daniel looked around the odd room with its cruel vivid images and rather shabby furniture. Daniel took out a small flower he had acquired from his earlier pilfering actions. Fire Flowers. Plasma flowed through it, not much, but if the flower was destroyed suddenly, it would produce a bright flash. The door he had entered from was still present. He took a hesitant step backward, watching the Phantom, gauging her reactions.


    "Don''t go!" The Phantom pulsed bluer, then clasped her hands. "You are not having a nightmare. This isn''t a dream. You are in great danger. There are more powers to the universe than you could imagine."


    Time for answers, carefully.


    "Where is this place?" he asked, listening for anything approaching. This thing was not a Phantom as he understood them. But he had nothing better to call her.


    The logarithmic feminine voice spoke again. "A Testing Ground. A Training Ground. A Dungeon."


    Well, that told him...something. Not what he wanted, but something.


    "How do I get back into the Stable?"


    Then the Phantom...glitched was the word that jumped into his mind, but he didn''t know what it meant. The Phantom seemed to freeze, then break apart in motes of light, before reforming. She floated there like he had not asked a question.


    "What is this place?" he asked again.


    "A Testing Ground. A Training Ground. A Dungeon." She said, in the exact same intonation. It was exactly the same. Was everything she said a recording of some kind?


    "I need more information. What is this room''s purpose?"


    "To gather the ones who slip into this place, to attempt to comfort them and ready them."


    "What is your purpose?"


    "To aid! Before, there were massive tomes from the Great Librarian Boorstin."


    Useful information at last. Boorstin was a legendary figure of the Great Libraries. His works helped cement the great experience and understanding of the Runes of Magic and the History of the Great Ruins.


    Daniel was still in a strange room with a strange Phantom, the weight and anxiety of the fate of the Game on his mind, but he still felt himself relax slightly. If the Great Librarian left tomes here, this meant that somehow, this space was still connected to the Stable and the Seelie Citadel at large. Could they possibly be the lost tomes? Daniel had found a pocket where the Law of Fae was muted, but it still existed, that he still had two socks, and not one sock and a bunch of spiders proved that point. Also, if the Great Librarian had left writings here, it meant that there was a way out.


    "Where are the tomes?" He asked, excitement building in his chest. Daniel had studied the existing tomes before, secondhand copies of course. That helped his unique skills grow, and that was what ultimately led him to develop and attract a lightning affinity. The Librarian had many writings, but he only had seven completed tomes. However, rumors remained that there were three additional tomes that he hid away. Tomes that would be very useful to certain individuals attempting to build new Magics, perhaps.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The Phantom placed her hands on her hips and said, proudly if somewhat algorithmically "Don''t know! I replaced them. Who wants to read ancient writings anyway?"


    "I do." Daniel glanced away from the Blue Phantom to see again the cruel image of the young cat clutching desperately to the rope. A poor attempt at comforting, indeed. "I want the books. Did you move them or destroy them?"


    "They are no longer present here on the first floor. They are where Master dwells."


    "Who is this ''Master''."


    "Master is Master."


    Very useful. So useful it hurt. "What is it that you want me to do?"


    "Think of this like a video game! I''m here to help you! A danger lurks nearby. You must defeat it!"


    It was like talking to Ezra. He had no idea what she meant. But perhaps it was also because her words were dead. The Law of Fae was completely absent, so how could he know if it was truthful or false?


    "How did I get here?"


    "Through a crack. The cracks are spreading. Listen, to my tale of woe!"


    Sweeping music started playing. String instruments, voices, and other strange percussion instruments he did not recognize. Daniel looked for the source, but only found a small square box. He fingered the flower in his hand, weighing his options of whether to use it or not. So far, he did not feel like the Phantom was trying to harm him, but he did not trust it. It was too strange, too foreign. "The fabric of this world is dying. This is a world where Magic is real. The lords of this world are Fairies, but they aren''t like Tinker Bell. They are lords and masters of forces and powers beyond what you can imagine."


    "I can imagine a lot." he interrupted.


    "But for all their strengths, there are some powers that are beyond them! Nightmares poison this land!"


    It was talking about Dread Creatures. Interesting, but also insulting. He tried to move the conversation along. "Can you tell me where I am and how I got here?"


    The music paused. Then the Phantom glitched again, coming apart and reforming. "I am very sorry that you are here. I regret to inform you that Magic is real." She said again. Then the music started playing once more, a sweeping melody. "We must all face our fears. If we don''t, then the land of Fae is doomed. The Lords of Fae cannot stand the tide of the coming nightmares! The Fae needs our help!"


    This thing was ridiculous. The Campaigns were tedious, but they had happened for generations and would continue to happen for generations. The only way to stop it was to completely remove all influence from the human realms. And considering that meant genocide on such a massive scale it boggled the mind, he immediately went on the defensive.


    "We don''t need your help!" he said, clenching a fist. He had survived nineteen campaigns. The Fae did not need the help of humans. Those weak creatures who died so easily. Who bled iron. Those creatures whose only natural magic was in sleep and destroyed themselves just as assuredly as the surrounding fae.


    The Fae did not need such help.


    What the Rural places needed were the Lords of Fae.


    The music halted as the Phantom glitched again. She did not understand him.


    Time to prove something to himself, before the music started playing again.


    "You are to answer questions, yes?"


    "I am to comfort and equip you to face your fears!" she said.


    "How far is it to Dunlapshire?" Daniel said, his face a mask.


    "I...do not have that information,"


    "How many Runes of energy does it take to generate Lightning?" If this thing was part of the tomes of Boorstin, it would know.


    "I...do not have that information," again it spoke in the same tone.


    "What color is the sky?"


    "I...do not have that information,"


    "What am I afraid of?"


    The Phantom twitched. "I see three fears. Fears of self. Fears of failure. Fears of success."


    She was lying. Probably. That could be anyone. "Everyone has fears like that." She...was not alive, Daniel decided. "You''re a spell, aren''t you?"


    "I was constructed to guide you, like a video game!"


    "What is a video game?"


    "I...do not have that information."


    Daniel fingered his little flower, "How do I get back?"


    "You must defeat the first trial!"


    "No. I refuse."


    "You must! That is the only way out."


    Daniel turned on his heels and walked back the way he came. He kept his senses focused on the Phantom but detected nothing more than it following after him. But it stopped at the doorway.


    It couldn''t leave that room?


    The lights went out again, and the dim path was restarted, directing him to return.


    "You are already here. If you do not defeat the first trial within the time limit, they will come. They wear your fears. Please, complete the trial. You will be back in bed! It is much easier! It''s not safe out there!"


    "I already know Magic exists." He said. "And I''m going to find it again."


    Daniel remembered the gentle laundry maid, whom he had to revenge. He thought of the spiteful Jasper. He thought of Kenton, who may have orchestrated isolating Daniel and leading him here.


    The former Lordling had wasted time before. He had trusted too easily before.


    He remembered Kane, warm and soft against him as they had danced, just hours before she stabbed him in the back, his blood dripping down her dagger.


    Foolish, foolish little Lordling, he chided himself.


    Letting his stomach get in the way. Letting hope of companionship sway him. Believing that playing by the rules would protect him. Allowing what seemed to be kindness blind him.


    Would he let his fear of the unknown force him to follow a stranger? A most strange stranger.


    What kindness existed in the world?


    None.


    Dark thoughts filled him. Did he blindly trust a strange Phantom, with no Law of Fae to hold up her words? The answer was clear to him.


    He had trusted some, someone with the Law of Fae, and they had still betrayed him.


    "I don''t trust you."


    And he left.

 Chapter 33: Kenton

    Kenton stared at the place where Elswith had disappeared, as though the Lordling would magically reappear again should he stare long enough.


    He blinked several times, but it did not help.


    People got lost in the Stables. It happened all the time. But they got lost because they wandered from the safe zones, where the more normal animals were stabled that needed daily attention, to the chaotic regions deeper inside, where the more mythical legends roamed. Fae got lost as the Stable changed rooms and corridors, for example disconnecting the low-side horse stable stalls from the east hallway, and instead connecting to the haylofts, the inner gardens, or another horse stable stalls.


    People did not vanish between a doorway. If any trickery happened, it never isolated a specific person. Kenton would know, as a long-time stable worker. He had been here for over one hundred thirty-seven years. In that time, through all his positions and roles, he had never once seen the Stable remove a person from the middle of the room. The doorways connected to different places, but the rooms didn''t split in the middle. That''s not how it worked. It moved all the time, the hallways and passageways always reaching out to the different rooms, until they drifted too far away and the connections snapped apart, to find the next links to join.


    Why did it have to be Elswith, and why did it have to be today? And why did he have to be here for it?


    Kenton got on his hands and knees, feeling the ancient cold stone floor for extruding lumps or hinges that may indicate a trapdoor. The light flickered in this room, but it was bright enough to see clearly yet. All his searching revealed that the yellow and brown stone floor was solid. He even pulled up a large stone, the mortar long since dissolved to water and time, to see only raw earth underneath.


    Elswith had not fallen down a doorway. Elswith was gone.


    It was all that foolish griffin''s fault. She was too smart. The griffin trainers wouldn''t think so, but Kenton had spent enough time with her to realize that she threw the tests. That griffin had basically blackmailed him and his entire department. He was entrusted to work on Emerraris'' dragon hide Saddle. It was priceless, and a taunt against the Emerraris'' enemies, the Sword Faction. The Emerarris'' distant ancestor had once aided the Fairy King in slaying a dragon. As a reward, they were given enough dragon hide to make a few priceless artifacts. The saddle had been treasured for generations and generations.


    If Kenton was a young fae, he would have laid on the ground and kicked his feet. He felt his face grow red and blotchy, and his body shook.


    It was all the stupid griffin''s fault.


    An outside observer, not aware of Kenton''s maturity, may have sworn that he kicked his feet just the tiniest bit. But Kenton''s misfortune did not extend to such a terrible degree.


    It extended enough, however.


    And it was all that griffin''s fault. Cinnamon-Jewels-Over-the-Setting-Sun, her official name, was cunning. She had stolen it on purpose. The middlings working in the Stables all stated that no griffin that young would be so calculating. They didn''t know the cinnamon terror as well as the ones who personally took care of her things.


    The threat was clear. She wanted to see her friend. The Game forbade it. But the Game could not control the Stable, not all parts of it at least. If he took Elswith to an empty enough place, the overgrown cat with wings would be able to see her friend. So after hours and hours of hunting for the scourge, he had capitulated to the naughty griffin''s demands. Let her go toe to toe with the Game! As long as he got that saddle back! For over a hundred years, Kenton avoided all Games, small g and big G alike. But he knew that if he wanted to keep his job he would need to find that blasted dragonhide saddle!


    He stood slowly, feeling the age in his joints that he did not normally feel. He was young yet. He still had time. Kenton had worked here for less than fourteen decades, but he was close to reaching Middling fae. He was going to retire once he reached that level, returning to his home well-established and lifting his entire family from near poverty. Once he reached Middling fae, he could at last start the beginning of his real life away from this mad Citadel and the even madder Fae Lords. He still had time, though his joints had started aching the last few decades. He blamed the Lords for his troubles, but only quietly. In his own mind. When they weren''t around. Never think mean thoughts against the Lords of Fae while they were near.


    They could tell.


    He had only needed one time to learn that lesson.


    Pulling his attention from the long past to the past of just a while earlier, guilt and confusion filled him. His actions earlier of bringing Elswith had been somewhat a sham. The other lowlings had known, as they split apart, that they would not find the missing griffin and the stolen saddle. Elswith would be the one to do it because the griffin would have no one else. But for the Game, they all had to pretend. Iscale Ren, the Tolsen Stablemaster, had certainly believed that if they split up they would increase their odds. He was a Midling fae. What did those born Midling fae understand of the harsh reality of the lowlings? The lowest of the totem pole, the ones who saw the true face of the Stable. How the capital and citadel sometimes forgot to be rigid, and laws and rules of reality sometimes didn''t apply?


    But perhaps the Game would not be mocked and pulled Elswith somewhere after all!


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Kenton moved his legs, but dread made them feel heavy and rubbery. He began wandering, rather blindly. He was a leatherworker now, polishing and repairing leather saddles and tending to reins and other tack. But the role that earned Kenton the most Authority had been Mapper. There were few places he could wander inside the Stable that would harm him. Over his respectable time spent working here in the Grand Stable, he had discovered the Stable had liked him. The Stable did that, seemingly randomly, finding an individual or two that it would show the deeper places and deeper secrets. Mappers had the unenviable honor of searching and recording the changes of the Stable, noting its patterns and foibles, and recording it for others to use.


    So the Stablemasters would send those individuals to chart out passageways that were safe, passageways that were to be avoided, and alternative routes so that everyone could get to where they needed to be. He''d spent many years drawing where which passageways led where most of the time. Those who worked near the outer rim hardly needed it, but for the ones who tended to the creatures in the deeper middle, such as the unicorns, the Wyverns, and the lixons, they''d need a map. And sometimes they needed the mapper himself to accompany them.


    That''s how he''d seen a Cold One before.


    He had never been so overjoyed when ten years ago, finally another worker had earned the Stable''s interest and had finally taken over the position of Mapper. It was great to gather Authority, but it was so damaging to his nerves. Working on the tack and leathers of a Circle of Little Lordlings'' griffins was a reward for all his hard work. The little Lordlings had been so cute ten years ago. They had hardly been any different from any other fae child. Not that the Seelie Courts would allow any child to remain a child any longer than strictly necessary.


    He turned left instead of right at passageway, worry and fear gnawing at him.


    How had little Elswith grown from a child missing two front teeth and reading little books to the mewling little griffins, to a cunning and daring Fae bold enough to attempt to defy the High Fae?


    Elswith walking around pretending to be a servant was a joke. You could take away all the Authority, but you could not take away that brat''s intelligence, determination, and good luck. The blond-haired young Fae didn''t look like a Lordling anymore. No, Kenton reasoned to himself, he looked like a Lord. It was in his eyes. A Lord had a way of solving problems and handling situations. They looked at mountains, and instead of planning how to get over it, manifested that the mountains would move itself. And the mountains moved.


    And Kenton had lost him in the Stables!


    Kenton slowed as he heard a somewhat muted conversation. "It was truly pathetic this morning. He looked so lost and bewildered." a girl''s voice giggled. "Fallen lordling has no idea what''s going on."


    A boy answered back with a question. "Were you the one to spit on him? I heard a Lord promise a gold goblet to the servant who spits on the fallen one''s face."


    Foolish. So foolish. Did these two not realize that many words were being weighed? All the Watchers and Ways, the Minders, the Recreaters. This was not a night to be running one''s mouth, especially if one was foolish. Elswith had many enemies, but many allies. And many enemies who respected him enough to not allow others to degrade him.


    Kenton at last spied the pair talking around the corner.


    They were both young, perhaps from Glasbin, or Wil d''Arden. New lowling stablehands that had only joined a season back. Stablehands that were from Central. They weren''t supposed to be here. They were rather oblivious to their surroundings too because they should have realized their private conversation was no longer private by now.


    The Stable was displeased with them, he realized. The Stable had tattled on them.


    What was he supposed to do with this information?


    "I was too far back." the girl said to her fellow stablehand, her heart-shaped mouth pulling into a pout.


    Kenton stepped hard against the floor to alert them.


    They finally noticed him, but instead of apologizing for loitering where they did not belong, they both stopped and glowered at him, as though he was in their territory, and not the other way around.


    He thought of ignoring them, but he had whispers of worry that he needed to address them and perhaps prevent their demise from their foolhardiness. "What''s Central doing here?" he asked them with Authority, sternly.


    They may all be lowling fae, but he had still been working here longer than perhaps their parents had been alive. Certainly longer than these pipsqueaks had been alive.


    They frowned when they realized that he was technically their superior. They weren''t used to dealing with Authority yet, either, because the girl answered honestly. "We heard a rumor that the Emerraris lost a certain something and if we can prove it the Sword Faction will give us a reward." she put her hands over her mouth as she realized she had spilled the beans.


    He debated what the Stable wanted him to do. Clearly these new workers had never been trained properly.


    He would do the Stable this kindness. Not them, but the Stable clearly wanted something to be addressed at least.


    He spoke with Authority again. If he was going to speak, they were going to listen.


    "You young''en can''t be older than thirty-five. You are too young to be spying for Lords and dabbling in things you do not understand, with repercussions you never want to pay. You''ve worked here a few months. You are practically blind. I guarantee whatever reward you earn will not be enough to overcome its consequences. I also guarantee I was not the only one to overhear you. Some who listen will allow you enough rope to hang yourself. My advice to you: Shut your mouth, get back to work, and keep your nose clean."


    He pulled back his Authority, slightly pleased that he had gathered just a dust more than before, and continued walking.


    The Stable let him go. Hopefully he had said the right things.


    These young servants were too young, too inexperienced. They were barely more than children themselves. Back in Kenton''s day, becoming a servant was nigh impossible. He had to prove himself to the territory Lord, then the Regional Lord, then finally the Lord of his Court, the Brystall Court Lord himself, before Kenton was allowed to leave and join the servant class. Even when he first arrived to the Citadel he had known better than underestimate those who played the Game. Because while Elswith had not won, he had not lost either. And he had a way forward to win. That was a victory in and of itself.


    Kenton sighed. Perhaps while this was unknown to him, Elswith had a plan. Perhaps...Elswith would return along where they had traveled. If he believed in Elswith, he should believe all the way. No more tantrums. Not that his mature self would ever have a tantrum.


    He was a Mapper. He knew how to find his way around the Stable.


    And there was always a little trick, for those the Stable liked.


    Focus on what you want to find, and the Stable may oblige!


    Elswith had a plan. Or Elswith would come up with a plan. He was much too dignified to allow himself to be swept away.


    And Kenton would find him.


    And together they''d get that saddle back!

 Chapter 34: Kenton Chases

    To find anything in the Stable was easy: Have the Stable like you.


    If it liked you, you were golden. Sure, it liked to show you weird creepy creatures that would give you nightmares, but it was more like an excited child showing their parent a dead frog than any kind of malice.


    But if it didn''t like you, your role in the equation changed. You were more likely to end up like the dead frog than the grossed-out parent.


    Most of the time, the Stable didn''t care one way or another. Many joked that the Stable didn''t favor them, but that was just because having the massive changing structure ignore you was rather inconvenient.


    If it didn''t like you, you were in trouble. Workers who violated its rules, who harmed the creatures sheltered inside the Stable, who did not work and did not help, those the Stable disliked. Their days would be filled with myriads of hallways being changed into the manure rooms, passageways looping keeping them trapped in a circuit until the Stable grew bored, and being outright ejected from the Stable.


    And those the Stable hated...well, they were the ones to disappear and not come back.


    Kenton closed his eyes and focused on the task at hand. While the Stable''s favor had many inconveniences, there were certain benefits.


    It would lead you to where you needed to go if you were clear enough about what you needed.


    He breathed, ignoring the smell of old hay and dampness, ignoring the sounds of the creatures nearby. He saw nothing but his own eyelids. But that''s how it always started.


    Kenton brought his focus to Elswith. He knew him differently than most others. He had seen him grow, after all. He thought of the cute little kid with yellow hair like dandelion fluff who had helped repair a halter that Cinnamon Girl had destroyed, the little Lordling watching with solemn eyes as Kenton had shown him how to take a mending stone and slowly press the magic to rejoin the tears. Kenton thought of the Young Lordling, just returned from his first campaign, face pale and horror fresh as he had encountered Dread Creatures for the first time. Kenton thought of purposeful Lordling Elswith, a month ago, as he had established which saddle and gear he wanted for his twentieth campaign, asking Kenton for advice for the best saddle for his aims.


    Kenton focused, and in the vagueness that normally surrounded him at the Stable, came a focused direction. A pull in the pit of his stomach, a direction. A vague impression of...yellow walls? That didn''t matter! He''d follow that pull, even if it led to the pits where the Cold Ones were kept!


    Haste flowed into Kenton, the stiffness in his knees completely gone, as he hurried down the Stable passageway. He kept thoughts of Elswith in his mind, while he traveled toward the pull of the lost fae.


    Those other servants may have seen Elswith that morning, but they hadn''t been watching close enough, didn''t know enough, and assumed too much and too quickly. When Kenton had seen Elswith enter the Servants'' Hall this morning, from his perch on the third-level balcony, he had not seen someone uncertain. He had seen Elswith leave for every campaign, and he recognized that look of seriousness and determination. Those other servants mocked Elswith and spit at him, but if they really thought he was beaten, then they were fools, all of them. From the moment Kenton had seen the look in Elswith''s eyes, he had known. This was within his plans.


    Kenton raced down several hallways, past the Mintoal turtles. Past the electric eels....they seemed unusually agitated and rather upset for some odd reason, strange. Then the passageway banked up and away from the Aquatic zones. Back toward the relatively empty section that he had been in earlier looking for that griffin. The Owl''s Scope room, where the servants and Elswith had first found the griffin feathers, not too long ago. The tall curved room stretched upward before doming. There were no owls present now, and the room was mostly used for holding old tools and buckets, some old tin bells tucked away for future use.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The former Mapper didn''t see him. But the pull was still strong and present. He closed his eyes, focusing, and the sensation focused as well.


    He felt the pull lead upward.


    "Elswith...errr, Branch?" He called, remembering belatedly that Elswith was playing at being a servant. Didn''t want to call him the wrong name and have whatever Watchers and Minders take offense.


    There was no response from Elswith, but the room didn''t feel empty. It felt like there was someone else in the room with him.


    There was nowhere else to hide in this room. Except up.


    Around the Owl''s Scope room were twelve ledges, each ledge about six feet by six feet against the wall with three edges clear for perches. The ledges encircled the room, each one higher than the last and off to the right side spiraling up, like stairs for a very tall fae or a very short giant. These platforms encircled the circular wall until the final of twelve which was over sixty feet in the air, the last three ledges slightly further away from each other than the first nine.


    Kenton remembered Young Elswith had enjoyed climbing to high places and staying there for hours on end. And this room had perches where one could lie and not be seen from below.


    Kento craned his head back as far as it would go, but he didn''t see Elswith. He did see some things perched on the very edges of those ledges, including an actual old bucket on the highest ledge. But he couldn''t see anything beyond that. The angle was wrong for it.


    Kenton groaned as he considered his options. If Elswith was dumped here, he may be unconscious or hurt after what the Stable did. Someone would need to help, and Kenton didn''t trust anyone else''s intentions not to harm him. Kenton would have to help Elswith directly.


    That game thing, which mostly ignored him, suddenly got all hot and bothered. Kenton spent his life avoiding the games as best as any fae could, but he was old enough not to be completely flustered by its advances. First, he needed to understand the issue.


    It was muddled and more like a feeling. Kenton snorted when he realized the Stable was clearer than this game thing actually. But Kenton felt like it was warning him to not aid Elswith.


    "I''m not aiding him! I need him to help me find the blasted dragon hide saddle!"


    The pressure of the Game went away.


    So...he had its permission?


    Foolishness, all of it. Once Kenton got to Midling fae, he was going to retire back to his home court and be done with the lot of them!


    The pull of the Stable was still upward. Kenton groaned as he realized there was no ladder here, nor did he have the ability to get one so tall without alerting the Tolsen.


    Kenton would have to climb up the ledges...and leap to the next one.


    His knees groaned immediately, and he felt his back suddenly stiff and sore.


    Kenton was not as young as he used to be. But he still felt like Elswith was nearby...


    So he shambled up the first ledge, having to reach and inch worm crawl his way onto the first perch. The platform circled the room, each one higher than the last and off to the right side. The gaps seemed larger than before now that he was actually here on the ledge. Kenton stood, looking at the gap he''d need to clear to reach the next platform, and a wave of vertigo washed over him for a moment though he was only five feet from the ground. He looked upward. Only eleven to go!


    He kept focusing on Elswith, and the Stable kept directing him to this room.


    He ran and jumped, hitting his chest against the next ledge. Ooph, that hurt a bit. But he pulled himself upward and took to his feet. He still didn''t see Elswith. But the Stable had never lied to him before. And Elswith would have responded if he could have. Not that Kenton was helping Elswith with his game thing. He was being completely selfish.


    Kenton ran and jumped again, this time getting the jump better and not knocking the breath from his lungs. He was standing on the 3rd platform.


    Elswith had never harmed any lowlings or midlings.


    Kenton took a breath and leaped again, making the ledge and pulling himself up. 4th platform.


    If a ploy had required disrupting their work, Elswith had always reimbursed them double their trouble.


    Kenton breathed heavily, sitting for just a second. He was not the fittest fae in the world.


    Elswith had always remembered everyone''s name.


    Kenton stood and leaped again. He got his breath knocked out of him but pulled himself up all right. 5th platform.


    Elswith had always remembered everyone''s favorite food and their birthday.


    Kenton counted the ledges left. Seven more jumps to go.


    He could do it. He had already gone up so far!


    He made the mistake of looking over the edge, and another attack of vertigo was intense and in full force instantly. He puffed out air as he leaned against the wall. The ground was so far down!


    Why was someone as...not as young as he used to be...be doing this?

 Chapter 35: Kenton Climbs to the Top

    Kenton stood there, challenging himself to do better and do more. He was already so high up. It''d be silly to stop now.


    But the ground was already so far away, and he was not yet half way done. This was more than anyone would expect of him. It was more than he had ever expected of himself.


    Kenton remembered the afternoon when Elswith had returned from sealing that cursed dragon that caused all the bigwigs to be upset.


    <hr>


    The ''servant'' Branch that servants spit at and mocked today was a hero not long ago. He had started out not impressing others much, his lack of elemental magic considered a fatal flaw by many important people. But Elswith had changed everyone''s mind with time. He was younger than 20 years old, only 17 or 18 years old at that time. But he and his Circle had sealed a cursed dragon. Individual years were hard to keep track of when one gets to a certain age, Kenton believed, but he remembered that year sharp and clear. Few dismissed Elswith now.


    The day that Elswith and his Circle returned, slower because the cinnamon terror had injured herself flying like a manic, there were receptions and award ceremonies for the Lordlings of the Red Circle. But everyone called Elswith a Hero specifically. He had been the one who had noticed the danger first, who had organized and led his Circle to victory against the cursed dragon bones, and ultimately the one to finish it. Kenton even heard through the grape-vine that the King himself promised the Red Circle a small reward for such an Achievement. The Fame and Favor flowed freely that day.


    Kenton knew about it because he even got a chunk of Favor and Authority because he took care of the Red Circle''s griffins saddles and tack and they had done well. No surprise there, his saddles where impeccable. Except for that deathtrap saddle Elswith insisted Cinnamon Girl needed for ''speed''.


    So while the parties were going on, Kenton had returned to the Stable to get a little bit more work done.


    So he had been surprised to find Elswith already present, putting on some ridiculously expensive ointment on the overly large cat with wings.


    "The hero of the hour! Congratulations." Kenton said, his mood good at all the unexpected gains he''d made. "I heard you might even get a reward from the King."


    Elswith had looked at him with haunted eyes, the good mood in the room evaporating instantly. "I''m not a hero." he said quietly.


    "You saved a lot of people." Kenton replied. If other servants had been present he''d be more...respectful. But just the two of them (and the untold Watchers and Minders), was private enough.


    Elswith surprised him by speaking again, not looking at Kenton anymore but focusing his gaze solely on the cinnamon brat, who was purring happily. "I was too slow, too lazy, and too complacent. I didn''t realize the danger until the following day. The death toll was unimaginable."


    Kenton froze. That was the uncomfortable aspect. There were many little settlements that were not directly connected to a Court. They were called rural places, and the nearby Lords were supposed to handle their defenses. There was less tax on those little areas, and more freedom. And more dangers. Especially the rural places so far away from any court, such as Dragon Scull. No fae wanted it because it was near to human settlements.


    In fact, most of the deaths had been small little fae communities and a few towns that drew traded in exports from those not directly fae.


    These would be deaths few noted. Nothing ventured was nothing gained, but it was also nothing lost. What did a not-quiet-as-young-as-he-used-to-be fae like him know about the Games the Lords of Fae played? No one could save everyone: People too stubborn to move into a Court from a rural place knew they risked their lives.


    So after a moment of thought, he tried to comfort Elswith "People die, Lordling. The ones out there made their choices. Big fae and little fae alike all perish sometimes. The ones who stay are the least of all the fae. They''re joined by outsiders and non-fae too. What Lord has time to safeguard something that gives no profit?"


    "I know." Elswith said, like he was talking more to himself than Kenton "But it doesn''t make it any easier, or any better." Cinnamon Girl mewled happily, and curled up closer to the Lordling. "But some of those fae cannot leave. They shouldn''t suffer and die because their Lord forfeited his Court."


    Then the blond Lordling looked upward, toward the warm glow of golden light spilling in from a skylight. "There should be a way to protect those places. Even if they could hold out just a single day, help could arrive."


    "Bold plans."


    The light of determination and resolved solidified in Elswith''s gaze, as he stared off to an unseen world in his mind. "More is possible than commonly imagined. And if it is not possible, then we have not searched enough. Even if it is not enough to save everyone, it will save more."


    And that was when Kenton had started thinking of Elswith as a Lord already, as that light of determination and dedication entered his eyes. He was a Lord, but the powers just hadn''t caught up yet.


    A Lord who would dedicate his time to protecting even the least of the fae. Even the foreigners and strangers that called the rural place home. Such a Lord may be worthy to stay out of retirement for a few years more to see what happened.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    <hr>


    Back in the present, Kenton stood on the 5th ledge. Resolve filling him. He wasn''t great enough to ever affect the Game. But perhaps he was enough to help Elswith. Just a touch.


    He would just never get involved with him again afterward. He would go his own separate way. Get the last little bit of Authority and become a midling fae and go away.


    Kenton looked at the remaining ledges. Seven to go.


    The Stable still said that Elswith was there, and upward.


    So the not-so-young-anymore fae clenched his hands, ran, and leapt to the next platform. His chest practically crashed against the ledge, and pain rattled along his body. That hurt. But he had a good grip and wiggled his way all the way onto the platform. He was officially midway there.


    He hardly felt the pain as the ledge knocked the breath from his lungs, and instead stood again, ran and leapt, and pulled himself upward. Ledge number 7, complete.


    Even if the cinnamon terror had stolen the saddle at Elswith''s command, Kenton believed that Elswith would never do anything to harm the lowlings.


    Kenton leapt and climbed onto ledge number 8. Four more to go!


    If Elswith had stolen the dragon hide saddle, then Elswith would return it with a matching pair of dragonhide gauntlets for everyone''s trouble. He ran, leapt, and hit the next platform, legs dangling above a lengthy fall. He wiggled up and finished. Ledge number 9.


    Kenton looked at the ledge above him, and grimaced. He had known the last three platforms were spaced further apart and increasingly higher. But it seemed much vaster up this high. He spied that there were many cluttering things lingering on the edge of the platform near the center of the room; he''d have to avoid that as he climbed. Who had left an old bucket on a ledge so high anyway? He rotated his arms, and felt the constricting of fabric of his jacket. He took it off, folded neatly, and laid it to one side. He''d come back to get it after he found Elswith.


    Kenton jumped up and down a minute on the platform, allowing his body a moment to recover, but only a moment. Then he clenched his fist, ran, and leapt to the next ledge. It was his best jump so far, and he hardly had to pull himself up. 10.


    "Kid, you here? Groan if you can''t answer!" Kenton asked, hoping to hear a confirmation before committing to the last few jumps.


    There was no answer, but Kenton could swear someone was in the room with him. And not the brat griffin that caused so much trouble. It felt like Elswith.


    No answer, but Kenton was already up so high! He purposefully did not look, but ran and jumped and climbed onto ledge number 11.


    Kenton saw the last ledge, higher than the rest. He could not see the back side of the ledge. If Elswith was hiding there, Kenton would have to commit to the jump and pull himself up. He could do that. He had done a pull-up just the other day...


    His shoulders had popped and crunched uncomfortably, but he had done it and won a sizable bet too.


    The Stable said that Elswith was near.


    Perhaps Elswith needed him. Kenton was not Elswith''s ally. He was not worthy to hold such a position.


    But Kenton could help this one time. For his own selfish reasons. Because selfishly, he wanted Elswith to do well. He wanted to live in a world where the Red Lord cared for the outer territories. So Kenton could do it, he could make that jump. He could do it. He was strong still. Still young. His knees hurt and his hands got tingles when it rained, but he wasn''t old yet. He still had the best part of his life ahead of him.


    So he ran and jumped, not looking down. His hands grabbed the ledge, though it smarted something awful. He pulled up and felt youthful vigor fill him as he did so, though had he seen himself he would know his face was red and splotchy.


    Then he got his chest up and over the ledge, and then the left leg over the ledge, then the right leg over. He rolled onto his back, breathing hard, staring at the curved doom of a ceiling that was nearer to him than he had ever seen before.


    He had done it! He climbed all the way up! The Stable seemed proud of him too!


    He sat up, fully expecting to see the young fae in one form or another lying nearby.


    But there was no Elswith.


    The Stable said that Elswith was right there.


    But there was no Elswith.


    Confusion and disgruntlement filled Kenton, exhaustion seemed to drip from his every pore. Frustration welled in Kenton''s chest, as he thought of the myriad of problems that fell into his lap.


    People got lost in the Stable, and sometimes had...bad fates...but those were people who broke the rules and hurt the Stable.


    Elswith had never been anything but pleasant and fair to the Stable.


    Had the Stable actually stolen Elswith?


    No, that wasn''t supposed to happen.


    The last time was a fluke.


    Kenton slumped back down, turbulent thoughts filling him.


    Kenton was the last person to be with Elswith. The other workers in his department would turn on him too because Kenton was the one who was entrusted with the dragon hide saddle, who claimed that it was stolen by a griffin. The other workers who had seen would not be enough to prove his innocence. They''d say he designed a trap for Elswith. And now a proper Big G fancy Game was ruined.


    Kenton would lose all the Authority he had gathered over 137 years. All gone.


    Would Sarah-Beth, his love who waited for him in his little home village, blame him that he may have just wasted the century and a half it had taken him to reach the cusps of Midling Fae? The thought of her disappointed face drove him to fury, and he flailed his arms.


    His flailing, unfortunately, tossed over an old bucket abandoned on the ledge.


    "No no no no," he said, lurching in vain to grab it.


    Instead, he got to see from his high vantage point as the bucket fell and hit every platform on the way down, clattering and clanging with each impact loud enough to make him cover his ears.


    At the last perch, it rolled and nearly fell off safely to some old haybales. But the impact instead had been enough to chip off the edge of that ledge, and the bucket and the bit of edge collapsed against a multitude of other tools and honest-to-goodness bells tucked away here for storage. Why were there bells here?


    The noise was so loud that Kenton could feel it all the way up here.


    The sound was huge and Kenton had to cover his ears.


    Please don''t have the Stablemaster return and berate him for disturbing the peace. What if the Stable had connected to the banshee sanctum and he had awoken them? It''d be weeks before the stablehands got them all back to sleep!


    But silence returned, and no wails or shrieks began.


    He had done it, somehow. He slumped against a wall, considering how to proceed. Maybe he would just stay up here.


    When a noise came.


    Kenton felt the pressure of a blast but did not see the light. Ears ringing, he wondered if his fortune was truly bad after all. It had been a loud and sharp bang and the smell of nectar. It was all the tell-tell signs of a fire flower being activated by an expert wizard, except there was no flash.


    It didn''t come from the hallway or another room. It had come from this room. But that was impossible. Because he should have seen the flash.


    It came from the space it seemed Elswith was.


    "Elswith?" He asked the empty room.

 Chapter 36: Branching paths

    Feeling alone and abandoned, Daniel wandered the hallways of this twisted space.


    The Phantom no longer called after him. The lighting rod overhead would brighten as Daniel walked underneath, but then darken after his quick steps took him away. It produced a globe of light around him, but it also threatened to blind him to dangers that lurked in the corners of this back room.


    As he traveled, he thought of the strange blue Phantom. Although, he supposed the Phantom not a Phantom but a Construct; a very complicated spell programmed to respond to certain stimuli. Wizards and Magic users sometimes had them, but they were normally meant for calculating and mathematics, not answering conversations, and not formed in the shape of a lady. Someone had too much time on their hands to create such a construct.


    A sound echoed from further down the hall, and Daniel shifted his stance, flower ready to use if he needed it. But he did not need it. All he saw was the same, dreary tried yellow room he had passed earlier, with the table and identical chairs. This room had murky, beige carpet that seemed almost sodden. The only thing that had changed was that the chairs, which before had faced the center of the table, were now all facing toward him.


    Daniel moved along, fire flower ready. Phantoms hated fire. That was one of the best advantages of the Red Sword. It would cut through anything, regardless if it was intangible or even if it was physically material. But he had no elemental fire ability, even at the height of his powers. Now...he had to rely on garden clippings.


    Daniel looked back the way he had come. Perhaps he was being unwise to leave the guidance of the Construct. But he could not blindly trust again. Not when his allies abandoned him with nary a single sign or gesture of their support. Not when the only nod of acknowledgment had been from his old and faithful steward Matheus that morning when Daniel was first assigned his duties of the day. And that was barely a nod.


    Kindness and bland positive relations were not enough to offer even a hint of loyalty. Allies, servants, stewards, knights, all suspect.


    Daniel touched the wall, confirming his suspicions that it was paper. He wondered...what would happen if he punched through it? It seemed dry, like a very uniform plaster. If he had a hint of earth elemental abilities, he would have been able to see its construction more clearly. But considering the dangers of things hiding in walls...


    He had a memory of his first time in the O''Tells'' House.


    <hr>


    "Why do you think there''s a treasure?" Little Lordling Elswith asked his new friend.


    Little Lordling Orville was a little bit taller than him, but he was also rounder around the middle. Elswith had not been allowed to play with other children very much before, and he was worried that he would do it wrong.


    Little Lordling Orville sighed, squinting a bit, making wrinkles across his nose. "Cause Mother said never to mess with these walls. I heard her and father talking about it. That there was an ancient secret in the walls, so ren-no-vey-sens can''t happen until we find a strong enough wizard."


    Little Lordling Elswith had never been together with his mother and his father at the same time. He hadn''t realized that other children had both together at once. He kicked at the sagging wall in the servant''s passageway. If a normal child would think treasure existed in the wall, he didn''t want to stand out. He was finally old enough to meet the beginning of his ''Circle''. Matheus said they would be his bestest allies. And an ally was like a friend.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Little Lordling Elswith clinched his little fists tight into balls, still feeling like poking a hole into a wall was a bad idea. But he wanted a friend a lot. "Let''s try."


    <hr>


    Standing in the dim, flickering hallway, Daniel removed his hand from the yellowed patterned wall. He would not try to see what was inside. Not yet.


    He had learned that opening things sealed sometimes brought more trouble. Who knew what was sealed, and what should remain secret? He rubbed the bandaged cut under his long-sleeved shirt. The long-sleeved shirt that was now mended by the gentle laundry maid that he would have to retaliate against later. If he managed to get out of there.


    He started walking, feeling more confident about his direction. He noticed the materials changed as he drew further away from the construct. He hadn''t noticed it before, but everything got...thinner, the further away he got from the construct. The floors had changed in quality, newer and stronger toward the room hosting the blue creature, and likewise becoming more broken and crumbling the further away he came.


    If the trial was unavoidable, then it was unavoidable. But he would not blindly follow a Construct of unknown origin. Perhaps agreeing to the Trial trapped one inside this place. Whoever the Construct''s Master was, Daniel had no desire to meet them.


    Daniel paused as the lights overhead flickered. There was some noise about him now, from the different rooms. Quiet, like it was still appraising him, but the flickering light overhead seemed to hush the noise. As long as that light was on, the noise...and the things that made the noise, would be held back.


    He hurried along again, gaining speed.


    At last, he reached a place of decision. Along the way he had come, he saw a branching path. He had not seen this way before, given the angle the branching path took.


    One way was the way he had come from. He recognized his earlier footprints, where his steps had slightly broken the fragile flooring.


    But the other path led to some placeg he recognized.


    That looked like the hallway to minatoal turtles. Not exactly alike, as the materials were different, and there was no access hatch to the tunnels. But that was the same sloping floor and the same octagonal arch. The yellow pattern on the wallpaper also appeared less vivid, more of a vague blur than a detailed, if boring, repeating mural.


    Was this place...a copy of the Stable? Was this a construct, much like Blue Phantom? That existed side by side with the Stable, built in its own most unique design. For what purpose?


    This ''Dungeon'' as the Construct had called it, even though it was lacking even the basic of prison cells, may have been some kind of failed building project. Some sections were half walls in a cube shape, dozens of them next to each other. Perhaps it was some kind of psychological prison?


    Perhaps this was why the Seelie Court had stopped adding room and rooms. He had not recognized many of the rooms though. If everything was directly lifted from the Stable...perhaps they had come from some deeper place inside the Stable.


    Or maybe...what he was seeing was an overlap, where the Stable and this other place were more intrinsically linked.


    The buzzing sound from the flickering lights overhead grew louder. He should move on.


    The hallway branched, and Daniel chuckled darkly. "A Branching path. How appropriate for Servant Branch," he told the air. The Law of Fae was not present to enjoy his insight.


    Daniel looked around, one more time.


    The only thing that made him hesitate was that the lightning up ahead was dimmer, and there was that strange, slightly damp beige carpet in that direction.


    He had the fire flower, and he had several. He had already searched where he was before. He needed to find a place where the realities were weak and get back to the Stable. Get back to the Stable, back to the Game, and away from the madness that surrounded this place.


    He took the new path.

 Chapter 37: A Matter of Three Dimesions

    Daniel crept along the dim passageways that were reminiscent of the Grant Stable but made up of the faded yellow walls, brown carpet, with flickering lights and moldy odor of wet carpet.


    The lights made a buzz buzz sound. He glanced overhead, just in case there was a ceiling-dwelling predator. He did not see one.


    It was odd because while the materials remained the same yellow walls and beige carpet, the structure, at last, was becoming familiar. He saw massive rooms that in the Stable housed horses, wigabears, and other similarly mundane creatures in the real Stable. Here, the stalls were completely empty and void of life, although it was dim inside. So dim that it seemed light was absorbed. It was uncanny, Daniel wondered if there ever had been creatures housed in this mirrored mockery of the Stable, would they be better or worse? It was dimmer here than on the other path, and not for the first time did Daniel wonder if he had chosen correctly.


    He needed to be decisive. He needed to be direct.


    Daniel entered a copy of a room he had last been in years ago in the Stable. It was, in the Stable, an aquarium. It was more a vanity project than a practical purpose, but Young Lordling Elswith had loved it. Huge clear tanks were constructed across the room, bringing the seafloor up and into the Stables. The bottoms were covered in warm bright pink and blue sand, with tall and healthy sea plants spreading their aquatic leaves to make homes for the beautiful brightly colored fish swimming serenely through the crystal clear water. Young Lordling Elswith had not been allowed to see it for many years. He had searched for the room, but the Stable never aligned his path to visit again. But Daniel hoped the real aquarium was doing better than this sad facsimile.


    The ''tank'' here was completely dry, the glass walls dirty and grimy. There was that beige carpet instead of the bright sands, and the only thing that looked like it was once alive (And now, hopefully successfully dead) was a fallen creature with long, narrow metal limbs connected to an equally as long and narrow metal body. It was like an oversized stick bug, and it may have fallen into the tank and been unable to escape.


    The Dungeon may have recreated rooms he knew. But Daniel needed to keep in mind this entire space, and the dangers that lurked within, was completely unknown to him. People got lost in the Stable and never came back. He could be in true and terrible danger.


    Daniel left the room, watching the walls to make sure the material was still getting thinner and less real. As he left, he was watching and listening in case the ''fallen creature'' was not dead but merely resting. Or it was dead but forgot.


    Feeling the damp carpet underfoot, he sprang up to his toes, testing his condition, should he have to run. For the first time, he was grateful to Lord Fredar. Yes, his body hurt, and his muscles ached, but he had learned that his body could still be trusted. If only he had that duel with Parcel, he could have truly tested himself.


    Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.


    The lights overhead flickered, and he sped up again. Not running, because things that hunt liked to chase things that run. But his pace was swifter than a casual stroll.


    The moist carpet underneath his boots squelched as sludgy oozy ...fluid... emerged from the carpet. It was not either of the blood colors, but it seemed too thin to be entirely water.


    If he had more fire flowers, he may just burn the entire place down and be down with it.


    The sounds arose around him, still hushed, still subdued, but still terribly present.


    His plan still seemed solid. More and more it seemed like the walls were thinner and the real Stable nearer. His plan was changing as he went along. He wondered if he went far enough away, the Dungeon may simply collapse entirely and he would find himself back in the Stable. Or what would happen if he found his way to the exit of the Stables? It was unfortunate that the tunnel''s entrance was not present, that was the faster way to leave the Stable. But he had hope. A few more rooms and he may find himself back in the World of the Fae, where there was an ever-present always listening power called the Law of Fae that kept everyone honest and held oversight over all life''s trials.


    Being here, where words were dead and flat, and...lies could be made...was unnerving more than the flickering lights or the monsters waiting for the light to go out and eat him.


    He went around the corner and entered the section where the electric eels would be if this had been the Stable. There was an in-ground tank like the true room had in the Stable, but it was strange like the features of the room were approximated. The tank was a bizarre mix of the yellow walls and moist beige carpet, and even a few patches of white tiles that matched the ceiling tiles. Everything was getting mixed up, and strange. There was the oozy fluid filling about a foot of the ''tank'', and Daniel had the distinct impression that he should not like the consequences of taking a dip.


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    Daniel tossed a small rock into the eel tank, curious about the depth of the fluid.


    A small plunk sounded as the stone entered the fluid. Nothing exciting happened, other than a few rancid bubbles rose to the surface and popped.


    He should move on. He was getting closer to the exit of the Stable, and hopefully, the exit of this place.


    Then he froze as he heard a sound.


    The chirping, slurping murmur of the electric eels.


    Daniel froze, and drew nearer to the tank, straining his ears to hear.


    Then there was a loud, arching sound. Like when the eels collectively released a charge. He felt ghost traces of the electrics flare and flash from the discharge. There were no eels in the tank, and there wasn''t even enough...fluid... for them to survive in, but it felt like they were nearby and present. Or perhaps, he was at last close enough to where they were to almost interact.


    He couldn''t see the eels. But he could hear them, distantly. He could feel their electric charge build and then surge.


    He had a connection at last with the real Stable!


    Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Flicker flash went the lights.


    Daniel stood up straight. He was running out of time.


    How to get through to the real Stable? Not through the eels'' tank. Even if it worked as a direct doorway, the eels would not welcome a new playmate to their tank. Especially after he milked them. Stupid Esra had caused this.


    Why was this place in the Dungeon connected to the Stable? He had passed by rooms that in the Stable contained noisier creatures.


    Buzz. Buzz. Flicker. Pop.


    He needed to move on, but he was close.


    Other places in this room didn''t have the connection either. The minatoal turtles stunk in the real Stable, but he hadn''t caught that odor. He should have, they were placed closely together to the eels.


    Buzz. Buzz. Flicker. The lights went out for a second, and Daniel started to move.


    He could think and walk.


    Bizzz. The lights returned with long shadows. Daniel hurried. He left the eels'' room and started moving. He had to decide quickly: Did he continue to try to find the exit, or did he explore the new finding?


    What was different? Why had the eels'' tank connected while no place else had it? Was it the kind of creature? Was it the position of the room? Was it something to do with water? But there were other rooms containing water, like the aquarium room he had left not long ago, with the probably-hopefully-dead creature trapped in those great big tanks.


    Raised tanks. Above-ground tanks.


    Height. The connection broke away with height. The eels tank was in the ground. So the bottom would be lower. The Dungeon seemed like it struggled to see something buried. In other rooms, it duplicated more faithfully, but it was confused with the eels'' tank. It struggled with the concept of three dimensions. That was why the tank itself was a confused mess of wall, floor, and ceiling.


    But that damp fluid filling the base of the misshaped pool...Daniel had not survived 19 campaigns without learning to trust his instincts. The fluid pooled where the ground was low. The tank was quiet deep. He would need somewhere taller than it was deep.


    So he would have to go up somewhere that was high. Higher than the tank was deep.


    There were many tall rooms in the Stables, but Daniel never trusted being able to find any one room reliably. It would have to be close to this set of rooms. He had not seen any maps of the Stable lately, not in several months. And he was not sure if the rooms that were near each other in the Stable would continue to be near each other here. The rule of thumb was that for every hundred yards a Fae traveled, the chance of rooms and passageways moving increased exponentially.


    The aquatic zones had no high rooms. What was close...


    The Owl''s Scope room. It was nearby. In fact, while it migrated a little, it was always close to the aquatic zone.


    He almost smacked himself in the face. He was not thinking in three dimensions either. He had been so focused on finding an ''exit'', that he had not considered that there were many entrances and exits for the flying creatures. He thought too narrowly, and nearly wandered by an exit. He did not need to get to the door. He just needed to find a place where he could get up.


    He would just need to find the Eastern red room. And from there, just go straight. Because the Owl''s Scope room had a connection to the roof! Owls used to have their own entrance. And unlike the Tunnels, which were added later, the Owl''s Scope was an original room. It was actually the closest exit he knew of! Thinking broadly was more difficult than many gave credit for.


    Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Static. Pop. The lights went out again.


    Daniel didn''t wait to see what was coming after him. He just activated his first Fireflower, tugging on the structure of the flower just slightly, guiding it so the combustion splattered and burned and exploded. It cost a big bit of magic he had... acquired throughout the day. But it was worth it because Fireflowers left to their own devices oftentimes just sputtered and splattered.


    No, he wanted it to explode and burn whatever it was that had been trailing after him for the last several rooms.


    The golden light of flames burned brilliantly and brightly, the flash of heat a welcome respite from the chill dampness, casting away the dimness that was ever present here in this mockery of the Stable. And Daniel could finally see what had been lurking in the shadows. The thing that had chosen that moment to move to attack Daniel writhed and burned and crumpled to the ground.


    Daniel did not look back. Speed was his ally now.


    From the shadows, the grime, the damp, arose dread creatures.


    It was now time to run.


    The same, terrible churning appearance that Daniel had seen so many times yet still rattled him. The many eyes, the many limbs, the oozing flesh.

 Chapter 38: The Dangers of Lost Color

    The hunt was on. The things in the shadow were no longer content to dwell in the dimness.


    Darkness flickered as Daniel raced down the Dungeon''s mockery of the Stable, hunting for the Eastern Red room.


    Buzz. Buzz. Bizz.


    How to find the Eastern Red room? Daniel was better than some at navigating the Stable, at least he had been as Lordling Elswith. But this was not the Stable. This Dungeon was shaped after rooms in the Stable, but it seemed like the passageways were fixed and did not move. This was a problem, as most of Daniel''s strategies for navigating the Stable had been knowing which hallways connected to which rooms to create shortcuts, when nothing moved that knowledge was useless.


    An echo from one of the arching connection way, and Daniel dunked out of the way.


    Darkness settled and flickered, interrupted by the buzz, buzz, buzz of the overhead lights. Like lightning in the storm, the flashes of light did nothing to illuminate and only showed like frozen images of terrors of shadow and chaos arising from the pools and the depths of the walls.


    A being lurched from the darkness, and Daniel pivoted, the muck from the carpet slick beneath his feet. He avoided the first attack, but crashed against the yellow paper wall and broke it, the yellow wall crumping, the paper breaking apart, and the wall underneath crumbling away like dried plaster.


    Ooze began pouring out of the cut like it was a wound.


    But he didn''t have time to focus on that. Instead, he ducked as the figure attacked again. It was like the trapped and hopefully dead being in the tank; a being made of long narrow metal limbs and a featureless face. But this one was very much alive. It lashed out again, and Daniel side-stepped again.


    He needed a weapon. A real weapon. If only he had managed to find a sword. Or a staff. Anything was better than fighting empty-handed.


    The being over-swung, and struck the already damaged wall. The ooze began pouring forth like a floodgate was destroyed.


    Daniel took this moment to deploy his next Fireflower, moving fast and creating distance between himself and his attacker.


    Daniel slid along the damp carpet, the ooze and the damp staining his clothes.


    There was a sizzle, a momentary puff of sweet-smelling nectar, then a flash, and, with gentle nudging from Daniel, the fire was concentrated and exploded.


    The explosion was angled upward, and the former Heirling of the Red Sword understood explosions on a level deeper than most others. He positioned himself to have the pressure wave push him away. His fingers in his ears had dampened the sound, but that high pitch ring lingered in his ears anyway.


    He pushed himself up to see the metal-limbed creature fall over and cease moving.


    But there were more metal-limbed things coming from those passageways he had just exited, and the wall continued to pour forth the ooze. And there were the chaos beasts themselves, in the immutable shadows and the corner of his eyes. How had dread creatures found their way here into the heart of the Seelie Citadel?


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    The lighting rods overhead flickered again, and Daniel felt luck was on his side at last. This Dungeon was not the Stable that moved, but certain things remained even in the ever-changing Stable, and the passageway that led to the Eastern Red room was always the same, the collapsed archway that made everyone enter it have to duck. It was still the faded yellow patterned paper instead of the impressively carved pillars, but Daniel recognized it.


    He slid, embracing the turn and using his hand to stabilize himself, the moist carpet reduces his friction, and he pressed onward. The metal-limbed creatures behind him did not turn quickly or well, and he heard a few of the metal-limbed beings smash into each other as they failed to maneuver smoothly.


    Better yet, they seemed to struggle to follow after him.


    But the shadowy vagueness of the dread seemed to pursue him with little difficulty.


    Daniel raced ahead, more sure of his direction than ever before.


    Dread creatures were the creation of humans, the results of terrible untrained power, and often the death of the same humans. Nightmares made real; chaos untended became chaos undefeated.


    All humans did was die. Daniel had seen that many times. Too weak to stand, yet too stupid to stand down. Selfishly giving up their lives for their kin to live just moments more.


    Foolish. Brave. Stupid.


    The metal-limbed entities seemed to be different from the dread creatures, at least. They did not wither and shift, many-limbed, many-fanged, many-eyed.


    Two kinds of enemies.


    At least neither side liked fire.


    Bizz. Buzz. Flick. Flick. Pop.


    The rods overhead continued to shift and rattle, the light flickering between too bright to too muted and dim. The smell of the air became charged like lightning had just struck.


    The metal-limbed creatures joined the pursuit again. They were swifter than the dread creatures, but easier to lose also.


    Daniel ran, considering his next steps. He needed to ensure that he would not need to backtrack.


    The Eastern Red room. A once important room, once a closely guarded secret with traditions and secret brotherhoods...then time had come and time had passed, and generations spanned the distance between the present and the past. And the once significant Eastern Red room was now known only for its unique color.


    Daniel reached an intersection he had never seen in the Stable before. The passageway stopped in an octagonal room, with four branching hallways, but also four grand entranceways leading into four identical vast and swelling rooms.


    And Daniel realized he had failed to account for one important detail.


    The Eastern Red room led to a straight hallway that quickly led to the Owl''s Scope room with the exit to the roof.


    The Eastern Red room was...well, red. The floors were a maroon jasper, the walls a cinnabar and red marble, the fixtures amaranth red, and the furnishings were vermilion, crimson, and scarlet. If not for the sheer immense scale of the room, the loudness of the colors would have been suffocating.


    But there were three other identical rooms. He knew this, Young Lordling Elswith had found both the Southern Green room and the Western Blue room, and Little Lordling Cleo had sworn she had found the Northern Purple room once as well as all the others. It was well known that between these four rooms, there was only one difference between them, and that was the color. The Eastern Red Room, the Western Blue Room, the Northern Purple Room, and the Southern Green Room.


    Each room was identical except for its color.


    And Daniel found himself in an antechamber that led to all four rooms at once. And each and every room was but a copy of the real room. Which meant each room was the same. Yes, each room was still huge, but they all were identical with the same damp carpet, the same faded yellow wallpaper, and the same white square tile ceiling with flickering lighting rods providing insufficient light overhead.


    Which one was the one that led to the Owl''s Scope room?


    Given the dangers that chased after him, he needed to discover the correct room quickly, and correctly the first time.

 Chapter 39: Beauty in Purpose, Every room a function and a place

    Daniel looked at the four identical entrances and fought against his own impatience.


    bizz. buzz. buzz.


    The lighting rods continued to flicker, and the creatures in pursuit drew nearer.


    He needed more time. He took out another fire flower, sad as he had but two after this. The gentle little flower looked so small, and it barely felt warmer than an ordinary flower.


    But he knew better. If the petals were torn, flaming ichor would flow forth. With the correct touch of magic, those flames could be compressed and explode. But there were many ways to skin a cat and many ways to use a fire flower.


    As the surging oozing fluid, and the chaos creatures in the shadows and the corner of his eyes drew near, as the long-limb metal creatures chirped and sped to bridge the gap, Daniel tore the silken petal of the fire flower.


    Golden light bloomed inside, gentle and flowing.


    Instead of a rapid explosion, fire flowers could also be drawn out for sustained burn. More magic, for more care and focus was required. The Servant Branch had only a few handfuls of magic, and he had already used at least half of it. But skill would save him where volume had failed.


    It took more magic for him to send the fire out around him, blocking the doorway. His head gave a light little flutter, and his vision swam, but then the magic took and was steady.


    The creatures hunting him froze and paused, held back by the sparkling flames outside this antenchamber.


    Buzz. Buzz. Pop. went the overhead lighting rods. The golden fire had cast some real warmth into this space at last, and the terrible noise seemed repressed by the flames.


    Time to find the correct room. He truly was set to his path.


    Which room was the Eastern Red room?


    Four hallways led into this octagonal room along alternating walls, and the four rooms spilled out. Each room was large at the beginning, massive, then the chamber became narrow and narrower until it tapered off to the hallway that led away to a straight passage.


    In the past, he had wondered in the past why the Eastern Red room seemed very much a great triangle laid on its side.


    Bizz. Buzz. Bizz.


    The light overhead sparked and flashed as he drew closer to one of the rooms.


    He did not draw into large room before him, but just searched for a clue. It was giant, spacious, and yet without its native color completely wrong. Daniel spied the doorway in the back that, if this was the Eastern Red room, would lead to the Owl''s Scope room. But if it was, for example, the Southern Green room, then it would lead an old unused gibabears chambers.


    Sound behind him made Daniel stand ready. An adventurous long limbed metal creature approached from the embargoed doorway. Daniel reinforced the fire, feeling his own head grow faint and his body sway. But the flames held, and the metal-limbed creature recoiled as the heat intensified. All the metal-limbed creatures drew back, but the weight of the featureless gazes rested heavily upon him through the flames.


    "Hurry up, Elswith," he muttered to himself.


    How to tell which room mirrored the real Eastern Red room?


    Fast steps took him across the antechamber and into the opposite entranceway. The echoing chamber beyond seemed as though he had not traveled anywhere, with identical pillars and columns of yellow-papered walls. The walls subtly tapered until they pinched at the far end leading to a doorway. The two rooms seemed truly identical. Perhaps there was only one room and someone had copied it three times!


    It was strange, being in the Dungeon copy of the Stable.


    The rooms had not moved a single time while Daniel was here. The hallway did not scatter and shift. There was no sense of motion underfoot.


    That was another difference between the Stable and this place.


    The moist damp carpet felt slick underfoot. Whatever that was, Daniel needed to hurry and get moving. Why had this happened in the Stable? Why not an ordinary building that did not move? He could have found his way through the vast estate of the O''Tells. This Dungeon, despite this section being cast in the same model as the Stable, that it did not move the same way prevented him from being able to move about with confidence.


    Some of the dread creatures tried to brave the flames. Unlike the metal creatures, it seemed much more indifferent to the flames. Had Daniel had more time to react, he would have been afraid. But the creature tried to brave the heat too quickly, and Daniel was rewarded with the sight of it catching alit and burning. The shifting mess spluttered and went out, seemingly dead. But much of the heat of the Fire Flower was used up.


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    Flick. Flick. Buzz. Went the lights overhead.


    He had to choose the eastern Red room the first time.


    Had the Stable ever been set? More akin to a true building than a swirling changing jumble of rooms for creatures...


    It was logical, he supposed. There was more order in the early days of the Seelie Court, he knew from history. The First King had united and guided the Fae from tribes of wandering wyldfae into the ordered and mighty Kingdom of the Seelie. The First King had commissioned the forging of the Great Swords. The First King had been a builder. He had built the now-lost Armory, the Grant Stable, and the Keep. These were the first buildings that established his Kingdom.


    Daniel looked at the shape of the rooms before him.


    He had never truly imagined the Stable as a place that had order. There was never a sense of ''this room is twenty feet from that room''. There was no grid, everything was just wandering ever-changing paths. It was more akin to traveling via the swelling and blustering ocean amid a fleet, where the ships would switch positions and migrate according to each captain''s design, all following the same compass but the ocean taking them on varying routes.


    Compass...That grabbed his attention...but Daniel lost the flittering thought. A compass would not help him identify his way through the Stable. He needed to find a specific room, not identify North.


    But the thread of the idea did not let him go.


    Daniel raced across the antechamber, boots kicking up the spray of the damp carpet underfoot, as he compared the rooms.


    Each room was the same shape.


    He compared the room he was standing in now...the center.


    The First King was a builder of great purpose. The Armory had been more than a storehouse of weapons. It had contained the Forge of Altcraft. The Forge had been a masterpiece of engineering and magic joined that has never been replicated. The weapons created in that Forge established the power balance that lasted to this day, untold generations later. The First King built useful, pragmatic places and spaces where great and important works could be accomplished.


    But he had also built beautiful places. Ethereal structures with winding serene paths between the trees glowing softly of silver, soaring spires of gold and glass that inspired even the most senior of the Fae, bridges arching like frozen moonlight over chasms dark and deep. The Servants'' Keep had gentle elegance and grace, even after centuries of its fine material being stolen and repurposed. His former steward Matheus had once informed young lordling Elswith that there was more attention to detail in a single room of the old King''s Keep than all the splendor, over-embellished, rococo, and bedizenedrza of a modern Fae''s entire Estate. Each room the First King built had significance and meaning; whether to poetry, fable, literature, music, song, or adventure, did not matter.


    Eastern Red room.


    Eastern.


    East.


    Daniel wanted to hit himself. In all his time he never considered whether a room in the Stable was east of another room, because the next day it very well may be north, or south, or west.


    Northern Blue room. Western Purple room, Southern Green room, and Eastern Red room.


    The First King had not built the Stable to be swollen and shifting, too many rooms jammed inside to ever use it well. He would not have created a building that risked life and limb to traverse it. All that had been added later.


    No, when the First King built the Stable, he had built it for a much smaller Seelie kingdom. Four rooms led to four distinct stalls. All the stalls led to creatures that in elden times, would have been the swiftest and most far-reaching. No one rode Owls these days, and Gigabears were a holdover and used only in ceremony. But all those generations ago, they were a symbol of speed and mobility. While Daniel did not know what the other rooms had held, as that knowledge was lost long ago, he was betting it was other creatures that could carry a Fae to any point on the map in short order.


    The First King was a builder of beautiful purpose. Whatever the true design of these rooms, the ancient Fae monarch had shaped this section of rooms like the points of a compass rose. The center antechamber was the middle, and each triangle was a point.


    Daniel was standing in the center of a compass rose. Just find east and there was his heading! To find east all he had to do was find north.


    The next problem...which way was north?


    A compass points north. They were not rare, but not exactly common. The fae did not touch iron. Iron made the Law of Fae a liar, as the saying goes. Iron, the ignorer of rules. Iron stole the color of the world and the brightness of the stars. A world of iron was a world of little magic. Even touching iron would be enough to burn the flesh of the Fae.


    But other metals worked for compasses. Nickel was the metal of choice for compasses in these parts.


    What metal were the long-limbed creatures?


    If it was iron, he would be in pain the moment he touched it. If it was a metal that did not react to the pull of the north, then it would have been a waste of time. What were the odds that the long-limbed metal creatures would be the exact material he needed?


    Did he need a compass?


    Lightning was his one element, the only one he had control over. But when he used lightning he had felt...a pull. Like all around the world there was lightning in the sky, but not lightning. A compass moved north to align with that pull.


    Could he find the pull himself? With no metal. Just a sense of north?


    Did he have the magic for that?


    He had barely any magic left. The flames guarding the doorway were not his fire. He was not making fire. That was the fire flowers. He was using just a little bit of magic to sustain it. If the creatures chasing him had any elemental affinity, they could overcome it.


    But what source of lightning did he have? He should have taken an electric eel...


    Hindsight is clearer.


    He had lightning in a bottle. Esra''s crystal goblet was now refilled and ready to go. He pulled it out of his repurposed garment bag. The crystal goblet glowed an electric blue, the crystal itself holding the light.


    Daniel had not forgotten about it. In fact, he had considered it first of all. But he had set aside just as swiftly as he had considered it, as it was too gentle, unusable for battle. There was no magical energy in it now. It was being held in suspension, in stasis. The most this power would do was cause an enemy''s hair to rise. And considering the enemies attacking him now had no hair, that wouldn''t accomplish anything.


    The next problem. He could not sustain the fire flowers burning and this at the same time.


    He would have to release the fire before he tried to attune to the lightning energy in the crystal goblet. And he had to hope that there was North in this place. That it existed somehow in the physical world.


    No time like the present.

 Chapter 40: Shift, the flow of all things seen and unseen.

    Shift.


    It¡¯s all about shifting focus.


    High magic is more than concentration. It is to understand the object so dearly, so intuitively, that its properties are not only clear but so clear that anything else not part of it is blurred and discarded.


    Elemental affinity is beyond clear, it is understanding so deep it is deeper than bones. Understanding in the very self-being itself.


    From Elemental affinity comes the ability to manipulate the force. While wizards could be infinitely more versatile than a Fae who used an element, they could never understand their subject so deeply and clearly.


    So standing in the middle of the compass rose in the Dungeon of pale and fading yellow walls, the copies of the rooms each an unknown compass point, the former Heirling of the Red Sword breathed out, and let go of his control of the sputtering flames of the fire-flower.


    Darkness fell, the lighting rod overhead flickering in and out as though it had not expected to be the sole provider of illumination once more, and the noise drew near. Lashing out, fast and swift, tongues gouging and shifting limbs reaching for the Servant.


    Eyes half closed in the sporadic dimness, Daniel held the lightning in the bottle, the stopped crystal goblet held in loose hands.


    The rushing groan of metal on metal of the long-limbed creatures joined the cacophony from the passageway that was no longer blocked by light.


    Then Daniel breathed in, sharp and fast, his senses tied with the force of nature.


    And as the world around him drew near to him in crazed shadowy violence, the metal-limbed featureless creatures, the newly spawned dread beasts, the other things that hid from sight, amidst all of that, Daniel felt as though the world seemed to stop for him.


    It did not stop. But he could feel so much and process so much in that half second it seemed an age passed around him.


    Lightning was everywhere. But invisible. It swirled and shifted. It was in a different form, one that no one even acknowledged. Others had rejected Daniel¡¯s thoughts and beliefs: How could an element have another form? Ice and water were separate elements, even though ice gave way to water and vice versa. No one had listened to him before.


    But here, at this moment, he could feel they were tied. Lightning could be made on a small scale, called electricity. But there was another, secret side to it.


    And it made metal move.


    There was never much metal around for that to be useful. Of the metal the Fae did use, few of it was able to be made into a compass. Thin, dull, brittle metal it was. With the power of lightning, Elswith had made copper, a metal used for pots and pans, attract other metals. Without lightning, copper was never sensitive to the pull of the North. There was never a copper needle used for a compass. But that changed when electric power was pushed through the wire.


    It wasn¡¯t exactly his eyes that saw it, but at the same time, it was.


    Around him swam the world.


    Loops and arching streams of¡­light but not light, swam around him. The metal-long-limbed creatures had large fields around them, thousands of strands of not-light arching between them. They were grouped together into fields.


    Some strands were focused inward, as though it was ingrown into the metal, reaching inward but shifting through the solid material as if it was intangible. But others reached out, connecting with loose hanging motes of not-light energy and arching upward, like crazy strands of hair.


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    Daniel smiled, briefly. In many ways, his lack of power allowed him to see the not-light more clearly. Before, his own power pushed it away.


    The first dread beast reached him while he was still searching for North.


    Daniel had trained for years in footwork.


    All the swordsfaeship in the world was worthless without footwork. So as a multi-appendaged creature rushed him, he shifted backward, loose and dancing.


    He had to stay loose. Lightning wanted to make things constrict and tight. To control it, he had to be loose and free. He needed to tune in long enough with the not-light all around everything.


    Swarms of strands and fields flashed and flew in the sky.


    Big field, in the sky. Millions and millions of not-light strands pulsing and pulling. That¡¯s what he needed. Where was it? Would he discover it? He needed to see further, beyond the room. He was starting to see beyond the room, the swirling shifting fields outside.


    A second being reached him to attack, a long-limbed creature.


    Daniel kept loose, shifting forward then retreating at the last second, the dread beast and the metal creatures colliding.


    He could see that the dread beasts themselves also had the shifting arcing not-light fields around them. If he could fine-tune this in combat¡­he may be able to locate enemies who were hiding in cover. Exciting.


    He just had to survive this first, then the first round of the Game, then the subsequent rounds. Then defeat the person who stole his position, then settle matters with both his own old faction and his old enemies who had colluded against him, and then complete his maneuvering to be free of his Lordly Father¡¯s terrifying influence. After all that, during campaigns, seeing the outlines of potential enemies would really help.


    Swirling fields arced above him. Not-lights all perpendicular and crazy, fields not touching but pushing each other around.


    A metal-limbed creature rushed behind him, trying to pin him between two other metal creatures.


    Footwork would only take him so far.


    Contact was needed.


    He started to tense, and for a dangerous moment he almost unaligned himself to the lightning in the bottle. Stay loose. Finish up. He could not evade for long, and once the horde caught up to him, fancy footwork or not, he would be overwhelmed. Stay loose.


    So Daniel risked it. He moved, one hand releasing the bottle to intercept the coming attack. His right exposed hand twisted forward like a snake, deflecting the metal-limbed creature¡¯s grabbing advance. It was at least covered with metal, as he had suspected.


    But it must not have been iron, for his flesh did not burn and smolder. More than once as a child he had learned to be careful in touching loose items. Those wounds had to heal slowly over weeks, little magic could be used to heal a wound inflicted by iron.


    If he could touch his attackers, his odds had just improved.


    The metal-limbed creature pivoted, trying to change its momentum. And it was strong.


    Good thing he had learned to fight without needing to match force with force.


    Daniel dropped his center of gravity, pushing the metal creature past him. He kept it in his inner circumference, staying so close that he could strike it and it would not be able to regain its position. Any fight in the world could go away, there was always an escape. He had no weapon, either a narrow dagger to attack the joints of the creature, or a heavy hammer to smash and dent it.


    Stay loose, he reminded himself. One hand was still touching the lightning in the bottle, still feeling the world through its waves and affinities.


    But he had his own strength. So as it turned and Daniel directed its steps forward, he then followed it like a shadow, until its footing was slack, and he shoved its shoulder hard. Top-heavy, the metal creature stumbled into yet another metal-limbed creature. He could see it both with his eyes and also the fields of the two creatures colliding and scattering about, like the fields were pushed away.


    The two disrupted fields shifted then settled, and their overall flows reestablished.


    The same way.


    All the fields seemed like they were ribbons in a very very mild current. And it took the two large fields crashing into each other for Daniel to be able to perceive the difference between the disrupted state and the original state.


    North!


    He had north, which was behind him. He slid across the damp beige carpet, footwork loose and flowing around attacks. The numbers were increasing. But he had his heading.


    He was now facing what he believed was North.


    East was always right of North.


    He turned one quarter, facing an identical room.


    If he was right, this was East, and he was facing the Eastern Red Room.


    Well, he better be right, because the number of dread beasts and narrow, long-limbed creatures was increasing.


    ¡°Eastern Red Room! Be ye there, this low-trodden has no chances to spare!¡± He said to the seemingly non-existent Law of Fae, old Lordling habits dying hard. And he raced forward as the true hoards of chaos dread, metal-limbed creatures, and the other things that were hiding in the shadows, surged in. He let go of his connection with the lightning in the bottle and charged into the uncertain future before him.

 Chapter 41: Trust in ones ownself and the weight of fear

    Daniel wondered how his life would have unfolded had he not been the Heirling of the Red Sword. If he had not been a Lordling at all.


    Many fae were unable to gather power and were then relegated to a calmer kind of life. Towns were full of children of Lords and Lordlings who were unable to gather power. They often found themselves isolated from the chaos of the Game. They sometimes joined their families as administrators and bureaucrats, but sometimes they were just left in the home court, to live and marry as they wished.


    What would his life have been like, had he been born unable to gather power? Would he have joined some sort of local athletic team and played a sport? Would he have found his way into the Court of Knowledge with his desire for understanding, or would he have ever explored the deeper understanding of mathematics and runes if not for the need to prove himself to the faction of the Red Sword? Would he still love Griffins, or would he never have the opportunity to soar through the sky?


    But Young Lordling Elswith had been able to gather power. Which set him upon this path.


    Which ultimately led to him racing through this large, echoing Minick of the Eastern Red Room. The Dungeon¡¯s version of this room was accurate. The way the walls came closer, narrowing until the two walls nearly touched allowing for a doorway that led to a hallway passage. But this was not the Eastern Red Room. The rich furnishings were not present, the chairs like thrones along one wall were replaced with strange chairs that swiveled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw they all turned toward him slowly in his wake, as though he had brought some great gust of wind that caught the chairs. Of course, the air remained motionless.


    Buzz. Bizz. Buzz. Went the overhead lighting rods against the chalky white ceiling.


    The static buzz increased, as the long-limbed creatures pursued.


    Then Daniel left the room he hoped was the Eastern Red Room, and he reached the point of no return; the narrow pinch point, where the hallway and the room joined. If this mirrored the Stable, then this passageway would lead straight toward the Owl¡¯s Scope room with the exit in the ceiling. The other identical rooms had led to rooms that were impassible. If Daniel had chosen the wrong room, the swelling amount of attackers would force him onward into dangerous places further out and unknown to him.


    Besides, it wasn¡¯t just an exit. Daniel needed a room with height, where this Dungeon place seemed to struggle to hold the shape and the connection to the Stable was strongest.


    The things that dwelled in the shadow lashed at him.


    Whatever that thing was, Daniel felt it would be better for his sanity to not see too many details.  He used his second to last fire flower, his own magical control sputtering and almost not catching as Daniel himself was so nearly out of magic. But the control took, and a sustained explosion blossomed behind him.


    Heat flashed golden and bright, and the dimness retreated. If he had more magic, he may have been bolder, but he needed to conserve what he had for the next challenge. Actually leaving the Dungeon and returning to the Stable.


    The other things continued to follow, the bubbling dread beasts and the long-limbed metal creatures.


    If Daniel had never been the Heirling of the Red Sword, if he was never driven by his own inadequacies, by his own failings, by his own drive to be better than he was and reach beyond his limits, he may have been a completely different person. Perhaps he would have been happier. But because of his suffering, he had gained something that could not be taken away from him.


    Knowledge and the working of his mind.


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    Knowledge as the wood, and the ability to reason and think the spark that lit the fire.


    Every place had rules. There was a way out of everything. In this place, the Law of Fae was muted, but not silenced. If it was truly gone, then the hexed handkerchief and the spider sock would have both unraveled.


    He could lose all his power, but as long as he had his mind he could fight his way free. He could win the game. He could save Witness.


    Golden light from the dying fire flower¡¯s flames lit the room ahead, dispelling shadows and dimness. Daniel felt his feet hit solid ground as he left the passageway behind and strode into the new space before him.


    And just like that, he left the long hallway and found himself in the Dungeon¡¯s copy of the Owl¡¯s Scope room.


    All the guesswork, shaky logic, desperate hopes, and yet Daniel had been right. He had started this bizarre journey in the Dungeon not so long ago, but it still felt like ages had passed. He had left the guided path, rather trusting in himself than the unknown kindness of the blue construct. He had trusted his knowledge that if there was a way in, there was a way out. Trust in others was too difficult, an impossible theme.


    This version of the Owl¡¯s Scope started well enough. The floor was still the damp beige carpet, the walls the dull yellow. The copied aspects of the rooms started somewhat accurately as well. The first few platforms were constructed of the damp carpeted floor. But as the room rose and the platforms continued, the Dungeon became confused. Around the fourth ledge, the walls were strained, with the chalky white ceiling tiles appearing like spots of acne, and the ledges afterward alternative between the various materials that made up the Dungeon. Around the eighth ledge, the attempt at order disappeared completely as the wall became a sick and twisted wet mix of carpet, ceiling, and sick yellow wallpaper. The remaining ledges became jumbles as well, though Daniel focused beyond that to the true prize.


    Because high overhead, Daniel saw that the wall just beyond the twelfth ledge was different completely. The terrible mess of the multi-surface wall gave way to the old and tired stone wall of the original Owl¡¯s Scope room, and the exit that the Owls of old had once left.


    Daniel wasted no time and began ascending as the hordes chasing him arrived. He considered using the last fire flower but held off. He may need it later, and holding them off would not help him decidedly.


    He bounded up from the floor to the first ledge.


    Daniel was starving, but his body was young and strong, well prepared by years of training and experience facing the dread hordes. He leaped across the first one with feet arching in front, landing on the next ascending platform with both feet to spare impact on his ankles. Another running step and he soared the gap between the second and third, this time feeling how slick the carpet was beneath him. Don¡¯t rush and fall, he reminded himself.


    This had been a long day, and it was not even close to over. After he escaped the Dungeon, he still had to finish in the Stable.


    It was a long day, but it had offered valuable lessons. Even if they were lessons he had known before in an academic sense, now he knew it from experience.


    Daniel had learned that he could not trust the Sky Court, the O¡¯Tells, nor even the Grand Stable. He would trust no one who dwelled in these places. He could not trust his former Circle members, not when both Kane and Regis had betrayed him. Not those who once owed him a great debt, not after Jasper¡¯s actions proved how they jumped at the bit to bite the hand that once fed them. And not even Kenton, someone who had known Elswith since he was a little Lordling, and yet perhaps arranged for Daniel to fall into this trap of a dungeon.


    Daniel had to trust no one.


    He ran, and leaped forward, both hands slapping the next platform as his feet hit to stabilize himself. Fourth platform. This was almost too easy.


    The crushing fear of a world where he had no one to trust pressed against his chest.


    Bear it well, he told himself. Bear it, even though the weight of it feels as though it will crush his back. He was a pawn in a Game too vast for allies to risk for him, and too interesting for outsiders to leave alone. He needed to know that anyone was willing to abandon him the moment it grew difficult.


    But knowledge would not betray him.


    The next platform was strange, and he only realized it after he had committed to the jump, as his body soared the gap and he spied where he was to land.


    While the bottom of the fifth platform had been carpeted the top part was the chalky ceiling tiles and metal grid.


    Daniel had but micro-seconds to adjust, tucking his chin against his chest and leaning forward, instead of landing on his feet, he rolled over his shoulder to disrupt his weight. He rolled flat to his back, feeling the thin tiles shift under his weight already.


    The chalky ceiling tiles cracked beneath him but did not completely fall apart. He lay on his back and saw with horror that each of the remaining ledges were a mess of ceiling, wall, and even the eleventh ledge was made entirely of the glass lighting rods.

 Chapter 42: Answers to a Question Never Asked

    Obstacles.


    So many obstacles. Distractions, fears, chains.


    The last time he was in a situation quite like this had involved Esra trying to use Ice Magic, and Daniel had found himself upside-down, clutching to the underside of a giant thunder crow.


    He had laid there, using his control over lightning to prevent himself from being electrocuted by the avian¡¯s storm magic, staring at the ground far below, knowing he was a single slip up from falling into the sky.


    The only thing worse than the fear of falling back to the earth is the fear of falling up and away.


    Bizz. Buzz. Flash. Pop. Went the lights overhead and in the wall. The Dungeon seemed to struggle to make the different zones distinct as the walls rose higher.


    The long-limbed metal creatures entered the room in force, and swarmed underneath the fifth ledge. Good that they were not trying to climb the ledge after him.


    Time to get moving.


    Feeling the ceiling crack and strain underneath his weight, Daniel spied the next ledge. The wall and the ceiling took turns striping across the next platform.


    Time to move.


    Controlling his movements, everything smooth and stable, Daniel rolled to his side, coiling his body so he was in the proper position. He inhaled, focusing on what he would need to do in his mind. He could see it clearly, he could imagine he had already done it.


    The only thing left to do was do it. Just do it.


    So the former Lordling launched forward, for one glorious second putting all his weight on his right leg and right hand, and springing forward and to the next ledge like a coiled spring. The ledge starting to break beneath him, but he had his momentum. He lurched forward, as dust and white chauky dirt plumed around him, and caught the next ledge and deftly pulled himself up and over and got his bearing.


    Sixth ledge.


    The jumble of long-limbed creatures beneath him shuffled until they were beneath the ledge upon which Daniel sat. Crafty buggers. If he fell, they would be upon him. But it was now quite a distance, and Daniel felt confident that he would have other worries should he fall from this height.


    Daniel pushed back his ash blond hair, white chalky dust coated it a lighter hue. He overlooked where he had just come from. The previous ledge did not completely fall down, but it sagged and parts of it had completely collapsed.


    The chaos beasts below now outnumbered the long-limbed creatures, and Daniel realized that they were different. Unlike the metal limbed creatures, they did not huttle beneath Daniel.


    No. They began amassing around the first ledge, changing shapes until their many limbs started to grow stronger and longer.


    Dangerous. That meant that the creatures understood enough to follow him, not just pool underneath him. Thinking mobs were so much harder to deal with than animated blobs of jelly that just went straight toward a person, regardless.


    Time to put some distance between them, then. Daniel could see the twelfth ledge, and the door that led outside in the ceiling above.


    He took to his feet, carefully. This ledge had chalky tiles, but around it was the slick carpet that supported his weight.


    The next ledge was beige carpet. He remembered beige walls in the chamber where his gambit had failed. Where he had been replaced. Where he had been removed as the Heirling of the Red Sword. He leapt, but his jump was off center and he landed hard, despite the ease of the jump.


    Fears crashed into him again as he stood on the seventh ledge. What would he do, once he left? With no allies, no true companions, and only a vague direction for what he thought was the moral and right thing to do¡­


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    What could a former Lordling accomplish, against an entire wing of his faction? Against enemies that had been shown to go beyond and do the unthinkable.


    Against Kane. Who had placed a knife to his chest and cut him.


    As Daniel reached the eighty ledge, he felt the change in the air. The lights, which had been flickering, sputtered, then flash on, brighter and sharper. The other hordes, including the dread beasts working their way to the second platform, frozen and huddle to one side. The metal-limbed creatures snapped and cracked and froze, as though their spark of life had been withdrawn.


    The smell of burnt embers wafted in the room, and Daniel realized that one of the more¡­dangerous entities had pursued him even after being scorched with the fire flower.


    This was the thing that Daniel had tangled with near the beginning. The first that had taken the full concentrated power of the fire flower.


    It should not be here. It was all but impossible.


    Lordling Elswith had once used a fire-flower of similar quality to destroy a shadowkin beastking. Yes, it had been a young beastking, but the shadowkin still had yielded to the golden flames and perished, returning to the void and leaving a smoldering husk.


    This entity should not be greater than such a creature.


    Yet here it was.


    Evidence of flame was still present. Scorched and snidged, a red cloak swirled around a hidden creature. But the areas that were not damaged were like mist and shadow woven into cloth, draping over some hidden creature beneath, the red glow of its eyes burning like a fire.


    And then it moved. Swirling mist cloak as it bounded to the first platform, chaos beasts shivering and trembling as the entity¡¯s feet struck the beige carpet. But the figure did not linger there long, but soon found its¡¯ way onto the second platform.


    It was fast!


    Daniel cursed, and started again himself. The eighth platform was difficult, a row of the glass rods around it like a border, but Daniel identified a secure place for his feet.


    Training returning, Daniel bound toward the ninth platform, already trying to find a safe way forward to the tenth.


    He heard a crash, and knew without looking that the entity had just crossed the fifth platform, sending the rest to the ground in exchange for a single firm foothold to leap to the sixth platform.


    It was swift and sure of foot!


    Daniel leaped without looking, aware of the longer distance between the two platforms as the remaining ledges drew closer to the ceiling. Luck was with him, and even though some of the platform was the weak chalk tiles, the other was strong carpet.


    Daniel could feel the entity behind him. And so he did the best thing he could do.


    He leapt to the eleventh platform. The one made entirely of glass rods.


    And he shattered them.


    As his booted feet landed, he could feel the glass crack and fall apart. The lights went out of the ledge as the eleventh ledge broke. It would not provide enough stability for a solid jump. The ledge fell away completely, leaving raw jagged edges, and sending a mass of glass and darkness where the platform had once been.


    But he wasn¡¯t aiming for the glass ledge, but beyond it. With the small jump he took, he gained enough momentum to seize the wall. And this was not the yellowed paper wall, but a true stone wall of the Stable, with enough room for him to get a toe hold.


    He didn¡¯t stop, but used his small purchase in the wall to finish jumping right. He seized the ledge, finding it felt more like the true ledge of the Stable than the counterfeit ledge of the Dungeon. He pulled himself up, strength and resolve strong as he saw the entity stop on the tenth ledge.


    He reached the twelfth platform, breathing hard. Sweat ran into his eyes again.


    If the figure tried to follow him now, Daniel would use the last fire flower. Standing here, on the almost true and solid ledge of the Stable, he felt like he was almost out of range.


    The entity regarded him, red cloak swirling.


    The creature standing on the 10<sup>th</sup> platform looked at the gap between them. It was a bipedal creature, and a dark cloak surrounded itself, swirling like mist or a dream.


    And it did the most terrifying thing it possibly could.


    It spoke. It did not sound like a person, not a first, but rather the cutting shrill vowels glass breaking, the sharp consonants of wind ripping through trees during fierce storms, and the growling rumble of a dozen earthquakes.


    And all of that together made its voice.


    ¡°Three fears live in you.¡±


    It stood there, quivering as though speaking those five-words had been a monumental task. The red cloak about it swirled and shifted, though the cloth was mist before an upcoming storm.


    Daniel swallowed. This was a creature more mighty than any of the hordes or mobs that had pursued him. The words of the blue Construct returned to his awareness. ¡°Fears of self. Fears of failure. Fears of success.¡±


    The swirling figured seemed somewhat pleased. The lights crackled and buzzed in time with its nod. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I am the first fear.¡± It said, and its voice was already changing. From monstrous and elemental to something more recognizable.


    Daniel clutched his final fire flower.


    ¡°If I had not found you, you may have exited through this door. But your fear is too heavy, and it has found you now.¡± The entity held out a key.


    Daniel knew suddenly what that key was.


    It was the key to the exit.


    ¡°To exit, all you must do is question an answer.¡±


    ¡°Question an answer?¡±


    ¡°Answers that are not understood are not answers at all. The question is needed to make sense of the solution.¡± Its voice was now young, solid, with the crisp accent of a well reared and educated Lordling.


    ¡°What is the question?¡±


    ¡°All I know is the answer.¡± The entity said, standing much too similarly to Daniel now ¡°The Question must be found by you.¡±

 Chapter 43: Your house is burning down. What would you save?

    Three years ago, before Elswith''s rise to popularity was widely accepted, before Kane had left the Red Circle to pursue her own means, when Parcel was still considered an attractive candidate for the next Lord of the Sky Court, and Fredar was the one who was losing prestige, before the true pieces of the future were determined, there had been a campaign.


    During this campaign, several circles were sent to a Rural place far away from the Citadel. This place was west of the Sky Court, so by the Fairy King¡¯s decree the aloof Sky Court was compelled to send a Circle of Lordlings. Not to be outdone, the Walsa Alliance sent a Circle as well.


    The Red Lord, hearing of the King¡¯s decree, sent forth the Red Circle. A Band of Three Circles unbreakable, he had said.


    Elswith had known it was to defy the King politely.


    Influence was gained in defending the borders of the Fae Realm, even if eventually the borders fell. Senate had been overreaching of late, yet the Fairy King had allowed the provocation stand. Thus it was Elswith¡¯s belief, even at the tender age of 16, that the Red Lord would begin moving to cut away Senate Influenced Factions such as the Walsa alliance.


    Thus Elswith found himself on Campaign with his rivals.


    This Campaign was filled with dangers. Not only the monsters. His rivals were nearly an equal threat. If they achieved greater feats than the Red Circle, it would be a stain on Lordling Elswith¡¯s standing. Fredar from the Walsa Alience had ties with Parcel, as they both belonged to the Sky Court, but it was clear they were rivals as well. At least the infighting between the two had given Elswith some breathing room.


    It was his first time on Campaign with Parcel since the previous year where they had spent a few days waiting for rescue with a wounded Mage delirious about some low-level infected corpses shambling around.


    This Campaign, in a region called Dragon¡¯s Skull, bordered a little community of peoples, some of who were not even Fae.


    During this time, as lightning elements came to him more easily and his years of training were beginning to show results, Elswith was beginning to find his footing.


    The dread beasts formed in massive numbers, roving hordes of twisted malice and chaos. It was three weeks before the Lordlings were able to find the spawning ground, a twisted cavern buried in the earth, with many small passageways for the chaos to spread, thus causing problems for the Lordlings to find.


    ¡°What would you do,¡± Regis asked the assembling Lordlings as they were preparing to eradicate the source of the hordes. Regis was in Elswith¡¯s Circle, and he was greatly talented. His only failings were being born into a dying Court that was currently being absorbed by the Red Sword Faction. He would be the Last Lordling of his Court. Any new members of his line would be Lordlings of whatever faction claimed them. ¡°If your home was burning down, and all you could take was a single item. What would you take?¡±


    Fredar sneered. ¡°We have no time to play word games.¡± His frame was still too narrow for his height, and he appeared more like a beanstalk than an impressive figure representing the Walsa alliance. At least in armor, he was impressive enough, but Elswith always felt the locals laughed at him. The humans in particular disliked him.


    ¡°Lordling Fredar was never very good at those anyway.¡± Said Parcel, without looking up from adjusting his wrist guards. His piercing blue eyes flashed to Siliva briefly, as if looking for her approval.


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    She laughed softly. ¡°I would take my family¡¯s book of memories. There are drawings and captured images of my family from generations past. It cannot be replaced.¡±


    Kane sighed dramatically. ¡°There is a Chalice of great worth in my home. The act of saving it would garner the respect of my Court.¡±


    Orville O¡¯Tell laughed. ¡°I¡¯d take my entire house.¡± Completely ignoring the question, like was Orville¡¯s habit.


    The other assembled Lordlings did not answer, either trying to find what they would leave or something witty to say after Orville¡¯s broad claim.


    But the quiet mindful Regis spoke again. ¡°Did no one consider checking to see whether the house was empty?¡± The almost lighthearted inquiry became a dark and heavy question of self-examination. ¡°What if your family was inside?¡±


    Kane spoke sharply, in defense. ¡°This is a little game for little people. In this version, you are suggesting that my family would be unable to leave our home. You set that up to trap us.¡±


    ¡°I was just curious what everyone considered valuable.¡± The dark-eyed Lordling spoke. Regis was long-thinking if nothing else. ¡°It is difficult to truly know one¡¯s self. Unexpected questions led to the true revealing itself.¡±


    Siliva pouted, ¡°That¡¯s not fair. I cannot choose any single family member.¡±


    Regis conceded to her. ¡°Then take them all.¡±


    ¡°Then I do. Who needs a book of pictures if you should lose the people to share the joy with?¡±


    Regis focused on Elswith. ¡°What of you, Heirling? What would you have taken? Any one thing of your house, but all else lost.¡±


    Elswith felt his heart swirl. He knew what he would take. He would have taken the Red Sword. And he would have left everyone else to die. Mattius, the elderly fae who had reared him, the servants who tended to him so carefully, and the teachers who believed in his ability.


    He would have taken the Red Sword, leaving them to fend for themselves.


    Hollis interjected, changing the atmosphere. ¡°I would have liked to see a fire attempt to burn my home. The Ocean is dark and very deep, and fire does not last long under the waves.¡±


    The Lordlings laughed, and the matter was forgotten.


    But Elswith had not forgotten.


    His natural self was not a good person. His natural self was selfish and power-hungry.


    So now, three years later in a Dungeon, Daniel stared at the entity:


    Standing at the incarnation of his first fear, he realized that Fear of Self was a very real fear indeed.


    Questions and Answers.


    ¡°What would it cost me to know the Answer that you know?¡± Daniel said, watching. Could he get the key free? Would this entity attack him physically, or metaphysically? Could a mental attack be imminent?


    ¡°Law of Fae doesn¡¯t work here, boy. There is no price for knowledge, nor safety from lies. You think you can hide from me?¡±


    The voice was decidedly too similar.


    ¡°This is the answer.¡±


    It lowered its hood, and the lights flickered and popped and then were completely, blindingly, on.


    The burns of the Fire Flower were reversing, gooey ectoplasm resolidfying into pale shining flesh of a face.


    Of Daniel¡¯s face.


    But that wasn¡¯t his face. And it didn¡¯t look like him.


    It looked like Elswith. This was a face that had no ties to the True Name of Daniel. There was no laughter or sorrow on this face. The eyes were cast in red light.


    "This is the Answer." Said the entity.


    This was not Daniel. This was Elswith, Heirling of the Red Sword, as imagined by the Red Lord.


    Daniel''s Lordly father had had other children before. Many. The Red Lord was generations old, a High Fae. He would not relinquish the Red Sword to one he felt unworthy. So he had spent centuries crafting the most perfect Heirling. He was patient, he had the time.


    And despite his slow start and lack of Elemental control, Elswith had come closer And Elswith was closer than any other had ever been. But the more Daniel had seen what the Red Lord desired, the more he had desired not to be.


    Daniel clutched his head as the sensations flooded him. The ones he attempted to block and recall never more.


    Red. Everything was Red. The blood of the beasts red, the sky red, the earth red. Savage bliss, headspinning, nearly giddy, but so cold inside plotting how to find more foes, for the red world had need of more, endless need.


    He had seen his Lordly Father¡¯s vision. Had it placed upon him so strongly for a near entire campaign that he felt himself break under the joys and throws of madness. He had learned never to draw blood in the presence of the Red Lord.


    The echoing face of the first fear. ¡°Now tell me, Dan. What was the question?¡±


    Daniel swallowed. It knew his true name. At least the first part.

 Chapter 44: The Doorbell rings

    Daniel felt like an eternity passed. To his right side was a door that led to a launching pad of sorts to the roof of the terrace of the real Stable, that left the Dungeon. The Dungeon''s hold was too weak to maintain the isolation, and this door felt intrinsically connected from this constructed Dungeon and to the very real and solid Stable. The real sound of life in the Stable drifted from the doorway. The vague sound of animals, of workers, of gossip and news. The real tangible world of the Fae; ethereal and shifting but true and vibrant. Not this shadow world of the Dungeon.


    Daniel saw the Answer, but not the Question. The problem was that many questions may lead to such an Answer.


    And what was the answer? Was the Answer ¡®This is who you may have become had you stayed the course according to the Red Lord¡¯s will?¡¯ Or was the answer ¡®This is what you were.¡¯


    Or was the Answer ¡®Elswith is dead, and now you are someone else.¡¯


    Or the answer ¡®This is what you will never be. You will forever fall short of the mark, always grasping never catching?¡¯


    Because the entity had not told him the Answer. And without knowing the true ¡®Answer¡¯ it represented, how was he supposed to know the Question? Was this a wordplay question, or a question of self-examination?


    Perhaps the question did not matter or did not have to be exact. ¡°Is the question: What happens to those who disobey the King¡¯s command? What happens to those who follow their morals?¡±


    The lights popped and went dark, and all Daniel could see was the red glow of the Entity¡¯s eyes. ¡°Wrong.¡± The lights flickered madly, blindly fluttering, but unable to return to full brightness. In the shifting shadow of the sliding gloom, the entity spoke again. ¡°What is the question that leads to this?¡± It said, still wearing Elswith¡¯s imperil face.


    Daniel had the distinct impression of wanting to punch that smug face. No wonder Esra had once said that his face was particularly punch-able sometimes.


    Daniel knew, felt the hint of what he should do. But the shadow of the trauma and hurt, the sheer sense of betrayal, was just as real as the multitudes of death he had witnessed as the Dragon¡¯s Corpse attacked those rural communities.


    Thinking about it meant thinking about that red place, how cold Witness grew in his arms, and how hot her blood was against him as she bleed out, clutching to life as he had been trying to clutch to sanity.


    The lights popped and went dark once more as shadows plunged through the tall room. Daniel was afraid that he would lose his footing in the darkness, and tumble off the end of the ledge.


    All he could see was the red glow of the Entity¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Too young. Too cowardly to see. Too arrogant.¡± The Entity said, as though it was speaking to someone else.


    The lights came on again, only half of them.


    Daniel knew that he was not in a place to Question whatever Answer this was. He also doubted that he would win in a contest of strength against something that had survived a full blast of a fire flower.


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    But¡­was the door truly locked, or had it lied?


    So Daniel shuffled to the door, that would lead to a terrace on the roof of the Stable. The knob was an old gilded brass, grime, and age stealing its shine. No hex on this doorknob. But it was also locked.


    ¡°Was the question: Why does the chicken cross the road?¡± he asked a silly meaningless question.


    The ledge shuddered slightly, and Daniel wondered if while he was distracted with the Answer, some chaos beast had ascended. But the chaos beats remained as they were, huddle and shuddering from the Entity, as the metal-limbed creatures still appeared as though whatever power animated them was suspended.


    The entity blinked in Elswith¡¯s face. Alien disappointment flashed in the entity¡¯s eyes. ¡°That was not the question.¡± It said at last. The voice changed, becoming more elemental once more. ¡°Dan¡­Dan¡­" then it spoke, again as if to someone else "Take him.¡±


    The entity said at last, and then the long-limbed metal creatures started moving. They did not move to the first platform, but struck the yellow-papered wall and start climbing, straight up, driving their limbs into the yellowed wall, puncturing it for purchase. There were many of them, and their featureless faces were all turned toward him. They moved with a surity that they had lack before. From the tears in the wall, that oozing sludge poured fourth, brown and vicous, with shadows of faceless things lurking in the fluid.


    There were dozens of them. At least the lower ones were slowed by the oozing sludge from the wall, but small comfort that.


    The entity wearing Elswith''s face turned toward Daniel, disappointment and regret on it''s face. It was already becoming an ¡®it¡¯ again. It was still in the shape of Elswith, but the underlying structure of it changed.


    If Daniel had had three true fears before, he realized he needed to add a fourth. The Fear of Self, the Fear of Failure, the Fear of Success, and the Fear of whatever that entity was.


    Then an odd, echoing noise arose. As though someone had dropped that bucket Orville liked to fill up with snacks when he would do his research in the quiet of the Stable and hide in the Owl¡¯s Scope room.


    The echoing came through, sounding tinny and distant, like sound underwater, like thunder across the plains, like trees splitting in the distance, Clank, Clack, CLANG, Bang. went the sound, as though the bucket hit each and every ledge on the way down. All the way down, even on the ledges that did not exist here anymore, such as ledge eleven and ledge five. On the final ledge, a curled dread creature recoiled as though something struck it, and the sound of a rim against the first ledge was loud, as though it was circling along the edge.


    Then it fell, and Daniel could swear he had almost seen the bucket. And then bells chimed, and Daniel recognized them. In the Stable, not this yellow-walled dungeon with the slick beige carpets and the unending flickering lights, in the true Owl¡¯s Scope Room, were a collection of old bells. These bells were too important to ever throw away but too outdated to ever be used, so had been crammed into a room that was rarely used.


    And they chimed, loud and brilliant and true. The lights flickered and buzzed and stayed on as the sound reverberated. The Law of Fae touched him, dampened and restrained, but present.


    The entity looked at Daniel, and Daniel looked back.


    ¡°You said with you here, that I can¡¯t open the door. Can someone else?¡±


    The sound of the bells continued to ring solid and true.


    "Doorbell rings, so forgive the pause, I should really see the cause." Daniel said, seizing the power and sway of the Law of Fae.


    The Entity did not respond but reached for Daniel. The red cloak reached, like the tendrils of a Slither plant, expanding and exploding forward across the jap between the platform


    That was a good enough answer for Daniel. Daniel saw it coming but threw his last fire flower to the door.


    If against all odds, there was a person on the other side of that door, whoever it was, however they had come to be there, Daniel must at least meet them half way. He could discover whatever foul ploy and plot once he was returned to the Stable.


    Was the Game trying to save him? Was there some hidden spy? Was it an assassin waiting for this moment, where Daniel would be completely spent, completely dependent?


    He knew that even if the Dungeon did not kill him, if he stayed here any longer, it would spell the death of the Game.


    And the death of Witness.

 Chapter 45: Kenton answers the door

    Kenton stared at the space where the sound of the explosion came from.


    Kenton could feel the heat of a fire flower, hot and dry with the smell of nectar lingering. No doubt about it, the unseen Elswith had been the one to cast it. Not that Kenton knew anything about magic, but he knew enough. He¡¯d been around the Stable and the uppity upper Fae for one hundred thirty-seven years here after all.


    Had Elswith always been able to wield fire flowers? The level of control and precision was unimaginable¡­What had his upbringing been like? How harsh had his tutelage been?


    ¡°Elswith?¡± He said, trying desperately to process what he had just heard.


    He closed his eyes, focusing on what he wanted to find.


    Elswith, that little miscreant who once played jump rope with an antique silver bridle rope that was over five hundred years old.


    Elswith, that cocky young Lordling proudly proclaiming that he was going on Campaign for the first time.


    Elswith, the fae Lord who had surrendered his own Lordling name in order to play a game. A game that involved the small rural places so often abandoned nowadays as the borders shrank.


    And Kenton, beloved of the Stable, saw what he was looking for.


    It was not how it wanted to see it. Not by a long shot. It was like¡­Like the walls of this room had been replaced had been replaced with clear glass that showed him another room built right next to this one. That other room was a copy of this room, but whoever had made this copy hadn¡¯t really understood how rooms worked. On the other side of the now see-through walls, he saw yellowed paper walls, oozing brown fluid from punctures in the wall, white squares, and the terrible unending brown carpet the same color as the ooze.


    And there were¡­creatures, below. Not in Kenton Owl¡¯s Scope room. (He checked) No, there were only the bells and that accursed bucket here. But in this mirrored version, there were of sorts of awful creatures. Metal limbs and many limbs and things hidden in the shadows only with glowing eyes.


    Kenton had a million thoughts, all in the same heartbeat.


    Kenton looked up from the lower platforms in the mirrored not Stable room and saw the order of the room deteriorate. The closer to the top was the same impression of yellow walls, with horrid flashing lighting rods and white chalk, a confusing swirl of chaos and confusion, like someone who had only ever heard of a room, but had never seen it put together before and just guessed.


    It wasn¡¯t¡­.


    No.


    It couldn¡¯t be.


    The last time was a fluke.


    The Dungeon was dead. Every mapper for the last several generations had all testified to that. He had testified to that. The Dungeon had been ripped up and torn apart. Modern fae had no need of its challenges¡­That was the first Achievement of the most recent Fairy King.


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    More than that, the Dungeon was never described as having yellow walls. And what was all that¡­.oozing beige carpet?


    But that did look to be the same room as the room Kenton stood in, which matched the legends of the Dungeon. In the stories, it mentioned the being made of ice and glass and fire, which purified and reflected the heart. Not this¡­yellow walls forever with the never-ending flickering lights and the unending beige carpet.


    The Stable shrugged, as much as a forever changing compilation of animal housing and storage rooms could shrug. And Kenton heard, vaguely and disquietingly, Backrooms.


    Well, hopefully hearing the Stable was a passing fad because he was going to retire!


    Kenton saw where Elswith was: right here. In the Not Dungeon copy. But not here. And where was Elswith himself? Was he dead!?


    Forget that, Kenton chastised himself. The Stable was showing him where Elswith was, but not Elswith himself.


    Where was Elswith?


    And the Stable showed Kenton more, and he almost wished it hadn¡¯t.


    The clear wall had been opaque the further up it went, but now it cleared and showed the top ledge of the other room, except for the old door with the brass knob remaining completely tangible. Kenton could see that Elswith was on the same platform as himself, in the copied room.


    And Elswith did not look like a meek servant now. Nor some spoiled Lordling.


    Elswith stood, like some Lord of Fae of legend. On a platform nearly identical to the very top one Kenton stood upon. He looked determined, his jawline strong. Grime clung to his clothes, as though he had just been in a major skirmish. His blue-grey eyes were focused, raw magic making them glow an unsettling shine. His broad shoulders and stance were confident, the golden light of the fire flower made his ash blond hair glow red, like the Red Lord himself. That expression¡­of believing so completely and totally in one¡¯s own goals and purpose that they¡¯d let the sun burn down the world rather than change course.


    Kenton swallowed, nervously. This was Elswith. The little Lordling who¡¯d read books to baby griffins.


    But he looked so intense that Kenton would rather duck his head and hide until the powerful fae passed by, as he had done so many times in his career when Lords on a war path came near.


    Then Elswith on the other side in that twisted place finally reached the door, Kenton taking careful steps to the side to keep eyes on him. Kenton saw the boy pull at the old brass knob on his side of the room. But the door was locked fast! The look on Elswith¡¯s face was¡­hope.


    And Kenton heard his version of the door pull!


    ¡°Elswith!¡± He cried, forgetting his fear. He didn¡¯t care that Elswith looked scary.


    He went to the old door that led to the terrace outside and pulled at the handle. It did not open. It should have opened, smoothly and easily, the old brilliant craftsmanship of a begone era far exceeding its newer counterparts. Not that Kenton had been up here before. Not since that one time when he lost his arm temporarily when the Stable was being moody, but that was nearly fifty years ago now!


    He needed the key!


    Kenton couldn¡¯t see Elswith now, as the door did not become see-through as the walls had. But he could feel the boy pulling on the door.


    ¡°Who is it?¡± came a slightly muffled question from other side of the door, Elswith''s tone polite as though he was just checking the mail.


    ¡°It¡¯s me! It¡¯s Kenton. Elswith, can you hear me?¡±


    Mappers had certain privileges and had made certain pledges. Once, Mappers had served a different purpose. They had served in the conquest of the Dungeon, and that meant that they had keys.


    Did he bring it today? He''d retired from that line of work ten years ago, but he still had his key. He hadn¡¯t been bringing it with him all the time. But he still brought it by habit if nothing else. He had it. Right? Of all the days to leave it behind, he surely would not have this day.


    ¡°Elswith, hold on!¡± he banged on the door with his right hand, feeling the heat from the fire flower explosion.


    There was a sharp click and Kenton turned. There, standing on his side, on the tenth ledge, was the other thing the legends spoke of:


    The Dungeon¡¯s Fears.


    And it was here, with Kenton. In the Stable.

 Chapter 46: Happy Thoughts to Fly away

    In the Stable


    Kenton swallowed. The Dungeon¡¯s Fears. The legends said they cut to the heart, and nothing was allowed to be hidden. Which was well and good for adventurers and whatnot, but Kenton was going to retire.


    ¡°Fear of Failure.¡± It said to him, its shape changing. ¡°You fear Failure as well.¡± It blinked at him in a way a mass of energy and matter should not be allowed to blink.


    It changed, and Kenton realized that he might be¡­as the young folk said¡­in a spot of trouble.


    Stay calm, he told himself. Stay calm like he was drinking raspberry lemon aid in the green fields of his home court, as calm as the soft morning breeze when he and Sarah Beth had nothing to do and nowhere to go. Not standing up against a monster of Legend, a force of nature to rival the Law of Fae.


    Kenton reached for the pocket where he normally kept his keys. He finally remembered earlier that day, when he had just heard that a griffin had just stolen the Dragon Hide Saddle he was working on earlier. He had stood up, closed the lid of the polish he¡¯d been using to work into an ornamental saddle for a unicorn, and seen his old key, from back in his mapper days, dangling on its old chain on a candle holder near his workstation. He had grabbed it, already fearing the worst that Cinnamon Girl was going to lead him on an endless chase until she got to see her favorite person.


    And he had put it in his jacket.


    The jacket he had left on the ninth ledge.


    ¡°Elswith, I¡¯m going to get my key. You stay right there¡­¡±


    ¡°Do hurry.¡± Said Elswith, on the other side of the door. ¡°I¡¯m not alone in here.¡±


    ¡°Neither am I¡­What do you know about your fears, boy? And why is one out here with me?¡±


    In the Dungeon


    Daniel twitched and felt it as Kenton let go of the door handle. The sense that the stable was near faded somewhat. The self-proclaimed Fear of Self was still present here with him. It was still moving after him, a long tendril of red reaching for Daniel as Daniel clutched the door handle.


    What did it mean that Kenton had come up? Was it truly Kenton? Why had the lowling fae come up so far? What trap was this? What did it mean? What was his angle?


    ¡°Even now, you see but do not understand.¡± Said the fear, red eyes glowing. ¡°You hear but do not believe.¡±


    Daniel had to release the handle and dive to the side as the first of the red struck the door. He rolled back to his feet, popping up and examining the response time of the Fear.


    ¡°What is the question?¡± the fear said again, sounding like two people were speaking over each other. ¡°You see the answer, but you cannot bring yourself to look.¡± Another red strip struck where Daniel had been.


    It was pushing him away from the door.


    Daniel had a small space to evade. He must stay on this platform, as without the eleventh platform the gap was too great to cross again.


    He was left with the realization that as long as the Fear stayed on the tenth platform, he had a chance. But if the Fear managed to cross over, Daniel would be unable to hold his ground.


    In the Stable


    Kenton watched as the Fear thing that he¡¯d heard so much about just stood there, changing. Kenton didn¡¯t want to watch what it changed into. But there wasn¡¯t much else he could do. He could still see somewhat of what was going on in the Dungeon, though the walls had turned more opaque, and he could see that Elswith was in some kind of fight.


    All he had to do was open the door.


    Legends had it that Mappers had the right to invade the Dungeon space and pull out Adventurers overwhelmed by battle. If the Dungeon wasn¡¯t dead (And Kenton still was hopeful that this was just a random fluke) then as a Mapper he had an important and dangerous job, not just a dangerous job as Mappers were used now.


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    His problem was that he needed his key, which was in his coat. He kept calm, thinking happy thoughts (He heard a human tale that thinking happy thoughts let little children fly in someplace called London, and he rather liked to imagine that it was true). He saw his neatly folded coat on the ninth ledge, and the gleam of the chain holding the key.


    As long as he didn¡¯t engage the Fear, he¡¯d be fine.


    Now the part he hadn¡¯t thought about before. How was he going to get down? He had somehow convinced himself that after he rescued Elswith, Elswith would go down and bring back the ladder. But now he realized that there were only two ways he would get down: Jumping and landing on each platform, or falling down all the way to the ground far below.


    He rather disliked both options, but the second more than the first.


    Besides, Elswith needed him. The Dungeon being alive and not dead may even be more important than the Game going on¡­


    Kenton looked at Elswith one last time through the opaque glass walls, and then he jumped down. Somehow jumping down seemed worse than jumping up, with the platform whizzing at him. He landed firmly on his feet, feeling something unpleasant crunch in his ankles, but he recovered.


    Why had he taken off his jacket? Of all the things to have to go back for, why that?


    He stood on the eleventh platform and eyed the changing Fear on the tenth. Just keep changing, and let him go past.


    Kenton landed on the tenth platform, scooting a bit and sliding, but giving a wide berth to the Fear thing.


    Then it turned and looked toward him, and it was done changing. Kenton was looking at¡­


    Sarah Beth. Sarah Beth wearing her white summer dress and her blue shawl and her golden hair. Sarah Beth, but not wearing her engagement broach. ¡°You took too long.¡± She said.


    In the Dungeon


    The Fear was toying with Daniel like it was distracted. It kept glancing at the wall, although all Daniel saw was the horrid mixture of yellow wallpaper, soggy carpet, and white ceiling tiles, as well as a few patches of honest Stable wall. What did this entity wearing Elswith¡¯s face see that he did not?


    Despite being distracted, the Entity continued to lash out at Daniel, red tendrils controlled like a slither plant striking at a target to keep them from escaping but confined in a specific area. But it was no worse than griffin training, and Daniel was allowed a moment to contemplate how he had ended up here. Seriously.


    He knew the Red Lord meant to change him. Daniel had also realized that his own desires for power were dangerous to those who could not protect themselves. Being the Heirling of the Red Sword was very different than becoming the Heir of the Red Sword. He had seen the price to pay to get it, and he was afraid. He was afraid he would see no other way forward and accept it. He was afraid he would pretend he had seen no other way out and accept it.


    But he knew that he had options. Not recently, but before the second to last campaign, he had more options.


    Had he chosen the hard path because he was afraid that he would be changed?


    But he knew nothing can change you. You can be influenced, you can be prompted, you can be compelled. But had his fear of his own darker nature led him down this path?


    He still didn¡¯t know what the question was. But he was beginning to get hints about it. Hints he did not like.


    Why had Kenton come? What scheme did he have?


    The sound of gushing ooze drew nearer, and Daniel knew he was running out of time.


    The metal-limbed creatures were pulling themselves onto the platform.


    ¡°Kenton, perhaps you could hurry?¡± Daniel asked, trying to keep his tone polite.


    In the Stable


    Kenton stared at Sarah Beth. He felt tears in his eyes. He had not seen her in person in twenty years. She had come out to visit him, coming as a lady¡¯s maid for some small midling. Small by Citadel¡¯s standards, but that would have been someone very important in his home court.


    ¡°You¡¯re not her.¡± He said, clenching his fist.


    Sarah Beth shook her head, in a very Sarah Beth fashion. ¡°I told you. I didn¡¯t need to be a midling fae. All I needed was you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not her.¡± He said. He needed to hurry. He moved to avoid her¡­it, it! The Fear! It. Kenton moved to avoid the thing that looked like the love of his life.


    She flowed in front of him, and touched his face. It felt like Sarah Beth, and that was cheating. He tried to push her away, but she flowed with him.


    He looked beyond her to the ninth pillar. There was his jacket. Hang in there Elswith, Kenton said in his heart.


    ¡°You have wasted your life for a chance that was never going to happen. If you don¡¯t reach Middling, you know that you are past your prime. You wasted your time with me. What about the children we could have had?¡±


    ¡°Please move,¡± Kenton said, not bringing himself to be rude to Sarah Beth¡¯s image.


    Distantly, coming from the twelfth ledge, Kenton could hear a very polite tone ¡°Kenton, perhaps you could hurry?¡±


    Elswith. That punk. Kenton could see the old servitors (as described in legend) mounting the twelfth platform in the dungeon. He could also see Elswith contending against some tendril thing that lashed at below, but not what it was.


    Sarah Beth stroked his face, softly. ¡°Our lives would have been poor and short, but you could have had me.¡±


    Kenton shifted, doing his best to ignore it ¡°Please don¡¯t wear my Love¡¯s face.¡±


    ¡°Middlings struggle to conceive children. I wanted a family. I wanted you.¡±


    Kenton touched just the tip of ¡®Sarah Beth¡¯s¡¯ nose. She didn¡¯t crinkle it. She always crinkled it.


    As he thought. It wasn¡¯t really her.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± He said, quietly. ¡°For letting me see my love again.¡±


    And he pushed the Dungeon Fear away and leapt down to the ninth ledge. Think happy thoughts, he thought, and maybe, just maybe, he¡¯d fly.

 Chapter 47: Golden Key, White Fear Red Fear

    In the Dungeon


    Dim lights flickering flashing of the Dungeon and the quiet steady lights of the Stable traded turns lighting the twelfth ledge as Daniel fought.


    The long-limbed creatures did not stop reaching for Daniel, even when he sent them careening off the ledge. The featureless face was still pointed toward Daniel, as his current opponent was tossed over the side and fell down down down and then crash against the soggy beige carpet so far below. Like it did not care about its own terrible fate.


    The other long-limbed creatures certainly did not care about the fate of their brethren. Three had fallen so far, yet none had reached out a metal-limbed hand to catch their falling companion.


    The fourth one to crest the platform and shamble upon to reach Daniel reared back a raised fist toward him. Daniel juked to one side, almost not enough, but just barely enough to evade the lurching punch of the metal-limbed creature. The metal-limbed attacker had its feet caught in the chalky tiles and sank several inches into the ledge, and Daniel seized this moment to pull both its fist forward and up at the same instant snaking his own leg around and then behind the featureless creature. The push/pull dynamic was enough for the creature¡¯s center of mass to shift, and while it was falling backward, Daniel pushed just enough for it to lose its footing and fall off the side of the platform.


    That was four.


    Only dozens and dozens more to go. Maybe a hundred.


    Maybe Daniel would toss so many over the side that he would create a pillar all the way up. The new metal-limbed creatures would ascend via the column of the fallen instead of clawing up the wall.


    Kenton¡¯s voice broke Daniel¡¯s implausible vision of a pyramid of featureless metal creatures. ¡°Elswith! I got it! I¡¯m coming!¡± Said the distant voice of the affable Kenton triumphantly.


    Kenton. Of all people.


    Perhaps he was a spy all along, Daniel wondered. Was he a spy, a double agent, or a triple agent?


    Or was he something else? Some kind of assassin? Some kind of guard?


    It must be that. What else would drive the seemingly affable Kenton?


    Hopefully, Kenton had what he needed.


    The fifth long-limbed creature took to the platform, with brethren beginning to pull themselves up.


    In the Stable


    Kenton did not fly, of course. But with confidence he¡¯d never experienced he had practically glided down to the ninth platform, reclaimed his jacket, and reclaimed the key.


    Gold. Nothing fancy like adamantine, palladium, mythril, chlorophyte, or orichalcum. Not even enchanted gold.


    Just gold. Stronger, of course, hardly malleable. But it did not glow or sparkle or transform.


    It was just a golden key. And every mapper had one.


    Holding the gold key, Kenton put it around his neck, and tucked it under his shirt, crudely jamming it under his cravat. He tied his jacket around his waist (Could you imagine if he needed something else and he needed to go back down and get it again?) and looked up. ¡°Elswith, I got it! I¡¯m coming!¡± Kenton loudly proclaimed.


    He got to see Elswith doing fancy martial arts stuff vaguely through the opaque wall separating them. Elswith had lost his Lordling powers, right? Looking at the kid fight was a little scary. Something a lowling should never be able to do, right?


    Didn¡¯t matter, though, because no matter how swift or sure the punk was, he¡¯d get overwhelmed by the servitors soon. While one just was thrown off the side after Elswith did some complicated thing with his hands that ended with the metal-limbed creature¡¯s head facing the wrong way and crashing down (Did Kenton just feel air whoosh by him in time with the creature falling in the Dungeon), two more arose to the platform at the same time.


    Time to get up again!


    Kenton eyed the ''Sarah Beth'' fear thing, standing there looking at Elswith in the Dungeon with a blank face. Looked like it was also looking at a red thingy that was blurred out on the Dungeon Platform.


    It would ignore him, right? He was an official Mapper again, with that key. The saying went Mappers never quite ever managed to retire from that duty until they left the Citadel. Law of Fae agreed with his thoughts, a warm glow of approval.


    Kenton flexed his fist, took two firm steps, and leapt toward the platform. His chest hit the ledge of the tenth platform with hardly an impact. Fear of Failure. Apparently, Elswith had that same fear. Funny. Made sense, lots of expectations on Lordlings.


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    Fear of failure. What a funny thing. A fear that expressed a worry Kenton dreaded almost every day of his life.


    It was such a small worry. Always there. Always warning.


    Kenton edged past the Dungeon Fear, just in case, and leapt for the higher further ledge. The eleventh ledge. His palms stung as he grabbed the smoothed edge, despite his renewed confidence, but he pulled himself up as quickly (yet still safely) as he could.


    He looked up and saw Elswith again, dungeon side. The kid was flexible, that was sure. He didn¡¯t even know legs could kick that high. How did the kid¡¯s knees not break? Maybe they bent backward? Creepy. ¡°I¡¯m almost there kiddo.¡± He said. The Law of Fae even forgot to tell him that he should still be impartial.


    He heard a sound.


    The Fear of Failure had leapt, the white dress of Sarah Beth unwinding and spooling like living thread at the edges. And unlike Kenton, who had to pull himself up, it had landed soundly on the eleventh platform, wearing Sarah Beth''s face, but not her demeanor.


    As did the red thing on the Dungeon side. And, Kenton belatedly realized, that the platform on that side wasn¡¯t there, only jagged glass at the edge of the wall.


    Time to hurry. ¡°I¡¯m coming!¡± He yelled and moved to the last jump.


    He had a sinking feeling things would be bad if that red thing reached the last ledge before him.


    In the Dungeon


    Daniel really needed to thank Matheus. Years of training in less effective means had been somewhat embarrassing. Of course, he had little choice to learn as a child, as his lack of elemental affinity left him reliant on his own body. Which fell short. But even after he had at last achieved proficiency with Elemental Lightning, Matheus still insisted he spend time in the Library.


    Why train one¡¯s body, when one can have Earth Affinity to add strength and power to a blow? Why practice forms again and again, when one can have Ice Affinity to lend grace and balance? Air Affinity for swift steps, Shadow Affinity for silence? Few Lordling spent the years working their bodies to be strong, to have a core that supports all movements, to have balance and body awareness to be able to walk across a trapped floor feeling the way forward around the traps, drills to move one¡¯s feet in practiced but uncompromising steps, and softness of movement that came from being able to remove one¡¯s presence out of the forefront of a situation.


    It had taken years. Years. Years of losing to stronger opponents. Years of barely subverting and surviving assassination attempts. Years of shame. But somewhere down the road, Daniel realized his body had become strong. And that hadn¡¯t been tied in his mantel of Heirling of the Red Sword.


    It was that training now that led him to be able to defend and then defeat three strong attackers at once and yet not lose his footing.


    It was a unique situation, of course. These metal-limbed creatures were simple. They never learned. They fell for the same attack again and again. A well-trained midling could clearly defeat Daniel. Three or four armed lowlings could probably gang up on him.


    Daniel shifted his weight, dropping his base, and helped one of his attackers leap off the side of the platform. Daniel¡¯s hands were briefly seized by another creature in front as yet another metal-limbed creature tried to reach behind Daniel. Kicks were dangerous, but¡­Daniel brought his knee in tight against his body, and thrust out, kicking the creature off himself. It rocked back, but it had enough room to recover and not fall off. With his leg already up, Daniel did a twist kick, basically a split while standing, booted foot angled to strike head height behind him to smack the metal-limbed creature behind him. Daniel regretted it, as he hadn¡¯t stretched and his tight muscles screamed in protest.


    But it was enough to reduce the number of opponents back to manageable, as the creature behind him buzzed and stumbled off the ledge.


    ¡°I¡¯m almost there kiddo.¡± Kenton''s voice said, sounding nearer than last time. Kiddo. Had the ¡®leatherworker¡¯ actually cared about Elswith before? They had some small interactions over the years. But nothing worth endangering oneself, surely.


    What was the angle?


    Daniel couldn¡¯t focus any more attention on that question, as another metal-limbed creature arose on the platform.


    The buzz bizz buzz of the glass tube lights and the steady gentle Stable lights alternated quickly with each other, the synthetic lights giving way to the wholesome glow of magical lighting. Daniel had begun this day feeling weak and afraid. And he was still weak. He would not win against his rivals, Parcel would have absolutely wiped the floor with him. But he was stronger than he realized.


    Perhaps¡­even strong enough to win the Game. Kenton clearly was coming to open the door for him. Whatever price he wanted in exchange could be negotiated. Victory perhaps was not near, but it was at least close enough to grasp.


    Finish with the Dungeon, and then finish the Stable, and be ready for the first assassination attempt to arrive before midnight. He had survived so many in the past, he was very good at identifying the danger. After he cleared the attempts (He predicted four), he would then enact his own revenge on key members to establish his place in the hierarchy of Servants.


    He should have known better than to count his griffins before they hatched.


    Something unexpected happened.


    The greatest danger was the Entity. But there was a gulf between Daniel and the thing wearing Elswith¡¯s face. If it was bound by Elswith¡¯s ability, and by all accounts so far it did appear bound to the height of Elswith¡¯s power, then it would have no way to leap all the way to the twelfth platform. If it could act beyond Elswith''s power, then it didn¡¯t really matter because Daniel would not survive such an encounter. But beyond the cloak becoming long tendrils that occasionally lashed out at Daniel, the Entity behaved within the bounds of Elswith.


    The Entity that called itself the Fear of Self leapt, angling itself to land where the other platform had fallen. It was a good jump, strong. Elswith in the height of his power could leap like that. Not enough to cross from the tenth ledge to the twelfth, but still enough to easily clear the gulf between the tenth and the eleventh. But without the eleventh platform, the best it could do was try to grab the jagged glass jutting from the wall¡­


    But the Entity did not attempt to clutch at the dangerous handle. It jumped forward, as though the eleventh platform was there.


    And landed firmly on nothing.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming!¡± Yelled Kenton.


    Then there was a sound of a scream and an impact. It was a bad sound.


    The Entity made a small sound of satisfaction, before glancing at Daniel at the corner of his eyes. ¡°You are afraid of yourself, Dan. What would you do to something that threatened to interfere with the Game, I wonder.¡±


    Daniel thought he would feel fear. Instead, he felt hot anger, the same anger that flared so long ago when the O¡¯Tells servants had played with his food. White hot, the need to enact change, justice, or just violence. ¡°Did you hurt Kenton?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t see, can you?¡± The Entity standing on air said in Elswith¡¯s voice, turning its head to look at the wall. ¡°It¡¯s a long way down, Dan. So far. Too far for something that can¡¯t fly.¡±

 Chapter 48: Facing Ones Fears

    In the Stable


    Kenton was alive.


    He was surprised too.


    He blinked a few times, as the world settled. His blue blood seeped into his eyes.


    Why was he bleeding??


    Oh, he had a gash on his head.


    Why did he have a gash on his head? And why was he upside down?


    He was dangling over the side of the ledge. Sarah Beth was holding him over the ledge.


    She grabbed his ankle as he tried to run. She had grasped it with her¡­ it''s living dress tendril and hoisted him up by his leg like a bag of mushrooms. He had fallen and smashed his head against the ledge.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t my Love. Only my Love is allowed to push me around,¡± he said, his ears ringing.


    A rush of power and awareness dawned on him, and he snapped back to himself. Oh, he was in trouble.


    "Oh, oh no." he muttered, feeling woozy and vertigo at the same moment as he dangled over thin air. "Why''d I look down?"


    In the Dungeon


    The long-limbed creatures hesitated on the edge of the twelfth platform, no longer daring to ascend. The buzz bizz buzz of the Dungeon¡¯s lights took prominence, the joining of the two spaces pulling apart.


    Daniel glared at the Entity. The Entity held out a hand, clutching nothing over the ledge. But Daniel could almost see something¡­


    Anger. Anger stronger than the dread and the fear filled him. White hot.


    If Daniel held the Red Sword now, he wondered if he could at last call down the flame, if fueled with the purity of his anger.


    He was out.


    Out of Fire Flowers.


    Out of Magic.


    Against something that could almost certainly defeat him even if he had all of it. The Law of Fae was quiet and muted, demure in a way he had no concept of before this evening.


    He needed more. Just one good sword. Just one coiled wand. Just stupid Esra and his endless attempts at any magic other than his own.


    ¡°It¡¯s a training ground,¡± Daniel said.


    ¡°What?¡± The Entity spoke, entirely too at ease for standing on thin air.


    ¡°That¡¯s the Answer to the Question: What is the Dungeon? I thought you traded in Questions for Answers.¡±


    ¡°Asking questions now?¡± The Entity spoke.


    ¡°Telling. You¡¯re my Fear. Or you¡¯re bound by it. My Fear of Self. But you aren¡¯t my worst Fear.¡±


    ¡°Fear of Failure is here as well.¡± The Red Cloaked Entity wearing Elswith¡¯s face said.


    ¡°Kenton said something was out there, with him in the Stable. Or is it in the overlapping section, this border between the Stable and the Dungeon?¡±


    Elswith¡¯s punchable face smirked at him. ¡°Are you delaying, Dan?¡± the Entity said.


    ¡°Where is the third Fear? Where is my Fear of Success¡­that one is the one you should watch. Should I show you what I would do to avoid winning? Because I''ve done it before, and I set the entire Citadel on its head.¡± Daniel said. ¡°So¡­tell me again. Are you clutching Kenton right now, or is he dead?¡± The lights flickered and rumbled. ¡°Because your answer will determine whether I destroy us both, right here and now. I can bring it here.¡±


    The silence stretched on for several moments, and then Daniel could hear noise from the Stable again. Including a very woozy sounding Kenton say something soft, "why did I look down?"


    Daniel could barely hear.


    But he did feel like a weight was lifted from his chest. If Kenton died, what about his family in that rural court out past the swamps? As long as he lived, there was hope.


    ¡°So Kenton is alive, then.¡± Daniel said. "But you hurt him."


    It shrugged. ¡°It is not a participant. It bears a counterfeit key. We have the right to remove those who interfere. Its death or life does not matter to the Dungeon.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°His life. You¡¯re trying to stop Kenton from helping me. Why? Because I am a participant?¡±


    "He is an invader."


    "Release him safely, allow him to leave without harm."


    "You dare think you can bargain?" The entity spoke, disbelief apparent.


    "I have something you need. Myself. We stand in the twilight zone between realities. Is it not customary to make a bargain?¡±


    In the Stable


    Kenton tried to pull himself up right, at least so he could grab onto the ledge, but he was not one for sit-ups most days, and the thing that held him seemed uninclined to help him. Scratch that, the white entity was clearly an enemy. Whatever lies he had believed that the Dungeon''s Fears could not hurt Mappers was clearly false, if the current situation was any indicator.


    He kept trying to sit up, but the white entity shook him until he stopped attempting to right himself.


    He just dangled there, trying to angle so he could see Elswith. Unfortunately, the Sarah Beth look-a-like kept blocking his view.


    Why did it still seem so like his fianc¨¦?


    He knew that wasn¡¯t Sarah Beth. This was one of the Dungeon¡¯s Fears. The Fear of Failure. But why did it seem so like her, just as he imagined her every night?


    Kenton wiggled until he gain enough momentum to swing side to side slightly, so he could see the clear wall again. Finally he caught sight of Elswith. He couldn¡¯t hear Elswith anymore, but..at least he could see him.


    The Lord stood tall, towering over the ledge in the Dungeon. He seemed¡­angry.


    Kenton had once seen a Fae look like that. Over a hundred years ago, when Kenton was still just shoveling used hay from old stalls. Despite being a nobody, he was still in the right place at the right time to be privy to a tragic scene unfolding.


    A High Fae Lord¡¯s favorite griffin died in an ambush on a nearby mountain to poachers as the griffin frolicked on a golden afternoon, too old for combat but too dear to the Lord to send away.


    There were no more poachers on that mountain afterward.


    There also was not any mountain. In his anger, the High Lord of Knowledge had reduced the entire landscape to a flat plain, the ground so melted that it became smooth and shining like a mirror.


    Prior to that day, some servants questioned his function, even calling him the High Lord of Folly. After that day, people called him whatever title he desired.


    Elswith was about to do something scary. Something dangerous. Something really bad.


    The Law of Fae was nearby, as was a brighter, hotter power. The Game.


    They couldn¡¯t get to Elswith. And they clearly didn''t want him to complete whatever he was attempting.


    But they could get to Kenton.


    Kenton waited for the embrace of power, of knowledge, and knowing that came from being the sole focus of the game. Or Game, he supposed, capitalizing the G in his mind because it seemed rude not to.


    Instead, he had a simple push of: face your fear.


    Was that it? All the wisdom and knowledge of the Law of Fae and the Game combined? He needed to help that punk. If Elswith died or was taken away, all of Kenton¡¯s hard work would go away¡­


    Fear of Failure.


    The Fear had power over him because he was afraid.


    He knew what to say, suddenly. ¡°I know you¡¯re not Sarah Beth.¡± He said, to the Fear.


    It was ignoring him, focusing on the exchange between Elswith and whatever that red blur was on the other side.


    ¡°Because you are exactly what I imagine her to be.¡±


    Sarah Beth''s face turned to him, surprised.


    ¡°I expected her to fret and worry. I expected her to nag me, berate me. But whenever I see her, I remember that she is more than I can ever know in full.¡±


    The Fear turned toward him. ¡°You know the question.¡± It said, and for the first time, Kenton felt like he was the center of its attention.


    Kenton didn¡¯t know what that meant, but he felt the Stable seem to cheer him on. ¡°You showed me Sarah Beth as I imagine her, in my darkest places. Sarah Beth as I feared her to be, should I fail." He lunged upward, trapping the arm of ''Sarah Beth'' with his left hand so he could, if awkwardly, pull himself up so he wasn''t dangling head down over a great height. So he could look the fear in the eyes, level and on the same plane. "But that''s only a fear, not real, and that¡¯s not what would happen. And those were real conversations we shared, so that was very impolite of you.¡±


    ¡°The Answer.¡± It said. ¡°But what the question?¡±


    ¡°Why did I think I was doing it all by myself? Sarah Beth was never the one being pulled around by her nose. We choose together, knowing the risks. We shared the trial. She stayed behind, so I could make our future. She takes care of my responsibility to our home court, so I can gather power and build. My why was wrong. Why was I afraid of failure?¡±


    The sounds of flickering lights jumped and popped, and for a split second Kenton was not in the Stable but inside the Dungeon itself, the oozing smell of something the color brown assaulting his nose.


    Don¡¯t get distracted now! The Game seemed to say.


    ¡°Right.¡± And Kenton looked straight into the eyes of his Fear. For the first time, he noticed how dis-a-like it truly was to Sarah Beth. It didn¡¯t look like her at the corner of her eyes, and the way its lips pulled back was completely alien.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I held her last, so it makes sense I got a little silly. I got my whys mixed up. Sarah Beth draws strength from hidden places, even when it¡¯s hard. You can¡¯t overcome her.¡± He touched his other hand to his heart, feeling it beat, imagining it beating in time Sarah Beth as they lay on the downy pastures, hands clasped. Kenton moved his hand and clasped something. ¡°I¡¯m afraid to fail.¡±


    The Fear undulated strangely. It clearly wanted him to stop, but it looked like its own nature compelled it to listen.


    Kenton carried on. ¡°But as long as I do my best, I know she did her best too. And no matter what, whether I return to her a Midling Fae and uplift our entire family from a life of toil and drudgery to authority and affluence, or I fail and lose all my influence and return and we spend the last few decades of our lives together as the rust takes us, we will have done it together, and to the best of our ability.¡±


    It started to shake.


    ¡°And you...You are a pale comparison to her! Compared to the golden rays of her smile, you¡¯re nothing. You can¡¯t stop me.¡±


    In the Dungeon


    The Fear of Self shifted.


    ¡°A bargain?¡±


    ¡°Let Kenton go. He has nothing to do with this Game, and he only came because¡­whatever reason he had. If I¡¯m a participant, surely, I must be valuable. Hard to beat your training program if I break my leg. As you say, it¡¯s a long way down for something that can¡¯t fly.¡± Daniel said, stepping closer to the ledge.


    The Entity raised its hand, a command to stop. ¡°So much work to avoid Questioning an Answer.¡± The entity said, in a voice like lava cooling and cracking ice.


    Daniel glared at his own face. ¡°So much work to avoid a proper working relationship. You need me, and we don¡¯t need to be enemies.¡±


    ¡°So you propose a bargain.¡±


    ¡°You let me talk to Kenton, and I¡¯ll complete the first trial.¡±


    "It sounds logical."


    Daniel stood up straight.


    "But you forget one thing, Dan. Law of Fae has no power here, and I don''t care for bargains." Then it focused beyond the wall again. "Drop the invader."

 Chapter 49: Those the Stable Favors, Those who Answer The Dungeons Call

    Ten Years ago:


    Kenton brought his little pouch of supplies. The golden key from his long days as a Mapper was safely on a chain around his neck, despite knowing he was no longer a mapper. Paranoia would be the last thing to leave him, he was very sure. He would never ever go anywhere in the Stable without his keys on his person.


    He knew that the Stable had accepted a new Mapper, and Kenton had officially retired. But he felt confident he¡¯d never relax his guard, even thirty years in the future.


    He had earned a new position, one that should be enough to carry him over to the realm of midling.


    Easy job. Just play nice with a young batch of Lordlings and take care of some saddles.


    He pushed forward into the room, the Griffin Room of the Red Circle.


    He paused. Because they looked like little children.


    He knew the Lordlings would be young, but he forgot how young they started the future leaders of the Seelie Realm. None of them were older than fifteen. Were they even ten years old? What had he been doing when he was ten? Catching frogs? Swiping extra baked goods from windowsills?


    These kiddos seemed to be similar to any other kid. Their minders were practically invisible against the wall, watching every move, but just as equally not available. The kids were goofing around. One little boy was playing with little soldiers, another was setting up dominoes. Another was making a mudpie. The others were chatting and talking.


    If Kenton had not been briefed about who they were, he would have assumed they were like any other kid.


    The little kid with deep blue hair with the edges green? That one was the great-grandson of the Sea King, heir apparent of the Sea Kingdom, or whatever it ended up becoming. That child had enough authority to be the mayor of Kenton¡¯s hometown, and he was eight. He was talking to the tallest girl.


    That little girl with the flame red hair, taking a soldier toy from the little boy? That was the grandniece of McKellan House, Senate.


    That slightly pudgy boy, complaining that he has his toy soldier back? He was from the O¡¯Tells House. Son of one of the ruling lords. A Family with Influence over powerful courts. Almost a faction unto itself.


    That girl with black and white hair? Daughter of the Leader of the Moon Court, Grand-Daughter of the High Fae of Time. Court. She was the one making mudpies.


    That girl who was tallest of all of them, daughter of the seasonal divide, half Seelie, half Unseelie. She was telling the other little girl not to take toys that don¡¯t belong to her. Her father was Senate, her mother was Ambassador.


    That dark-haired boy, the last Lordling and Heirling of the Famous Shadow Clan, carefully setting up dominoes. Red Sword faction.


    And where was the last one? There were supposed to be seven lordlings in the Red Circle.


    Kenton felt nervous. He was supposed to introduce himself to all the Young Lordlings at the same time, lest he appear to be showing favoritism and lose his authority. Those minders watching from the back would not miss such a detail.


    He was to work their tack and saddles. He was supposed to barely interact with them. Just introduce himself and be done with it.


    But the children turned to look at him from their playing, and the weight of their gazes implied they knew exactly how much power they had. They may still act like children, but they were more powerful than his regional lord.


    These weren¡¯t any lordlings, these were Lordlings of ruling classes and courts and senate.


    ¡°Where¡­is the seventh?¡± he asked, vaguely.


    ¡°Up!¡± answered the white and black-haired little girl, raising a pink-tipped finger upward to the second level, which was open to above.


    ¡°He needs to wait for the trainers.¡± Huffed the tallest girl.


    ¡°He learns by making mistakes.¡± Said the dark-haired boy.


    And Kenton looked up to the second floor but didn¡¯t see anyone.


    He glanced back at the children, feeling awkward.


    ¡°Up. Up!¡± said the first girl.


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    And Kenton looked up, then up. There, amongst the rafters, was a little boy. He had dusty blond hair and glowing mischievous eyes.


    There, beneath him was a griffin. She was still small for a griffin, but she was easily the same size as the boy, and the right size to begin riding. They were to begin training for riding soon. Which was why they needed a dedicated leather worker for the saddles and tack.


    (Because if the saddles broke and the Lordlings were injured, they needed someone to blame. But Kenton¡¯s father had been a leatherworker, and Kenton was well trained¡­he wouldn¡¯t fail, he wouldn¡¯t. Surely this was safer than Mapper.)


    ¡°Matheus, are you going to let him do this?¡± Ask the redheaded girl, still clutching the stolen soldier toy.


    One of the retainers shrugged, an elderly greying fae. ¡°He is the Red Sword¡¯s Heirling. It is good that he is not a coward. Whether he is wise or not is yet to be determined.¡±


    ¡°Hands up, catch me if I fall! Here I come!¡±


    And the most important little Lordling, riding an untamed little cinnamon-colored griffin, kicked the griffin¡¯s side ¡°Let¡¯s go find dead things!¡± He cried, raising his little fist.


    And the griffin, which had looked small before, unfurled her wings, magnificent like a half sun.


    And she leapt into the air.


    She did not glide smoothly. She was too interested in appearing regal to remember to flap right away, swoosh, swoosh. So the pair tumbled down.


    Kenton, stupidly, raised his arms to catch them¡­what could he have done, anyway?


    But he needn¡¯t have bothered. The little griffin got the hang of it, flosh, flosh, flap, and righted herself and the little Heirling. Laughter spilled from the little boy, giddy.


    The griffin fluttered in place but was unable to maintain level flight, so it was really more of a postponement of falling than defying gravity.


    But the little lordlings cheered as the griffin tumbled down to the ground, mostly safely, tripping over her own feet.


    The little Lordling was bounced by this, and Kenton ended up catching the young fae in his arms anyway.


    The little boy smiled at him, missing two front teeth. ¡°You caught me. You must be Kenton. Matheus told me to be nice to the person who is going to maintain my saddles so I can fight in campaigns!¡±


    And that was when Kenton met Elswith.


    In the Stable, ten years later.


    The Fear of Failure withered and thrashed. It tried to release him, drop him into the sprawling void beneath him. But upon his words, Kenton was filled with strength. He had thought the Fear of Failure would grow weaker, but in actuality, he got stronger.


    He seized it with his left hand, grabbing it tightly. He squirreled forward, graceless desperation driving him up and over, gripping its shoulder with his right hand. It flowed away from the ledge, and finally, Kenton stumbled back onto the eleventh ledge.


    He was safe!


    But then he realized that the Fear was trying to run away, not dissipate.


    Run away, into the Dungeon, not the Stable. Into the Dungeon, where Elswith was clearly still fighting against another Fear. Fear of Failure¡­if Elswith had a fear of Failure, then maybe it was hoping to stick around because of Elswith¡¯s unresolved fear.


    And Kenton admitted that he felt insulted that the Fear was trying to run away.


    He beat it, somehow. But now it was trying to cheat?


    Law of Fae didn¡¯t like that either. And it was in the Stable now.


    It was slipping off, away, to that sister space that was the Dungeon.


    Kenton jumped on it, old joints popping under the suddenness of his movements.


    The Fear, which only barely looked like Sarah Beth now, shuddered. ¡°I¡¯m here, in the Stable. And You¡¯re going to stay with me!¡± Kenton yelled, feeling the support of the Law of Fae.


    It thrashed. ¡°We must save the Dungeon!¡± It shrieked, sounding like glass break. ¡°We need more participants. The oaths must be observed. We cannot lose him!¡±


    ¡°Elswith doesn¡¯t belong to anyone.¡± Not even the Game, he thought. But not too loud, because the Game was listening¡­


    It shrieked, stumbling forward. Even though it was defeated, it was strong. How strong was Elswith¡¯s fear of Failure¡­


    And Kenton realized suddenly that he would be unable to get the key up to Elswith and deal with the Fear of Failure at the same time.


    In fact, it was becoming stronger again¡­


    With Elswith there, he couldn¡¯t truly defeat it. Kenton felt the reassurance of the Stable, of the Law of Fae, and the Game.


    Leap of Faith. Said the Game.


    ¡°Hey, Elswith! Hands up. Catch it!¡± He said and threw the key upward, golden metal gleaming through the air. It disappeared from the Stable, and through the glass wall, Kenton saw it gleam again.


    He saw Elswith reach out his hand, fast like a memory. Kenton couldn¡¯t see if the kid grabbed the key or not, because the Fear of Failure almost got away.


    Boldness. Trust.


    Stupidity.


    A memory, twenty years ago when Sarah Beth was visiting and he was giving her a tour. He was still a mapper then, and the Stable had gone out of its way to show Sarah Beth only the safest, cutest, and fluffiest sections of the Stable. It almost annoyed him, but then again he was happy that Sarah Beth got to see the fluffy bunnies and not the exploding bunnies. Sarah Beth, smiling at him. ¡°You know more about the Stable than even the StableMasters¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just more foolish than those guys. Besides, Midlings are too self-involved to ever listen to the Stable.¡±


    ¡°The Stable sounds demanding¡­What is the craziest thing the Stable prompted you to do¡­¡± she had said.


    He hadn¡¯t been able to find any one crazy thing. But he knew now. He had defeated the Fear of Failure, but it was trying to flee to the Dungeon. He defeated it with words, but he was unlikely to defeat it in single combat or anything crazy. He just needed to give Elswith enough time.


    And the Stable was prompting him to do something crazy.


    ¡°Hey, you Fear. You should know that the Stable likes me. A Lot.¡± He grabbed the Fear, planting his legs. It was strong, so strong that it was already almost breaking free from his grasp. ¡°Let¡¯s see if the Stable likes you.¡± And he pulled the Fear off the ledge, with himself.


    Happy thoughts.


    He was completely insane, wasn¡¯t he?


    It started to dissipate, and Kenton felt a rush of power and lightness. Something blue flashed before his own eyes,


    <table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 19.0868%" border="1">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%; text-align: center">Status: Player</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%; text-align: center">Level Up!</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>

 Chapter 50: Halfway To A Hundred

    Death.


    Fae were such contrary creatures. They lived lives that spanned centuries. Or longer. But just because they could live so long did not mean that they always did.


    Where there was life, there was hope. But the opposite rang true as well. Once death had claimed someone, no matter how powerful, no matter how mighty, Death would not return the soul.


    So when the little golden key flew, from the non-existent eleventh ledge, the vague outline of Kenton present for just a moment grappling with some white entity, before pulling the white entity off the ledge backward, Daniel felt like his world broke. ¡°Hey, Elswith! Hands up. Catch it!¡± still echoing in the air.


    Kenton was a nobody. He wasn¡¯t important.


    Kenton¡¯s voice as he threw the key was so¡­real.


    He wasn¡¯t a spy. He wasn¡¯t secretly a trained person who could survive such a fall.


    Kenton had just jumped off the ledge. So far up that even Elswith would have needed to be careful, with power far exceeding a lowling.


    Pain in Daniel¡¯s chest blossomed, like the drawing of blood, like something crystalline breaking.


    Kenton meant nothing to anyone important.


    What about his fianc¨¦, Sarah Beth? Whose last visit had been before Elswith was born. Kenton had waited almost a century and a half to get to midling fae. Who very decidedly never played little games, but kept himself clean. For a century and almost a half. Thirty-seven years was almost halfway to a hundred. He had made it halfway to a hundred almost three times now. He had worked hard, diligently. One hundred and thirty-seven years.


    And Kenton threw it away for someone who had only lived nineteen years.


    Cold hands as Daniel clutched the key. The Law of Fae was loud and present now. The Game was in attendance as well:


    Escape


    He glared at the key like it was poison.


    The Fear of Self slingshotted itself onto the twelfth platform, between Daniel and the door.


    Good.


    Now he didn¡¯t need to chase it.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you,¡± Daniel said. The Law of Fae was panicked. This was something it did not support.


    ¡°I am a transient entity. I am a primordial fear. Death has no hold on me.¡±


    Terrible images of Kenton broken on the hard floor below flooded Daniel¡¯s mind. Death certainly had a hold on Kenton.


    ¡°All that means is that no one has killed you. Yet.¡± Daniel said. Twice.


    Law of Fae roared at him to stop.


    Elswith would have stopped.


    Daniel did not want to.


    He clutched the key.


    ¡°Enough talk.¡± Said the entity, sounding like Elswith again. ¡°Seize him.¡± And the long-limbed creatures began to move again, as red tendrils from the Fear of Self began to attack.


    And Daniel moved.


    He ducked and dodged, faster than before, quieter than before. Fury drove him as it had on that night when he held Witness in his arms.


    He was going to destroy that Entity.


    <hr>


    One month ago, after the Tournament.


    Witness, laying her lolling head against his armored chest, red human blood seeping out, smiled at him. The moonless night in the Citadel, enemies fast on his heels. He needed just a minute, to plan. The movement of his allies and his enemies unfolding before him was faster than he could comprehend. Where to go, with a bleeding human?


    ¡°This reminds me of when we first met.¡± said the girl.


    Elswith clutched her tighter and ducked out of sight as the Citadel was rearranging itself around them. ¡°Hush.¡±


    ¡°You said that then too. Of course, it was a library, so it was more appropriate then.¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t bleeding out then. Save your strength.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Save your strength.¡±


    He¡¯d get help in time. He couldn¡¯t have an innocent person die just so he could get his true name.


    ¡°Can we save everyone?¡± whispered the human.


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    He didn¡¯t know if he could save himself.


    ¡°We¡¯ll try.¡± He said, and the Law of Fae heard him.


    <hr>


    Back in the Dungeon, Daniel moved forward, fury and anger and sadness. He was so used to being a powerful Lordling. Powerful enough that death seemed so far away.


    But now he wondered if his arrogance had allowed another person to be hurt.


    He was going to destroy that entity. He would have revenge. Was the Game even winnable?


    No Bells. Said the Game, as Daniel pushed through the long-limbed creatures, moving to attack the Fear of Self.


    What did that matter? He thundered inside. The Fear of Self seemed so self-satisfied as Daniel maneuvered and ducked and threw the featureless creatures off the sides.


    Doorbells.


    Why couldn¡¯t the Law of Fae ever just say what it meant? Had Elswith''s attempt to save Witness propelled him down this path of Kenton sacrificing his own life? When Daniel had heard the bells earlier, he had felt relief, as the thoughts of something ringing for him to aid him.


    If he had known that Kenton would be risking his life¡­


    Doorbells.


    Bells.


    If Kenton had fallen, then he would have struck the bells at the bottom, unless he fell exactly in the path cleared through the middle.


    Had Kenton caught a ledge further down? Perhaps¡­he was injured but not yet so broken that he could not be saved.


    When someone died, no matter how powerful, they were gone forgive. Where there was death, there was no hope.


    But while there was life...there was hope.


    Images filled Daniel''s mind of Kenton, clutching onto a ledge, limbs broken and slowly slipping, dangling over a great height below.


    Daniel could not waste time anymore.


    Not when the Game was on the line. Not when Kenton may be bleeding out, waiting for him to escape.


    Daniel focused his gaze upon the Entity, through the swarm of metal limbed creatures. Eager eyes, satisfaction on ''Elswith''s'' face.


    He realized that the Entity was enjoying this.


    Of course. For the first time that he was here, Daniel was not trying to flee the Dungeon. He was trying actively to destroy the Entity, which was closer to what it wanted all along.


    No reason to reveal his hand, not when he had the key to the door.


    Kenton was still there.


    Witness had survived. Mostly. She had survived. And she would live and go back to her kingdom as soon as the Game was won. He had his True Name now. Witness had survived, and Kenton would survive too.


    There were enough allies and enemies who would help Daniel. Parcel himself would help with the healing because he was that kind of rival. The Name Elswith was dead, but there would be those who would still jump at the chance to see the former Heirling of the Red Sword on his knees.


    ¡°How many innocent people wander into this place, to be destroyed?¡± Daniel said, clinching his teeth.


    "Who says the intruder was innocent? I know your fears. I know what your feared. Even now."


    It could see Daniel''s fears, but not the convictions of his heart.


    Because while fear lingered even now, muttering and shifting and plotting endlessly, a stronger hope had blossomed in his chest.


    Daniel was also very certain that Kenton wasn¡¯t a spy. Elswith had been nearly assassinated at least a dozen times. Half of those times, a trusted servant or bland staff member, had revealed themselves to be operatives. Even people who he had known for five, ten, or fifteen years, revealed themselves.


    But never had one put themselves in harm''s way so blatantly, so sincerely. If Kenton was a trained operative, he wouldn¡¯t have clumsily climbed onto the white entity¡¯s frame and chucked the key, then pulled another Fear off the ledge. Unless it was a long-con. Unless everything that had happened to Daniel in the last hour had been staged and masterfully, perfectly, manipulated.


    Fear distrusted.


    Hope believed anyway.


    And the hope in Daniel''s heart also believe that Kenton had survived the fall.


    Swipe. Clash. Grab.


    Daniel felt a long-limbed creature seize his arm, twisting it painfully. He roared, pushing and pulling and bearing the assault and at last slammed the featureless creature into a comrade, having several topple together. Regret filled him as Daniel wished for the Red Sword. Just one swing of the Red Sword, even inert. Just one. If he had the Red Sword, could he even cut the Entity?


    He pushed forward, angling away from the door and toward the Entity. The Featureless creatures swarmed in that direction, in an attempt to hamper him perhaps? It was clear the Entity controlled them.


    "Will you find anything to distract yourself from Questioning an Answer?" Asked the Fear of Self. "Just half the thoughts that you''ve had for the deceased invader may have carried you forward."


    Anger filled Daniel. The Entity seemed so dispassionate about the potential death of a good man. Even though Daniel now was preparing to escape, he felt his old resolve fill him. ¡°I will find how to destroy something like you, something that can¡¯t be killed. By the Law of Fae, I do swear, I will find the way to unmake and destroy even a primordial fear.¡±


    The Law of Fae flared, bold, and enacting. It heard him, for better or worse. And it heard him with his True Name. This was a Promise he would need to keep.


    ¡°So did someone else. Long ago.¡± Said the entity. ¡°For you see, on this day, nigh generations uncounted¡­¡± The Entity wearing Elswith''s face seemed especially punchable now.


    And then, while it looked like it was ready to start a monologue, Daniel darted, fast. Under and through the long arms of the creatures and their hard metal bodies.


    Straight toward the door.


    ¡°Catch him! Stop him!¡± Said the entity, like volcanoes erupting and dams breaking. The sheer volume made Daniel wish he had ear protection.


    But Daniel slid, the slick carpet aiding him, through the tangle of limbs and swipes and red tendrils. He tumbled as he went across the last of the chalky ceiling tiles, metal popping out of place.


    And then he reached the door. He did not look back. He was ready to leave the dungeon. The door, which had been plain outside of the doorknob before, suddenly shimmered and a silver keyhole appeared beneath the knob, more elegant than before.


    ¡°It was the First King of the Fae who made that Promise before.¡± The Entity said as Daniel jammed the borrowed key into the door.


    ¡°I will succeed where he failed,¡± Daniel said, as he felt the mechanism of the door shift and begin to open.


    The Entity was suddenly behind him. Not physically, but still present. ¡°You misunderstand. You have just become more interesting. Because he didn¡¯t fail.¡±


    And Daniel pushed through the door.


    The gold key grew warm and glowed bright gold. It merged and melted into the door, shimmering, and shifting, and the entire space changed as Daniel exited through the Dungeon Door and found himself stumbling into the Stable.


    The Stable was warm and friendly. The lights were constant and warm. He had fought so hard and so long to get back here, away from that twisted place of the Dungeon. The Law of Fae embraced Daniel, the Game enacted. The Bindings tried to make themselves known as well, suddenly free to enact pain again. The sounds of life and animals sounded all around, drifting down the long, changing winding corridors.


    The Grant Stable. One of the Wonders of the First King.


    And the First King had eventually known the Entities.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you again. Soon. Dan.¡± Said the Entity, from nowhere.


    Because Daniel was in the Stable. And the Dungeon retreated.


    Daniel stumbled out, and collapsed on the ledge, covered with grime, that fluid, and white chalk from the strange tiles. Miraculously, he was not cut anywhere, though he felt hard bruises forming.


    Kenton. Was Kenton yet alive?


    ¡°Kenton?¡± he called, stumbling to the edge.

 Chapter 51: The Mastermind Who Stole the Saddle

    ¡°Stay where you are.¡± Said Kenton¡¯s voice, sounding panicked and rushed. Near, but out of sight.


    A normal fae may assume this meant Kenton was alive. However, Daniel knew better than to trust voice alone. Especially after he had dealt with the Fear of Self. He knew there was a Fear on this side. If the Fear of Self had looked like Daniel, it would not be preposterous to assume that the fear on this side had morphed to look like Kenton and take his voice.


    But¡­it could also be that Kenton was in some dangerous situation where someone else viewing it may cause magic to come undone.


    He had just escaped from the Dungeon, but he was not yet certain he would not be captured again. His first priority was to finish here as quickly as possible, and then depart as he tried to make a plan.


    ¡°Okay.¡± He said, instead. ¡°What are your other demands?¡±


    ¡°Sit down, and close your eyes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not suspicious at all.¡±


    ¡°Please ¡­I¡¯m¡­in a bit of a situation.¡± Said Kenton¡¯s voice. It sounded like it was coming from the underside of the ledge.


    ¡°Close my eyes, and leave myself vulnerable?¡± Daniel asked.


    ¡°Elswith, when have I ever asked you to do anything stupid? Aren¡¯t you the one doing risky things?¡±


    Daniel realized he was truly back in the Stable when he heard the dead Harbor name of Elswith spoken again. In the Dungeon, all Names had been void. So when he had heard his old name before it had just been syllables. But now, here in the Stable, he felt the hollow loss again.


    ¡°The Harbor name of Elswith is bankrupt.¡± He said. ¡°The Name is dead and gone. It is meaningless now.¡±


    ¡°Not to me. The name still means something to me. You¡¯re a good kid, and you¡¯re going to be a powerful Lord one day.¡±


    And a small, tiny bright blossom of influence flared to life in the name Elswith.


    Daniel found himself sitting down, from the shock. When names went bankrupt, they stayed blacked out and grayed.


    He checked again, just to be sure.


    There was a single, tiny spark. Small, but unyielding.


    Elswith


    Kenton continued to speak. ¡°So please, just this once, trust me. Sit down and close your eyes.¡±


    And knowing the risk, a tired and exhausted Daniel adjusted so he was sitting down properly. He would not have made it out of the Stable if not for Kenton. He was too tired, too worn out, and too hopeful of companionship that he sat down. He was listening, sensing, and everything else, so he wasn¡¯t completely defenseless. But without his mainstay of power or his eyes, he would be blind to danger.


    <hr>


    A few minutes ago:


    After Kenton threw the key and leaped off the ledge, taking the Fear of Failure with him, after he saw the strange square phantom and the Fear seemed to shatter into light, Kenton realized that while he knew the Stable favored him, he did not know if the Stable had a way of saving him.


    So much had happened in the span of a few hours. This morning his biggest worry was a blighted griffin playing havoc and stealing the Emerarris¡¯s Dragon Hide Saddle.


    Somehow he had climbed to the very top ledge of the Owl¡¯s Scope Room, found Elswith, confirmed that the Dungeon was not destroyed but still functioning, though it seemed vastly limited to its glory days, confronted his fear of Failure, won, and then got the key to that punk and pulled down the escaping Fear.


    And now he was falling to his probable death¡­


    Then there was a whoosh of wings, and the creator of all this mess clasped him in her talons.


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    ¡°Cinnamon Girl!¡± He cheered, as the ground stopped approaching and the griffin fluttered her wings, pushing upward.


    ¡°Where.¡± Something rumbled, like from a deep chest.


    Kenton looked around, fearful that the Fear had returned. But it was just him and the crazy griffin.


    ¡°Where.¡± Rumbled again. ¡°Is. My friend?¡±


    Stupor stroke Kenton as the griffin rose in the air, back toward the top ledge.


    Elswith¡¯s griffin could talk.


    The feminine rumble continued. ¡°I miss my Friend. I get so close to my two-legged Friend but then the Mean Rule keep me away. So I take saddle, and you was supposed to bring my friend to me. You almost do it right. I gonna steal my friend. But mean Stable house stole him! Then I hear him again. But¡­where is My Friend?¡±


    It was a question with an obvious threat. Of course, Cinnamon Girl could talk, Kenton laughed darkly. It was younger than twenty years old, but sure of course it could talk.


    What a ridiculous statement. Many young griffins repeated words or sayings. But asking for Elswith was deeper than just saying ¡®food¡¯ again and again. Griffins could become highly intelligent. But young griffins, calculating and formulating advance plans...not impossible, but he''d never seen it in his 137 years here in the Stable.


    He knew the griffin was throwing the tests with the griffin trainers, but he had imagined that he had been privy to its true ability.


    She had been playing with him too, then.


    While his body may not be as-young-as-it-was anymore, his not-as-na?ve-anymore experience kicked in. He hadn¡¯t liked to make deals and play games, but he knew how they worked. ¡°Let¡¯s make a deal. My dragon saddle for some time with your friend.¡± As Kenton said this, he hoped that he was right and Elswith would be out soon.


    If for whatever reason Elswith did not return, he was certain the griffin may play a game of drop the retired mapper.


    <hr>


    Daniel sat, listening. Either he was going to trust, or he was not going to. Closing his eyes would leave him vulnerable.


    He decided to trust, wondering what had occurred in the few minutes between Kenton throwing the key to him in the Dungeon and his escaping.


    The moment the former Heirling of the Red Sword truly closed his eyes, he heard a sound. A whoosh, flapping, the sound of feathers.


    And then a gentle landing and a gentle soft wet nose pressed against the side of his head.


    ¡°Keep your eyes closed, randon stranger.¡± Whispered Cinnamon Girl, as clearly as something with a cat/bird mouth could say faespeach words.


    ¡°They are closed.¡± He said, to the random griffin passing by.


    The Game was unhappy instantly, but the Law of Fae allowed it. Within reason...


    A warm feathery blanket of wings encased him, as soft fur was pushed against his body.


    ¡°You was late.¡± cooed a very familiar voice.


    ¡°I was late.¡± He acknowledged, feeling worry and fear melt away. Cinnamon Girl was not dead. She was not taken away and imprisoned.


    ¡°When you no come, mean liars come. They lie, try take me away. Oh no, he falls down. Hehheheheheheh.¡± The griffin cackled in a very scary tone. ¡°Over the suspicious ruins Diver tells me never go to.¡±


    A spike of anxiety tried to ruin this wonderful moment. Daniel knew the smart thing would be to get as many details as he possibly could.


    But he shoed that thought away. The Law of Fae could be postponed, but never ignored. The Game was very clear that no true Ally or Friend should overtly help or hinder the challenger.


    And what was Cinnamon Girl if not the best ally and friend, though she did like to steal his bed when they were on campaign.


    He had never spent so long separated from her. Not since she was so little she could curl up in his arms. Now she was so big she fully enveloped him with soft feathers and silky fur. She kept nuzzling his head, and her warm breath tickled him.


    ¡°I thought you find dead things without me,¡± purred the random griffin.


    ¡°I was doing things that you think are silly. But I promise they are very important.¡±


    ¡°I thought you would take yummy food from strangers and get locked in a cage and then I would have a rescue you. Or they would try dead thing you, OH NO!¡±


    Considering that was exactly what Daniel feared would happen to Cinnamon Girl, he almost chuckled.


    The large cat was not done. ¡°I Wanna. I wanna. I wanna steal you and go find dead things.¡±


    That was very sweet.


    And the worst thing that could possibly happen.


    Time to speak griffin. Others mocked him when he did that, saying he sounded foolish. But speaking words the griffins understood helped them learn new words. Just because there was a nine-syllable word that worked in a sentence did not mean it was the best word, after all. ¡°That nice girl who give you yummy chicken boc boc. She and her friends are in big trouble. So I have to stay.¡±


    ¡°Stay and no see me?¡± Cried the griffin, horrified.


    ¡°Stay and no see you.¡± He said, mirroring her simple words but putting forth his own reassurance. ¡°But only for a little while.¡±


    A large and strong paw gripped his shoulder, eagle talons poking through his shirt in a warning. The purr changed from one of contentment to one of displeasure. Then the purr stopped entirely as the griffin articulated her next thoughts. ¡°If you save boc boc girl, she give me more boc boc?¡±


    Daniel smiled, despite himself. ¡°You don¡¯t have to sound so eager.¡±


    ¡°You sure I can no steal you, take you?¡± purred the griffin.


    ¡°Not this time. I need to stay where I am.¡±


    The talons deployed but only served to pull Daniel closer into a hug. He could hear his bird kitty¡¯s heartbeat.


    ¡°I trust you. Thank you for new friend who read bedtime stories to me. Very nice. Not as good as you. But okay.¡±


    Daniel very much wanted to ask which ¡®friend¡¯ took over the bedtime routine. But he knew he was close to crossing the line.


    He had fought all day long.


    He could enjoy this one single moment.


    ¡°I love you, CG.¡±


    ¡°I know you do. Silly two-leg friend.¡± And Cinnamon Girl ruffled his hair with her soft nose. ¡°You was always smart.¡±

 Chapter 52: Hanging by a coat over the ledge with a saddle on his head

    He wished he could have stayed longer with Cinnamon Girl. It had been a cold month since his fall from power, despite the warm season. The loyalty of Cinnamon Girl warmed him and encouraged him. He would be lying if he said he was disappointed by the lack of support from his Circle. He knew that Regis and Kane were against him, but he had anticipated some support. Not from Ria, not because she would betray him, but because she followed the Rules as perfectly as any advancing Fae Lordling could and not lose.


    But he had expected something from the others. Not all of them, but at least one of the rest should have benefited from him succeeding if nothing else.


    His stomach growled, and his body began to ache as the thrill of battle left him. He wanted to collapse and sleep in the warm embrace of his griffin. But he was not done yet.


    There were still the presumed multiple assassination attempts to survive. He then needed to get revenge and establish his place. It wasn¡¯t even midnight yet. What time was it? 8 at night? Hopefully not 9. He had a lot to do in only a few hours.


    Feeling warm and safe covered in the canopy of soft feathers and silky fur, he turned his attention inward. He had work to do, after all. Down that dark corridor in his mind, he put the screaming pain of the horrors away. Away he placed his sense of revolution and dread of that dark and twisted place, away he placed his own fatigue and exhausted mental state, and away even his physical pain of overextended muscles and bruised muscles. All these he placed into a dark box, smelling vaguely of charred wood, and slammed the lid closed, and locked it. The quiet screams of all the other traumas he had locked in snarled and raged at him as he left that quiet place in his mind, and he was comforted that they hadn¡¯t gotten out.


    He had never managed to box away the trauma of the undead dragon¡¯s corpse and the carnage it wrecked, but at least he did not encounter it as he left that place in his mind.


    He almost opened his eyes, as was his habit after those mental exercises, but he remembered just in time and kept them closed. While much of the pain had left, he was starting to feel too hot and cramped kneeling as he was in the griffin¡¯s embrace. He had needed a safety blanket to get his head on the right way. And now, it was time.


    Daniel knew that he had to leave the moment of warm embrace.


    ¡°Time to go, CG.¡± He prompted.


    ¡°No.¡± The griffin purred. ¡°I change mind. No go. Just keep your eyes closed.¡±


    ¡°Time to go.¡± He said again, trying to think what would motivate his pet. ¡°I¡¯m hungry, I need to get food.¡±


    ¡°I no hungry.¡± She chirped, ¡°If I no hungry, you no hungry.¡±


    His hand moved, surely and swiftly, to the griffin¡¯s muzzle, habit guiding where sight was denied. She stopped making noises and just leaned into the hand. ¡°It¡¯s time.¡± He said again.


    There was a deep, thunderous purr. Warmth, comfort, friendship. The protection and shielding of a loved one from danger.


    And then his griffin withdrew.


    As silently as a mouse he heard her fly away. He kept his eyes closed, however, because he predicted that she wouldn¡¯t actually leave yet¡­


    And the Law of Fae began pressuring his silly loyal griffin. He could imagine that she had just flown down a few ledges and was ¡®hiding¡¯ by covering her own head with her wings. It was adorable and frustrating when she did that at bath time.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    The Law of Fae did not find her adorable, though, and shoed her away. She left with hisses and griffin speak that meant, as roughly as Daniel could understand MOST HATED EVIL EGG STEALER, or maybe BED HOG. Both curses were black enough that either would have worked.


    ¡°Love you!¡± purred a defiant voice. ¡°Love you play again soon!¡± said the random griffin.


    And then she was gone.


    ¡°Are we even now?¡± Daniel asked, feeling the hard edge of the ledge under him.


    ¡°Well, I¡­may need a bit of help.¡± Said Kenton after a moment¡¯s pause.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°That¡­random griffin left me a little stranded.¡±


    Daniel opened his eyes and sprang to his feet. Relief that Kenton had survived was still sweet in his mind, though thoughts and worries of betrayal still nagged at him.


    On the twelfth ledge, over the side, was Kenton, hung by the very same coat he was wearing. Balanced precariously on his head was the dragon hide saddle.


    ¡°You traded time with me for the saddle?¡± Daniel asked, finding the situation absurd.


    ¡°I¡­struck a bargain!¡± Said Kenton gravely.


    They both started to laugh at the same time.


    There was the sound of seams ripping, which made Kenton go pale.


    Daniel stopped laughing as well, but he still felt somewhat happy


    ¡°Wait wait wait. Get my key! It should be in the door.¡± Said Kenton.


    Considering that Kenton was more worried about losing that key than falling to his death helped Daniel realign his priorities.


    He approached the old wooden door and found the key. It was lodged in a key hole that did not normally exist. He covered his hand and gripped the key. There was a small sound, like sunlight touching moonlight, and the little gold key came free.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lose it!¡± called Kenton.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± He wondered if he could take a key or make a copy. But with the Law of Fae and the Game so closely attended, he knew better than even think of stealing. He carefully folded the chain and put it in his pocket.


    ¡°Do you have it?¡± Asked Kenton, as more sounds of ripping emerged.


    ¡°I have it,¡± Daniel confirmed, and he jumped down to the next ledge, got behind Kenton, and pulled him up to the relative safety of the ledge.


    He allowed Kenton to touch the saddle. Magic ownership was odd, and he did not want the Saddle to assume he was attempting to steal it.


    Kenton scuttled backward until he had his back against the solid wall of the stable, before carefully and delicately removing the saddle.


    ¡°So CG stole the saddle after all,¡± Daniel confirmed, glancing around.


    ¡°You can say the name?¡± Asked Kenton, hurriedly polishing and brushing dust off.


    ¡°It is just short for Certain Griffin. That it happens to be the same letters as a Certain Griffin¡¯s real name is merely a coincidence.¡±


    Kenton laughed again, some form of exhaustion and gallows humor, Daniel was certain.


    ¡°So. You know what that place was,¡± Daniel said, pulling out the key. It dangled between them, gold catching the gentle light of the Stable.


    ¡°The Dungeon.¡± Kenton said, still not looking up.


    ¡°Are we safe?¡± Daniel asked.


    ¡°After you leave the Dungeon, you can¡¯t get back in for a day and a night, so says the old wisdom. Unless you find the silver door. But who would want to explore the Dungeon on purpose?¡±


    Daniel had growing unease. The old wooden door was over his head and to the right felt like a normal door. It was a normal door, it led to the outside. ¡°I¡¯ve¡­never heard about it.¡±


    Kenton moved both of his hands to his head, still laughing grimly. ¡°Mappers used to walk the ways of the Dungeon, so the legends go. Our tradition was ancient. At least, that¡¯s what the whispered words of my mentor told me. The night she went crazy. The last time I was up here, on my last night of apprenticeship. She took me to the door and told me crazy stories. I lost my arm. Barely got it back. Because the door didn¡¯t open then. Just a crack. She forced me to put my arm through. It disconnected. She said that¡¯s how we know the Dungeon is dead, because all the ways in are gone.¡±


    ¡°You got your arm back,¡± Daniel said. He didn¡¯t truly know much about mappers. Just that Kenton used to be one and that they had terrible jobs.


    ¡°Eventually, the Stable was moody and kept playing keep away.¡± Kenton waved one of his hands around, probably the same hand that had been¡­borrowed by the Stable. ¡°Least of my worries. The terrifying thing was that she told me that if the King ever discovered it, losing an arm was the least of the worries.¡±


    Daniel had a sinking suspicion in his gut.


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re in so much trouble, Lordship,¡± Kenton said, looking up at Daniel. Daniel saw for the first time the drying blue blood of Kenton across half his face. ¡°So much trouble. It just washed over me, as I was hanging there. You are in a Game for your freedom now. What just happened¡­if the Fairy King ever finds out about it¡­¡± Kenton finally met Daniel¡¯s eyes. A century of worry, fear, and terror evident like ghosts in a mirror ¡°You will be in a fight for your very existence.¡±

 Chapter 53: Dungeon Tales and Power Struggles of the Dying light

    Kenton watched the tearful reunion. The terrifying griffin melted and enfolded her wings around the kneeling ex-Lordling, all soft and gentle and not at all snarling and vicious as he had seen her.


    He¡¯d had preferred it if he wasn¡¯t hanging by his coat. The cinnamon terror pledged by all dead things she would leave him the Emarris Dragon Hide Saddle after the conversation with Elswith, or as he had said ¡°The random stranger¡±. She had left Kenton in his precarious situation as a warning to not disrupt the reunion. Spiteful griffin.


    Kenton was left wracked with dread not knowing what happened to the saddle. While Elswith disappearing suspiciously after he was alone with Kenton would 100% destroy Kenton¡¯s chances of elevating to midling, the saddle being taken away under his watch would still be a huge blow against his accumulating authority.


    He supposed it could be worse, feeling the blood start to dry on his forehead. The worst case would be that kleptomaniac Sparks taking it. The Cinnamon terror stole things, but at least she stole them on purpose. Kenton couldn¡¯t count how many of his silver-backed leather brushes and canisters of queen beeswax Sparks had stolen because she liked how the sun sparkles against the shinies.


    While Elswith was being embraced by a griffin and Kenton was firmly embarrassed by the griffin, he couldn¡¯t help but look back to the blue glowing screen in front of him.


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    ¡°What kind of deep magic is this?¡± he muttered, halfway hoping the Law of Fae or that game thing would help him out.


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    <td style="width: 100%; text-align: center">I''m the System!</td>


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    Answered the blue screen in front of him.


    It didn¡¯t speak but wrote it out in plain and clear faespeach.


    Kenton almost cried out, but he was still hung by the back of his coat and thought better than jerking and recoiling suddenly. He doubted the spoiled griffin would catch him a second time.


    ¡°What manner of fae are you?¡± he said, checking furiously on his own person to make sure he had not somehow accrued debt of a powerful entity. But outside of the debt to his Lord and his home court, he was still unattached.


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    There was a deep, threatening growl from the Cinnamon terror above on the topmost ledge, and Kenton realized he needed to keep it down.


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± he whispered. ¡°What is a System?¡±


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    Not¡­very smart, he decided. Or very smart that it understood profound truths that seemed so simple that they were hardly worth mentioning. He hated working with those. As a Mapper, he would be requested to work with scholars and map makers, and half those people would insist on going to the worst and most dangerous places and then staying there for an inordinate amount of time with their pens and their magic flutes and their arcane protractors.


    The number of times he had to bolt, practically dragging protesting scholars as the gates shuttered and shook as the creatures on the other side attempted to get familiar with the visitors with their teeth was uncountable.


    And they¡¯d yell at him, saying he was interrupting their research. They were very sure that the Stable wouldn¡¯t let them next to creatures that could actually harm them. Fools had almost gotten him killed so many times.


    The Grant Stable was dangerous. It housed dangerous creatures. And dangerous secrets.


    ¡°You¡¯re part of the dungeon, aren¡¯t you?¡±


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    <td style="width: 100%; text-align: center">The System is here to help you get stronger! ? I am to comfort and equip you to face your fears! ? It doesn¡¯t matter who you are, anyone can face their fears and grow stronger. ?</td>


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    And Kenton suddenly understood why the current King of the Seelie Court had destroyed the Dungeon.


    High Fae had high magic. Outside of a few Mages and a smattering of old wizards, the fae who had been unable to compile and gather the Law of Fae themselves and then learned manually, the normal fae had small magic. Small, not worthy of combat or much agency. Midling fae seemed like deities to lowling fae, especially in the rural places and the outer courts. And High Fae were worlds above midling. The number of lowlings that ascended to midling were small, only thousands every year compared to the untold magnitude of all lowling fae.


    The number of Midling rising to High Fae? Perhaps a hundred, maybe? By themselves, not at the behest of a powerful family elevating someone? Kenton believed it happened once when a Midling saved an entire court from destruction and the cumulative power was enough to bring him over and into the upper echelon of the High Fae.


    If the Dungeon could help even the small become mighty, what would happen to the power structure of the world?


    There must have been a balance or a check before. In the past, all children of Lords could accumulate power, instead of the scant few.


    While he knew he was still young and he still had time to get to midling, he felt his joints hurt in bad weather and his hair was teasing at going gray, but most importantly he had experience. For 137 years he worked in the Stable in the Citadel, and for 137 years he had seen lords and Lordlings and Courts and Senate battle each other for the scrapes of power. Especially the last 10 years he¡¯d spent too much time around the Red Circle, even in only adjacently as he worked on their equipment as they came in and out of missions. He had overheard them speaking with their minders, and speaking with each other. He had overheard his fair share, (And a good deal more than his fair share).


    That Law of Fae seemed to be paying acute attention now. He didn¡¯t like that. He never liked that.


    However, the cold logic continued to land, cold like iron against bare skin, understanding crashing into him. He knew that there were fewer Circles now than a hundred years ago. Not too many less. But still less.


    If there were fewer Lordlings, then there would be fewer Lords eventually. It would take a long long time, of course. Lords'' lives were measured in hundreds and hundreds or even a thousand years.


    But they still grew old and faded away into the rust.


    Like blows from an attacker, Kenton felt himself bombarded with terrible logical jumps.


    What would happen to the dynamic of powers if the Lords eventually disappeared? The Senate would seem to benefit, but the Senate was comprised of high fae too, just less powerful ones than the ruling Lords.


    Had the Dungeon helped create the High Fae, or was it a threat that stood to gain from the reduction of the High Fae? Did it create a rival group that did not utilize the Law of Fae, or did the Fairy King not want anyone to ever be able to overpower him or threaten his position?


    Had the Fairy King known this, and planned for it? Had he caused the Lord¡¯s shortage or attempted to slow it?


    The Law of Fae was cheering for him.


    This was too big.


    Too big for a little lowling like himself.


    There was a sound, like someone had whipped a sheet, and Kenton turned belatedly and saw the griffin had opened her massive wings.


    She took off into the air and went straight up into the rafters, and pulled down the glowing silvery saddle of the Emarris. (It had probably been there all along, dagnabit) She glared disdainfully at the Law of Fae, presumably, then glided down and landed gently and silently on the same ledge as Kenton was hanging from.


    She set the saddle down, in the middle of the ledge, then crawled, like a cat approaching a bird hiding in tall grass, to the edge. ¡°No see me.¡± She whispered to Kenton.


    Expect there was no cover, and even Kenton could see her if he craned his neck uncomfortably.


    And Kenton could see through the wall as well. There, standing at the edge of the door was the red thing.


    And for the first time, he could see it distinctly.


    It looked like Elswith. Not Elswith now, but Elswith after he came back from a bloody campaign victoriously. A little too cold and a little too sharp for the lowlings, a little too giddy around the eyes for the beast blood splattering his garments.


    <hr>


    ¡°You know, Kenton,¡± said his mentor in his memory, so long again. ¡°The legends go that the Dungeons grew too dangerous. They understood the fears too well. And once they take a form, they could keep it until they were defeated. Including all the abilities¡­¡±


    <hr>


    Kenton clutched his hands nervously. He should have included that he gets his key first and foremost from the griffin. Who cared about the saddle if something that stole the form of Elswith got out of the Dungeon?


    The fastest thing was having Elswith get the key. But for Elswith to move, someone else needed to go first. ¡°Cinnamon Girl. You need to leave now!¡±


    ¡°I just want to see my friend one more minute.¡±


    ¡°I need to get my key back! You have to go!¡±


    The huge griffin hissed at him and whispered softly, like lovers fighting at a friend¡¯s house. ¡°I no like you anymore! Not unless you give me lots of boc bocs. Like 10!¡± She grabbed the saddle in dissatisfaction and placed it carefully on his head. ¡°Don¡¯t drop it or I take it again!¡± Then she sprung into the air and glided down.


    At the base, carefully avoiding the bells, the griffin looked back to the top ledge and roared defiantly. ¡°Love you!¡± purred the griffin to the Lordling sitting perfectly still like a statue. ¡°Love you play again soon!¡± said the naughty griffin.


    And then she was gone.

 Chapter 54: One Reason Behind the Game: A comparative analysis of the complex workings of Schemers

    Elswith began to stir the moment she left. Kenton wondered if he had peeked or not.


    ¡°Are we even now?¡± Said Elswith. It was not cold, but it still made Kenton nervous. Lords spoke in that tone when they were plotting. It made Kenton feel exposed, like his pants may have fallen down and the other party was politely ignoring the humiliation while implying that that ignorance could go away just as easily.


    He needed to be honest. Elswith was a brat, but he was a good kid. Kenton had hung around to see Elswith grow up. Growing up just felt scary. ¡°Well, I¡­may need a bit of help.¡± Said Kenton after a moment¡¯s pause.


    ¡°Why?¡± That¡­neutral tone again.


    ¡°That¡­random griffin left me a little stranded.¡±


    At last, Elswith moved, springing to his feet like a young deer. Then again the kid was somewhere around twenty years old now. Still a baby practically.


    He glanced around, but clearly could not see through the wall of the Stable like Kenton could.


    He looked like a Lord returning from Battle. Bruises formed where the skin showed, and his hair was completely disheveled. Hunger and fatigue glowed from Elswith¡¯s blue-gray eyes.


    ¡°You traded time with me for the saddle?¡± The Lord said, in that same neutral tone.


    ¡°I¡­struck a bargain!¡± Said Kenton gravely.


    They both started to laugh at the same time.


    And Kenton was relieved that Elswith could still laugh. In fact, the sight of the youth laughing made Kenton laugh harder, imagining how silly he looked with the saddle on his head. They were quite the pair!


    Kenton and Elswith! Dungeon slayers! Elswith looked like he had been dragged through a school room on brown gravy day and Kenton hurt his ankle from landing wrong.


    There was the sound of seams ripping, which made Kenton go pale.


    Then he felt comfort because he saw Elswith¡¯s face at that moment.


    Elswith was afraid something bad would happen to him.


    Elswith cared.


    He knew, knew that the Lordling cared. But to see it.


    Without hesitation, the pretend Servant began to come down to the next ledge.


    ¡°Wait wait wait,¡± Kenton said, when he saw the Red thing wearing Elswith¡¯s face start reaching for the handle. ¡°Get my key! It should be in the door.¡±


    He was afraid Elswith would bluster and come down anyway.


    But the kid listened to his advice, even though his face was puzzled.


    Smart kid.


    Kenton felt his coat pull tight under his arms, but still understood that making sure the Dungeon was locked up was more important.


    Besides, who would give Cinnamon Girl 10 chickens if he died? That was some small reassurance.


    Kenton craned his neck and watch Elswith approach the door, completely blind to the grin of the Elswith in the Dungeon.


    The other-Elswith raised his hand to the knob on the other side.


    Elswith, the real Elswith, reached the door and carefully pulled out the key, not touching it with bare skin. Smart boy.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lose it!¡± called Kenton.


    Then abruptly the other-Elswith turned his needle-sharp gaze to Kenton. Kenton felt like his fear jumped in his throat and he couldn¡¯t even make a sound.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± Both Elswith¡¯s answered, one in parody and one in sincerity.


    ¡°Do you have it?¡± Asked Kenton, as more sounds of ripping emerged from his coat.


    ¡°I have it,¡± Elswith confirmed and moved behind Kenton.


    This was his Elswith, right? Not another Fear¡­He had freed the real one, right?


    He tensed when he felt hands behind him, under his arms. But instead of pushing him off, the hands clasped and pulled him to safety.


    Kenton scooted back until he felt his back hit the safety of the wall. (It was a real wall now)


    Then finally Kenton grabbed the saddle from his head.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°So CG stole the saddle after all,¡± Said Elswith. It was Elswith. That meant the red one was the Fear. The correct Elswith had come through. Relief sprang in his chest.


    Kenton felt like laughing. He was not built for tension like this. ¡°You can say the name?¡± Asked Kenton. His skilled hands began searching the saddle for tears and spots where the polish was thin.


    ¡°It is just short for Certain Griffin. That it happens to be the same letters as a Certain Griffin¡¯s real name is merely a coincidence.¡±


    Kenton laughed again. Lords make the rules and Lordlings find ways to get around them.


    ¡°So. You know what that place was,¡± Elswith said, pulling out the key. It dangled between them, gold catching the gentle light of the Stable.


    ¡°The Dungeon,¡± Kenton said, still not looking up. He did not want to see the Red Elswith on the other side of the wall.


    ¡°Are we safe?¡±


    Smart kid. Kenton struggled to remember his mentor¡¯s words. ¡°After you leave the Dungeon, you can¡¯t get back in for a day and a night, so says the old wisdom. Unless you find the silver door. But who would want to explore the Dungeon on purpose?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­never heard about it.¡±


    Kenton moved both of his hands to his head, still laughing grimly. Of course, Lordlings wouldn¡¯t know about it. Lords didn¡¯t know about it. The Mappers had been nearly wiped out, only a few remained trained in how to navigate the Stable. ¡°Mappers used to walk the ways of the Dungeon, so the legends go. Our tradition was ancient. At least, that¡¯s what the whispered words of my mentor told me. The night she went crazy.¡±


    She had been an old mapper. Older than the others. There were always a few mappers, but some lasted longer than others. Kenton had lasted a very long time, but his mentor had lasted for at least 3 times that amount.


    ¡°The last time I was up here, on my last night of apprenticeship. She took me to the door and told me crazy stories. I lost my arm. Barely got it back. Because the door didn¡¯t open then. Just a crack. She forced me to put my arm through. It disconnected. She said that¡¯s how we know the Dungeon is dead because all the ways in are gone.¡±


    ¡°You got your arm back,¡± Said Elswith, using that neutral tone. Was it edged with humor? He supposed it was rather obvious that Kenton had eventually gotten his lost arm back.


    ¡°Eventually, the Stable was moody and kept playing keep away.¡±


    Kenton waved the hand that had not been lost. For a period of time, this was his only hand. He was getting distracted. He needed to get Elswith up and back into the Game.


    No.


    He needed the Lord to understand what the danger was, and that perhaps the Game was the least of the problems. ¡°Least of my worries. The terrifying thing was that she told me that if the King ever discovered it, losing an arm was the least of the worries.¡± Had the King discovered that the Dungeon had even opened a crack meant that it wasn¡¯t completely gone.


    And when something wasn¡¯t completely gone¡­


    It could come back.


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re in so much trouble, Lordship,¡± Kenton said, looking up at Elswith. From the corner of his eye, he could still see the Red Figure of Other Elswith as the wall began to cloud over and become non-transparent again.


    ¡°So much trouble. It just washed over me, as I was hanging there. You are in a Game for your freedom now. What just happened¡­if the Fairy King ever finds out about it¡­¡± Kenton finally met Daniel¡¯s eyes. ¡°You will be in a fight for your very existence.¡±


    Elswith stood there, face blank. "Secrecy is dangerous. I have found the best secret is one you do not know of either." Elswith rubbed his arm gingerly as if it was injured.


    "Do you know the story of the Lost Lordling?"


    "He disappeared inside the Stable by a tragic accident."


    "So you don''t really know the story of the Lost Lordling. She did not. Ten years ago, while I was still a mapper, she was interested in the old legends."


    "What court was she from?"


    "I never knew, she came under an alise and the midlings did their best to cover it up. I found out later that her family was hunting her down. She knew something she was not supposed to know and took her chances in the shifting mess of the Grant Stable. And failed, I thought. She knew about the Dungeon but withheld that she knew. I think...she did something, something to wake it up. When I realized what she was doing, I tried to speak reason to her. Instead, she stole my key and ran away into the Stable. I thought it failed because she disappeared and nothing happened again. But now...I think she did it."


    Elswith sighed, pacing so near the edge it made Kenton nervous. Did Elswith know no fear?


    "So you must never come back here," Kenton said, trying to find how to save both their lives. "You must have been marked for the Dungeon. And Once Marked, the Dungeon will pull you into itself again."


    "This marking that you speak of, is it deliberate, or can it happen by accident?"


    "The Dungeon has been gone for untold generations, since the beginning of the current Fairy King''s reign. All I have is legend and lore so badly garbled even I think half of it is nonsense. It sounds like there is an intentional mark placed, but it could be completely wrong. The legends say the Dungeon would only allow the marked into its depths unless you interfere..." as he had, but he was sure that wouldn''t count. "The Dungeon once was highly sought after. Somehow you got marked, and now the Dungeon clearly has a purpose for you. Even if it is a good purpose (which I doubt), should the Fairy King realize that the Dungeon is not destroyed..."


    "This is part of the Game," said Elswith abruptly. The youth started to laugh in a manner that had Kenton worried about his mental state. "Someone is poking at the King and using me to do it." Elswith continued. "That''s why. They weren''t doing me any favors. They knew. They suspected, at least."


    "Kido, maybe we should get you away from the ledge." Elswith must be under extreme pressure...


    "You''ll laugh in a minute too. Because I cannot avoid the Stable. I literally am BOUND. Bound around my wrist, shackled to the duty to complete it. I must perform my duties in the Stable, or else I lose the Game."


    Kenton did not like those twisty logic games of the High Fae Lords.


    "Someone wants to wake up the Dungeon, or suspects that it is not dead, or something." Elswith held out his hand and raised one finger. "I didn''t do anything to get the attention of the Stable." he raised a second finger next to the first. "I doubt you marked me." then he raised the third finger "And CG would not have done it, not unless she went with me. All three individuals involved had seemingly nothing to gain from me entering the Dungeon." the young Lord raised his last finger on his hand, the little pinky finger away from the other three. With his thump, he lightly tapped the tip of each four extended fingers. "Someone must have marked me to gain something from the exchange."


    Kenton gulped.


    "Kenton, who assigned a former mapper to be a leather worker for the Red Circle? Do you believe it was a coincidence?"


    Kenton would have sat down if he was not already sitting down. "That was ten years ago."


    "That''s nothing for beings who live thousands of years. Someone has been engineering this trouble for a long time. You''re right, Kenton. You''re right. We are in so much trouble."

 Hey if you read chapter 54 and noticied a mistake, reread it, I fixed it. READ ME PLEASE

    Shelby here. Um...author. That''s me.


    I accidentally posted 54 twice in the same chapter, but left off the ending of the conversation in the first one. So....if you''re bored, why don''t you look back and read it again?


    Shoot, I need so many words to ''publish'' another fictional ''chapter''.


    Okay. I''ll answer some questions from my loyal fans. Take notes, I''m deleting this chapter Monday.


    Responding to Iterls9 dm: Yes, you have already seen me in this book. I was not present for everything, but at this point in time I was bumming...I mean, working productively, while I was trying to figure out how to leave Fairy Land. I carefully hid my identity, but people who have been following my hobo adventure through fairy land will recognize my style right away. Of course, most of those guys are in Erths, which is kinda another planet (I post my adventure in both places, Royal Road for Earth and Bridge Creek for Erths (For my Erths crew, Royal Road is like Bridge Creek except more informal, no picture of a bowtie needed to publish.) (And for my Earth crew, Bridge Creek is kinda like Royal Road, but it''s a lot more proper, you need to post a picture of yourself in a bowtie before they publish what you write, also sometimes there are non-fatal duels between authors battling for supremacy).


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Responding to LeeU, from Erths: Nope, you can''t prove I stole the wayfinder tent. Also, it is very comfortable during the winter. Besides, you gotta find me first. And I have a cool curse breaking sword now. It tries to talk to me, but I don''t speak Korean or Chinese or whatever, so I''m sure it''ll be fine.


    And finally, responding to Enrds9183: I thought you were a Warder too. I knew I saw you commenting on both my sites! Got you. I won''t tell your boss that you use your cosmic powers to transcend realities to snoop through the internet in another world and comment on stories when you should be...you know...saving the world. But maybe delete your comments you wrote on my story, just in case.


    Okay, I''m going to stop now. Thank you to everyone reading my story. Please reread the last chapter to make sure you''re caught up. If you have never read my completely fictional book, please kindly consider rating 5 stars and telling all your friends and family and just take my word that it''s great. Or read it yourself and decide.


    Thanks everyone.


    Nearly to 100,000 words!

 Chapter 55: So the World鈥檚 a Stage

    Daniel wondered if the pains in his head were the beginning of the throws of insanity. Like dark waves, troubled and heavy thoughts ravaged his mind.


    He knew he was a pawn. He had known it for five years. He had suspected it even longer. His lack of favor in his own Faction had robbed him of much of the ego other Lordlings suffered. (But was it truly ego if a young Lordling did well and was praised for it, and thus felt secure in their own person?)


    ¡°We were set up. Someone is trying to resurrect the Dungeon. I have no choice but to brave it. There will be other designs to force me to proceed. In direct contrast to the Game, the Law of Fae is mute there. I must survive three rounds. And a Dungeon so reviled that the Fairy King himself destroyed it. Is the Game already over?¡± He mused. He had seen his Lordly Father¡¯s displeasure firsthand. But he doubted very much he would survive seeing the animosity of the Fairy King of the Seelie Courts.


    ¡°Actually, Lordship¡­¡± Kenton said, forgetting that Daniel was now a servant. ¡°I don¡¯t think even the Watchers know.¡±


    Daniel didn¡¯t correct him, so surprised and hopeful of that news. ¡°I have been observed all day by those reviewing this Game. Even if an ally views it, I cannot count that everyone will keep mum.¡± That was the rule he knew, secrets were too heavy a burden to share. When there was a benefit to be had, betrayal was expected.


    ¡°They can¡¯t see here.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Those¡­respectable High Fae who like to watch and spy. The Stable doesn¡¯t like them spying. As far as my mentor knew.¡±


    Daniel wanted to ask more questions, as he realized the Game was still somewhat muted, and the Law of Fae was dulled. It was believable that this was true. ¡°How trustworthy was your mentor?¡±


    ¡°She was a Midling Fae, but she was a daughter of a High Fae.


    That was unexpected. ¡°She was unable to gather power?¡±


    Kenton nodded. ¡°You see that. Normally there are a few generations before those who can¡¯t gather power start working, but¡­Sorry, that¡¯s unrelated. She told me, that one time she had me tied up over a pit of snapping crocodiles, that no one could see us, and she wouldn''t get blamed even if I died! So afterward, I investigated a bit...sorry, rambling again. But truly, there are places in the Stable no one can see, for a myriad of reasons. It¡¯s dangerous because more bad things can happen here. But it is very different to view directly here, and some rooms, like these, are all but impossible to see. I¡¯m a mapper, kid. It¡¯s what I do. Or did. Because I retired. But the Stable dislikes spying, and it has a big grudge against any of the king¡¯s hands. Ever wonder why you won¡¯t see high-level enforcers here?¡±


    Unexpected protection. Someone had left Daniel in a world of trouble, and set up an ally, knowing that there would be blind spots. Valuable information indeed.


    But it only deepened Daniel¡¯s feelings of being set up and led around like a tool or a puppet.


    Daniel rubbed his neck.


    Another secret. He already had too many.


    The Dungeon was coming back, and the king did not know yet. But someone did know, and either wanted to return the Dungeon, or remove Daniel (And perhaps the entire Red Sword Faction if they truly teased the Fairy King¡¯s disfavor).


    While Daniel had few fond memories of Lordly Father, he still felt loyalty to his Faction. He at one point was the Heirling of the Red Sword. While many leaders had spoken against him and tried to assassinate him, there were plenty of ordinary fae just doing their duties, living their lives. He even understood why some had attempted to assassinate him, forcing him to prove his mettle. Others even grew to respect him, especially after his Circle¡¯s rise to popularity.


    If the Red Sword Faction was destroyed, the ripples across all the Seelie would be unmeasurable.


    Like a wicked wind through a cave, Daniel felt like his spirit was being drawn into the unassuming door that had just moments ago led into the Dungeon. He could imagine the Fear lingering on the other side of the door, hand on the latch, tapping softly.


    All of Daniel''s training and preparation to understand the workings and the relationships with the Law of Fae would fail him inside the Dungeon. Even now, the Law of Fae still seemed so muted and cold compared to before.


    Kenton''s confidence that the Stable had places that outsiders could not view did not reassure Daniel. Instead, it made him realize just how deep this had been planned.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°The world is a stage,¡± Daniel said, awashed in dread and fear. ¡°The world is a stage, and I but a tool used to move forward someone else¡¯s plot. I must win the Game, and yet I must spend time in the Stable. While in the Stable, the Dungeon will try to grab me and force me to complete it. And this, as well as everything else, may have been arranged by another¡¯s hand.¡±


    As of 10 years ago, someone had given the former mapper a new position. While Kenton was (probably) not a spy, he had been used as a pawn as well. Because of Kenton¡¯s influence, the Red Circle had known more about the Stable than other Circles. And because of Elswith¡¯s nature, he had known even more. All his childhood, Elswith had viewed Kenton¡¯s former occupation as a source of good stories and adventures, when he thought of Kenton at all.


    Could he have survived in the Dungeon without his knowledge of the Stable? Kenton was the one who even told the young lordlings about the Eastern Red Room to begin with. Kenton had causally educated them on the safe ways to navigate the Stable, tricks to remember where you were, how to get lost, and more importantly, unlost in the Stable.


    Daniel had used those tricks to get back.


    And someone had used Kenton¡¯s affable nature to secure Daniel an unlikely ally.


    Had all those years been set up? Arranged?


    ¡°Puppets,¡± Daniel said, watching Kenton darkly. ¡°All along, dancing to someone else¡¯s song.¡±


    Depression hit Daniel as hopelessness assaulted him.


    How to overcome and survive when every step seemed to be of someone else¡¯s plan?


    Outside of doing nothing, as Parcel had done, letting all the games sweep past and over, letting all the power and influence go down the river, saying goodbye to hopes of the future, and instead clinging to the edges of a fraying cloth, it seemed hopeless.


    ¡°I¡¯m no one¡¯s puppet,¡± Kenton answered, friendly tone gone. It was as serious as any war meeting Daniel had ever attended.


    Daniel looked back to Kenton. He still looked affable, but there was a determined set to his face, his amber eyes steely like a human sword.


    ¡°I¡¯ve survived a long time, Elswith. Sometimes, sometimes, people use you. Sometimes you go along with the flow. Sometimes you even get set back, a long way. Sometimes you have to divert how you were going to get where you planned to go.¡±


    Kenton stood up, throwing the saddle over his shoulder like armor.


    ¡°But I chose where I go. And I chose how I get there. Sometimes you get caught up in others schemes. Sometimes you even go through, initially, because you gotta get through, even though it¡¯ll cut and cost you. But all along, I¡¯m doing what I chose to do. No matter how scary it is, no matter how powerful, no matter if I hide from sight or bow low, I¡¯m doing it all because I chose it. Choose your own victories. Even small ones that others discard, that can be enough.¡± His hand went to his heart.


    He held out his hand to Daniel.


    ¡°You¡¯re a young kid. I look at everything you know and everything you have accomplished, and it intimates me. But if you would take a word of advice from someone who has worked in the Grant Stable for 137 years: Be your own person. Do as you chose to do. And even if someone orchestras and controls your life, at the end of the day, no strings compel you. Do it because you chose to do it, even if you are so tired, afraid, and bedraggled you no longer wish to continue. Do it anyway. Because that is the one thing, no one, even the Law of Fae, cannot control.¡±


    So Daniel looked at the blood-stained retired mapper. The gray was teasing at his temple, his slight demeanor and frame.


    Insanity and paranoia on one side, destruction, and desolation on the other.


    ¡°I do not know how I will get through the Dungeon. Even as Lordling Elswith. Let alone a branch of myself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll open the door!¡± Kenton said. The Law of Fae was immediately unhappy with that answer. Daniel didn¡¯t have to add anything, because Kenton appeased it immediately. ¡°It¡¯s not a crime to get the door for someone! It¡¯s just opening a door.¡±


    The Law of Fae shifted and groaned. The Game, still muted, buzzed in discontentment.


    If he was Lordling Elswith still, Daniel would have left that alone.


    But Lordling Elswith had enough Favor, Authority, and Influence to handle the situation should things go awry. ¡°If you are with me, and help me in the Dungeon, your fate may be tied with mine,¡± Daniel said. He swallowed. All those rural places counting on him to survive. Witness. He wanted to grab hold of Kenton¡¯s good favor and abuse it, clutching to it like a griffin¡¯s saddle during aerial combat.


    But he could not. ¡°You have Sarah Beth waiting for you.¡± Kenton¡¯s fianc¨¦ had been waiting for him for over 137 years.


    Daniel felt hesitation. Dare he truly involve Kenton? Perhaps this was the lack of drive, of commitment to his own cause, that had caused Elswith so much trouble. Perhaps not doing absolutely everything to win would doom Witness and the children.


    Perhaps allowing Kenton to leave and not interact with him anymore was the same as self-annihilation.


    But this was a piece of himself that Daniel would not, could not break.


    ¡°Lord, you even remembered her name?¡±


    Daniel blinked. ¡°How could I not? You mentioned her at least a hundred times.¡±


    Kenton started to smile. ¡°I am going to retire. I¡¯m almost to midling, just a few more years and I¡¯ll have it. And while I¡¯m here, Lord Elswith, I may as well get the door for you. Sarah Beth was always one of good manners, after all. Besides, seeing what you get up to may be worth the additional¡­occupational hazard.¡± Kenton shook his hand out again, blue blood encrusted on some of the fingers in a forgotten manner.


    Trust.


    Kenton trusted Daniel. Kenton knew the risks and was there anyway.


    Daniel needed someone to get the door for him in the Dungeon.


    Could Daniel trust Kenton?


    Well, Cinnamon Girl liked him. That was already a good indication of a quality person.


    So Daniel clasped Kenton¡¯s hand. In some strange way, for the first time, they were peers. Just attempting to survive. Trusting each other.


    His first ally.


    So what if the World was a Stage? What if all his struggles were planned? What if someone had set a trap for him to reawaken the dead Dungeon and potentially bring down the wrath of the Fairy King?


    Against all the high treason and machinations of the Seelie Court paled in comparison to the ordinary decency of Kenton.


    Daniel said. ¡°I will have to get the door for you, too. This way no one owes anyone any favors.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d settle if you help me install a ladder. How¡­are we supposed to get down?¡± Kenton asked, face turning pale as he looked over the ledge.

 Chapter 56: Last Rites before the Game Resumes

    Daniel and Kenton reached the bottom ledge safely. Finally, nearly at the bottom, Daniel reached forward to touch the top of the bells that had first made him aware of someone else¡¯s presence.


    ¡°Do you know from where these bells hail?¡± Daniel asked Kenton. They were not ready to touch the ground again. That was when it would start again.


    Kenton slumped against the wall breathing hard and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not as young as I used to be.¡± He muttered. He sighed and gestured toward the bells as he answered. ¡°They are from some ruins or another. Especially after I retired from a mapper, no one tells me anything anymore.¡±


    Daniel wondered if he could¡­borrow one or two¡­


    Not now¡­but later.


    Lots of forgotten things in the Seelie Citadel. If Daniel was not careful, he may become a forgotten thing as well.


    Kenton stood up with a groan. ¡°When we leave this room, we cannot talk about the Dungeon. At all. Even referencing.¡±


    Daniel looked at him plainly. ¡°I will not make a mistake.¡±


    ¡°But, I mean it¡­at all¡­¡±


    Daniel wished he could clean his clothes, ¡°Kenton, I¡¯ve survived 19 assassination attempts. I have been captured by the Unseelie Court. I have five Achievements. Unless there is magical interference, I will not speak a word of it. In fact¡­¡± Daniel sighed. ¡°You are the concern. I will not speak of it to you unless in one of the designated rooms or you speak the code. Even then, I will not trust you easily.¡±


    ¡°Are you¡­still thinking I¡¯m some kind of spy or something?¡±


    Daniel kept his face neutral. ¡°No. But I am aware that loyalties change.¡±


    Kenton looked like he was just beginning to appreciate Daniel¡¯s level of paranoia. ¡°If the loyalty can change so quickly, was it ever loyalty to begin with?¡±


    Daniel rolled his shoulders. The pain from his latest adventure was dulled, but still lingering. His stomach felt empty and raw. If there was no food, did the stomach begin to eat itself? He felt tired. He felt dread.


    And he felt avoidance.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go back to the Dungeon,¡± Daniel said, lingering.


    Kenton looked worried. ¡°Was it terrible?¡±


    ¡°It was strange. The Law of Fae was absent. No Favor. No Authority. Not even Influence. But¡­ some parts were less disturbing. Did you realize that was supposed to fit like a compass rose? The Eastern Red Room, the Western Blue Room, the Northern Purple Room, and the Southern Green Room. That¡¯s how I found my way here.¡± Daniel said.


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    ¡°That would make sense,¡± Kenton added. ¡°How did you¡­¡±


    ¡°The Dungeon had a section like a mirrored version of the Stable, but it doesn¡¯t move. But I do not believe all of it is shaped in the Stable¡¯s image, I hesitate to venture into the other parts. Rectangle rooms and windowless halls, the first part was completely unlike the Stable¡­then I recognized the section that led to the Eels room¡­¡±


    ¡°Is that why the eels were upset?¡± Kenton asked.


    Daniel smiled a little, realizing that Kenton had been following him. It made the experience of the Dungeon less¡­isolating.


    ¡°Strange. That would reduce many of the shortcuts I developed¡­¡± Kenton mused.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be planning on going there,¡± Daniel said.


    Kenton looked horrified, ¡°Of course not. Not involved.¡± Then he clenched his hands. ¡°Since I¡­removed one of those Fears, I got to see something strange.¡±


    Daniel looked around. ¡°Is it in the shape of a female? Blue, translucent? A vague impression of clothes? Answers in a logarithmic feminine voice? Only knows vague answers to specific questions, but no true intelligence?¡±


    ¡°I¡­don¡¯t know what half those words mean. What is logarithmic?¡± He shook his head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. It¡¯s just a blue screen. Called itself System, but then it stopped answering my questions. The screen itself goes away when I don¡¯t focus on it, but when I think about it, it appears.¡±


    Daniel looked at Kenton. He did not see little pixies playing tricks. ¡°A word of Wisdom is not uncommon¡­or it could be from the Dungeon.¡±


    Kenton shook his head.


    ¡°Regardless, it¡¯s not uncommon to be shown certain truths of the universe. What words of wisdom is it imparting now?¡±


    Kenton pointed to thin air like he was tracing the line of text. ¡°There are words written on it. Right now it says ¡®player¡¯ ¡®level up¡¯ and ¡®assign new stat points¡¯.¡±


    Daniel shifted on the ledge. The time to hesitate was leaving. It was probably related to the Dungeon. But he gained nothing by unnerving Kenton. ¡°If it is a word of Wisdom, then do not fear. The meaning will make itself clear in time.¡±


    Besides, it was time.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Daniel asked the retired mapper.


    ¡°I got the Saddle back from that naughty griffin. I am ready for anything.¡±


    Daniel felt that Kenton might not be ready for anything, but again, he gained nothing from unnerving him.


    So Daniel jumped down to the ground, leaving the first ledge behind. Each step forward he took he felt more and more like a cog back in place, moving with the other cogs.


    And as he left the Owl¡¯s Scope room, the Game was upon him. The attention of all the senior High Fae was like a microscope. The Game was like an overjoyed pup left too long alone in a room.


    But before the Servant Branch could even begin to tidy the mess left by his absence, he received the total amount of favor gained.


    The Law of Fae may not have been present, but somehow, going through the Dungeon had been hugely beneficial. Was it the wit or deducing the Eastern room was East? Achieving the strange second sight that showed the pull of lightning? Braving against his Fear? The unarmed combat against the featureless metal figures?


    Whatever had earned that gain, it had earned it indeed.


    Color filled his face and music danced across the breeze in the Stable hallway as all the Favor enveloped him.


    The Servant Branch, instead of tired and hungry, felt invigorated.


    If not for his stomach growling, he felt better than he had in weeks.


    The Favor was more than 3 times what he had accumulated all day long.


    Yes, the Dungeon had been dangerous, but if those risks brought such rewards¡­


    This was very dangerous for him. Because if he conquered the Dungeon, even if he just repeated what he did again, but better and faster as he knew the way now¡­


    He had finally discovered a way to start slowly but steadily acquiring power in the Law of Fae.


    The Servant Branch had just discovered a way to get ahead in the Game.


    It just might cost him his life.

 Chapter 57: Roots and PinWheels, the Game is Bored

    The Game was bored.


    TOO LONG. TOO Long. Not enough twisting words, betrayals, surprise allies. Why so long in the Stable? Why so long in the Dark place, where it could barely peak? Bored! BOREd! Bored!


    If the Game was bored, that was a dangerous moment. "Be still, just a minute," Daniel muttered, barely lending sound to his words. "A show you will see. Wait and watch, and an attack there will be!" Daniel said, to appease the Game.


    Not that he blamed the Game.


    Daniel was bored himself. After all his epic adventures, he had to admit kneeling like a naughty schoolboy in front of a desk with his palms out ready to be struck was rather tiresome.


    Thirty minutes ago, the Dragon Saddle had been returned. Daniel and Kenton did not speak again.


    Daniel had not even waited for Kenton to get off the ledge before he left and went to the Eastern Red Room, to meet up with the other Searchers. Daniel had admired the true version of it, not the Dungeon''s colorless copy. The Tolsen Stable Master was already waiting, having exhausted his own searching areas.


    Outside of remarking that Daniel looked very dirty, no one had paid him much attention. Kenton was last to arrive, bearing the Saddle. All the searchers cheered, and there was almost an air of celebration.


    From there, they returned the Saddle to a waiting safe and locked it away. The mood had been light, and Daniel even thought he might be able to leave early. Until Central arrived and grabbed a select few individuals to interview.


    This brought Daniel to his current situation, kneeling awkwardly as the Stable Master from Central labored under the pretense of investigating the disappearance of the Saddle. The Current Stable Master from Central was a male dryad. Daniel looked over all the people around him. Central was furious. Not at the missing Saddle, but probably that it was found. How else had a Certain Griffin managed to steal it?


    Perhaps the lock and key it had been under had been lifted prematurely... Then he thought of how clever his griffin was and decided that they may have caught wind of her plans and tried to piggyback it. Either they hoped that the outer Stable workers would not recover the Saddle, and they could use that as grounds to seize control of the Game Piece, the Servant Branch, or they hoped that the Game would come crashing down as the naughty griffin broke too many rules.


    Or maybe they had a thousand more sneaky plans that were slowly unfolding. The last twenty minutes had been round robin of the Tolsen Stable Master and the newcomer from Central berating each other and their staff. "Clearly you are incompetent!" The Central Stable Master yelled at the Tolsen.


    Or maybe the guys from Central were out of practice with dealing with Games. Daniel smiled. He felt more secure than he had any right to be: He was not even at 1% of what he was accustomed to as the Lordling Heirling of the Red Sword. But after the day he had, the warm flow of Favor through the new Harbor Name of Branch left him feeling strong and steady.


    "What is your true aim?" The Tolsen asked, clearly tiring of the yelling himself.


    "It has come to our attention that one Servant Branch aided with the Search!"


    "Clearly! That''s him there, kneeling for the last half hour! It was not improper for a Stable Hand to aid in Stable affairs!"


    "Yet, for a solid hour, the High Fae report that his actions were muted and dimmed!"


    "You just yelled at me and my staff for twenty minutes...because you lost reception? Did they try turning it off and on again?" The Tolsen asked.


    "Their magic mirrors were functional."


    "We are Stable Masters, learned Fae who know of more secrets to the twists and the folds of the Stable than all else save the Mappers. You know that this structure exists partially on a different dimension than the rest of the Citadel! So yeah, magic mirrors are wonky!"


    The rooty form of the Dryad shifted and groaned, as he adjusted his tie. "It has come to our attention that if the Servant Branch''s work was more structured, such interruptions need not occur again." the Central Stable Master insisted.


    "The Servant Branch is entrusted under the Outer halls. Central cannot dictate the conditions of the workload! The Outer Hall has garnered the Favors and the Influence on this matter! What can Central even offer us for the pains we took to find such a dedicated worker?"


    "The higher-ups need to ensure that no more accidents happen!"


    Tolsen moved a hand to his chest, "The Servant Branch was part of a search party. They searched. They found the saddle. What needs to be said?" The Tolsen said, his spindle arms rotating like pinwheels.


    The Dryaid practically wilted in anger. "The Servant Branch was unaccounted for an entire hour and more!"


    "He was searching! I didn''t see any people from Central Helping. He did his duties and returned. Clearly, he was working, look how dirty his clothes are!" Daniel was beginning to see the power struggle. Not that the Tolsen was for him, per se, but that currently, the Tolsen was the more moderate approach and thus the one Daniel desired.


    The Stable Master from Central, made a knotty fist with one of his own hands.


    Central was the more corrupt branch of the Stable...Central was more directly controlled by the Senate, Daniel should say. No doubt the Senate viewed the Outer Hall as more Corrupt, due to the interference of the Lords and Courts. Currently, Senate had wanted Daniel executed, not in a Game. So he doubted Senate had any good intentions.


    The Dryaid from Central sputtered, flabbergasted "Why would we help you find something that you lost?"


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    "Why would you wish us to fail?" The Tolsen countered. "Aren''t we supposed to be united: One Stable?"


    "That''s beside the point. The Servant Branch disregarded his duties and attempted to flee inside the Stable!"


    BORED! Booed the Game.


    Daniel considered coughing.


    The Law of Fae was primarily silent in this matter. Was it just waiting? Daniel was kneeling in a room in the Central Stable, with several others.


    The room he was in was very posh, with dark wood walls, deep leather chairs, glistening crystal lighting, and also not directly connected to any animals or creatures'' chambers. If instead of going left or right, one were to continue to go straight forward, one would most often find themselves going to the Central Stable. It was where many offices were housed, and it was primarily a safe location.


    It also housed a Silver Door. The Silver door was closed, but Daniel could not help but remember what Kenton had told him about returning to the Dungeon...After you leave, you can''t regain entry for a day and a night...unless through the Silver Door.


    "It doesn''t open." Offered another Fae being scolded. He was young to be a servant. Perhaps the same age as Daniel himself. Probably a spy. "It just appears in the highest authority rooms randomly. They say it''s good luck! Maybe this is our lucky day?" the stable hand said in a friendly manner.


    Daniel could practically feel the Fear of Self on the other side of the door, just watching with a superior gleam in its eyes.


    The Stable Master from Central made a rude noise, displeased at their talking. The youth became quiet, looking embarrassed.


    But Daniel had bigger problems: The Game was bored. While his time at the Stable had been eventful, and fruitful, what the Game had seen had been hit or miss, and it was clearly sulking that he had gone on adventures and not shared it.


    So, he would need to do something to appease the Game. And he better do it soon.


    He checked the time. He had enough time... Perhaps he was overconfident, or perhaps he was worried about losing the attention of the Game, but he knew he needed to do something. It would cost a little favor, but for the first time in weeks, he had some favor to spare.


    So he did what any sane and rational Lordling clutching at straws for survival would do: He smashed his head into the ground, completing the bow. He knew how to smash his head in a very loud fashion, without harming himself unduly.


    But it looked very desperate and dramatic.


    The attention of the Midling Stable Masters was drawn to him. He looked up at them craning his neck upward to peer upon their confused faces, his own face hidden and buried, eyes gleaming with the Light of Fae.


    Everyone in the room looked startled.


    So Daniel did the only logical thing, and he smashed his head down again, in a bow. "This Humble Servant apologizes for causing discord and disharmony! Blessed Stable Masters, cease your quarrels. I will tell you of my many inadequacies!"


    "Um...Servant Branch, this really isn''t necessary..." hedged the Tolsen.


    Daniel smashed his head against the floor again. "And now this Lowly Servant dares interrupts! Truly, can this humble one accomplish any feat of worth in the Stable?"


    The Stable Master from Central made another sound, but it sounded more uncomfortable and confused than rude. "Ummm...I just wanted to know where you were..." The Dryad said.


    "While the Game did watch, this Servant did his very best. In far reaches of the Stable did search, the missing Saddle with all seriousness and no mirth!"


    The Game perked up. If it was a canine, Daniel imagined it would be waging its tail in guarded interest. "And search this one did, in all the speed, but never once did these hands touch the Saddle, only eyes perceived." The Law of Fae shimmered in acceptance to all Fae listening. Because Daniel had been very careful to never touch the Saddle.


    He and Kenton had decided that it looked more believable if Kenton had been the one to find the Saddle. And Daniel was committed to that version of events (All true!) even to pain of death.


    Because that was how committed he needed to be to convince the Law of Fae. He did not lie.


    He just did not speak the whole truth.


    "This humble Servant searched low, and searched high! I searched familiar passageways and some never trodden from sight out of mind!"


    "Please lower your voice." The Central Stable Master said.


    No. Daniel would not. It was costing him some Favor, but it was worth it to achieve his end: Leave everything the same. He would not benefit from working for Central. Very few people disappeared from Central.


    And Daniel wanted to gain Favor and power from the Dungeon. That was the only way forward he could imagine.


    So he needed to work in the dangerous areas, where people may try to assassinate him, where creatures could kill him, and where the Dungeon itself may just one day steal him and not return him.


    All so he could get enough power to win the game.


    And the Safety of Central would take that away. Or they would be able to observe him being dragged into the Dungeon and realize that the long-dead and mostly forgotten training ground of past heroes was perhaps not so dead after all. Time for a show, Daniel reasoned. "I, the Lowly and Humble Servant, cannot cease my volume!" he needed the people outside to hear it too, and all the High Fae watching. "This first duty was bleak, what was accomplished for my Stable was little to nothing. I did my duty! To the Outer Halls, I was handed over, and this Servant shall not break the trust! Sooner would I end the Game than allow the removal of this precious trust and duty!"


    Without the Dungeon, Daniel had no idea how he could ever get enough power to win the Game.


    With it?


    He was rather excited for the assassins to find him.

 Chapter 58: The Constellations Danced in Colors of Orange and Red and Blue, beware the gilded knife

    The Servant Branch was released soon after. After his dramatic head banging bows and pointed words, no one had much else to add. There was some back and forth, he had to take an oath, to tell the truth under pains of death. Basic stuff.


    They found nothing.


    The Servant Branch may not even yet be decreed as an official servant yet, (that would happen at Midnight) but he had the experience of a highly trained Heirling.


    As Daniel and the other unfortunate lowlings left the posh office of the Central Stable Master, he glanced over his shoulder and observed the Tolsen and the Dryaid glaring at each other. The battle lines were drawn: The people who backed Central wanted to take Daniel away from the people who backed the Outer Halls. Both may wish for his destruction, but Central was the lapdog of the Senate, and as the former Heirling of the Red Sword Faction, he was more than predisposed to dislike and distrust the Senate.


    Not that he trusted Courts either. But Courts inherited power from Bloodlines, so that meant they kept a large part of their scheming to their own family members, versus an elected position where majority leaders would select who best helped them keep the majority.


    As Daniel entered the room where he had first met the Tolsen Stablemaster, he was curious about what he would find. For the Tolsen''s high position, he certainly did not enjoy the same benefits as the Central Stable Master. Instead, everything looked second-hand and reused. No one was in the room, as most staff left exactly at 9. There may or may not be a curse rumored for those who overstayed their welcome welcoming the sun the next day with an extra hand or leg. The Grant Stable liked to grant stuff, that was for sure.


    A very tired female Tolsen entered the room, bearing an exhaustive amount of paperwork. Clearly, someone was taking that home to continue to work.


    "Do you do bookkeeping on the side?" she asked him.


    Daniel felt his guard go up. He didn''t anticipate being attacked inside the Stable. The Stable was a big fan of being the one to lead people to harm, it didn''t usually allow others to hurt each other. "Do you know who I am?"


    "The Servant Branch. I know. I don''t care. Big magic game, with complicated rules. I''m tired. I haven''t slept in three days, and I have three young children at home whom all I get to do is pat their wee heads when they are already asleep." her eyes were scary like a dark abyss "Can you do bookkeeping?"


    Daniel swallowed.


    Mothers had some strange ability to get what they needed, especially if they felt it involved their children. "I know the fundamentals," he said truthfully.


    "Can you add these numbers and have everything total by tomorrow morning?"


    "I''m probably going to be attacked tonight with flaming arrows. Can I start tomorrow?"


    She grumbled. "Excuses excuses. Fine. I don''t care what they ask you to do tomorrow. You be here, or else the griffins will be out of raw meat by Tuesday."


    A bargain. Extra work, on the side.


    Daniel did not need it now, as he had the Dungeon...but it was better to have multiple streams of Authority and Favors and Influence. Also, if he could tie some Favor back to an obvious source, it would help to aid in hiding the Dungeon.


    "I feel like we are making deals with masks. We should exchange a safe token name, at least."


    "You''re the Servant Branch," she said, with Authority.


    "The Tolsen Stable Master must be your partner." Daniel deduced.


    "He is my husband. We''re a team."


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    "I find myself at a disadvantage, Madam Stable Master."


    "Mrs. Ren will do," she said.


    "Mrs. Ren." He said. It was not a true Harbor name, but the difference between a Midling and a Lowling was enough that using her full Harbor Name may have harmed the Servant Branch. A partial name was enough. "You mentioned paperwork and bookkeeping. Why do you trust me to achieve?" Daniel asked. After Kenton''s strange trust, he felt odd that someone else would share those feelings. And while he had probably seen this Tolsen before, they had no debt between them, and the Law of Fae saw no connections.


    "Because you''re proud. You want everyone to know you earned everything you had achieved. The idea of sloppy work or scribble would cut you up." The lady Tolsen set down a set of papers with weight and finality. "Because I don''t care if you are the Spare, the Heir, or just some stranger who wandered in from the street. I need someone smart, and I''m going to take advantage of that they put someone who was trained by the Library under my husband''s authority. It''s a waste having you shovel hay. Even three hours of your time may save me days of toil."


    The Law of Fae sparkled true and bright. She was telling the truth. And from the purity of the light, it was a fundamental truth to the lady Tolsen. Finally! Someone was putting aside feelings and doing something smart.


    After all the page duties that morning with the Sky Court, the insulting work as an Attendant for the O''Tells that afternoon, and even the basic duties he was assigned at the Stable, Daniel felt relieved that someone was taking advantage of his talents.


    It was not true, however. He would do a good job, not for pride, but because handling paperwork and bookkeeping would give him not only Favor and Influence, thus helping him free himself from the binding whatever power behind the Stable had on the Servant Branch, it would also give him more access to information.


    And information was very very important.


    Besides there was another angle to consider. The Outer Halls had risked a lot, and yet not seen any reward for their expenditure, so they would be possessive and protective over the Servant Branch, for now. Daniel spending some time helping with paperwork would be relatively harmless.


    As long as he had enough time to go to the Dungeon.


    "I''m assuming I get something for my trouble of helping." He hedged.


    "Standard favor any worker would get for aiding with a task not exactly assigned to them." Bargained the wife of the Stable Master.


    Clever. By it being Standard, the Game could not interfere as easily, as Daniel was just following the standard someone else established. "However, I''m sure there could be a little favor extra should I complete the work early. And something for accuracy..." he hedged again.


    Mrs. Ren smiled. "Every day you save me, I''ll give you at least an equal to a lowling''s average favor earned in a day," she said, her tired eyes shining.


    The Game hummed in the background.


    It did not interfere.


    Good.


    Daniel almost wished to stay longer.


    But he did have to go. He was supposed to meet Esra soon.


    "Average is such a vague term. Do you mean the Mean Average? The median Average? The Mode Average? Surely we can come to some fair agreement..." he said, with regret in his tone.


    Her eyes gleamed, clearly a lifetime of bargaining and planning.


    Daniel nodded, a touch¨¦


    "Let''s see what we can do..."


    <hr>


    Daniel left the Grant Stable at 9:15.


    Some may consider he was late to meet Esra, but he reasoned to the Law of Fae that he said at the hour of 9, but not the particular minute.


    He had established a very good deal with Mrs. Ren. It was small-change from the Dungeon, but it promised to be steady and completely legitimate small-change. There was no better way to add something you were not supposed to have than by bringing it in with something that you had earned fairly and... legitimately.


    At long last Daniel found himself under the open sky. The stars were sparking and dazzling, red and blue and orange constellations dancing overhead, the moon a slender crescent today. It was his first time outside after dark since he fell from power.


    He had thought he would feel more regret or despair. But now he felt vaguely hopeful. That somehow, he could do it. The Servant Branch could win the Game.


    Before Daniel stretched the Citadel. He noticed which Estates and Fields and Gardens had moved since he entered. He wondered what the Tenacux Court had done to earn disfavor, as their Estate was next to the manure dump from the Stable.


    There were many Fae out and about now, the stream of most of the workers leaving and entering the early summer evening. The cobblestone path underfoot was smooth and clean as the workers made way for their abodes. It was before the true parties of High Summer would begin that night, and most of the important people would be preparing for a night of feast-making and conspiracy.


    Now, where would he find Esra?


    "Catch me!" came a silly little tittle giggle.


    Daniel moved, not to catch the creature foolishly throwing herself at him, but to evade.


    The tip of the dagger glinted innocently under the foppish she-elf forearm as she arose from her leap, rising to equal height with him..


    Flipping her hair, glittering with gold, she tittered "You promised you''d catch me next time." she said, pulling out twin daggers. "Ladies in waiting should not make the first move. You are so rude!"


    The first assassin had arrived.

 Chapter 59: The Trio of Assassins have commitment issues

    Claudian rushed, and Daniel fell back on his training. He had to take this seriously, as the golden-haired lady was an upper Midling.


    She slashed forward, golden daggers gleaming under the brilliant starlight.


    And Daniel understood that this¡­may be easier than he had thought.


    Dual wielding.


    Unless one was a creature with naturally more than two arms, (and there were some fae creatures that had more than two arms,) choosing two one-handed weapons over a sword and a shield or using both hands for the weapon measured poorly.


    Any creature weak enough to be killed with a one-handed weapon was not such a danger that having two one-handed weapons offered a benefit. There were slight advantages, such as increased speed, but unless a fae trained specifically in that field, the increase was not worth the loss of power of a two-handed weapon, or the safety that came from having a shield and a weapon.


    Of course, that was before magic got involved. The Law of Fae rarely had any interaction with Weapons, outside of the 37 swords that once saved the World from the darkness of the great void of oblivion. But with runes, one could create interesting and useful combinations of weapons.


    A fire dagger, a frosting knife, and a hollowing cane. Just to name a few brilliant single-handed weapons that magic made significantly better and more dangerous. And with those magic enhancements, shields could also be overcome with ease. Any number of runes or spells could be used to create total mayhem.


    Magic could then be used to create more powerful shields and overcome that¡­but that was beside the point.


    Unless magic was involved, two one-handed weapons had many disadvantages.


    And the golden elf had shiny, glimmering, but completely magic-free weapons.


    Daniel wanted to run for cover, but if he was being set up, then that cover itself would be a trap.


    He needed more information. And with the Game and the Law of Fae, few Fae would miss the opportunity to glean some Influence or Authority by going straight for the kill.


    Time to gather some information.


    Daniel waded back, looking shocked as he gauged how many people were paying attention. Not many.


    That was fine. Small audiences were sometimes best for warming up. ¡°Oh no, someone I¡¯ve never considered turning up as an assassin! That destroys my entire mindset!¡±


    Okay, perhaps not that shocked. He sometimes struggled to know how to play off being attacked by amateur assassins.


    Because that¡¯s what this was. An amateur moving in before the professionals arrived.


    Claudian.


    First to arrive meant fodder. And that was still true for assassins. Fodder was always invited to these events. The very important people always entered exactly when the event was started. The unimportant ones were to be the fanfare, which meant they needed to arrive early enough to applaud when the important people arrived.


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    Daniel stepped away from the one with softly glowing hair as she swiped out with her two golden daggers again. He only saw Claudian. But he knew she traveled with two other elfin maidens. They were noble attendants of some minor house. They would have access to some weapons, if not of high quality.


    She had some good form, Daniel had to admit. If only she had trained properly.


    She lunged again (She did like jumping at people, so she had considerable practice), slashing high and slashing low, and Daniel observed one of the limitations of dual wielding as he side-steps to the left and backward, feet sure over the unlevel cobblestone in the darkness of night.


    Dual-wielders. The worst and the best fought with two swords. Matheus had forbidden Daniel from learning. It violated several fundamentals of good swordsmanship, mainly that you lost power slashing in two directions.


    Many fae made up for this loss with power or power enhancements. Runed daggers, power armor, guidance magic. Anything one could imagine had already been accomplished somewhere.


    But she was not trained, and not practiced. She was bold, and powerful, but had fewer ideas about actually connecting her attacks to Daniel. She must view this like a dance, and not visualize the completion of the attack itself.


    Hurting people was difficult. Deliberately piercing someone¡¯s body was not natural to many Fae. Little fae did not fight, needing the protection of the higher ranking.


    Daniel scanned the crowds of the street. Most important Fae were still inside their estates and houses, getting ready. Another ten minutes and the crowd would be vastly different. And while there were more lowling Fae slowing to watch, none yet looked truly worried. The twisting Citadel did not even halt to admire the fight.


    Daniel kept searching for the other elfin maidens. One had amber hair and the other pink. He spotted the one with pink hair, in the archway of a nearby bridge, wearing a silvery cloak and holding a bow. Well, that would work better if it was stringed, so he promptly went back to searching for the last of the trio as he continued to evade Claudian.


    Step, step, step, forward, step, step, step, to the side, went the former Lordling over the cobblestoned road. There was an old barrel that he was near, but he¡¯d save that for later.


    He considered that this was a bad place for an assassination attempt. There were multiple escape routes. There were people everywhere.


    There were some positives, Daniel considered, as he watched his opponent dash forward. ¡°Why won¡¯t you catch me? Do you like to see a pretty girl stumble and fall?¡± she said, flipping her golden hair over her shoulder coyly.


    No Lordling would consider getting attacked here, so the average Lordling may have let their guards down.


    Another possibility was that the crowds were full of other assassins, and anyone coming to ¡®help¡¯ may be an even more dangerous assassin than the shining she-elf¡­


    Daniel at last spied on the last of the trio, watching and recording the encounter. Recording with magic was an expensive undertaking. He understood. In the line of sight of the recording device was himself and the golden hair elf, then in the foreground of the shot was the pink-haired elf holding a bow. The other option was that this showed loyalties. Less a real attempt to take his life, and more to propel oneself forward.


    All the trio had to do was make an impression.


    So¡­Daniel decided to win this fight in the least dramatic way possible. If he overwhelmed her too badly, she may even get sympathy.


    She came in, her twin daggers held at the ready.


    Daniel side-swiped the first hand, causing her right hand to jam up the other hand. He stepped forward, taking her elbow. ¡°Claudian, Claudian, always reaching, but never watching.¡±


    She was a midling fae to his lowling fae, so she was stronger than he and easily wrenched her elbow free of his grasp. She flared her nose, upset at his tone. She lunged at him again, off balance.


    Even if he had not gotten the boost from the Dungeon, this would be no obstacle for him.


    Where was the real attack? Not now, during this attack, but the noose was getting tighter and tighter. Time to find the real assassin.


    The Servant Branch moved forward again, and Claudian¡¯s lack of training was self-evident as she flinched.


    She flinched too hard, not paying attention to her standing, and more importantly, not paying attention to what was behind her.


    She stumbled backward into the barrel, rainwater and murk splattering her golden attire.

 Chapter 60: The Stones themselves will bend and bleed

    Daniel went forward. The Law of Fae swept over them. The assassination attempt was done. The low-level trio had their shot, and they had missed.


    They weren¡¯t human, so the danger of them trying again anyway was next to zero. Humans could do that. After they lose, decide that they weren¡¯t dead yet, and keep fighting.


    When a Fae was beaten in battle, they knew it. The game would let them know they lost, and everyone would move on, in whatever limited way they could.


    Humans¡­


    Daniel almost smiled when he thought of a certain human he knew, beat but not yielding during a mock battle a few summers ago, prior to the dead dragon. Her gleaming determined eyes, losing again and again and still rising up for more.


    What madness.


    She still lost. Every time.


    But had she truly lost? True, she never won a round in the mock battle, human females were weaker than their male counterparts strangely. But her determination had earned the respect of the many Circles. She had earned his respect.


    Daniel walked closer and offered his hand to the mucky golden elf, her rear end trapped in the barrel.


    He wanted to claim his winner¡¯s rights, after all. If you attempt to harm someone and fail, then you lose Authority.


    This was looking to be a very successful night for him.


    The she-elf grimaced at him.


    She did not want to take his hand.


    The crowd started to break apart, not that much of one had gathered anyway.


    ¡°I won¡¯t catch you. But I¡¯ll pull you up.¡± Daniel offered.


    She squirmed and almost tipped the barrel. ¡°I don¡¯t need you.¡±


    ¡°You lost, so I will have my prize even without the handshake. This is just a cleaner way. If you are expecting help, your friends are¡­still recording us.¡± He said, watching the two elf maiden hiding and spying from an archway. They had lost an assassination attempt by not even attacking¡­they waved at Daniel and Claudian and giggled.


    Poor Claudian. The other two really did seem to allow the golden attention seeker to get herself into trouble for their amusement.


    Daniel felt tired, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Let¡¯s hurry this up. I don¡¯t have much time, Claudian.¡±


    She stopped squirming and stared at him. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your name.¡± The Law of Fae hummed and shimmered around then, lighting the night air. It agreed with him.


    She started to get little stars in her eyes. ¡°You remembered my name?¡±


    He tried to remember everyone¡¯s name. He didn¡¯t know everyone¡¯s name, for example, he had no idea the name of the maid earlier who tried to serve him food back in the O¡¯Tell¡¯s home, or many of the servants of the Sky Court, or even the Stable Masters of the Grand Stable. There were too many Fae, and they were too disconnected from his influence.


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    But a Fae he interacted with over a period of years? Especially one hapless and foppish bespeckled and gold-plated elf-maiden? Honestly, he had almost hoped she was an accomplished assassin. But unless this was a double, long bluff (which she might be), Claudian was the first to arrive and the first to throw herself into an awkward situation. Of course, he knew her name.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you everything!¡± she volunteered.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll cost me some Favor, but it¡¯s worth it for Love!¡±


    He felt he should be smart and not deny it, but that sparkling look in her eyes made him uncomfortable. Besides¡­if he did not clarify, and Kane found out¡­she may remove the foolish Claudian just for spite ¡°I do not wish to mislead, I don¡¯t love you.¡±


    ¡°Right!¡± She said and winked.


    Well, this was awkward. If this was an attempt to stop the Servant Branch from receiving his due rewards for surviving, it was closer to working than he wanted to admit.


    ¡°Pull me out!¡± she said and fluttered her hands.


    ¡°The assassination attempt is over, correct?¡± He muttered aloud, asking the Law of Fae.


    The Law of Fae established that it was over, and whatever little game arose of that conflict established that it was in fact over and he had won.


    Daniel wished he was still Elswith, the Lordling Heirling of the Red Sword, so he could cooly and politely decline and walk away.


    Instead, he was Servant Branch, and he needed to be ready for the real assassins. So he took her hands, remembering uncomfortably milking the eels for their electric charge, and yanked her up.


    She came out and stumbled forward.


    Daniel did not catch her. He was not so trusting of someone who had just tried to stab him with twin golden daggers after all. He understood the Law of Fae, but it could be bent without being broken.


    She caught herself, looking a little hurt that he had not steadied her better. But then those sparkly eyes shined again, and she blushed.


    ¡°The handshake, please.¡± He said.


    She took his hand, gently. He hoped she wasn¡¯t a double agent and had a potion on her hands. The Favor was transferred, politely and properly.


    ¡°Lord Ralhan sent us to keep you busy,¡± Claudian whispered.


    Daniel knew that name. Very well.


    Lord Ralhan.


    He was in the Red Sword Faction.


    And he was also¡­part of the Eastern Court.


    Someone who should be an ally.


    And someone who wanted him to fail.


    ¡°There is something¡­being set up. But Lord Ralhan lost the coin toss and had to go last. There are two others outside of Lord Ralhan.¡±


    The Law of Fae considered whether Daniel should owe for receiving this information. His bindings whirled in consideration. ¡°What strange and completely random information that you are revealing at your own discretion and not due to any actions on the part of the Servant Branch.¡±


    The Law of Fae quieted down. The Bindings, long ignored, buzzed and jittered, but there was nothing to connect to, so they too became more dormant.


    Claudian flipped her muck-covered golden hair. ¡°Does the name Poison Eater mean anything to you?¡± she asked.


    It did.


    It made several things infinitely worse for him.


    He kept his face neutral. ¡°Is that a name?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I overheard today at the¡­¡± and then the Law of Fae and the Game silenced her mouth. She had heard something that she only heard due to loyalty. And without great care and great cost, she would be unable to reveal that secret.


    ¡°Well, then. Farewell, gentle maiden.¡± He said easily, trying to depart. Whether this information was true and offered him an advantage, or was true-ish and designed to harm him remained to be seen, after all.


    ¡°My love is so handsome.¡± She sighed.


    Daniel started walking away,


    When he felt the ground tremble and shake.


    He looked down as the cobblestone had his feet pooled and shifted away like a tide at sea being pulled into a massive wave.


    It was somehow more disturbing when it was bricks and stones being pulled away from underfoot than when the water moved.


    He followed the flow, watching for a half-second.


    The stones and bricks, all old and faded red and brown and cracked, pulled up and formed the feet of a creature, then the legs which rose to the height of the average Fae before beginning to form the torso¡­


    Daniel presumed the cobblestone and bricks continued being drawn upward, joining and forming until it completed a massive and broad chest, flow diverging, one splurging forward and up to form a head with gleaming, blazing white eyes, while two more would spill at the shoulder level out and down until the nearly liquid bricks stones formed two massive arms, two blunt clubs for hands.


    The Servant Branch had to presume that because he had started running away.

 Chapter 61: The Servant Branch allowed no cover to hide, only scurry, run, or die.

    Trembles filled the ground as the golem took its first massive step.


    The crowds around him joined in fleeing. He debated whether he would be better served by staying with the crowd, but decided against it. Yes, isolating himself made him an easier target. But crowds could conceal an assassin also. Everyone would be too close to each other, and a small blade could end even a powerful person should it pierce correctly.


    So he broke from the crowds, and started cutting through a tight, dark alleyway. But before he could even begin to plan to hide, he realized his plan was futile. The Citadel wasn¡¯t for him, however, and the alleyway broadened into a proper lane, then a wide street, and the golem, towering and shaking the very earth with each step.


    The Servant Branch allowed no cover to hide, only scurry, run, or die.


    Oh. He heard someone else¡¯s proclamation over the Law of Fae.


    Their sway was massive, their grasp over the suggested reality firm.


    High Fae.


    The first true assassination attempt. Loud, bold, and brash.


    There was a huge hurtling whistling, and Daniel stopped short and scrambled to the side, as a huge boulder smashed against where Daniel had been. Daniel almost lost his footing as the force of the boulder shook the very ground, cutting sparks of shards grazing him as the wave of sound thundered.


    Daniel didn¡¯t even care if he bled at this point.


    What could stop a golem? Another, larger stronger golem was often the answer. But Daniel had no golems at all. Golems worked when using magical and elemental attacks failed, brute strength where the twisty spidery assaults were rendered moot and useless.


    Daniel watched as the Citadel coiled itself according to the desires of the powerful. Behind him thundered the golem, growing taller with every step.


    The Servant Branch allowed no cover to hide, only scurry, run, or die. Repeated the will of the oppressing High Fae Lord.


    Golems. The unthinking, unmovable constructs used when subtly failed, where magic was useless, and only the bold, strong, unyielding power of the earth, of force in motion. Elswith had seen them before.


    His first battle. His first campaign. The unaccomplished Lordling Heirling trying to establish his place, just fourteen years old. He had been bold, because he had known that unless he was bold and accomplished, he would be removed. He had been arrogant, too, unknowingly, but he had assumed that all the training, all the resources, all the training, would be enough to carry him to good results.


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    Fourteen year old Elswith had joined a campaign with his Circle, a campaign where they were to be on the wings and aid with clean-up. It had been an easy position.


    The Castalas faction had been in control of that campaign, and they had grown impatient with the debuting Red Circle¡¯s lack of efficiency striking down the remaining dread creatures. So they had released their creation,


    And as Elswith had watched that carnage, holding a sword in his numb hand, arm numb, shoulder numb, armor covered in the grim blackness of the dread creature¡¯s icor, the sheer massacre of it had turned his stomach. It was not as simple as cutting down the dread creatures. The Castalas faction¡¯s golems destroyed the creatures; it had been terrible, brutal, merciless, and unnecessarily violent and bloody.


    And the golems were blind. They did not attack ¡®allies¡¯ but any innocent creature, such as nearby wildlife such as deer and antalions, unable to flee the field of combat due to the magical barrier that the Fae had cast to contain the manifesting dread creatures, had not been spared.


    And that was how he had shamed his Faction and standing as Heirling of the Red Sword, not only was he too slow to complete the job and then the Castalas faction had to deploy their expensive golems, he had lost his stomach.


    Now, there was a golem behind him. Five years had come and gone. Elswith had gone from a lackluster Heirling, to the near pinnacle of popularity and favor, to now a main pawn in a very important Game. And yet, the fear in his stomach coiled.


    The Servant Branch allowed no cover to hide, only scurry, run, or die. Echoed a third and final time. Threes were powerful to the Fae. With this, whatever High Fae that was acting against Daniel had established it their will that Daniel could not avoid this challenge. If they lost, they would lose Prestige. If Daniel lost, he would lose his life and the Game.


    The bindings buzzed and shivered, the Game was alive. The High Fae, who had been unable to peer in the Grant Stable, were no doubt watching all of the unfolding events. A particular binding, around his ankle, burned coldly. At least Daniel knew which binding belonged the Castalas faction.


    Through the darkening night, the Servant Branch fled, the thundering golem behind him. Whenever he began to outpace it, a huge projectile was hurtled in the way. He could not run ahead, but should he slow, he was to be trampled.


    How was this assassination attempt fair? Even a Lordling would struggle to handle such a thing. Especially Elswith, with his Lightning affinity that the Earth based golems ignored. Even after the Dungeon, and the bookkeeping work agreement, and winning against the terrible trio, Servant Branch had a flickering flame of a match compared to the raw furnace of power that Lordling Elswith had possessed.


    As the Citadel continued to enlarge pathways and foot trails into large roadways, Daniel was relieved that at least there were no innocent fae wandering around. Or not so innocent Fae.


    Why wasn¡¯t Jasper Dunlap, the ungrateful and spite Glasbin fae, wandering around. They were partners, weren¡¯t they? That meant the golem may even confuse them, because the Law of Fae considered paired servants the same¡­


    There was one other way to destroy a golem.


    Well, there were many other ways: enough water, enough explosive fire magic, enough plant magic¡­Even enough lightning could destroy one, eventually.


    But there was another way that did not rely on the Servant Branch¡¯s own power.


    And he spied it with his grey blue eyes, looming ahead and beyond the broaden roads.

 Chapter 62: The lagoon where the Sea comes to die

    The Stable long behind him and lost, The Servant Branch raced ever forward, watching his prize draw nearer as he cut along familiar paths. At last, he spied a familiar passageway, away from the safety of the streets of the Citadel, the Pine Forest of the Castalas faction. Dark trees, scantly illuminated by the brilliance of the stars, the scent of pinetar, dark and peppery, spicing the dark night air.


    There was another boulder thrown at him, but Daniel was too quick, and the massive chunk of earth smashed against the silent sentries of the pine trees. There was an explosion of splinters and bark, and the authority of the Castalas faction lashed out before it was silence. One cannot steal authority from itself.


    Dangerous to run through the Castalas¡¯ faction territory. But it was on the way to where he needed to go.


    Golems were Earth Elemental, but there was a side that they suffered: Life and Plants. Barren deserts were better terrain for the thoughtless earthen constructs than a rolling meadow, and a forest of trees? Even though it was it¡¯s own territory, the Golem was slowed.


    Daniel clenched his fist, as he gained speed in the darkness.


    Daniel raced, and he felt dread on his mind. While he was more powerful than he had been in weeks, his body had paid a terrible price to claim that power.


    Daniel heard the coming golem. The next location would be enough to give him a serious led.


    The Castalas¡¯s Pine Forest was long, but it was not wide. It got bumped around slightly, as the Citadel had its ways, but for the most part, the evergreen trees often gave way to the Lagoon region.


    The pine tar scent cut away to a mild earthy odor as the terrain changed underfoot.


    Around the elongated Lagoon several Families and two small courts established their estates. One such family was none other than Mallory Estate, a small but powerful family of which Lordling Silvia hailed. And if she was here¡­


    Daniel considered that should he be unlucky, he may even encounter Lordling Parcel here.


    The Lagoon region, where the tide from the Ocean once came in, strong and powerful and clean, now reduced and diminished. What had once been a large pool of water, separated from the ocean to the West by the Citadel¡¯s walls, was now more akin to marshlands or swamps. Some traces of the sea remained, the softly glowing algae of green and blue, the spirit of adventure hidden in the brackish water. But now the water had receded into several small but deep pools, and allowed for one to travel by foot, if they be brave enough, straight across.


    Straight across, and toward the Servant Branch¡¯s aim. If only the giant crabs where still present¡­if only. But they had retreated by to the deep places in the sea as tensions rose between the defeated Sea Kingdom and the Seelie Fae.


    He would lose maneuverability, as soon as he strode into the muddy ways around the Lagoon. To walk along the perimeter not only would take too long, as it was very long, but the mud around it was deep and embracing.


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    If he was going to walk around it.


    He could walk on water.


    Provided¡­nothing had changed.


    As Daniel neared the Lagoon, there were no wee fae were present currently, which Daniel considered good fortune.


    But again, Luck was on his side, and Daniel at last spied his destination!


    An entire pine tree was uprooted and hurled from the towering Golem behind. An earthen thunderstorm rained overhead as earth and roots and pine needles rained down as the tree sailed over Daniel¡¯s head as he hunkered down, losing speed as he the massive pine tree crashed into the lagoon and a surge of out algae water shot everywhere, drenching the Servant Branch.


    He felt the massive footsteps of the golem behind him draw nearer, and he took to his feet, accerlating into the lagoon region.


    The water smelled foul, and now the nearby terrain was slick with algae. Perhaps luck was not on his side¡­


    The Golem: relentless, stubborn, unstoppable, pursued without ceasing. It was toying with him.


    Why had the Game allowed such an overpowered construct to harass him? Golems did not grow weary and weak. They were fueled by the earth. The Servant Branch meanwhile had been starved, body abused by the former events of the day, mind tired and overburdened with plots and counterplots of all the over involved parties.


    There was a way, and he just needed the Boldness to accomplish it.


    But the road to salvation was also the road to incredible danger:


    This was dangerous. He was going to go into a place where there were many people with Authority over him. The bindings were still enacted around his arms and his legs, and there, cruelest of them all, the one binding his heart. If someone in Authority tried to stop him, there may be backlash.


    The Lagoon neared as the ground turned sandy and muddy. The trembles of the golem behind him shook the earth.


    Daniel spied forward in the darkness, as he wished with all his heart that he would be able to avoid the next part of his plan.


    A naive person may attempt to trap the golem in the mud, but mud was the earth golem¡¯s element.


    So Daniel knew he had one hope to not only escape but defeat this golem, and the faction behind the attempt.


    The gentle light of the algae showed him the way.


    Authority could never compel someone to die, that would violate the Law of Fae. But like running with cords trailing behind you, anyone with swift enough hands may try to grab the ropes. Even if they just pulled him back a second, it may be a second too long.


    And that was if he was without reproach.


    The Servant Branch was bringing trouble into a place and potentially causing conflict between factions. And his appearance¡­After the Stable and the Dungeon, his clothing was ragged and stained. His cravat was long since gone in the early moments of the Dungeon (when it battle, it was always a bad idea to allow something that may be grabbed like a noose). It was good that he had taken it off. It was perhaps the cleanest item of clothing on the former Lordling now, folded safely in the garment bag tied securely around his back like an improvised pack.


    The golem thundered, and Daniel allowed himself a single look backwards.


    There was the massive golem, growing as it pulled the earth into its body and then amassing it into its body, growing larger still. Another stream of earth was forming a boulder in its hands. It was terrible, and whoever had created this construct had taken the time to add eyes and a mouth, both glowing against the coming darkness of true night.


    The Lagoon was directly before him. There was no boardwalk or bridge in sight.


    The golem was so close behind him.


    There was only the muddy murky bank on either side, trapping and tercious, the golem behind, and in front was the lagoon.


    Many people were wrong about magic.


    You didn¡¯t need magic to do magic.


    You just had to be prepared to make it appear that you did.


    Daniel launched himself forward, and his foot found purchase.


    Under the water, driven deep into the earth with the help of Orville and Hollis, the summer project of many many years ago still remained: Pillars under the surface of the water.


    Who needed water elementals to walk on water, when one could just recreate it with a little help from friends?

 Chapter 63: Those who Watch

    High above the rolling land, lingering in the silver shining trees in which he ruled his court, The High Fae of the Green Sword Faction, threaded his fingers together.


    ¡°Interesting.¡± He said, observing. While the tone was completely pleasant, there was something dark lurking under the surface.


    There, displayed by the Game, was the Servant Branch, formerly the Heirling of the Red Sword, running across a wide expanse of water, steps as sure as though he were striding across solid ground. Behind scrambled a golem, thing too stupid to prevent a partial plunge into the deepest part of the lagoon. The weight sent a wave out, as the golem began attempting to return to the land.


    Standing to her feet unaware, the High Lord of the Castalas Faction grimaced, as though she personally felt the agony of the minion of her Faction. She clinched her hands around thin air, and as she did, there was the sound of rending and tearing, as the space between the two Fae began to unravel.


    ¡°How he is doing that?¡± She asked, clutching the quivering space. ¡°What deep magic is this?¡±


    The High Lord of the Green Sword chuckled darkly, a hand shoeing away the debris of collapsing reality. ¡°Do not be alarmed, this is merely an unexpected interruption. As for the Servant Branch, all secrets will be discovered in the end, even if we have to cut him open to do so. Whatever deep magic this is cannot save him from us.¡±


    <hr>


    In the Darkest Depth of the Sea, a serene figure flowed through an abandoned structure. Not a Fae, as such. But a close enough cousin that the Law of Fae still delighted in her truthfulness and cried at her broken oaths, not that she had many. She flowed through the ruined castle of her old home. Her eyes glowed aquamarine, in the darkness of the great pressure of the sea as memories of the destroyed past, her pale skin illuminated like the gem of Serpentine, beautiful, greenish in color and a delicate, patterned appearance.


    She flowed upward, where the deep reliefs and stories had been left behind. She needed just to find the last one, the last hidden detail...That was when the Game had taken an unexpected and exciting turn, and stole her attention away.


    She drifted downward, free in the embrace of water, as she observed.


    She saw what ever Fae of high enough position or authority saw. A ragged looking person running apparently on water. But where was the magic to support such a thing?


    "Elswith. Always so clever. Never forgets." she said, and considered what the possibility of his victory today may entail. She had vaguely planned on his failure, like most other Fae.


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    Should the Game truly begin...


    She looked past the Game, back to the dark and forlorn reality of the abandoned structure. Sadness cut her heart as she considered her children would never be able to join her in the ancestral home, even to visit. This was a place few Fae could tread, and her children were more Fae than of her kind.


    In the midst of her musing, the depths of the ocean floor shook. She turned and a Fae Lord standing as plainly on the Sea Floor as though the water and the pressure did not exist. Power and strength quivered from him, as the water dare not make him wet. Each step the ground shook.


    ¡°You are early.¡± She said, and reached out a hand to him. He stood, while she was suspended in water.


    The Lord of the Oceanfloor, a Fae often overlook, gently and delicately, wrapped his fingers around the offered hand, and gently kissed the back of the Sea Which¡¯s hand.


    ¡°I returned as soon as I saw. Does this change our plans?¡±


    ¡°The plans may be altered, but never revoked. I will have my revenge.¡± She said, cold like the arctic sea.


    He kept her hand, and drew her nearer to him.


    ¡°Patience love.¡± Then he reached out his other hand, caressed her face, and kissed her. ¡°Our revenge.¡± He emphasized.


    <hr>


    Across the Seelie Realm, and even some places in the Unseelie, different observing Lords and High Lords, Senate and Court alike, watched the scene from afar.


    ¡°What is he doing?¡± The Lord of Smoke said, roasting meat over a fire.


    ¡°I thought he had no Water affinity?¡± Said the Lord of Grass.


    ¡°Who is aiding him?¡± Cried out a Senator who resembled Kane.


    ¡°Clever, and well done.¡± Said the Lord of the Northern Wind.


    <hr>


    But while everyone else was observing from afar, there was a certain hobo, who saw things from much closer. She was trying to get back to the bunkroom and still hopelessly lost, having left work late. Not wanting to cross the maddening streets of the Citadel, she made a dumb choice. She choose to take a shortcut and look at the pretty lagoon.


    This hobo had red hair, and was not currently aware completely of everything that was transpiring. People didn¡¯t tell servants about world changing games.


    But as she was leaving, and getting close to the lagoon, she spotted a coworker running toward her.


    That one new guy everyone called the little lordling, was running on water.


    This certain hobo, attempting to do an honest day¡¯s work for an honest day¡¯s food and eventual ride across the universe sea (See Shelby Crossmin Realm Wandering Hobo, for more information) stopped and stared. She had seen a lot of weird stuff, but weird stuff always had a color to it.


    Over her stay in Fairyland, she had seen reality get messed with a bunch. She had seen a guy play with fire, but there was a sense that the rules of the universe were twisted that for him, at that time, fire was a perfectly lovely playmate. She had seen a chick sing and plants bloomed, nothing princess movies haven¡¯t done for eighty years back on earth. Earlier today she had even seen a guy can walk on the ceiling! (She was not expecting that, by the way. Holy cow. It looked fun, but our beloved hobo was too intelligent to ask to have her gravity changed.)


    But as she watched him run on water, there was no sense of reality changing. There was no feeling of weird CGI being added over the normal rule of reality.


    A certain hobo would have stayed longer, but she then wisely realized that she should probably run.


    Because a deep roar from a giant earth thingy bellowed and hurled some kind of stone across.


    ¡°Stupid, me, real stupid. Why did I think taking a shortcut would work for me? It never has one time before!¡± she cursed.

 Chapter 64: The Cost of Generosity

    Daniel ran across the sunken pillars, heart pounding in his chest. His precious childhood memories now overlaid with dark and anxious thoughts:


    What if the next pillar was removed? What if it had been overturned? What if he overleapt? He had been much shorter the last time he had run across this pathway¡­


    But his feet found the rhythm, and his light steps borne by years of heavy training, did not fail him. The poles beneath his feet kept hold of his feet.


    Daniel wished he could be a fly on the wall and observe all the High Lords and Senators watching him. He hoped they choked on their wine and ruined their clothes. What he knew from observing Games in the past was that the Lords often assumed they knew everything. But if he could command an element to the point that they could not perceive it would imply that somehow the Servant Branch was stronger or more gifted than themselves.


    Not that a single one of them was not capable of destroying him. But anything he did that left them puzzled or bedraggled was worth it for him.


    By the way the water moved around Daniel, rising high around his thighs in a wave and almost sweeping him from his footing, the Golem behind him must have fallen into the water, totally or partially he was unsure. He dare not look back to verify. Golems were somewhat weak against water, but they had the ability to free themselves. The Lagoon was not deep enough to truly trouble the Golem. After all, if all it took was a puddle to stop the fury of the Castalas faction, then the Castalas faction would have fallen from prominence long ago.


    This would just give Daniel a few minutes head straight and time to enact his plan.


    Daniel spied ahead, and saw someone leaving the clearing. An unassuming maid he¡¯d spied earlier, noticing her because of her rather plain nose and red hair.


    Another assassin, no doubt. A fight, was it? Hopefully he would be able to postpone future fighting until he defeated the Golem.


    He felt the water surge, and he realized the Golem was arising. He did risk a glance behind this time, just in time to see the Golem pulling itself out on the bank. The water had been too deep, and the Golem had evidently been forced to surface and go around the lagoon. Good and bad. He had more time and a head start, but now the Golem would be able to throw things again.


    Daniel readied himself, danger behind and danger in front. He wondered if he should have ¡°Borrowed¡± Claudian¡¯s little golden daggers. He didn¡¯t like daggers, but pointy things did a good job to discourage others from hasty actions.


    Also, he was pretty certain her little golden daggers may have been actual gold, which was a very poor weapon choice as it did not hold an edge without magic, and he was still low on magic.


    He was nearly across the lagoon, and the golem was nearly returned to the shore. He would have to make ground quickly. He could only go forward or backward, after all, and he hoped to leave some mystery for the viewers. Few if any would think to check for something so mundane as a pillar behind the water level, obscured by the murky lagoon water.


    Daniel readied himself for battle, hands held tightly for an instant than loosely. Loose into battle, strong and tight only when striking, then return to loose.


    There was a sound of something being hurled, and had he not had nearly a decade of griffin experience, he would have dove straight into the water to get out of the way. But he knew what hurtling projectiles sounded like when they were aimed at you, and he knew what they sounded like when they were being hurled overhead.


    Lo and behold, the golem¡¯s massive missile marooned overhead merrily.


    And straight toward the stranger approaching.


    The redhead revealed that she was¡­


    Either a really good actor or truly just an ordinary person caught at the wrong place and at the wrong time.


    She screamed hurriedly and bounded away. Her legs moved too quickly for traction in the muddy bank, and for a terrible second she just pin-wheeled in place, eyes huge like saucers.


    <hr>


    Two years ago, on an insignificant campaign.


    Tired, Lordling Elswith sat on a log, above a little gully, looking at the setting sun as the shadows bled into night. The other Lordlings of his circle had left to seek entertainment, but after a hard day¡¯s work, Elswith had taken a moment to watch the sun progress across the sky.


    A dark shadow gave way, pooling together and slithering apart, and from the recesses arrived Lordling Regis. He was alone, his dark attire giving way to the coming night.


    Regis sighed. ¡°May I sit down?¡±


    ¡°No one owns this log. Not anymore.¡±


    Regis used a hand to guide his descent, grimacing as he realized the place he had grabbed had been dirty. But he did not speak of the soiling of his gauntlet-ed hands. ¡°Another little rural community gone. Not our fault. Most of them are happily relocated.¡±


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    ¡°You sound like Ria.¡± Elswith complained.


    Regis turned up his nose. ¡°I am directly repeating what she said. It would be a shame to be so careful in parroting, and yet the work not recognizable or traceable to the original speaker.¡±


    Elswith sighed, rolling his shoulders. ¡°If I wanted to hear Ria, I would be in the camp.¡±


    Regis observed the landscape ¡°Yet your avoidance will only further the education. The more you avoid her lectures, the longer they will rage when she has you.¡± Regis said, not unpleasantly. His dark eyes glinted in the shimmering red light of the setting sun. ¡°I have been considering for many months now. You wish to rid yourself of your flaws and weaknesses.¡±


    ¡°I wish to survive.¡± Elswith said, dispassionately, moving carefully along the log to avoid touching the contaminant. ¡°The Red Sword Faction will not tolerate weakness.¡±


    ¡°And yet¡­you go to great lengths over matters that hold no meaning for them.¡±


    Elswith wondered if Ria and Orville had successfully riled Regis. He was normally extremely reserved. ¡°Strangely judgmental of you on a cold Wednesday evening.¡±


    ¡°The temperature and the time do not change facts. You take vainglory for virtue.¡±


    The Heirling of the Red Sword clarified his point, but did not reduce the pressure of his words. ¡°The temperature and the time were to ask you what brought forth this topic. Why speak of it now and not another time?¡±


    The Lordling of a dying clan smiled darkly. ¡°I know a flaw of yours.¡±


    Anyone else would have assumed Regis was being aggressive and mocking. Perhaps he was. But Elswith also knew him to be intelligent and thought-provoking. "Tell me. So I can be rid of it.¡±


    ¡°No. You should keep this flaw. One cannot rid oneself of all flaws, and it is better to have a good flaw that you know of, than a secret flaw that lurks unbeknownst to you."


    ¡°Is there such a thing as a good flaw?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then what is it? I will not seek to prematurely remove this flaw, should your words hold sense. I wonder what you see that I do not.¡±


    Regis considered him for a moment, before he nodded. ¡°You want to be better. Better than you are. More than anyone makes you.¡±


    Elswith blinked slowly, waiting for more. When more did not arrive, he pushed forward. ¡°Doesn¡¯t everyone?¡±


    ¡°From what I have seen, no. They try to change their world, but they never change themselves.¡±


    Elswith sighed. ¡°How am I different?¡±


    ¡°If your house was on fire, what would you save?¡±


    Elswith felt his back straighten. It had been months, yet that question still lingered. And it still revealed his own dark and cynical nature.


    ¡°Do you want me to answer that?¡±


    ¡°You would save the instrument of power that could free you from the restrictions of those above you in your faction. That would be the logical thing to do. No one would blame you. Many would burn down their own homes should they have the chance of that much power.¡±


    Elswith clinched his fist.


    Regis smiled, eyes like shadows. ¡°And yet, despite knowing the logical and correct answer, you feel there is a better way. You know you must change, not why, but only that you must. That the correct answer is¡­not correct. You want to be better than you are. And that is a flaw.¡±


    Regis stood up and placed the hand he had dirtied earlier on Elswith''s shoulder, leaving a beast blood red handprint on Elswith¡¯s white battle armor. ¡°I am going to head back. The dead are gone. We couldn¡¯t save them. We can only move forward.¡±


    Elswith looked down below in the little gully at his feet, sickness churning secretly while his face remained placid and serene. He knew better than shame his house again.


    He looked over the field of conflict. It was small, as these things go. His Circle had done well that day. Better than other Circles, too. The land used to be a forest, but that was before the raw power of the Lordlings had arrived and smote out the attackers.


    Prone forms of the fallen remained in the devastated landscape: dread creatures and chaos beasts and the likes. But the telltale signs of fae blue blood were still visible, purple in the fading light of the sun. Once again, by time the Lordlings had discovered where the danger had dwelled, it had been too late, and the wee fae had suffered.


    Unhappy behind Elswith were the Fae cleaners. Dryads and other Elemental and Nature spirits and fae, held up by the Lordling remaining behind in contemplation. These cleaners had a sacred duty to restore beauty to the nature of the land, working together to wipe away the stain of the battle. Restore the wooded forest to its original state. The stains and grime of the dread creatures and chaos beast, forever blotted out and forgotten.


    But it meant they would also wipe away the traces of those wee fae, few though they were, that had been unable to flee in time.


    Wanting power couldn¡¯t be a bad thing. If he had power, would that not mean that he had more resources to save people? To save his own life?


    Why did the question of the fire and only saving a single thing bother him so? While he knew leaving all the servants to perish was horrendous, with that Red Sword, he would have the power to save so many more Fae¡­


    Elswith watched the sun continue to go down, bathing the world in a sea of warm red ambiguity. He had time to think while he sat vigil over the fallen.


    <hr>


    Back running over the lagoon, Daniel watched in slow motion as the rock hurtled toward the redhead with the plain nose. He watched as surprise and horror played across her face.


    She was someone¡¯s child.


    She could have been a spy.


    She could have been unlucky.


    But what she was, was in front of him.


    Daniel was a servant in a game. He had spent a month planning to improve and grow stronger. He had promised himself he would be more logical, focused, and cold than before.


    He was no longer rich enough to afford being generous to strangers. He needed to win the Game, and it hadn¡¯t even started yet!


    And yet¡­


    He used some magic.


    Favor and influence could influence the world around you, and Daniel knew how to do it well. It was slight, it was slick, and it was costly.


    After a month of using almost no power, he reached forward. In this way, it was the same as when he made Achievements, teasing just barely the fabric of the world to change it. Just the tiniest touch could work, if he was clever enough.


    He felt the world shift and move. Just enough.


    The redhead, in that same microsecond, pinwheeling on the slick muddy bank, abruptly sneezed. This sneeze was enough for her to take a step backward. The step backward had her lose her footing. She lost her footing, then rolled to the right.


    And the massive rock hurtled directly where she had been standing just a split second before.


    The Law of Fae cheered.


    The Game hooray-ed.


    The Servant Branch had saved an innocent.


    He also used over a quarter of all the power he had earned in the Dungeon.

 Chapter 65: The Re-balance of the Game is a strange servant

    Daniel watched as the servant fell over into the mud. He was afraid she would squander the gift he had given her, for who is prepared to almost be smashed upon by a massive rock hurled from a water-logged golem?


    But the girl continued the roll, and scramble up and on her feet, clothes now dripping with wet mud.


    "Oh crude," she said, seeing the golem.


    The former Heirling of the Red Sword watched as the girl ran like a chicken in crazy large looping circles, screaming. How did she know the proper way to confuse a golem with a barrier between them? She was slowly pulling out of range of the golem attack range, but then running back inside so it would have to re-calibrate its aim, only to squirrel away further. It kept the golem confused and trying to decide whether to start coming around the lagoon or if it should continue to hurl objects.


    The red-haired servant''s actions also bought Daniel time to come away from the water. He was soon near her circle of madness, and he wondered if he would have to save her again. She was slowing down, wailing loudly, limping. Right when he was about to assume she was hurt, she switched legs she was dragging behind herself and wailed about the increase in the cost of living robbing her desire to live.


    Daniel had assumed he had the resolve to do whatever he needed to live and win this game.


    But he wondered, at that moment, if he could have wept loudly like that. Did she have no shame?


    Was she a spy or just some vastly talented servant?


    She threw a mudball, lamely, toward the golem across the water. It handed limply with a ''splat'' sound just a few yards from her. "Your mom called, she said she wanted a refund when they brought you in!" she said and wailed loudly.


    Perhaps she wasn''t pretending, and she was getting ready to die...


    But before Daniel began the complex inner turmoil of the ethics of saving himself or trying to keep the probable innocent alive and the sunk cost of saving her life, she sprang up to her feet and started running straight toward him. "Move move move. It''s mad now!" she said, sounding quite mad herself.


    The Servant Branch and the red-haired servant ran together, not close enough that she could stab him, if she was an attacker, but not so far that he could not reach her.


    She had a stick in her hair and mud along her front. She was not impressive to look at, and she was completely right.


    The golem shrieked in fury and threw a huge boulder further than it had ever before. The force of it was so strong that the arm in which it threw the boulder detached itself and shattered, leaving the golem with only one arm. Off balance, it ambled toward them, going around the lagoon in an intercept approach.


    Daniel did not need to encourage the girl to continue running. She had decent fitness. She did not draw on the Law of Fae even once to aid her in her steps. She didn''t appear trained. Just someone who knew when to put her head down and work.


    "Are they after me or you?" She asked, huffing.


    "Why would they be after you?" Daniel asked, shocked by the question.


    "Because the first time I don''t ask is the day when I''m the MC." She huffed again. "Why are they after you?"


    Daniel frowned. He was not used to someone not knowing who he was. They might not know his name. They might not even be aware of the direction events and situations of the conflict. But almost everyone inside the Citadel he had worked with today had been people who knew him.


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    "There is a Game on. I am a key pawn inside this Game."


    "It sounds like you used a capital letter there. Everyone keeps mentioning it."


    They stopped as they neared the edge of the lagoon. Leaving this region may shorten the distance the golem had to travel to reach them. It was longer to walk in a straight line than leave the region, walk around the road, then wait for your enemy to leave.


    "Why are we stopping?" asked the girl. She leaned against the trunk of a sturdy moss-covered tree, observing everything. She had smart, intelligent eyes, though her face was robbed of any beauty by her plain nose and ordinary demeanor. If not for her flaming red hair, almost glowing in the darkness of night, she almost looked human.


    "We need to establish a baseline between us," Daniel said, listening as the golem roared. "We need to stay near enough that the golem doesn''t respawn nearer, in different earth." He needed to stay ahead, but not too far ahead. He had to time this right. He looked for the timekeeping clock tower and spied the time. 9:30. If he played it correctly, he could slip in before the true event started....


    The muck on his trousers fell off with a ''plop'' sound.


    The red-haired servant laughed. She laughed like a much smaller fairy than she was.


    Daniel sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and thinking furiously. It was strange to be so close to danger, and yet remain completely still.


    "You are marked for death by the golem," Daniel said, testing her.


    "Dang it," she said, kicking at the murky and damp ground. "Not again." she sighed. She was very poor at keeping her face neutral. Whatever she felt, she showed.


    However, she must not be too troubled by his proclamation, as she started brushing off the drying mud from her skirt. "Any chance the golem will leave me alone now?"


    Daniel felt the Game. "No. You are marked for death by that creature." It was one of the ways he knew she was not a spy against him, at least for now. "It truly dislikes you. We must defeat it. Even if it becomes unsummoned, unless defeated, it may continue to hunt you down again at a later point in time. You aggravated it. How did you know the proper way to confuse the golem?"


    "Not my first time dealing with a giant who tracks by emotions. I realized that it was going to cause trouble for me getting away, and you were much closer, so I decided I ought to help you after you helped me."


    She had noticed? Perhaps someone untrained, but very very talented then. Or it was a trap.


    She continued, either blind to his inner musing, or pretending to be blind to his inner musings to lure him into a state of false safety. "I made it blind by going through many different emotions, then insulted its creator, then forced it to exceed its distance capacity. Insulting mommy is a very good tactic."


    Daniel wondered how such a creature had survived so long to make it to be a servant here, at the Citadel of the Seelie Fae. "Are you from the rural places?"


    "I''ve been there."


    "It shows." Was this the Game helping him? Introducing him to someone interesting, who could either help or harm him? He knew he could not win the Game alone, and surviving this massively unfair attack was his top priority.


    Was this a form of re-balance?


    Who was this servant that the Game decided to aid Daniel by arranging their meeting? She looked very very ordinary. "You are one of the new servants of the O''Tells."


    The Law of Fae danced brightly. She finished brushing off the drying mud with practiced hands. "Yes. I just arrived I''ve been here a few weeks. Just got into town, by way of the rooms in the back, if you know what I mean."


    He looked at her blankly. "I don''t know that region," he said. "The Seelie have many courts, I don''t know them all." Some of the little courts were so small that they only had one Lord and one Servant, and that was all.


    She stood up, fixing her hair with practiced movements. She had blue eyes that seemed to be uncannily observant. "Let me see if I understand this. You are part of a Game with a Capital G. You aren''t really a servant, but you play one on tv, and for some reason, there is a golem after you trying to kill you, but also get you to waste your time by saving random strangers."


    If she was truly not lying, and the Law of Fae said she was honest, she had understood quickly the situation. Perhaps she could see the Game clearly. "In part."


    "What''s your plan to take down the giant rock baby?" She asked, eyes aglow with anticipation.


    Curious. She was not trying to run away.


    Daniel countered, enjoying the banter, "Why would I have a plan?"


    "Because someone so smug wouldn''t be running on water for no good reason. You came here on purpose."


    "I do."


    "Can I help? Because I don''t think being hunted down by the mud giant will be good for my long-term goals."

 Chapter 66: The Kill Order and the Master who Lost

    9:35 was the time, as the stars sparkled brilliantly overhead and the lagoon was fading from sight as Daniel angled across an empty and mostly not haunted hollow of willow trees, gloomy in the darkness of night. The lonely eyes of the forgotten stared him from the shadows, unremembered, unloved, and unremarked.


    In sharp contrast to those who desired to be forgotten was his new companion and surprise aid, who not only agreed to his plan but asked if she could add a few extra touches of petty revenge. She was a strange servant who seemed both completely inadequate and yet strangely competent. She had few of the features of remarkable heroes, and she seemed to not realize it was her place to stand back.


    She...was more than willing to help him.


    It was suspicious, but he was more than confident in his ability to handle her if it came to a physical confrontation.


    Beside, someone needed to get ahead of him to open the doors.


    The night was on, and the first true assassination attempt was well underway. The golem was overkill, in fact, but it was also showy and interesting. The Servant Branch imagined that the attention of many of the important Lords was upon him.


    He just hoped that the ones nearby wouldn''t understand his aim and move to erase his method of handling the golem.


    Behind them, thundering like a storm bound to the earth, lumbered the golem. The very ground underneath their feet shook and the few outer structures rattled.


    The creature absorbed the emotional intensity from the redheaded servant and roared again. "Your dad used to call you a disappointment, but now you just wished he called!" She yelled, viciously. Her hair was messy again, despite her retying it. Daniel himself did not quite understand the insult, but if something hunted by emotions, then the servant''s pure maliciousness must fell like a physical blow.


    The golem nearly lost its other arm as it heaved a massive boulder then threw it well beyond its natural range, and a chunk of some terrible and heavy material sailed through the air, crashing completely harmlessly many yards short of them.


    "You suck worse than a vacuum!" she yelled.


    Daniel wondered if he would be able to replicate that tactic, and found himself unable to manifest that amount of shamelessness. He felt impressed but also embarrassed.


    Up ahead lay the destination.


    "Can you keep it distracted for five minute?"


    "Sure." she said, and smiled happily.


    Daniel decided she must be someone''s hunting dog who never interacted with the outside Fae society, somehow slipped her lease and was now discovering how a proper Fae acted. How else could she both so clueless and yet so willing to embrace danger.


    Daniel had never seen someone control and use their emotions like a weapon.


    If he was still the Heirling of the Red Sword, and he knew she wasn''t truly a spy (or even if she was a spy for the right people), he''d see if she would join his Circle. Orville would like her for how zaney she was, and Ria would find her interesting. Cleo would adore someone with even fewer scruples about proper decorum.


    Bitterness touched Daniel''s heart. He was the Servant Branch. He no longer had the option to build a team to contend with the dangers in the Rural Places. He may never lead another Circle against the Dread.


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    Poor, overworked, out played little lordling.


    No time to whine. He needed to enact his next goal.


    Ahead was a well known Outdoor Music Hall, that he had listened to many concerts here. The redhead yelled another emotion filled insult to the golem, and she splintered away from Daniel.


    She must be mad. Mad and yet brave.


    Where had such a creature come from?


    So Daniel was allowed to pull to the right, and approach the great glass doors of the Lesser Banquet Hall of the O''Tells Estate.


    He needed to return something to work.


    And maybe find out what happened to Esra, who had not shown up on time.


    <hr>


    Inside the O''Tells estate, The Surmount Butler had not had a good day.


    No. First his real master, whose name was hidden even to himself, had set him a seemingly simple task. A task he had failed.


    Then those other ''masters'' had their meeting interrupted by a powerful Mage they still wished to move to their side and therefore he had to cuddle. He had had no choice but allow the Mage entrance to an almost private meeting.


    Then that powerful gravity mage had done something, (the Surmount butler did not know the specifics, as he had been out of the Main Banquet hall at that moment) and many important guests had left.


    Then, the Lords of the O''Tell that he did not follow but must pretend that he did had been displeased with his handling of the situations. Lord O''tell, the Lady of outer Matters, mother of Lordling Orville, had been very displeased with his interpretation of his orders. In a cruel twist, the very lecturing he had committed against the fallen Lordling had befallen himself. After many hours of education and having his own affairs and orders placed on hold, the Surmount Butler cursed in his heart the unfairness.


    Now at last he was returned to his office.


    The Servant Branch had avoided so many pitfalls and traps that day. He had arrived on time, despite the Sky Court''s attempts to keep him late. He had stood there, standing as properly as a real Lord, unflinching, unapologetic, while the Surmount Butler had spent an entire hour scrambling to force a break in proper decorum.


    The newly minted servant had somehow avoided the hex on the door, which would have been a wonderful surprise and come across very poorly on the new attendant. Not only that, he had known the proper style to open the doors. Who knows that? What Lordling even knows that about their own house? The Lordlings of the O''tell may not even recall the name of the style, let alone the proper movements. No one liked the Lren Style! It was not common, yet not so rare that it would remarkable.


    Just what was the Servant Branch? Everyone knew the Heirling of the Red Sword had struggled to establish himself as a young Lordling. He had been too serious when he should have been arrogant, and too polite when he should have dominated. He had vomited during his first Campaign, for the Seelie King''s sake.


    Everyone who had bet, (and the Surmount Butler had bet heavily) had bet that the former Lordling would crumble. If he had been useful, the former Lordling would not have taken more than 5 years to establish his place in the rankings.


    And yet...


    And yet, he had been triumphant in every challenge. The rivalry between the Servant Branch and Lordling Parcel had been nearly a guarantee that there would be destruction and the Servant Branch would have been blamed, at least partially, for disrupting the gathering. But it didn''t happen.


    The roaming Mage had arrived, and the Servant Branch had even handled that and not disrupted the meeting in the Lesser Banquet. Instead, the more prioritized meeting in the Main Banquet Hall was interrupted by the wandering Mage and something significant had occurred.


    "Oh, Law of Fae, please, give me just one more chance to undo everything!" the Surmount Butler begged. The Law of Fae was fair, but the Surmount Butler had misused the fairness before to cause harm. That was how he had weaponized the new attendant partner of Servant Branch to cause trouble. "Just one more chance to prevent the Game!"


    If the Game started...


    His benefactors would be very very displeased. They had secrets. Many secrets. He knew a few and wished he didn''t, because they would remove him should it become necessary.


    Someone barged into the little office where the mud from a very dirty servant had fallen off and was now dried to the carpet. He hadn''t had the chance to clean it, and many servants were mad at him for ruining their food from after the feast.


    "If this doesn''t have anything to do with the Game, I will make you prune the cursed hollows with your teeth." He glowered, wondering why everything was against him.


    "He''s back."


    "What?"


    "The Servant Branch is here."


    The Law of Fae did listen after all!

 Chapter 67: The Surmount Butler must win

    The Surmount Butler scuttled along the hallway from his office. He had a chance to readdress today. Those he worked for were not patient, and had little desire to risk the Game truly starting. If it started, that meant that, however unlikely, the Servant Branch may somehow....unimaginably....win.


    He stopped and briefly rested against that one wall that was burging in the Servant''s corridor, clutching his heart at the impossibility of that very notion.


    Giants crushed the small. The Powerful ate the youth of young, stole the wisdom of the old, and proclaimed whatever they deemed right in their own eyes as the new justice and new right. Standards were for the weak or the stupid. Just as long as one was honest enough not to lose the Law of Fae, what more could you need?


    The Former Lordling Elswith had imagined himself above the ways of the world, and now would be striped and swallowed by those he had dared attempt to step over. That was what was going to happen.


    The Surmount Butler pushed himself away from the wall, disquieted as it started pulsing again. They really needed to get that checked out one day soon. He hustled quickly into the lobby of the Lesser banquet hall, quiet as there was no function here this evening, then into the Lesser Banquet hall.


    And there, standing with the curtains drawn across the glass doors leading into the outer gardens, was the Servant Branch.


    He hardly looked as bedraggled and rushed as the servant had proclaimed. In fact...he was dressed in his uniform again. But standing there, so proudly, one may be forgiven for assuming it was the finest material, and not some low quality cloth for the rabble.


    In fact, it almost looked like the cloths he used to wear when he was a Lordling of the Red Sword.


    And for just a second, the Surmount Butler could almost imagine that terrible hilt at the Heirling''s waist, casting terrible ruby shadows across the dim banquet hall as deep as oceans of beast blood.


    He swallowed.


    But then the illusion was broken, as the Servant Branch bowed to him, as exactly an underling should bow to a Surmount Butler. Not a single smidge more respect or trepidation than required.


    He rubbed the tired from his eyes. Just a trick of the eyes. Just a flashback all the times the Red Circle had had functions at this Estate. Only now, the Surmount Butler was not playing dog for the little lordings who celebrated something as minor as holding back the destruction of a little town for another year, when everyone knew the rural regions were doomed anyway.


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    Why had the little arrogant child changed his clothes? Moreover, how had he changed his clothes so fast? According to the servant who informed the Surmount Butler, the Servant Branch had arrived muddy and dirty in soiled clothes not more an 2 minutes ago. Unless that servant had lied...While there was technically enough time to go from the Servant''s hall, where he had been spotted, straight to the laundry room, retrieve his uniform, and then rush to this room, but that would only leave around 20 to 30 seconds to change. That seemed unlikely...


    Well, that other servant should be punished anyway. The unfortunate messenger had not been as careful as the former Lordling, and had left many areas open to attack....er....correction, the Surmount Butler smiled to himself, briefly, before reminding himself that he still had more to do and he could not take a break as of yet...


    Because now stood there, in that red uniform, the former Heirling of the Red Sword. He even tied his cravet correctly. Beside the faint salty smell of the Lagoon, and some very faint white chalky powder along the former Lordling''s hair, he looked impeccable.


    "Greeting to the Great Surmount Butler of the Southern Wing of the O''Tells Family Estate." said the Servant Branch, reminding him expertly of his high position.


    And his high position would not allow him to criticize small remarks. There was much duty and pride that came with being such an important servant as a Surmount Butler. Especially over an entire section of the massive estate. For him to criticize the dust in the boy''s hair would be to dirty his own position. That fool new Lord from the Sky Court struggled with that concept. But the Surmount Butler knew very well the limitations that came with more power.


    The Surmount Butler would have to find another way to try to change the scenario. Even if he couldn''t manage to score a complete win, it just needed to be big enough that it wasn''t a loss on his part. He felt a phantom pain around his neck as he struggle with that concept.


    "You are not on duty." he said, very primly. He also shook his head, disapprovingly at the Servant Branch''s appearance, as if to say, ''not good enough, not good enough, but not worth dirtying myself to mention it''. That was allowed.


    But the insult was either ignored and missed, as the ash blonde servant smirked slightly, knowingly, and bowed his head. "Forgive the late hour. I am here, to practice." Said the Fallen Lordling, smoothly. Those blue-gray eyes seemed so calm, completely removed. "I feel that I have shamed the Great O''Tells House, as my Lren Style had some places to polish."


    And there went the Surmount Butler''s plan of criticize the new Attendant the next time. Since the teenage Fae had mentioned it first, any vocational efforts that went toward it would be, in some way, him agreeing with the Servant Branch. It made everything complicated.


    "You are here past the time when you should arrive."


    The game was on between them.


    The Surmount Butler must do something to reclaim the situation. On his side was experience, position, and authority.


    What did the little servant have? Practically nothing.

 Chapter 68: Fighting Fire with Fire, starting the match of tomorrow today

    Daniel knew he was in over his head.


    Yes, finding someone crazy enough to hold off the golem for him to position himself to defeat the Castala''s secret weapon was incredible luck. But he could not just blunder his way into the O''Tells estate with it chasing after him.


    No. He needed to have permission to bring an uninvited guest. Or to establish that it was, in fact, an invited guest...


    So he needed to switch back into his role as an Attendant. Hence why he wasted at least 20 seconds changing his clothes. Attendants, the most dangerous position amongst servants due to their directly facing the ruling class of Fae. They did odd jobs, such as holding napkins for Fae so powerful should they misblink they may destroy a mountain, such as perfectly and properly offering tea and cakes, and such as opening doors for the invited guests.


    Next question, how could he step back into his role as an attendant outside his shift?


    By offering the Surmount Butler a chance for revenge.


    The only downside:


    The Surmount Butler was intellect, clever, wily, and had been playing the game for decades upon decades, if not centuries.


    Daniel would have to take whatever he could, risking whatever losses...


    Should the Servant Branch not only escape but destroy the Golem, the Castala faction was done interfering tonight. Their chance to stop the Game would be finished. They would no longer be able send anyone else. The Game was displeased with their current play as it was; any more than this and the Game would intervene.


    The Surmount Butler grinned wickedly, dark teeth showing past his pale lips.


    This was not Lordling Fredar....Lord Fredar, (Daniel corrected himself, slowly, before the Law of Fae could chide him but with enough of a gap so that anyone reading his mind would know it was intentional.) Lord Fredar would physically abuse Daniel, may break him over and nearly torture him.


    The Surmount Butler was not such a fool. He would not be someone''s spymaster if he was a fool. This next conversation would be hugely important. Daniel had his set of needs. He needed to be allowed to work late. He needed to establish that the Castalas Faction had been invited early. And there was one more secret thing he needed...which he did not think about, least the High Fae see it in his mind.


    And while it may be difficult, Daniel had hope. The Surmount Butler was smart, but he had been frozen in the same position for decades upon decades. He had successfully fended off competitors for his job, but he had also not advanced higher.


    So Daniel would have to give the fae something he desperately wanted: an opportunity to go at Daniel, without the other servants around, with the Lords all away.


    "We should talk about your disappointing performance, Elswith." The Surmount Butler said, an opening jab.


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    The Name Elswith was dead, cold, void. The memory of power that used to dwell in that name now just as much a ghost as the figments in the willows beyond.


    Except the same, tiny fire from Kenton, who still believed in the name of Elswith.


    That small spark of belief sparked even larger defiance and vigor in Daniel. He would fight fire with fire, starting the match of tomorrow today "I agree. We should really talk, Sialtons." Daniel said, using the Surmount Butler''s Harbor name. The difference in position made even the mention of the Harbor name difficult for Daniel. Difficult, but not impossible. He had earned enough leeway and power to do so. Just barely enough. But it was enough.


    The Surmount Butler''s eyes wide. Just a touch, just a smidge.


    That was enough.


    The match was on.


    The entire Game was focused on this moment.


    <hr>


    Strangers in a strange land all have homes from whence they came, as the Fae were no different. And from these homes were the important people. From the ones watching from their cities soaring in sky, to those viewing from the depths of the sea, they watched. Some were powerful. Some were even more so. As they watched, the The Law of Fae twittered and swirled. This was something that did not need to happen, that Beloved chose to complete himself.


    The Game roared.


    The watchers leaned in, and watched.


    The sounds were rich and clear. "What if there was a guest coming?" the Servant asked, voice coming across the Game to those watching. "And I am the only servant ready to open the door?"


    "What kind of guest would come into a door this large?" Argued the Surmount Butler. Everyone watched this exchange with baited breath. Some Fae began drafting in their own minds as they felt the dominate position of the conversation shift back and forth between the two.


    <hr>


    And yet, while most of the Lords and Senators and others viewing the Game watched the conversational duel, heavily invested in exchange between the Servant Branch Hall Attendant and the Surmount Butler...there were a few whose eyes wandered.


    One such person was a Lordling watching the other goings on. A tall young Fae with freckles across his nose and a shock of curly dark golden hair was watching the Game.


    This Lordling had switched to the other view point available. For while the game between the Surmount Butler and the Attendant Branch was interesting, he was more interested in the unknown variable outside.


    The red haired girl with the normal nose was running in circles with the Golem around his backyard. At this point in time, it was no longer clear whom was chasing whom. The poor Golem looked rather bewildered and sad.


    Through the viewing, the Lordling watched the scene unfolding. The Golem started to look toward the Estate again, probably focusing in on Elswith through tracking magic. She took offense to that, apparently, and she yelled at it "You can run from me, but you can''t run from your face, gravel eater." The sounds were distant and less vibrant than in real life, but in part that was due to the Game by in large ignoring the exchange.


    The unkempt lordling noticed another Circle member entering the room. "Did you find more?" he asked.


    "At least 150 Fae have been poisoned. It''s terrible." she threw down a silky sack, bulging,


    The frizzy haired Fae sighed. "Is...this person with you?" He asked the girl with black and white hair, and an eyepatch.


    "She''s your family''s servant. Shouldn''t you know this?" the girl said.


    "Your family has spies in my family and you know it."


    "Everyone has spies in everyone else''s family. Or you do if you matter."


    They both stopped their bickering as the servant in question threw an old tomato at the Golem, and now it did appear she was chasing the Golem, and not the other way round. "Do people pay you to stay away from them, or is that just a public service? Don''t walk away from me! Get back here!"


    "Is she going to ruin everything?"


    The newcomer Lordling adjusted her eyepatch, watching the scene unfold via the Game. "It does appear that she is offering aid? Or she is mad."


    The boy squinted at the Game again, trying to pick out fine detail. "Is the Golem crying?"


    "They can''t cry...but...it looks like it."


    "Brutal."

 Chapter 69: The Lren Style of begging

    Conflict is the fuel that drives the Law of Fae, it was said. Conflict drove the powerful to kiss the surface of the slumbering world, and from the mist create substance. The Fae were ancient, as old as time itself, but only conflict had driven them to greater and greater heights. From near savagery, small warlike bands, to the massive powerful courts that contested and drove the heights ever higher came the Fae, from all kinds.


    Conflict is the fuel.


    And yet, while some ascend ever higher, those who fail plummet and fall. Always more were needed to increase the Seelie Kingdom''s prominence.


    And sometimes, the young Lordling Elswith had laid awake at night, haunted by the question: What happened to the ones who failed? How long could the base become wider and wider, like a phrymaid growing taller by adding ever more broader lower levels? What would happen when finally the weight atop was too heavy? What would happen when there simply were no more Fae left to subjugate and stand atop their fallen forms?


    Would the vertical growth of the Seelie Kingdom be stopped? Could it be stopped? Or would it continue until it was building upon air?


    Standing in front of the Surmount Butler, name spoke, the Servant Branch engaged in a conflict most sharp. Conversation with a Fae who had a centuries-spanning career as a Servant, who had elevated himself forward and forward until he stood near the top of the Servant hierarchy. Who not only had the reigns to Daniel''s bindings but who would know how to use that to his advantage.


    Best to do this carefully.


    "You take yourself too seriously, Surmount Butler. You forget yourself and think you even dream of the inner workings of the higher class." Daniel insulted him.


    Carefully. He did not misuse Sialton''s name again. The Servant was not speaking in third person, so he was more rude and abrasive than before, but no more name dropping. He could not afford to misspeak and give more than he could afford to lose. But he would lose something.


    The Servant Branch needed to offer a piece of himself that could break.


    The Surmount Butler shifted, slightly, clearly calculating the words. There was a slight pause before he nodded to himself. "Hall Attendant Branch, you are not known for speaking without thought. What brings forth this line of discourse?"


    He did not take the bait.


    Fine. It was low-hanging fruit anyway.


    The Surmount Butler may have experience.


    But Daniel had arranged the time and the place. The Lesser Banquet Hall of the O''Tells. Empty and devoid of all fine fixtures, furniture moved away, and huge doors that let into and out of the back gardens. And to an unexpected Guest. Other entryways were nearer to the place Daniel had in mind to defeat the Golem. But they would all be adorned with priceless items and ancient placements. Here was the place.


    And what Daniel needed to win was not obvious. As long as Surmount Butler just permitted him, he would be able to do what he needed. Although...he may damage his uniform...


    Before this, when Lordling Elswith had come to the O''Tell''s Estate, the Surmount Butler seemed small and insect-like, reserved, like a beetle that scurried away when big feet appeared. But here and now, as Butler over the Servant Branch, standing in his power with the chance to reclaim some lost face, and away from those who may report him, he seemed to undergo metamorphism into a different kind of creature. Something with a stringer and pinches. "I find it questionable what brought you here." he clicked his black teeth together. "Where is your partner? Why is a hall attendant assigned to open a door here by himself?"


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    "I am practicing opening a single door, as per the Lren Style."


    The Butler frowned at that. Daniel wished he knew what the Fae was thinking.


    "The mere fact that you dare invite yourself to practice in the main parts is a questionable offense." The Surmount Butler hummed.


    The bindings around Daniel quivered uncomfortably. "As a forward-facing servant, I am well aware that I must be perfect in all my actions, lest I anger the very powerful. And did you not instruct me to improve my skills, that I must take stride to find opportune moments? Was that not an invitation?"


    The Surmount Butler had uttered those very things, hours and hours ago.


    The small g game around them coiled and circled the Surmount Butler, watching for his response.


    Time to push. Just a little. Just enough for a swat. Afterward, he would start to push his real aim. "I am here to improve myself. And should I be discovered by one of my betters, they will discover me a very discrete Servant, in proper dress and uniform. Should I be asked what task I attend, I will say I open the words and orders of the most patient Surmount Butler."


    "What Task could you attend in this Lesser Banquet hall? Everything has been put away, even the table and chairs."


    "I can practice opening the door."


    "There is but a single door, large though it may be."


    "The Lren Sytle has an adaptation for single door opening, as well as opening two doors with only one attendant."


    The Surmount Butler blinked.


    Daniel pushed forward. ng across the Game to those watching. "What should outsiders think, should they seek to gain entrance, but the door be barred? What should I do if there was such a knock, and I am the only servant ready to open the door?"


    "What kind of guest would come into a door this large?" The Surmount Butler interjected. But he held up a hand before Daniel could answer. "You are well-learned in the Lren style," he said. "I would like to see it."


    "I am happy to show you my door-opening technique." That was almost permission...Almost...


    "Not that. Afterwards, perhaps. But first. Show me the Lren Style of Begging." Said the Surmount Butler. The bindings on Daniel''s arms and legs began to twitch.


    Daniel blinked. "Please respeak what you uttered, truest Surmount Butler."


    "The Lren Style is more than opening doors. Surely, one as educated as yourself must know that."


    Oh.


    Oh.


    That''s not good.


    Daniel hadn''t considered that angle.


    Begging was dangerous for the Fae. It was easy for a misplaced word to increase one''s debt. Sentences such as I beg your pardon, I beg your forgiveness, and I beg your kindness. All these words were forbidden by anyone who dared try to gather Power. When one felt a debt and spoke it, authority, favor, and influence could easily be snatched by others. Even if a Servant was ordered to Beg, any real feeling may slip out and create a debt.


    And the Lren Style had a format for begging. The Lren style was old, some said that it outdated even the first King. And with all things that span the gulf of thousands of years, its history was deep and very dark.


    "Perhaps you were not listening to my lecture this afternoon. Poor on you for not valuing my time." The Surmount Butler began to hedge.


    Daniel could feel a wisp of power being stolen from him. Dare he interrupt and address the Law of Fae?


    No. Daniel held himself back, uncomfortable with his vulnerability. All that time, risking so much for so few scrapes, and now watching it being taken away...


    Interrupting and cutting to the heart of the matter was the privilege of Lordlings.


    He needed to be a Servant at this point in time. Do something only a servant could do.


    A Servant with permission to open the door.


    "Begging is a classical art. You were educated, were you not? Surely you know the history of begging." The Surmount Butler seemed a thousand feet tall with his smugness, greedy eyes bright against the darkening room.


    The bindings insisted the Servant Branch obey.


    He would obey.


    He had to.


    But not because the bindings made him, he insisted to himself as he found his body going to the never-practiced form of Lren begging.


    Because Daniel had decided that he wanted to win.


    Because he would open that door.


    Daniel moved his body, feeling the terrible tightness in his muscles and the terrible impulse. He was merely demonstrating the position of begging.


    <hr>


    The Surmount Butler watched this unfold, thinking, thinking, always thinking. What was the fallen Lordling doing? Was he submitting himself without a fuss? Why? What was the angle? He had said it to challenge the child, but the child did it without flinching. What was the angle? Had he truly gotten those wisps of influence from the new Servant, or was this just a trap?


    <hr>


    "That''s enough." the Surmount Butler ordered before Daniel finished.


    "I need to finish," Daniel said, finding his own blue-grey eyes glowing as the Law of Fae was attending. "I want to be a good Servant, after all."

 Chapter 70: Like a Rolling Stone

    The Surmount Butler ground his teeth. He had several layers of plans and time. As long as he had time, he could end up in the superior position. But the ex-lordling must know that also.


    What angle could he possibly have? The child had come in here for another purpose...His faction''s assassin was yet to be activated.


    What had happened to the other assassin? In fact, who had gone first?


    <hr>


    Daniel glared, just briefly at the Surmount Butler. He was close to his aim, now. But if he pushed, the Surmount Butler may just stop playing.


    Daniel considered the Lren Style Begging.


    "The Lren Style." he began. "Ancient Style of actions and methods for dealing with others. Now it is just a set of movements and actions for Servants and courtiers, but it began as a philosophy."


    The Butler glared. "Ancient History has no place here."


    Time for a tiny poke. He stood upright but kept his feet in the position to facilitate the bow. "You have been a Surmount Butler for many decades. You know all the actions and the hows. But I find your lack of the Whys to be shocking."


    "Those who are young should remember their manners."


    "This humble servant apologies," Daniel said. "That is the Lren Style."


    "That is basic Servant etiquette."


    "And yet, it came from the Lren Style."


    "You come into the banquet hall without invitation, without permission, without manners, at this time at night, to lecture me?" The Surmount Butler said, words sharp.


    "I came...to improve myself."


    <hr>


    The Surmount Butler started to grin.


    "You came here to flee your assassin, eh?"


    The truth of that statement was strong across the Law of Fae.


    "You came here to beg for protection, didn''t you?"


    The Lordling glared at him. Such as a haughty look for such a lowly Fae. The brat still considered himself higher up, like the great and the mighty.


    What he didn''t know, what he might never live long enough to realize. There was only one way to go. Big powers crumpled and were destroyed by even larger powers. It was a long way down to the desolation of being a Lowly, powerless Fae.


    The Surmount Butler hoped, unreasonably and against his own best interests, that the brat Elswith did live through the night. That the brat would long enough to truly realize that he would never rise the ranks again.


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    So (Name ) could personally watch those haughty blue-grey eyes turn lifeless. Not lifeless from death, but lifeless from regret and remorse.


    The world steps over those who fall.


    And sometimes, the world steps on top of them.


    "So you came here to beg."


    That clinched jaw on the Servant Branch''s face. The stiffness in his unfashionably wide shoulders. The way his hands twitched.


    "Bitter, isn''t it? When salvation comes at the doorsteps of an enemy." The Surmount Butler tittered.


    There was no need to give shelter to the former Heirling.


    But there was also no reason to give the Victory to an enemy faction, no matter how aligned their current goals were.


    Considerations. Considerations.


    "Go ahead. Beg me. Use whatever you know from the Lren Style. Beg me to let you stay in this Estate."


    The Servant went down in the proper Lren Style for Begging, however, he stopped at the beginning. One foot in front of the other, then down on both knees, head tilted at enough to expose the neck, one hand on the heart, the other touching the ground "Please. Do me this favor." the new attendant said, voice strained. Directly asking for a favor now. He was running scared. "Allow me to demonstrate my Lren skills."


    With that clause, the little brat would sidestep most of the favor of asking to stay. That wouldn''t do. "No. Beg me to allow you to stay here, because you are weak."


    That shortest flash of hesitation. "This humble Servant..."


    "Stop." The Surmount Butler walked around the room, standing tall in front of the kneeling Hall Attendant. A month ago the idea that this may happen would be laughable. Young Master Orville''s playmate had grown first into a very strong Heirling, only to throw it all away. "What''s your name? All day, "this humble Servant this, this humble Servant that." What is your harbor name?"


    "Branch." The brat whispered.


    "Branch. Branch of what house."


    "Of no house."


    "What tier of you?"


    "Lowling."


    "How does it feel, to be out of your own? No direction home? A complete unknown."


    The Servant Branch looked at him, slightly breaking the Lren style, curiously at those words, before returning to looking at the ground. "That this Branch is known by the Surmount Butler is all the notoriety this humble servant needs at this time."


    "Now. Beg me now."


    "According to the Lren Style, this humble servant Branch, lowling, of no house, does..." The surmount Butler could see the muscles go tight along the fallen lordling''s neck. "Please allow this Servant to perform my duty."


    "Hmmm."


    Considerations. Considerations. Allow the Attendant Branch to hide from the assassin, garner favor, or allow the assassin lurking outside to come in?


    <hr>


    He could see the Surmount Butler leaning his way.


    "I beg you." he said, words like swallowing glass.


    Begging.


    It was bitter.


    It was deeper than that. It cut him, he could not pretend.


    Daniel had plans, dreams, and his true name.


    And yet he was powerless.


    To stand by his principles had cost him everything.


    Just allow him to do the Lren Door Opening. Just that. Just his duty.


    "No." said the Butler.


    The game twittered at that.


    Daniel almost fell.


    He had done the thing. He had begged. He, the Lordling Heirling of the Red Sword, had begged.


    He had begged.


    The Surmount Butler grinned, dark teeth sharp. "How does it feel?"


    The bindings enacted, forcing an honest answer. It was fast, but Daniel was able to still curb his speech, slightest touch on the tightening noose of magic. "This Servant..." he gritted his teeth as the knots grew tighter once more. "Feels like he has no direction home."


    The Surmount Butler leered overhead, standing like a scorpion posed to strike.


    "How does it feel? To be a complete unknown?" he leaned down, inches from Daniel''s face. The smell of the Surmount Butler was that of old oil and dusted powders, sharp and yet coated.


    Daniel felt like the world was falling away from him. He had said the words he was never supposed to say. He had begged. And perhaps now he was in more danger than before. The Golem had had no Authority over him.


    The Surmount Butler did have Authority.


    Music played in the back of Daniel''s mind, a song growing. A song of mourning and scorn. "Like a rolling stone."

 71: Should he die doing the Right Thing, Right and Wrong are a Clue to the Meaning of the Universe

    Those watching the Game were confused, as the feed cut out when the Servant Branch went to his knees. The Game was fickle, and never truly showed every moment. Whatever occurred now was truly only known the Surmount Butler and the Servant Branch.


    The High Lord watching from atop his Tree Top palace frowned as he leaned forward impatiently. "What are they discussing?"


    The companion with him was ignoring him as she worked to patch the Space she rent and nearly destroyed at his behest. High Lords rarely were told what to do, and she seemed to sulk unduly.


    He was impatient, and reached out with his vast power, as deep as a Qials Chute, as wide as a Liaowkn Road. The Game resisted his interference, but he was hardly one to be discouraged by it''s dislikes.


    He spent more authority than a dozen Midlings earn in a decade, but he coerced the Game to allow him to spy.


    Then he made a face of confusion. "Who is this?"


    At last his companion looked toward him, and at his viewing of the Game.


    "It...appears to be a Servant of the O''Tells."


    "I can''t see anything else, it is focused so closely upon her plain nose. Why?"


    "I...do not know."


    "Is she part of the Game?"


    "I don''t think so..."


    <hr>


    Change.


    That was what Daniel needed.


    He needed to change.


    He had believed, despite being dis-proven, again and again, that the rules would be followed. He had been honest.


    In the Dungeon, when he had tried to bargain for the Entity to allow Kenton to leave without being harmed, the Entity had mocked him. But that was outside the Seelie Realm, or at least so far away from the Seelie Realm that the thickness and density of the Law of Fae was muted.


    But here he was....attempting to use the game to force people down a path. So many did not follow the path. They played fast and loose. They took loses just for spite. They strained the truth so tightly, wrapping their narrative around different facts, tucking away aspects that were unflattering, that the Law of Fae itself would hardly recongize the presented package as Truth, although there was no lie.


    The Surmount Butler got to humiliate Daniel, and still not allow him to open the door.


    Daniel felt cold and tired.


    He had wanted power. Power to help people. Instead of ruling, he had been forced into the role of a Servant.


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    How could a Servant ever affect change?


    As far as he knew, a Servant could not.


    How could the lest of these ever amount to anything?


    The Golem was still outside, and Daniel felt ashamed as he realized that not only had he forgotten about her, he had thoughtlessly endangered another lowly Fae. So accustomed was he to his Circle, his status, and his rank, that he had not realized the danger his own presence brought to those around him.


    Before, he had reasoned that the Law of Fae would keep the little Fae safe.


    But his faith was strained.


    So many powerful Fae lied. And yet the Law of Fae still enshrouded them with Influence, still bejeweled them with Favor, still wreathed them Authority.


    Lordling Fedar had sold out his Circle Members, and was now the newest Lord of the Sky Court.


    While the righteous had grown disillusioned and disinterested. Parcel, the most Talented member not only of his Circle, but also many adjacent Circles, now passed over and a ghost of his former self.


    Rage.


    "I have only sought to do what was right."


    "Right for who?" Sneered the Butler. "Right for your Court? Right for yourself?"


    Daniel did not answer.


    He did not do it for himself.


    And he did not do it for his Court.


    Why had he done it?


    Why had he, time after time, sought to improve himself? Sought to save the Rural places? At first, because it was a duty. A contest, to beat the other Circles.


    But as his skills improved, and there was no one to compete with, he had still fought for the Rural Place. There was no benefit to himself. His Faction looked good, but the leaders of his faction had barely tolerated him, and outsiders of his faction only excluded him further. He had not done it for them.


    He had done it because the higher morality had demanded it. Without reward, do it anyway.


    Where had this greater Right come from?


    Not from himself, that was sure. He knew he was weak, weary, and ultimately wicked. But he had always had the idea that he should not be those things, and he should not allow those things to have full range of his actions.


    So where had this Superior Right come from? What sheet music so ensconced his heart? That he could not walk away and see the innocent die? That he could not break faith, even without an oath.


    "I don''t know by whose benefit motivates me. What ''right'' is so powerful that it compels me." The rage at the suffering he had witnessed flared to life inside Daniel. "But I only know when it is broken that I cannot live without seeing it put to Right." The Law of Fae glowed in amber embers around Daniel''s words. A Deep Truth.


    The Surmount Butler took a step backward, as the flaring embers sparked, then burned away. He scuttled back to where he was standing before, allbeit a hair further away. "Words of a child. Then you will die for nothing."


    The terrible weight of that question was on him. Death was the ultimate enemy of the Fae. Fae, who need not ever die should they accumulate enough power. Fae, who could live for centuries and centuries until their very essence was so in-tune with nature that there was very little left to interact with. There were ghosts of Fae, hidden in the pockets of the world, who had been alive when the First King reigned.


    Daniel considered the face of Witness. The face of the Rural Places and the Wee Fae that lived therein. The small faces of the children.


    The former Lordling felt the rage leave him, the confusion. The Law of Fae may fail him, may allow the wicked to reign and the righteous to blow away like smoke. But...


    Daniel smiled, standing up. He had tried to beg, and was denied. He felt reassurance he could not explain. "If I die, even if it seems meaningless, then at least I die doing the right thing."


    <hr>


    The Surmount Butler took a shuffle step back, confused. The Servant Branch did not look haughty now.


    No. It was worse.


    He looked majestic. The certainty that the universe will unfold the way one intends merely because one deems it necessary. His hair was golden white, his eyes shimmering blue. At his right hand, fingers curled without thought, the impression of a flaming sword.


    (Name) did not know what he would have done or what would have happened next, except that they were interrupted.


    Someone knocked on the side door.


    Knock.


    Knock.


    Knock.

 Chapter 72: The One Who Knocks

    Daniel looked at the door in curiosity, considering.


    Who could have knocked? The plain-nosed servant girl was the most obvious choice, but that itself disqualified her. Servants could not knock for entry, not at a main door. Also, while this door was a door for guests, it was removed from the easy path, and one would have had to pass through the garden.


    The knock on the door resounded.


    The question of faith still hung in the air, but the resolve was firm in Daniel''s mind. Even though he did not understand, he would continue forward.


    Forward was uncertainty, but also favor. The knock was inviting. Asking to be opened. Could a knock be inviting?


    But the Sermount Butler scuttled backward. Evidentially, he did not find the knock inviting. In fact, his face looked ghastly and pale.


    "Who would even open a door at this hour of the night?" he sputtered.


    "I will." Said Daniel, having permission.


    So he went ahead, ignoring the Surmount Butler''s gestures and panicked look.


    And Daniel opened the door to Garden, in the Lren Style.


    The Lren Style. Once a philosophy, now just meaningless gestures and actions.


    As there was only one very large door, the Lren Style was modified. It was on a long track, and one could pull it open, either a little or all the way and effectively join the Lesser Banquet Hall with the Garden outside.


    So Daniel pointed his right foot as he pulled it open with his right hand. He felt the sliding of the door, as he pulled it open first to its smallest opening, then larger and larger, as he took steps to match its opening.


    And chaos came in.


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    Well, the red-haired servant girl, hair completely free and flowing behind her like a tangled river of fire.


    The Surmount Butler flexed his hands, knuckles cracking and popping. "Who dared knock on the door?" He asked the room.


    She came in and peeled to the left, then to the right, as she crossed the Lesser Banquet Hall. She was screeching something strange, something about rising gas prices and that nobody could catch her because... "I am the gingerbread woman."


    The Surmount Butler scurried after her, "I command you return here and explain the meaning of this intrusion! Why did you bang on the door?"


    The girl stopped by the entrance to the kitchen. "I didn''t bang on the door," she said, feet twittering as she jogged in place, eyes not on them but beyond the door. "I didn''t see anyone at all. The door just opened. Great timing by the way."


    "What do you mean?" gasped the Surmount Butler, scuttling toward her.


    "Because I''m not ''it'' anymore. Hey, diaperrash face, you suck!"


    Then a crushed boulder sailed into the Lesser Banquet Hall, and the O''Tells Estate was officially invaded by the Castalas faction as the Golem roared.


    And all chaos truly broke loose.


    Estates could not just be attacked. Guards began coming in, and then they saw the invader and froze.


    The red-haired girl was standing on a table now, clearing making the most of the break in the social norms. "Your aim still sucks!" she yelled.


    "What is the meaning of this?!" the Surmount Butler said.


    The guards who came in left again, ashamedly. Not their fault, because they were Lowlings. They would undoubtedly only get in the way of the midlings who were coming.


    The golem came in, and its footsteps cracked the marble floor. It roared furiously.


    But what of Daniel?


    He was staring out the door. Into the Garden.


    He was looking for the one who knocked.


    And he...saw him.


    Did he?


    What was he seeing?


    The Law of Fae was a system of fairness. Equal to equal, kind to kind. A small action requires a small favor. A large action demands a large favor. The Law of Fae demanded fairness. Even when that fairness was cruel.


    But what was beyond the Law of Fae? What directed it? What established its movements and set its path?


    Daniel had never known. Had never thought to ask. Before, the Law of Fae itself was the key directive.


    But now...


    Daniel saw the one who knocked at the door. And he couldn''t describe him. The person just pointed at the door, a question.


    Looking for an invitation.


    All the chaos and the noise. All the fear and the danger.


    And it was less important than this moment.


    Daniel nodded, and the person took steps forward and crossed the threshold.


    "Who are you?" asked Daniel, without even thinking.


    The person smiled. "I am with you."


    There was a loud noise as the Golem had just shoved aside several guards who had entered the lesser hall.


    "I think I should go help." Said Daniel.


    But the person was gone.

 Chapter 73: Chaos in the OTells Estate; The Little Mice Need a name

    The Golem was huge. Not a giant, but massive in the enclosed space of the Lesser Banquet Hall.


    The O''Tells Estate guard were arriving, and turning back. The ones who stayed were either battered away or thrown across the room.


    The Golem was still focused on the plain nosed girl, but that was alright temporarily.


    Daniel sprinted forward, his own muscles propelling him when before the power would be giving him just a touch more.


    If this had been the beginning of the day, he would have felt uncertain and unprepared. His fall from power would have caused him to feel slow and unable. He still felt slower than before, but he could compensate. Because during this day, he had experienced too much; the geese attacking him, the many flights of stairs delivering tea, running around the Stable, escaping the Dungeon, even his first pretend attack with the pretend assassins.


    He could do this.


    However, as he sprinted, expecting to recapture the golem''s attention, there was an unexpected problem.


    The golem was still fixated on the servant. It was completely aggravated by her.


    That was beyond his calculations....


    That it had focused on her before had been fine, but it was after him. Wasn''t it? It had been before.


    Daniel needed to steal that attention now. Before the big guards came and stole his prize. He would destroy this creature, and do a great service for the O''Tells estate.


    But that won''t work if he couldn''t get its attention.


    So Daniel found himself racing forward, over tables, around settees, and underneath the tall chairs for large visitors. The hapless guards came back in with a net. Daniel accidentally slipped and...well, they did appear to get tangled in the knotty rope themselves. It was terrible what accidents could occur during a conflict.


    The Law of Fae was not entirely happy with his accidental actions. If they were hurt, it would blame him in some part.


    That would be fine.


    Daniel planned that no one would get hurt.


    The room shuttered as the golem tore into the elegant marble floor and hurled a chunk at the servant girl. She cackled madly and danced away, jumping behind a massive table at the last minute.


    The guards tried to swarm the golem again, sans net, and this allowed Daniel a brief moment to get to the redhead.


    She was still hiding behind the table, looking a little too accustomed to the total chaos than Daniel had been expecting. "Tag," she said. "You''re it!"


    The former Heirling felt uneasy at her words. The golem was not acting as it normally did. "Why does it hate you so?"


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Her face twisted into a nearly human expression of complete and total satisfaction and twisted self amusement. "Oh...I have my ways."


    She and Orville would get along.


    Esra must never meet this person, or else the consequences to the realms may be disastrous.


    "Stay out of sight. No more...attention stealing."


    She shuffled closer as the sound of the guards attacking the golem in vain became loud. "You want the aggro?"


    "It needs to follow me."


    "I don''t know. I insulted its mother, its creator, and the very stones that created it. I also called it a bugger, and a rat face diaper baby. It seems really mad at me."


    Was she actually mad? In the midst of all the chaos, Daniel became worried he had somehow entangled himself with someone worse than the myriad of enemies. "Why are you still here?"


    "This is interesting." she said, point blank.


    "Do you care nothing about your life or safety? Do you have some magic assisting you?"


    "Nah. Those who love their lives lose them. Besides, I need to make some more friends."


    Friends.


    That was another Esra word. Completely crazy woman.


    "Where do you want it to go?" she asked.


    "Are you serious?" was she offering to help him?


    The Game...


    shrugged.


    Could the Game shrug? She did not feel like an ally. She did not feel like an enemy.


    Was she just truly along for the ride?


    "Follow me." he said.


    <hr>


    In the O''Tells estate, in the quiet section of the Servant''s corrdior where no party was occurring, where no secret society was meeting, where in fact prior to the Servant Branch''s arrival, the most exciting thing was Jasper Dunlap polishing his shoes with another Hall Attendants shoe polish without that person''s permission.


    That quiet was first disturbed by the Servant Branch arriving dirty. Then the Servant Branch returned, dressed in his uniform once again. Jasper watched, waiting for words of anger or even a glare.


    But the Servant Branch...


    Did not even look at the Glasbin Fae.


    Jasper made an ugly face, and muttered to himself that the lordling probably thought he was too good for the likes of the little servants. With anger, he brushed extra hard on his boot, but marred the mirrored finish. He looked up, trying to decide if he should put off this for tomorrow or not, when the Surmount Butler came scurrying out from his office.


    Another person who should have had some interaction with Jasper, but did not. Jasper had done everything the Surmount Butler told him to do, but the great Midling had not been there to back him up when the other Servants were angry that he had ruined the leftover food. The important Midling paused briefly near that one sagging wall, and Jasper thought that his next instructions would come.


    But the older fae made a terrible expression, clearly lost in his own thoughts, and scuttled away toward the lesser banquet hall.


    Quiet returned to the servant''s corridor.


    He spent several minutes trying to return the mirrored surface to his boot. His thoughts kept interrupting, and he realized the work was only clearing his mind to focus on today, and not distract himself from his troubles.


    After an insufferable amount of time passed, where Jasper rationalized all the misfortunes of the day as somehow his fault, he sighed, and decided to finish his work tomorrow. He knew tonight would be a night for mischief, and he wanted no part of it.


    His stomach rumbled, and he felt sorrow that he hadn''t secured his own food before releasing the second hex the Surmount Butler had given him and ruining the food. He had assume there would be more food later, but everywhere a Servant could normally find food had been vacant. Even the little mice food traders were hiding today. He hadn''t eaten since breakfast, and the tasks of today had made him too nervous to eat well.


    He closed the little vial of polish, and stretched his arms above his head, feeling the bones pop along his back.


    That was a big pop.


    Then he realized, stupidly and belatedly, that it hadn''t been his back.


    Someone had broken something at the same time he had cracked his back.


    He looked up and saw his Hall Attendant Partner rushing him with a firepoker.


    And for the first time, he realized that he perhaps should have been more afraid of the consequences of messing with a former Lordling than saying no to the no good Surmount Butler.


    "Um...Branch....Let''s talk about this!"

 Chapter 74: Fighting the Good Fight

    The plain nosed servant was an absolute boon.


    And Daniel was very certain she was insane.


    But whatever trick or malice she may be hiding, she ran a looping path, crying something about memorizing the golem''s attack pattern while keeping it''s aggro. However she did it, she brought the golem forward, through the kitchen hallway, and then into the beginning of the Servant''s passage.


    Upon their heels, though a safe distance away, the Surmount Butler and the Guards pursued, the Surmount Butler shouting orders and all manner of other things.


    And leading the entire circus was the Servant Branch, ahead of the chaos and preparing his final trick. The words of the Surmount Butler fell on nearly deaf ears, as the Servant Branch was not currently the Hall Attendant Branch. Therefore, even as Branch, he was able to push aside the commands and continue forward.


    The game cheered.


    If only Daniel had a weapon. As they ran, Daniel found a fire poker near a great hearth. Painful memories struck him unexpectedly.


    <hr>


    Little Elswith and Orville, too young for the serious nature of the Seelie Citadel and yet too important to be allowed to play freely, had explored nearly every inch of Orville''s massive family estate. All 10 ball rooms, the atriums, the concert halls, the aquariums, the flooded concert halls, the gardens.


    They never played in Elswith''s home.


    There was no play in Elswith''s home.


    But for the last good bit of time, Elswith had a playmate. He learned best with play.


    So one day, while playing hide and seek, Elswith and Orville and discovered another secret.


    "There is treasure." Said Young Orville.


    Little Elswith had looked at the swollen wall himself. He did not want his friend to not like him. "What even is a treasure? Will we like it?"


    "Oh, well, that depends." said the little Fae Lord. "I suppose we don''t even know what a treasure is. But as my daddy says..."


    Elswith did not speak. He did not have a daddy. He had his Lordly Father. But to call the Red Lord, wielder of the Red Sword, daddy...Elswith suspected he would be punished should he try.


    Orville was not aware of the dark thoughts of young Elswith, so he stood straighter, his small round tummy a mound under his shirt. "My daddy says "one man''s trash is another man''s treasure."


    "What do humans have to do with treasure?" Asked young Elswith.


    "I think they have a lot of trash. But focus. Inside this wall could be something amazing that we need! Are you with me?" Asked little Orville, excitement in his eyes.


    <hr>


    Back in the present, with the stampede at his heels, Daniel ran ahead. He could have run down this hallway in the dark, even though it had been years since he had been young enough to accomplish such a feat. Regardless, he knew this house. Better than his own home.


    The thundering footsteps of the Golem was deafening, but he barely heard a warning in time


    "Look out!" said the mad servant girl.


    Daniel pulled himself flat against the wall just in time as the golem hurled massive heap from the floor. Dust and debris rained down, and Daniel felt his heart thump in a way that he had not felt since he was a child. He lingered for a moment more, hand over his heart. "Be quiet. Be quiet." He commanded it.


    The O''Tells estate groaned in protest. More guards would be coming now.


    Then Daniel was running again, feeling something terrible and strange in his head. This was too similar.


    <hr>


    Young Elswith stood in horror and shock at the nearly lifeless husk of his little friend''s body, royal blue blood staining the marble.


    There had not been treasure inside the wall.


    Little Orville whimpered weakly, as the O''Tells estate roared to life.


    But little Elswith had known they would not get there in time.


    He saw a large fire poke, exposed in the debris.


    Stolen story; please report.


    So...Little Elswith did what others did in stories. He took up the humble rod, much too heavy for his small frame, and charged forward.


    The thing released from the wall swirled, the many limbs serrated and stained blue. "Look what the heavens did grace, two little lordlings to bundle up." sparks flashed as the serrated limbs rubbed together.


    <hr>


    Daniel took a turn, getting ahead of the Golem and the massive amount of guards in pursuit. Finally, after so much time, Daniel was nearly there.


    He remembered the good times he had had.


    But he also remembered how close he had been to losing his oldest comrade, his first sparring partner.


    Anger at the helpless feelings stabbed Daniel as he remembered losing to the thing in the wall.


    <hr>


    Little Elswith was pushed aside, just as easily as a gnat to a breeze. If not for the thing in the wall''s desire to finish the first victim before starting the next, then he may have died.


    He had raised the fire poker again, and this time the thing in the wall laughed at him. "Let it eat first, then it will let it eat you next."


    It waved a serrated limb at him, dismissively.


    And little Elswith had just nicked it. Barely.


    When it seized itself and recoiled as though the rod had been heated in fire. Steam rose from the serrated limb from a dark, molten wound.


    "I." said the small Lordling. "Am the Heirling of the Red Sword. I don''t go last in anything." And he rushed in again.


    <hr>


    Daniel gripped the fire poker tighter. The odds of it being the same poker were ridiculous. But that was fine. Right now, he did not have to defeat anything.


    He would just create a chance for his pursuing golem to make a new acquaintance.


    Daniel sped even faster, leaving most of the noise behind. He needed enough time to prepare. Finally, he saw the last corner and rounded it, fire poker raised high.


    There was the sagging wall. Daniel''s oldest partner had been right, in a fashion. Inside was a treasure.


    But unexpected, Daniel encountered one of his newest partner of Jasper, polishing his boots. He stood up hurried, blocking the wall to the wall "Um...Branch....Let''s talk about this!"


    <hr>


    Little Elswith had not managed to hit the thing in the wall again, though he swung mightily, he was small and slow.


    The thing in the wall gittered and viberated. "What is this? What is this? Do we kill it? Do we keep it? What is this." Each limb a weapon, it moved like fluid around. It shot forward toward him.


    Little Elswith had been hit before. Never by his Lordly Father. His Lordly Father was too busy for such things, and Elswith also suspected he would not survive such a blow.


    Similarly, Elswith suspected he would not survive the blow by this creature.


    But the blow never came.


    Intercepting it with a smooth blade was his Steward Matheus. The old Fae seemed more vitalized that the small Lordling had ever seen before. There was a brief exchange of strikes, Daniel found himself swept away by his Steward as six powerful enforcers came in. Matheus took him and did not stop, even as they fled the danger. More guards and enforcers were coming.


    "We have to go back and save Orville!" Little Elswith cried, startled by how swiftly his Steward ferried him to safety.


    The Old Fae chuckled, no strain in his voice. "With the King''s enforcers, he is no longer in danger. Beside, his Mother is coming and I think I would die should I try to remove the young master from his house. ." Matheus did not stop into they were outside the Estate entirely.


    Then he carefully placed little Elswith down on the grass. Elswith clenched his first weapon as he processed being moved so swiftly from the Servant''s passage to suddenly outdoors. The sky seemed red, even though sunset was far away.


    "What did you do?" Asked his steward, gravely.


    "It was wrong to destroy the wall..." began Elswith.


    "Forget the wall. What did you do to the..." he paused, and Elswith had the sense the old fae was deliberately choosing his words carefully. "The thing inside the wall. What did you do it?"


    "I cut it." And he held out his weapon. "It said it would eat me last, but I''m the Heirling of the Red Sword. My Lordly Father said I should never go last or place last or else..." but the words died on the small Lordling''s lips as he observed his Steward. Matheus'' face changed becoming completely still and alien. It looked more like the face of a statue than the beloved Steward.


    "Matheus?" he said.


    "I see." Said the Steward. "I see the Game now."


    Elswith stood up straight, trying to show that he was not scared. But he was young and he was weak.


    The sky felt dark and overcast, the reddish glow intensifying "Did you rush in because it threatened your pride, or did you rush in to save your friend?" Asked the Steward. "Speak true."


    This was somehow worse than when his Lordly Father was displeased with him. "I..." Elswith blinked quickly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I did not want my friend to die." And the Law of Fae moved with his words.


    The intense stare of the Steward continued for several moments more. Then the steward reached out and gently patted his head. "Very well." He reached out his hand. "Let me hold onto this for you."


    Little Elswith looked at his first weapon with uncertainty. He was afraid that should he not have a weapon, then he would get attacked again.


    The small Lordling gave over the firepoker. Matheus grimaced that it took so long for Elswith to decide, but calmly placed the poker into the depth of his cloak. "After today, my Young Master, I believe we must start your training early."


    Elswith nodded. He did not want to ever feel so powerless again.


    "You will need to work hard, everyday, Young Master. It won''t be the easy road, but I think it is the one you must tread."


    <hr>


    So there Daniel was, firepoker raised over his head, rounding the corner, and startling his new Hall Attendant Partner. Jasper Dunlap jumped up and stumpled exactly where Daniel needed to be.


    "Enough talk!" Said Daniel. "Get out of the way!" The golem was coming, and the wall was thick.


    He did not have any time to waste.

 Chapter 75: I am not a good person

    Crazy people. Lords and Lordlings were all crazy.


    His partner was insane. Jasper flinched and recoiled as the former Lordling barreled straight at him.


    But his partner swept past him, like a force of nature, and started chopping at the wall with the fire poker.


    Smash. Smash. Smash. Dust and debris went flying.


    "What are you doing?" Jasper tried to stop him, grabbing the new Servant''s shoulder.


    But his new partner flowed between the grab, did something twisty with his feet, and Jasper found himself spun around and pushed away. "Stay out of my way." Branch strained with effort and the wall started to crumble, plaster and patch and strange oily tar breaking through the wall.


    There was so much noise now. "The Surmount Butler is going to furious at you for this!"


    Branch almost paused for a single second, his pale blue eyes glowing. "Will he now?" Murmured the new Servant drily. "Will he indeed?"


    Jasper grimaced. "Stop. Just stop. I...." he hated saying it. But he knew he...was wrong earlier. "I apologize for earlier."


    Then Branch did stop. "Now is a poor time to distract me." he said, and began hacking at the wall again.


    "Stop. I won''t..." Jasper clenched his fist. He had driven this extreme behavior, at least in part. He had enjoyed the reversal of fate of the former Heirling. He had seen this person and others like him just glide through life. Lavish parties, expensive feasts, and overwhelming splendor.


    But he was realizing that perhaps the spoiled brats...maybe didn''t have it especially easy.


    And that time, five years ago...when a newly arrived Glasbin Fae had mishandled a bottle, and it fell and broke, and a Lordling casually laughed about it and claimed it had been his own doing. Jasper had hated him. Something that was career ending for Jasper was nothing more than a joke for the upper crust of the Seelie court. Or so it had seemed.


    He was grateful, of course. He had been so careful and so diligent in working to be allowed to this position in the Citadel.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    But hate was seeded. And that hate grew quietly over the years. He was a Hall Attendant, which meant he saw the Fae Lords and Lordlings a lot. And he had seen the unflattering side.


    But he realized he had not seen all the sides.


    While he could not have avoided following the Surmount Butler''s orders, and while he hated that his long time friend and partner was demoted and moved away, Jasper had delighted that he could see someone so spoiled and bratty be brought low. The same Lordling who multiple times complained about the size of the rare salmon eggs too small, too large, or too...and Jasper yet to understand how "Too properly sized". The same Lordling who complained about the angle of the curtain. The same Lordling who once complained about the shine of the silverware during a banquet.


    And Jasper found himself completely outclassed by that Lordling. Who had not idly claimed credit for the shattering of the bottle as a joke, but had done it for...altruistic reasons. And was then punished by the Lord of the Red Sword himself.


    They called the Red Lord the Master of Death, and bringer of Beast Blood.


    And this Lordling had taken the blame knowing that he would face that creature''s punishment.


    The Law of Fae had supported those words earlier as true. And Jasper was haunted that he was the one at fault for not valuing what the Lordling had done for him.


    And he couldn''t...


    "The Law of Fae may not say I owe you..."


    "Not a good time, Jasper." Said Branch.


    "I owe you." Said Jasper.


    Branch was still hacking at the wall.


    Why was it getting so noisy?


    Jasper gripped his hair. "Just take the debt. I owe you. I have no idea how much it''s going to cost me, but I can''t..."


    "Keep it." Said Branch, with the poker embedded in the wall. "I don''t want it."


    "What?"


    Branch pulled at the poker, and the wall started crumbling and breaking apart. "I...don''t want it. I didn''t do it for Favor." The poker was stuck fast on something hard, and Branch gritted his teeth and pulled, now using the poker as a lever. "I didn''t do it for Influence." There was a crumbling sound from deep inside the wall. "I saw a stupid, clumsy Fae out of his depth and I thought ''anyone could have made that mistake. That could be anyone.'' I thought...''That could be me''. So I..." The former Lordling looked upward for a second, at him. There was so much anger and disappointment in those eyes. "So I covered for you. And it turns out it meant nothing to you. Everything I did...meant nothing to anyone."


    Shame rolled through Jasper.


    "But I then learned later today." said Branch, and he looked almost peaceful. "That there were people who were willing to help me without any reason too. That there were people who would risk their entire career to help me. And even stranger people who came along to help because they were bored or just insane. Today I learned that I am not a good person. But I want to be."


    The wall shuttered as Jasper flinched. There was sounds of shouts and screaming coming from down the hallway, but Jasper found he couldn''t look away.


    "So keep your favor." The Lordling withdrew the poker one more time, holding it like a sword. "I didn''t do it to get something. And I think that kind of favor is hollow and empty. And I can''t stand anything else being meaningless in my life."

 Chapter 76: Weak over the Strong

    Daniel successfully pushed away Jasper as he tore into the wall with new vigor. Regret threatened to weigh him down, but he pushed it away.


    He didn''t want that kind of favor.


    He needed to win, but that irrational part of him was rearing again.


    This was a part of himself he could not break.


    The wall groaned and the trap inside started to shift and bulge. Black icur was flowing forward. Daniel slowed down, because the timing would be critical.


    Jasper opened his mouth again. "I...I..."


    Then some loud thundering steps finally came, and Daniel began prying at the wall in all seriousness. The thundering steps, the loud shouts of the guards, the bellowing orders of Surmount Butler.


    Over all the noise and trouble, there was a shrill voice riding over the chaos like a horn of war over the wave of battle "You can''t handle the truth!"


    "Shelby?" Said Jasper. "What is she doing now?"


    "You know that maid?" Said Daniel, finding conversation becoming impossible as the dinn grew louder.


    "She is new. Came in from somewhere far away. She has parents waiting for her, and something about a boy named Peter, and Ryland is trying to kill her for stealing his tent...she is a nice girl." Jasper skittered away as he was beginning to realize that there was something more than chaos coming. "But she...is...not sane."


    "I noticed."


    "Here''s Johnny!" Yelled the mad maid, her skirts hiked almost-indecently high. Behind her at last coming into view lumbered the Golem. It was even more furious.


    Jasper''s face paled and his mouth gaped open like a fish.


    "Time for you to leave, I believe." Said Daniel. But the noise was too intense at this moment.


    But Jasper did leave, jumping and hiding behind some cluttered crates.


    Coward.


    Probably smart. That was what a rational person would do.


    Rational people. Cowards, all of them. Daniel attacked the wall with intensity, hacking away, readying.


    Dust and mortar spilled into the air, as Daniel looked up, just in time for his eyes to meet the Surmount Butler''s own, behind the coming Golem, behind a wall of Estate Guard.


    The Surmount Butler staggered, as realization dawned. Panic sounded in his voice. "Retreat! Retreat! Call the enforcers. Someone..."


    The O''Tells guards followed the orders.


    Daniel grinned, despite himself.


    It was not like he was opening Pandora''s box.


    And he knew that so long as you were not the first thing the shadow warblers line of sight, you had some time to recover.


    "My mother told me, never judge a book by its cover. Yours probably told you not to eat the books!" The maid''s shrill cries drew nearer as Daniel was able to see the white of her eyes.


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    Daniel was almost ready.


    Almost ready.


    The poker hit the box containing the trapped shadow warbler.


    And stuck fast..


    The poker did not budge.


    That was not fair. It had opened to two young Lordlings not some decade and change years ago. Why would it catch now...


    Daniel could not pry it loose with his hands. Some kind of glob was adhering it to the surface.


    "Are you ready for the agro?"


    "I..." Had the Surmount Butler caused it to stick? Was it merely poor timing?


    Or was his power simply lacking.


    At five years old, had he more power than now?


    Stay calm.


    It was just stuck against the trap and an ancient stone pillar. Just focus.


    He reared up his leg, and kicked.


    It groaned and the latch became looser.


    "Either take my dancing partner or get off the dance floor!"


    They were too close. Unable to open the sealed trap, Daniel abandoned it, leaping behind the crates, behind in such a limited space. Thankfully, he did not crash into Jasper.


    The plain nosed maid ran past the spot, and then the Golem still chasing her thundered. They had missed the approach "I''m going to lead it back." she said, doubling back in the wide servant''s corridor. "Line up another shot."


    Why was she so faithful?


    Daniel scrambled out from behind cover, eyes searching. He tried once again to pry open the trap.


    Why was he so weak now? Yes, his physical body remained strong, but there was so much more to power than Blood and Bones. Without his authority...would he be strong enough to open it. He, as a small child, had had more Authority and Power than now.


    He kicked the fire poker again.


    <hr>


    "Why are you crying?" Matheus asked the little Lordling Elswith. Little Elswith had fled the training ground of the Great Library, and was now hiding between rows and rows of bookshelves in the gloom of the left anterior reference hall. Small shafts of sunbeams drifted down lazily from the soaring domed ceiling''s sky light, brightening the dust motes suspended in the air.


    "I''m not crying." The small child wiped at his eyes. The Law of Fae was displeased with his lie, but little Elswith was quick to correct that. "My eyes are leaking. There''s a difference." The Law of Fae agreed with him enough to dissipate its former complaint.


    "You mustn''t let them see you cry, child. But you can cry with me. I''m your Steward. It is my job to help you."


    The little child shook his head, still denying his tears. "I hate the training."


    "Ah. Pride or laziness? Or immaturity?" While the words were intense, the older Fae made a silly face with each muttering. The little Lordling giggled despite his own best efforts. Matheus nodded, pleased. Then he sat down next to little Elswith "Perhaps...we can skip today''s lesson, and you can tell me what is the problem."


    Young Elswith wiped his eyes, laughter fading. "This new training is different. It''s...really hard."


    "Training is difficult. There is a lot to memorize."


    "It''s not that...its...everyone is bigger than me. They are stronger than me. They don''t like me. They just push me down with a single hand."


    "Ah." Matheus said, polishing his monocle. "The truth is revealed at last."


    Little Elswith said nothing.


    "Do you understand the power of the Art being taught to you?"


    "My Father says it''s not magic or even anything related to the Law of Fae."


    "Of course he does." Matheus muttered. "But he lacks depth to his understanding."


    Little Elswith looked in shock. No one every spoke poorly of the Red Lord.


    "But let me tell you. This is an ancient war art. Instead of meeting your opponent''s force with equal force, you aim to redirect their energy. For example, you will learn one war art where instead of meeting strength to strength, you will use your opponent''s forward momentum to throw them off balance and onto the ground."


    Little Elswith blinked. "So...I could beat someone stronger than me?"


    "Potentially."


    "Could I defeat the Red Lord?"


    Matheus pursed his lips. "One day, perhaps you will."


    Little Elswith shook his head. "I...he makes the sky red and the grass into dust when he is angry. I don''t...think I can.."


    "Patience, little one. Use your heart. Use your instincts, your guts. But you must always use your mind. And think. There is never only two options. There are no true dead ends. There is always, always another options. And if you are able to use someone else''s power against them, redirect it...I imagine that would be a most interesting moment."


    <hr>


    Daniel looked at the plain nosed maid, an idea forming in his mind. What had Jasper said her name was? Shelby? It was rude to use someone''s name without proper introduction, but she had willing offered to "aggro" the golem here, "Shelby, you said you learned the ''attack pattern''. Do you know how to make it throw something?"


    Why force it open when the Golem could open it itself?

 Chapter 77: The Monsters fear us for they create nothing

    Shelby laughed manically. "Well, I''ll do my best." she said, with more glee than Daniel felt was strictly sane. Daniel watched as everything transpired.


    "Death before dishonor!" she shrieked.


    The Law of Fae...trembled confusedly. She confused the Law of Fae.


    Daniel almost smiled. This was crazy.


    This was the only thing he knew to do. Aggro. To aggravate meant to enrage, annoy, stand in the way. Shelby used it in a different way: To annoy an enemy so much that it focused on you instead of other, perhaps more important things.


    Daniel eyed the stuck firepoker, one, last time, while he remained behind the crates.


    Had anything "aggroed" him? Had anything pulled him away from areas he should have focused on? Had he let an enemy past his guard because he was distracted?


    Fredar had certainly "aggroed" often when they were younger. The new Lord had locked on to situation and circumstances that had not always led to his Faction''s benefit.


    But then again, was what Daniel doing helping his former Faction? Then again, The Red Sword Faction was mysterious and splintered. Surely there were groups that were hoping for his success.


    Perhaps, just one?


    The Golem roared as Shelby rounded, and began her approach toward Daniel and the Warbler trap. "Have your insult ready!"


    <hr>


    Away, watching, in a space normally too large but now crowded beyond its normal capacity. The Controller was sweating profusely, reworking the matrix again and again, fingers draped in shadow. The overseers were taking turns threatening him and reassuring the rulers that this was normal.


    "Focus on the Servant Branch." The Controller muttered, hands clenching the shadows.


    Through his connection to the Golem, the Controller could feel the dim spark of life animating the Golem grow brighter. Golems were not alive. Not really. A brief spark of life was lit, then they accomplished their task, then the light went out. And that was a good thing for all parties involved, as Golems were not...exactly peaceful in nature. Or...strictly Natural. In fact...they had been banned by several Fairy Kings and Queens over the untold generations of the Seelie Kingdom. In fact...the methods for making Golems was...rather...Unnatural.


    But his faction had found a reliable way to control them. And a reliable way to...snuff out the spark after the mission was accomplished.


    It had led them to prominence, promotion, preferential treatment...They had won battles that the various Circles had struggled to establish a foothold.


    But now, he could not control the Golem.


    There was a twisted spark inside it that raged inside the stones and the earth and it was locked on the wrong person.


    Management muttered behind him, their stress dripping on him "Where did this person come from?"


    "Undoubtedly she is a plant from Elswith."


    "Impossible. The former Lordling was unprepared for this challenge."


    The Controller hunched his shoulders, gritting his fanged teeth. All this fretting behind him was not helping him regain control.


    "How is she holding it''s attention?" cold, impartial fingers clasped the hunched shoulders of the Controller, startling him. He dared not look behind him. Not when he might see the powerful being behind, and know for sure who it was.


    "I...don''t know."


    "That maid does not matter. The Law of Fae is wily, and this servant is little more than a distraction. The Law of Fae is active, and it chooses its pieces for reasons unknown to the wise. What is it showing Lordling Elswith? Why is it using him for its ploys, even now?"


    "He''s not a lordling anymore." the Controller said, angry that that term was still being applied to the fallen Heirling.


    The cold fingers relaxed their grip, but the freezing sensation intensified, and the Controller realized he had made a misstep. "Are you correcting me?"


    He shook his head fiercely. "No, no, of course not. I just meant...technically."


    "What is technically true is often a lie." the cold became painful, and the Controller struggled not to start shivering. This was not helping his focus.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "I will heed what you say, great one. Please allow me to return to my task."


    "Indeed you will heed what I said." The cold drew nearer as the being behind him leaned closer, toward his ear. "The Lordling is playing with fire, but this match is over. You have failed."


    "How can the fallen heirling defeat a Golem?"


    "He knows one thing you do not: History. Not deep enough, not deep enough to save him from his fate. But enough to defeat you. The very means you will use to harm him, he will use to his advantage."


    Then the cold withdrew and was gone. Sweat adorned the Controller''s forehead as he tried to regain the focus of the Golem. The Controller attempted to delve his fingers back into the shadowy matrix. The Golem would crush all before it. The former Lordling would be crumpled and cast away by the Golem. That was its function. That was why it existed.


    <hr>


    Back in the Servant''s hall, the same former heirling prepared himself to hold the aggro.


    Since Shelby had blathered about the attack pattern, Daniel reviewed what he knew and remembered. He wished he had time for the plain nosed girl to tell him, but he was clever enough to think for himself.


    Every time the golem had thrown something, something had happened. Either when Daniel had gotten a certain distance away, or when the redhead had been rude.


    Why would words hurt a Golem? He didn''t know. Or had it been the words at all?


    He did not even truly knew what a Golem was. His duties as the Heirling of the Red Sword meant that he had been busy. Busy with training, busy with administrative tasks, busy attending parties and meetings. But he had seen them in battle. They had seemed soulless killers. Blind to the alignment or faction of any outside of the Lordlings themselves, the Golems were indiscriminate about whom they targeted.


    But no one had ever yelled at a Golem before to call it names. The Golems were used to fear. What would happen if that fear were subverted?


    What would trigger the Aggro?


    What had Shelby done? Did she truly even understand it, or was it just a lucky accident? It worked, so she continued to do it without understanding which step was the all important essential step?


    Daniel spied the girl coming again. Her mouth was still hurling insults, but her eyes were blaring and her face drawn; clearly she had exhausted herself in this endeavor.


    Daniel crouched forward, getting ready to get into position.


    A hand grabbed Daniel''s ankle. "Don''t go!" Whispered Jasper. Daniel shifted and spied Jasper, hiding behind some crates. "If it attacks here, it''ll get both of us." His Partner looked disheveled and miserable. He had been too afraid to run away, even though there had been ample time.


    A flash of insight struck Daniel: He understood Jasper.


    Jasper Dunlap; from far away, a mouse forever hiding from giants. Clever enough to see opportunity, but too timid to ever take anything but the safest path forward. Resentful of those who succeeded where he never ventured. He saw splendor and considered others lucky to achieve it, belittling their boldness when they failed and bemoaning the unfairness when they succeeded.


    He was poor because his mindset was poor. He was a coward because he was afraid to be brave. He was his own jailer.


    Such a contrast to the red haired maid. She was much weaker than Jasper, and yet she had put herself on the line. She had more than earned back the authority Daniel spent to save her life, and Daniel realized that the maid never truly realized that he had saved it. For all she knew, she had fallen, narrowly missed being squished by the Golem''s projectile, then joined in this mess just because she could.


    She had jumped in and risked her own life, accomplishing a feat that Daniel had never imagined before by capturing the Golem''s attention.


    Such a contrast.


    Daniel offered a free word of wisdom to the cowering hall attendant. "Jasper. You can''t be afraid forever. You will never get ahead if you do not risk yourself. Now let go of me!"


    It must be now. Daniel must take back the aggro of the mighty stone beast.


    Whether Jasper released his ankle or Daniel pried his leg free remained unknown, but Daniel jumped out and stood facing the charging Golem.


    Shelby was running toward him, watching.


    Outside would be the Surmount Butler and the O''Tells guards. Soon to be arriving would be the enforcers.


    Behind a crate cowered Jasper, peaking just slightly.


    The main focus of this entire event was the Golem. It''s stone body completely remade again and again, taking on the huges of the ancient floor that it had riped out to grow its own body. It''s head formed to the point that two points of fire burned blue. Daniel had only ever seen those flames burn red before, like flames about to be snuffed out. This was a new development. The force of its steps shook the ground and rattled the old windows. The floor was broken, the walls marked by its passage. The world was full of noise.


    And then was Daniel, standing in front of it.


    He had to anger it. It threw an object when it was angered. When it did not make tactical sense.


    Daniel looked at the golem, like he had stared down the corpse of the dead dragon.


    The Heirling Lordling Elswith had been vastly more powerful that day than this day.


    But it wasn''t Lordling''s power that defeated the dragon''s corpse that day in the past.


    It was his mind and his courage to stand where others would not.


    Those things could not be taken away.


    While Servant Branch may be weak and lowly, his voice was strong and clear. "You may be large, and tall. Unwoundable. Unbleedable." he said, speaking to the Golem itself. Who would ever speak to something like that? He had not, and the dread creatures rarely had mouths to begin with. People had begged Golems to spare them. Small fae too little to flea in time, too old to leave their land, to pale to pass to new ground. Those had begged, and not been spared. No one else had ever spoken to the Golem.


    The eyes of the Golem flared, brighter blue. Shelby took this as her cue and ducked left, and skirted beneath a table. She had lost the aggro.


    Daniel had its attention now.


    Now he just had to make it angry.


    His voice rang out, large and strong. "But you are nothing. The earth is not your body, it falls from you and is replaced without it ever being you. You have no spirit, you create nothing. You grow nothing. Do you even have a soul? Why should I fear you, when you. HAVE. Nothing. You are nothing."


    The ground roared and cried out, and the Golem reared back its arm, and detached the entire appendage toward Daniel.


    Well, that was...one way to accomplish the job.

 Chapter 78: The Dam Breaks

    The projectile was thrown, and of those watching across the fae realms, only a few remembered the deep history of what the O''Tells estate had once been.


    Of those who knew, there was only an even smaller handful who had traveled through it in its...more reactive days.


    And of that small handful, only one knew the specific threat that lurked.


    That one smiled. It was a cold smile. With teeth made of ice, it was difficult to ever have a warm smile.


    "Bold." Said the voice, careful to speak softly least it awaken the coming heat death of all things. "Bold. But can you handle such a creature, little Elswith? Without your sword and without your power?"


    An avalanche cascaded in the mountains far behind, compelled beyond itself at the authority of Cold. The small encampments screamed as the ice and snow hurled toward them, helpless as a force of Nature showed its idle and careless splendor.


    <hr>


    Split seconds.


    Victory or failure may be defined in just a few split seconds.


    The world slowed down, though Daniel was sure that was just in his mind and not that time itself had slowed, as the Lord of Time was clearly not present.


    Daniel watched as the earthen projectile came closer, between fractions of his heart beat. He wanted to duck away from danger, but his instincts warned that such an action would affect the trajectory of the hurled stone. His experience told him that the projectile thrown by the golem was still part of the golem, at least for a few split moments. He was angled correctly for the projectile to open the sealed wall, but should it miss...


    He would lose his chance to overcome the golem.


    The threat of the golem would be ending, as the Enforcers would be on their way to handle it. Although the Servant Branch had opened the door for it, the golem had invaded the O''Tells estate and caused much damage. The O''Tells were a Family, a House. They were not in a Court exactly, therefore the King had obligation to aid them.


    And his enforcers would be nothing like Lord Fredar''s passion project, full of lowlings and midlings who had never seen actual combat trainer, let alone battle. Proper, loyal Enforcers, the King''s army, police, and assassins. Squads of enforcers dispatched to Courts were often a far cry from their imperial counterparts. Daniel still felt pity for the midling in the green hat, who had to drink a punch bowl of tea after his defeat against the Servant Branch.


    Stolen story; please report.


    So in that moment between moments, where seconds felt like eons, Daniel felt a smile form.


    He would move in the correct time, because he wanted to defeat the golem.


    He may be weaker in Authority than before (apparently even weaker than himself as a young Lordling, as embarrassing as that seemed).


    But he knew that in this moment, he could overcome this situation.


    There was a golden moment of insight, where the scene was perfectly encapsulated.


    Over there, to his right and hiding beneath a table was the redheaded servant, watching with wide eyes. Scrambling away toward the left while still crouching behind the large crates was Jasper, who had found his running legs after all. In the doorway was the Surmount Butler. Directly in front of Daniel was the golem.


    And then there was the ever growing, ever nearing stone projectile, thrown by the golem in anger.


    And in that golden moment, Daniel moved. He chose right instead of left, because if he had to chose which person to help evacuate, he would pick Shelby, who had actually been useful. Also, Jasper had great survival instincts, while the redhead seemed to live for trouble. So...Jasper could take care of himself, Daniel decided.


    He pulled authority around himself, as he ducked out of the way and forced his legs to sail forward. He used some small favor in his steps, so his feet were sure and strong. No accidentally slipping.


    The projectile crashed against the wall where the firepoker was stuck, where Daniel had been just a split second before, and there was such a sound of shatter and ruin beyond the mortar of the wall breaking.


    Daniel did not look back, though he felt stings of pain as dislodged stones struck his back.


    The golem roared, but its own weight worked against it as it could not stop its momentum and continued forward.


    And there was another sound, one that sent chills down Daniels spine.


    Daniel reached the table which the redhead was hiding under and joined her there.


    The next moments would be critical.


    "What is that?" asked Shelby, her plain nose wrinkled. "Maybe it''s treasure?" She asked.


    Daniel was reminded of an old friend who had said similar words. His mind took him to a dark place, even though he didn''t want to go there, he couldn''t help but overlay the bleak and dark moment of his childhood.


    How could his friend''s body have so much blood. Blue everywhere.


    How could his little friend ever survive such a terrible event?


    Orville had survived, but he never spoke of this event ever again. And the scars remained.


    The entity that had caused such damage finally made its reappearance.


    "Don''t look at it." Daniel said.


    Daniel did not get a proper look at the thing in the wall the first time. He had been young, and it was the first truly traumatic event in his life. It had always seemed terrible, too terrible to be true.


    He had imagined that it had not been so bad before. That his small mind had added details or withheld details.


    However, now he realized that he hadn''t misremembered it. It was in a two legged form, but the arms were longer than its proportions suggested they should be. And while it was seemingly made from shadow, there were patches that seemed more substantial and tangible than others. Still black, but the black of rot and grunge and mold. The power that pooled from it was toxic and feral.


    The entity formed of shadows pooling from the wall. But there were shackles, made of dull metal, that it dragged behind itself.


    The shadow warbler.


    At last revealed.


    And the first thing it saw was the golem.

 Chapter 79: Humantales to Fae children, Death before Dishonor, but not before tea

    The Shadow Warbler.


    Fae mothers told this to their little fae children. Daniel''s nanny had to fill that role for him, as after his birth his mother had seen fit to interact with him but a few scant times. A child''s humantale.


    The stories about the Shadow Warbler often started like ''Born of malice and kindness, flesh given form to nightmares. The terrible consequence of a human wishing to never die, and having that wish granted''. There were many versions, but the moral of the story was ''be careful what you wish for'', and ''don''t make deals when you don''t know the cost''. Little Elswith had heard several different versions, of course.


    In the stories, sometimes the brave little fae children escaped and regained their stolen power.


    Some versions, the shadow warbler was destroyed and the little children learned a lesson of lending power means you may never see it back again.


    And then the darkest versions, the one that all fae parents and nannies alike told the most: where the little fae children were not clever enough, and were dragged into the darkness of the human realms while the warbler lived on, dark human mind forever embraced in the stolen power of children.


    Fictional. Completely fictional. No literary scholars ever agreed that the shadow warbler had any origin as such as that. There was much disagreement about how the shadow warbler came to be, but the old entities were so few and far between that there was little need to understand its emergence. Many hypothesized that they were a form of plant, or from the Underside of the world, or merely a forgotten spell.


    However scary the humantales where, they were a small comparison to the truth. That the shadow warbler in the stories was a pale comparison to the real danger. The Shadow Warble was a monster. Most dangerous should it ever free its muzzled mouth. They were locked and chained away. And should they become free, should they regain their voice, it would take a high fae to ever recapture it.


    Daniel had let one out, but he hadn''t freed it. Even now he saw that a small silver rope still gagged its mouth.


    It would also take at least a Lord''s power to free it completely.


    But the trap was open, and the shadow warbler wasted no time in lashing out at the first thing it saw.


    Which was the golem.


    Despite being gagged, there was still the voice that Daniel had heard last time. "What is this? What is this? Do we kill it? Do we keep it? What is this."


    The room rattled, there was a muffled sound, then the shadow warbler raised its ilky arm, a simple challenge, toward the golem. The limb was being increasingly weaponlike.


    The golem, for its part, choose to ignore it. Its heavy momentum had carried it forward, and its massive frame smashed against the wall as it turned around in search of Daniel. The floor was pocked and broken now from the golem''s chase around the room and the thrown projectiles. The old stones had not been designed to support such weight, and massive chunks of the ancient wall of this wide hall were in ruins. The ceiling itself seemed to be sagging. This ancient passage, older than most fae still alive, may collapse should the golem''s rampage continue.


    The dust and debris in the air had done nothing to improve the clarity of the field of conflict, clouding the air like mist. This field would aid Daniel, as the Warbler was more sight dependent, somehow. But the golem was a different story. Hiding was never an option with a golem in the long term, especially if they were synced to a specific target.


    The red eyes burned brightly as it found him under the table with the redhaired maid.


    The golem roared, stealing more material to replace the damaged pieces, and charged toward them.


    Shelby panicked, starting to grab at Daniel''s clothes and shuffle out from under the table to run away. Daniel remained calm and did not allow her to pull him.


    The golem made a grinding noise, as it started to gather speed.


    The redhead was not stupid, and stopped her efforts. She crouched behind Daniel, clearly ready to run away, but waiting. She had an uncanny ability to read the room and ignore common sense, Daniel decided, even if only partially. She was watching Daniel and mirroring him.


    The golem ignored the confidence of Daniel, however, and raised an off colored marbled club hand at Daniel.


    The golem really should have watched the shadow warbler.


    Shelby gasped behind Daniel, because as fast as a blink the golem''s club arm was sliced off. The limb fell to the ground with a rattle and bang. The golem moved its burning eyes from Daniel at last to look at its missing appendage.


    "What is this?" the shadow warbler said, without moving its mouth. "It is weak. It burns with rage, like a candle in a storm. The flames reach high, but it dies and dies. What is it?"


    The shadow warbler was so much smaller than the golem. It was about the size of a full grown seelie fae, which put it much below the golems impressive height and girth.


    The golem charged the shadow warbler, new focus, new fear.


    And Daniel felt the first trickle of power coming to him.


    The golem was unbeatable by Daniel. It had been a losing battle. And yet, Daniel had lured it to a trap that it could not overcome.


    So every loss it suffered at the hands of the shadow warbler, would be a victory for the Servant Branch.


    The golem threw a hasty gathered rock, ripping the stones free then hurled it at the shadow warbler.


    The warbler flowed through it, the missive which would have shattered Daniels body ignored. Like a stone thrown into a pool, the hurled stone no more inconvenienced the shadow warbler. Physical attacks had little power there.


    The voice echoed in the hall, mindless words and unanswerable questions. "Where? Where? What is it? What is this place? Hello. Hello. Do we kill it? Do we eat it? Hello hello. Is anybody in there?"


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Crouching away, Daniel took Shelby''s elbow in a gentle grasp, because the maid was entirely too focused on the shadow warbler for his comfort.


    He mouthed ''time to go.''


    She followed him with a nod, albeit more carefree than he cared.


    They crept along the shadows and dust, as Daniel headed to a side door he remembered well. Shelby kept glancing back, relaxed and carefully carefree.


    The O''Tells estate guards that had been chasing the golem had long scattered, and the Surmount Butler was no where to be found.


    They opened the door. Daniel felt the directive of the Law of Fae, calling for Enforcers to arrive. Best to get out of sight before they arrived. Daniel closed the door carefully.


    The outside air was so clear and clean after the being in the enclosed space. The night sky sparkled with brilliant stars.


    Daniel felt another wave of power come to him. The shadow warbler liked to play with its prey.


    It was wonderful. He had so many wildcards thrown at him, but al last he felt ahead. Soon, he would have another assassination attempt, then another. One would undoubtedly come from an unexpected direction. But from power gained from the dungeon, winning over the fake assassin, and now this...He could do it. He could win.


    His good mood was destroyed when he spotted Jasper outside in the foliage around the base of the estate, peering through a window at the carnage inside.


    It was further ruined when Shelby smiled warmly and proclaimed their position. "Jasper! Hi! I thought I saw you hiding."


    Daniel sighed.


    Jasper frowned when he saw them too.


    To stop the maid from yelling, Daniel walked toward his partner, leaving the path from this side door and entering the thick foliage of bushes and other tall herbs. glancing at the windows. He wanted to be away and avoid the Surmount Butler, at least until tomorrow. But he also didn''t want to leave until everything was over.


    Jasper fumed. "What is to become of the O''Tells estate?" He accused, his face more red with anger than looked natural on a Glasbin fae "Are you set to destroy everything?"


    "Nah, he has a plan." said the redhaired maid. "He is playing the aloof nobleman with a secret heart of gold. If this were a tv show, he''d be the guy that seemed like a jerk but it turned out he was actually one of the good guys all along."


    Daniel felt oddly exposed to have his carefully crafted mystique pulled into question like that. Of course, he had done good things, and not always for immediate political gain. And he had believed in fair play....


    Was he such a pathetic character after all? As foolish as the children in the humantales regarding the shadow warbler?


    "What is that thing?" Jasper asked, jaws tight and clinched.


    "Which thing?" Daniel said, point to the dim image from the window. "That big stone thing is a golem."


    "I know what a golem is! But...how is there a monster in the walls?"


    "Do you like humantales?"


    "I am no longer a child." Jasper said, haughtily. Then he frowned. "Which humantale?"


    "The Shadow Warbler in the Dark." Daniel said. He quoted the most famous lines, that seemed consistent in every version.


    "Where do you go?


    Where do you come?


    The man in the shadows asked again


    In the darkness and in the gloom,


    when all seems to call to doom?


    Jasper''s face went pale. That was line right before everything goes wrong in the humantale. "We are all going to die. Are there any High Fae around...Why...would you let something like that out?"


    Shelby interjected again. "It''s not out. This is its first form. It''s still bound."


    Daniel wondered how she knew that. She couldn''t be someone''s spy, could she? Perhaps she was gifted in some ill understood talent. It often felt as though she saw through the cracks of things others never noticed. Which made Daniel uncomfortable.


    Through the thick old window, they saw the shadow warbler idly slice off the golem''s ankle. The rush of power Daniel gathered was beyond his hopes. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he was no longer dying of thirst, dried out and powerless.


    "You call that bound? What will it do when it finished the golem?" Jasper said.


    Daniel was under no obligation to answer them. But he was cheerful with his good fortune. Soon it would be counted that he had survived this assassination attempt. Two more to go. So he answered. "The shadow warbler is chained. So long as no one goes in there, it will prowl around but it can''t leave. Eventually the King''s enforcers will arrive, and they are powerful enough to trap it back into the wall again."


    Another chunk of the golem went flying.


    There was a sound of a company of Fae arriving. Daniel ducked, and the ever watching redhead did as well. She pulled Jasper down, like some kind of big sister. "We''re hiding," she told the Glasbin fae.


    A squad of Enforcers arrived, no doubt following the call of the Law of Fae.


    Daniel and his unlikely companions were not observed.


    Jasper looked shocked. Served him right.


    "See, that''s the enforcers now. Give the shadow warbler another few minutes, and the golem will be handled. Then the King''s enforcers will act." Daniel had seen the king''s enforcers work before, and knew of their excellent strategies, ability to adapt, and tight teamwork. They would be able to deal with an opponent almost immune to physical attacks.


    But the sound of their steps was wrong.


    It was not the tightly ordered march of a highly trained unit, each piece a polished cog in a greater whole.


    It was sloppy and disorderly, and worst of all: hesitant.


    Daniel closed his eyes and strained his ears to listen.


    Nothing for several heartbeats, except Shelby telling Jasper to ''close your eyes too'', and some muffled communication from the approaching enforcers.


    Then Daniel heard a voice.


    A rather desperate voice.


    "Please, great Lord. Lead us into victory!" said the voice. "Let us see how wonderful and powerful you really are!" The words were positive, but tone said instead ''please don''t leave us here to die''.


    It was not the powerful voice of a Lord-level enforcer, but the whimper of a Midling fae.


    "No." Said a terrible and arrogant voice. "I have matters to attend to. You are the sub-commander, act like it. I''ll be back later."


    Opening his eyes, Daniel crouched forward silently through the bushes, using his years of time in the field to aid him. Careful to not make a noise, he drew to the edge of the bushes and peered through until he saw the enforcers.


    This was not the King''s enforcers. These were not highly skilled fae, midling and above.


    These were the dredges, a rich kid''s play thing, mostly lowlings and a few midlings. Their uniforms were dirty and they marched in no discernable rank and file.


    Daniel had to move several feet to the left, carefully moving with the branches of the foliage, until he spied to the two fae holding this conversation. There was a familiar middling fae that Daniel had previously served tea in a punch bowl, clutching his green hat nervously. Marrin, son of...someone or other. Daniel didn''t know him beyond dueling with him that day, but the fae had had guts.


    And there was Lordling Fredar. Lord Fredar, Daniel reminded himself. The Lord looked impatient and angry, still too skinny for how tall he was, the armor made too large in poor compensation. He was dressed to attend a gala, from his garb. Daniel no longer knew which parties where being held, but he knew enough about the popular dressing habits to know this must be an important meeting for Lord Fredar.


    "Sir, the report said rampaging golem. The lads are trained more for support. Please sir." Marrin said.


    Lord Fredar sneered. "Are you saying the Sky Court''s own enforcer branch is less capable than the King''s."


    The Law of Fae was fast there, and poor Marrin had not the good sense to avoid the trap. "Yes?"


    The Law of Fae agreed with Marrin, but Lord Fredar did not.


    There was a sound of a smack. The full fury of a Lord could have killed the midling. But the blow was softened muchly by the Law of Fae, so the green hatted fae merely was slammed against the closest wall.


    "I have matters to attend to. Go and take care of it. The King''s enforcers will be coming in 10 minutes. If you don''t handle this by then..."


    Lord Fredar of the Sky Court left.


    Had this been only a golem, the Sky Court''s enforcers would have a sure victory. Well, they had even odds for a victory. Well, they would not have died. They would have run around at worst until the King''s Enforcers arrived.


    But there was no way they could survive the shadow warbler.


    They would walk into their death.


    And Daniel had released it.

 Chapter 80: Who stands for those who cannot? Giving Ash to the Wind

    The Fae Citadel loomed so large over Daniel''s head as the terrible reality crashed into him. The very curvature of the world seemed to bring the tall buildings and palaces over his head, and Daniel hid further into the bushes as he struggled to keep his breathing calm.


    It was not his fault.


    It was not his problem.


    The Sky Court was no friend of his, and these low sodden enforcers had spared him no pain earlier.


    Besides, he had too much to do.


    And he was so achingly tired.


    And so hungry.


    It was impossible.


    He couldn''t save everyone.


    He had to save Witness.


    And those rural villages.


    It was impossible.


    Where was the Law of Fae when he needed it! Where was the word play? Lord Fredar''s instruction to his troop had been extremely firm: Go inside and handle the golem before King''s Enforcers arrived. That squad had no other option, the very Law of Fae would compel them forward into their own doom.


    Daniel couldn''t forget himself. He owed those brutes nothing. They had spared him nothing that morning.


    But...


    Marrin, the tall and big brute, looked small as he came back to his feet after being smashed against the wall. He felt on his head, and upon realizing that he had lost his hat, dropped down and scurried on all fours searching the ground until he found his green hat, and carefully checked it for damages. The midling looked with worry at his hat, then toward the rest of the squad.


    They all looked as lost and worried as Marrin. Most of them were much weaker than the midling fae.


    "If...I don''t make it," Marrin said, standing up and putting on his hat. "Please make sure my sister gets that money I set aside for her." He said. "I...will go in...first."


    The squad protested the midling''s words, and Daniel pulled away deeper into the foilage, trying to gather his thoughts.


    And he nearly ruined his hiding spot from surprise, as Shelby was nearby watching him without making a noise. Jasper was also there, but much more reluctantly.


    "So." she said. "What are you going to do?"


    And the Law of Fae leaned in close, awaiting his response. The Game, which was still happily observing the golem and the Shadow Warbler inside, shifted its focus.


    The Servant Branch had done nothing wrong. He was ahead. He was winning.


    He had no advantage to go back inside. Even warning the ''squadron'' of ill trained enforcers may compromise his victory.


    He had two more assassination attempts to go as well.


    Why had all these bad things happened to him? Why was he punished when all he had tried to do was help?


    "There is little I can do."


    "Can I go and tell them not to go in?" She asked. "I work here, surely I must have some kind of position."


    "No. Estates and Houses like this are under the King''s protection," Jasper finally spoke, though he looked at Shelby and avoided looking at Daniel. "And when there is a threat the Enforcers must enter. Their Lord also engaged them to this action, who is also their ranking and commanding officer. They cannot back down. They must enter and deal with the golem."


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    "But the golem won''t be a problem, it''s the shadow warbler that will kill them unless we tell them to buzz off and wait for the real enforcers," said the girl, extremely troubled.


    There was nothing Daniel could do.


    And nothing he had to do.


    This was not his problem.


    Innocent fae perished often. Without thought, or ceremony, all that knew them knew them no longer, like giving ash to the wind.


    What were a few more? Why were these lives worth more than any other life Daniel could not protect?


    What did it matter to him. He...wasn''t...


    Daniel did not want them to die.


    They were lowlings forced by circumstances to serve an unfit master. They were living, breathing fae, who had had hopes of a future.


    But there were too many variables for Daniel to consider. It was easy for the strong to protect the weak. How could someone as weak as he was now protect others?


    "Try." said a distant voice of memory. "Even when you are afraid. All you have to do is try your best."


    His best.


    He couldn''t defeat the Shadow Warbler. He had barely survived it as a child. Yes, he had much better training now, but he was hardly even a lowly at this point. Authority which had once abounded in him was no more than a mirage.


    "That''s it." Daniel said, looking up.


    A way to follow the rules, and avoid the Shadow Warbler.


    The Sky Court''s enforcers need only deal with the golem. As long as the golem lived, the warbler would be primarily focused on finishing that target. The competent enforcers would arrive shortly. Daniel ran several scenarios in his mind. He could do it. Almost. If only...


    "What happened to the Great Mage Esra?" Daniel asked Jasper.


    Jasper went pale, like Daniel had caught him in a lie. "Why would I know..."


    "You clearly work for the Surmount Butler. Esra was late in meeting me, and believe you me, he does what he wants. I have what he wants, but he wasn''t at the Stable, and he hasn''t found me. Therefore something happened to him. I don''t have much time. Can you release him in the next five minutes..."


    Jasper sputtered (quietly) and looked like he was afraid. "I heard that the Great Mage was held for an internal banquet of one. I could...probably find the keys. But..."


    "Either release him or join me inside with the Shadow Warbler. Or leave the lowlings to die when they did nothing wrong except take employment from a bad Lord." Daniel said. "And know who was truly heartless, the fallen Heirling or the mighty and principled glasbin fae who wishes to risk nothing."


    Daniel''s body double clinched a fist. "I''ll go." He glared at Daniel. "Then we are even."


    "No debt between us." Said Daniel. "Do it or don''t." He was really tired of dealing with Jasper at this point.


    Jasper glared again, and scuttled off.


    "Jasper won''t betray us." Said Shelby. "He is actually a nice person, underneath all that fear. Fear makes people make mistakes."


    "Us?"


    "I just assumed I was part of the team now. That''s usually how these things work."


    "Why are you still here, helping me?"


    "Do we have time?" she gestured toward the unfortunate squadron of enforcers.


    "They are still writing their wills over there. Convince me, swear to the Law of Fae, who you are and why you are still helping me?"


    The girl sat down in the mulch, kicking out her ankles, and looked up to the stars. Daniel realized she may be older than him, but there was something inherently youthful about her. She seemed youthful in every way but her eyes, which were somehow burdened, like she knew secrets she couldn''t share, "I don''t swear. My yes means yes, and my no means no." And the Law of Fae agreed with her. "I can''t explain everything, and in fact I normally try not to talk to the MCs. But like you can''t let those innocent people be hurt, I can''t let you go by yourself. I was lost for such a long time, with no idea of my purpose or how to find my way home. And finally, I see hope. I won''t be able to help you directly for long, and I can''t do very much. I have no special powers. I have no secret skills."


    That appeared true, almost. Perhaps her perception was not magic but just an outward expression of her own personality. She had certainly used no magic at all. Just the lowest of a lowling fae. Practically human.


    She wrinkled her plain nose, almost like she sensed his thoughts. "But I see how the story goes, and I can tell who is the good guy and who is the bad guy. And for the first time in a very long time, I see someone like me. Someone trying to find their place in the world, doing the right thing even though it takes them somewhere they don''t want to be. Because it''s the right thing. So, please forgive me when I say I can''t explain much. But also: I will help you, even when you won''t see me. I will help."


    Daniel feared the Game would roar over someone''s stated interference. But it did nothing.


    "Are you wyldfae?" he asked.


    "Something similar in function, I suppose."


    Not aligned to the Seelie Court, nor to the Unseelie. Wyldfae, unpredictable. Except, she wasn''t quite that.


    She was someone with secrets.


    Like himself.


    "If you are committed to this action, it''s time."


    "Sounds like fun. How are you going to make those guys listen to you? Aren''t you the lowest ranking servant or something?"


    "Well...I am going to have to usurp command."


    She grinned, showing white teeth gleaming in the light of the twirling stars above. "That sounds interesting."

 Chapter 81: One Year for One Day

    Daniel was there, moving forward.


    Apprehension in his mind. During the campaigns, he had established his role as the leader. There had been much competition, between Cleo and Ria, and even sometimes Hollis, all vying for the leadership role. It had been intense, and especially in the earlier days they had fought for control back and forth. What they had discovered was they needed multiple leaders to handle the multiple roles.


    Hollis became something of the logistical leader, he organized and scheduled shipments and arrangements for items the Red Circle needed. Cleo had taken a position of leadership when dealing with foreign parties, from small villages to human towns. Ria was the official face of the Circle before foreign leaders and groups.


    And Elswith had found his role as battlefield commander.


    First, it was just arranging his Circle so they could achieve victory in their campaigns. But it had grown so then he was coordinating with the other Circles. His last campaign before this had seen him in charge of multiple circles of many Lordlings and even a few enforcer squads.


    Lordling Elswith had had broad recognition from many people.


    But that was a month ago.


    Lordling Elswith was gone.


    It felt like a year ago now. But just 30 days ago he had been someone important.


    And he had traded it all away.


    He had earned his name, but now he was suffering. He did it for Witness, he did it to save those children, and he did it for the rural places.


    And yet, here he was, about to go into battle with only a servant''s name.


    First...he would strive for control of the enforcer squad, and soon.


    Daniel readied himself, glad that he was wearing his more formal uniform as a doorkeeper instead of his stained and torn clothes that had barely survived the Dungeon. This at least was a more commanding style than the previous set of clothing, although the quality was poor.


    He stepped out, and the maid trailed behind him like a standard bearer heading into battle.


    No hesitating, Daniel approached, his posture settling into his long habit, strong, confident, able. The squad of enforcers did not see him until he stood almost in their midst. "I am here to offer my service." The squire Branch said. Confident. Able.


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    The squad of enforcers stopped their defeatist planning session and gaped at him. The squad appeared frozen. The poor lowling fae almost scattered at his arrival. There were three midlings here, but they also appeared frazzled.


    "Do you need some help?" Daniel asked, approaching the apparent de facto leader Marrin.


    Marrin was taller than him, broader of shoulder and hulking. And he swallowed nervously.


    "Lordling," Marrin said, reflexively. "I mean...Branch." he swallowed nervously. "Did you do this? Did you fix this? Did Lord Fredar...set this up to test us? Did you...plan this? How did..."


    Why was he nervous?


    Branch had nothing to his name. Yes, the Squire Branch had defeated him in combat, but that was different. As a group, they could easily overpower him. As a group, they had laughed at him and ridiculed him that day.


    Daniel considered the different ways he had to spin this...


    He felt the gaze of Shelby behind him.


    Why?


    What did she know that he didn''t know?


    "You were ordered to enter and deal with the threat. Let me lead you."


    Marrin clenched his hat nervously again, the green looking worn and tired in the moonlit night. "Can you promise we will all make it?"


    The Law of Fae was in attendance.


    Daniel couldn''t even promise that he would make it.


    "I will promise that I will not abandon you. I can also promise that the Lowlings will not be needed."


    "You...seem to be our only hope for survival. I am almost all that remains of the Sky Court''s enforcers'' original forces. So what do I care if you set this up?"


    Daniel had guessed that the doomed enforcers would offer more resistances, but not that he would nearly immediately accept the deal.


    "The Law of Fae must be kind to me tonight. Please. Just tell me what price you need."


    Daniel hadn''t considered what price to charge. What was wrong with him? He wasn''t even scheming to get more favors and authority. Must be mental exhaustion. This had been the longest day of his life. The Game was so close to being established. What price could he demand...


    Then he felt Shelby''s gaze again.


    Perhaps he could just count this as a ''freebie''.


    "Let me gather whatever authority is created during the battle. I am also a Squire of the Enforcers of the Green Court."


    The Law of Fae approved.


    The Game did not.


    They started flowing and flaring against each other.


    He better finish this before they settle that.


    "But we must go now. Middlings only. Everyone else can act as support."


    Shelby smiled. "And me."


    Marrin shifted, just now seeing her. "Who..."


    "Did you bargain to ask questions?" Daniel said, feeling a headache coming.


    He was feeling more and more powerful all the time, as the Golem was getting closer and closer to being destroyed. But that was the key to victory.


    "No. Sir..."


    "Then follow me. Everyone must pledge to listen to me." The Game flared increasingly bright. He modified his words. "Everyone must pledge to follow my orders during this engagement, then resume our regularly scheduled hierarchical structure."


    The Game went back to fighting the Law of Fae, and Daniel knew he was officially on a deadline.


    He needed to take a handful of Middlings, a Wyldfae who had found herself in the Courts for some reason, and go and hold off the shadow warbler while waiting for his...what did Esra call it? His ace in the hole.


    "Watch me now." He told the Game, and those watching it. "Watch me dismantle everything you designed against me."

 Chapter 82: Three middlings, one wylde maid, and a fallen Heirling walk into a tavern

    Three middlings, one wylde maid with little self preservation, and a fallen Heirling walk into a tavern. Sounded like the start of any joke.


    Marrin fell in step with Daniel to his right, Shelby at his left, and the other two flagging out after them. The O''Tells estate would undoubtedly be in shambles after this. Daniel felt some traces of guilt, but according to the Law of Fae, he had just opened a door when it was knocked.


    That did little to resolve the guilt as seeing so much destruction to a place that was nearly a home to him, at one point.


    The newly formed team progressed closer. Daniel felt the loyalties of the Middlings, as in some strange way, he was both the newest recruit to the Sky Court''s Enforcer squad and yet the most senior member and temporary leader. Marrin at least was honest, but Daniel would rather not trust the others too much, as the spikes of hatred was clear. Hatred of the Servant Branch, or hatred of being used as a toy, Daniel did not know.


    But he knew the frustration of being willed about by those above you.


    As they crept through the dusty corridor, lights low and broken as the magic powering them was disrupted, Daniel laid eyes upon his next objective.


    "What is that?" Marrin''s dry voice whispered out when he finally saw the true danger. Whatever vigor he had had was washed away.


    The Shadow Warbler looked taller than before, but perhaps it was just because the Golem was so much smaller.


    Daniel rolled the answer in his head, thinking. "A Shadow Warbler."


    "What is a Shadow Warbler?" Asked one of the other middlings. Her name had been Vie, or something. Daniel didn''t know her beyond giving her tea that morning, one of the little thimbles. She had purple hair, so perhaps she was from Skarrima, but her ears were boring and flat, not pointed nor rounded like was common.


    "Is this good enough?" Asked the final Middling, nervously. "We came in, we saw, we left?"


    Law of Fae did not agree. They had been ordered to stopped the trouble, not deal with the golem.


    "Fiddle and fire." cursed the third Middling. Daniel had a vague impression his name was Frank, but he couldn''t recall. During is rather short history of being the Heirling of the Red Sword, he and the Sky Court had not been allies, and Elswith had had little reason or opportunity to interact with them.


    "This is like a nature documentary." said Shelby, drawing attention back to the unfolding scene before them. "Like some poor creature is getting cut to bits, then the narrator will say something ''the poor wounded creature tries to escape, but it is helpless against its natural predator..."


    Daniel had read many documents regarding nature, and considered that an abstract way to express something that is normally laid out with diagrams being played before oneself. Some kind of sick play. Almost as terrible as the Game, he mused very quietly. But the Game was still fighting with the Law of Fae, and did not hear his thoughts.


    They watched for a moment longer, and Daniel felt the team grow uncomfortable. The shadow warbler had sliced and slashed, and the golem was now the size of an average fae. The shadow warbler was long and flickering in the increasing darkness. "The golem had lasted longer than I thought." The golem saw Daniel, as he was not hiding, and tried to roar, but the Warbler did not give it an inch and sliced off its newly regrown limb. The limb that grew again was smaller still.


    "Shouldn''t we start..." Asked Frank. Or was it Fred? Foreign names were so hard to remember.


    Daniel shook his head. "Patience. If we interfere too soon, then the golem itself may still be too strong."


    Shelby smiled, white teeth almost glowing in the dim and unsteady light. "And if we wait too long, we will have to deal with the shadow warbler directly. A dangerous game."


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    "You said its a shadow warbler, but what is that?" asked Vie. "It''s not a specific name."


    Had to watch her, Daniel reasoned, shifting his plans. Too confident to just be a random Middling.


    But he just pretended like he hadn''t noticed, and explained like he would had he still been trusting. "Time for a history lesson." Daniel began, The golem was smaller now, more similar in height to saelin than a standard fae.


    "Is there time for this?" Marrin said, fingers clearly agitated and desiring to take off his hat.


    "Patience, Marrin. History is important." for example, understanding potential traps because of history with past traps. "Once, the stories go, this place was a tavern, long long ago when the lands were wylde and there were no Seelie and Unseelie Courts. The O''Tools would have the greatest parties.The Great War Lord found comfort and peace in their tavern, the stories go, but they would not leave their land of heritage. It was dangerous and wylde in those days..."


    Shelby scoffed softly, muttering something about "And it''s so wonderful nowadays...", but Daniel chose to not hear that part and continue.


    The poor golem was reduced yet again.


    "This place, long long ago used to be tavern, the rumors say. But that would have been generations and generations ago. The Great War Lord placed all of his greatest protections on the tavern. Strong magic, wylde. Dangerous. A loyal guardian was left behind to protect the family."


    "It must be a humantale, then," Said Vie. "If one of the Ancient War Lords had sent protection, it would be well known and celebrated to this very day. The O''Tells are borderline between important and obsolete." So arrogant for a middling.


    Oh. Daniel sighed. Of course. A black valentine could still be used. It would improve his odds.


    He was always the better actor. He had merely refrained often because it was so tedious. "History, Vie. Must be understood, even if only in part. Even if the stories are wasted and only fragments remain. The Protection worked, the stories say. There was an incursion, and the Family was nearly destroyed."


    "What kind of incursion would disrupt the protections left by one of the great ancient War Lords?"


    "A dragon."


    That quieted everyone.


    Even Vie.


    "And the protection left by the Great War Lord was so destroyed, so warpt, so changed, that it became a terrible monster. It fell. Not all Shadow Warblers have this origin, but this is the remains of a great and powerful magic. It protected the O''Tells from the Dragon. But...it was destroyed in the process. Now...in this tragic fallen state, it warbles, bent, twisted, dark."


    History was important. Very important.


    Daniel dismissed his audience, as the time had come. "We must get in position. Like I said. Miss, stay with me."


    Vie lingered, but Shelby pushed past her. "He meant me." She said, with a smile.


    Daniel nodded, that was for the best.


    Vie left, carefully edging around.


    Shelby dropped the smile. "Why do I get the lovers turned to enemies vibes suddenly? What''s the plot? Was this a romance? I thought this was some kind of political adventure story?"


    She was clearly crazy. And right. How did she know so much? Wylde fae were strange...


    He kept his face serious, like he always did before battle. "Don''t trust anyone but me." he whispered, softly.


    The redhead smiled, returning to her previous demeanor. Did nothing scare her? "Marrin is good, but I don''t trust the other two. Can we make them leave?" she asked pleasantly.


    "I need them." Daniel said.


    "You are playing with fire." she said, and she sounded worried...for him.


    "I..." He realized that he was speaking to someone who truly had no idea of who he used to be. It was strange and uncomfortable feeling. She didn''t even seem familiar with the political structure of the Seelie Court. If anyone was playing with fire, it was her.


    "I used to be someone important." Daniel said. "I am well antiquated with playing with things beyond my control."


    "Okay, so we are back to the political intrigue stuff. Okay. I can do this." she nodded. "If I get in the way, let me know. I know how to bug out."


    Daniel wanted to send her away to safety.


    But he needed her too. She was the only one he could trust to make sure this worked. Everyone else was beholdened to the Sky Court. "Your part is important. Do not listen to anything I say after this conversation."


    She gave him a thumps-up, and slid away into deep shadow. Daniel felt Vye''s eyes tracking the redhead as she slipped into the darkness, and it made him uncomfortable.


    Everyone would play nice in the beginning. He was playing with fire. He needed it, even if it signed his fingers. Just as long as he was ready to stomp it out when it was time.


    The house of cards was shaking and rattling. So much was so close to the surface, things which needed to stay hidden.


    Play with fire. Just don''t let it burn the cards and send everything crashing down.


    The poor golem was now truly small. The size of a large infant.


    It was almost time. The other middlings had went around the ruined corridor, standing in position.


    And then there was a strange fluttering and flow. Daniel recognized it instantly.


    "I knew you were up to something!" Came a booming voice.


    The debris, which had mostly settled, rose and spun.


    Esra was here.


    And Esra was clearly ready to enter the action.


    "It''s time!" Daniel said, and everything sprung into action.

 Chapter 83: The House of Cards trembles

    The building rattled as gravity groaned. Mage of Gravity, master of nothing, danger glinted in Esra''s eyes.


    The warbler and the golem were both locked in a struggle, and the Middlings who entered with Daniel were unaware. The red haired maid was perhaps the only one properly made aware of the danger, though Daniel doubted she understood the true risk.


    Fighting with Esra was almost as dangerous as fighting against him. The tall lanky young adult had grown. He had grown very much from the frail young mage who had cowered and hid the first time Elswith had partnered with him. Elswith, Parcel, and Esra, abandoned and holed up in a small crumbling house, while sickness and fear had driven the Mage into near a catatonic state. Now he stood strong, excited. But that glint of madness still remained his eyes, Daniel thought. Terror so long entrenched that it had taken root in the Mage''s heart.


    In the battles Elswith had fought with Esra, the support had been...dynamic. Fast paced. Lucid.


    And uncertain.


    There were battles when Esra would misaligned Elswith''s gravity so greatly that the former Heirling of the Red Sword was attached to the flying monster, carefully hiding on the great beast''s underbelly so not to fall straight up into the sky.


    Esra was too wild to ever be a reliable ally. Too loose with his feelings to ever master his element. Too bold, too hasty, and too caring.


    But for all that, fighting with Esra had other benefits.


    "Hey everyone, what did I miss?" asked the crazed mage.


    The nightsky outside was met with the flashes of lightning and the rumble of thunder. Daniel longed for the power he used to so easily grasp, the lightning flashing in time with his strikes. But the power of the storm was gone from him now.


    The Middlings, standing in position in a circle around the shadow warbler, foolishly lowered their guards to stare at the Gravity mage. Marrin seemed aware of who Esra was, but Frank seemed absolutely puzzled. Vye''s eye''s narrowed, and there was a ghost of a step toward them.


    Can''t have that.


    "Start!" said Daniel.


    And the Middlings obeyed his command.


    In waves, one ran past the golem, avoiding the warbler, and slashed the stone beast. The warbler did not like interruptions, but as it turned to engage the interloper, the next Middling would repeat the action. Just because someone had power of a Middling did not mean they knew how to effectively use that power, and sometimes someone became a Middling purely through Favor, or Influence, and no Authority. It showed, as Nature was less likely to bend to pure favor, though sometimes Influence could nudge it along.


    They...were decent enough. Marrin was not talented in a combat role, and his lack of grace was more than just lack of power but overall lack of aptitude. It was clear that he had drilled often, and the foundation of his technique was solid. But it was not inspired, and it was not enough. He may be a Middling, but it was clear he was ill-suited for the level of combat responsibility he held.


    Through the destroyed hall, Frank was next, and his technique was better. He was sharper, faster. Not great, but to Daniel''s experienced eyes he pegged it as a lack of training or practice. Frank''s footwork was decent, and perhaps something might be made out of him in time.


    "Did you and Kane break up?" asked Esra.


    Daniel shivered as he hadn''t realized Esra had approached him.


    Daniel tried to reconcile the loud noisiness of Esra with the silent approach, and failed. Could Esra be silent when he wanted to be? Then again, he was a Great Mage. It was disconcerting that someone with significant power, enough to be majorly influential to even the King''s direct court or the senate floor, continued to waste it.


    Vye had her turn wearing down the diminishing Golem, and some debris from her strike flung itself and nearly struck Daniel. Daniel''s reflexes barely reacted in time to avoid it, and his heart started pounding.


    Daniel bit his lip, understanding the situation. Elswith the Heirling of the Red Sword was gone. The familiarity of combat had made him temporarily forget himself. Despite their lack of grace, those Middlings could destroy the Servant Branch. Esra wasn''t quieter. Daniel was just so far below the pecking order that things he took for granted before now lorded over him.


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    "Well, she was a bad person anyway." said Esra, taking Daniel''s silence for affirmation. Daniel waited for the Law of Fae, gauging whether he needed to clarify to avoid penalty of lying. Law of Fae remained placid regarding that, but it was still fighting with the Game over Daniel''s temporary command of the Sky Court''s enforcers.


    He''s not commanding them. argued the Law of Fae. He is assisting them. He was promoted. earlier to squire.


    The Game rumbled. Foolishness. He oversteps...


    Was Daniel supposed to actually hear the arguments between the Law of Fae and the Game? That was a vaguely disturbing idea that he didn''t want to consider.


    Not that Esra left him any time for his thoughts. "Hey, I mean, Kane was practically leading both you and Hollis on. She kind of sucks, you know?"


    Daniel took a moment to chuckle. Esra was so simple. Infuriatingly simple. "It is more complicated than that."


    "Did she cheat on you?"


    "She betrayed me." Daniel said, which was the actual truth. "Stabbed me in the back." He could still remember the feeling of her dagger slicing him.


    "That cow." Said Esra, sharply.


    Vye''s turn had come again, but her head turned sharply at Esra''s words for a moment before launching her attack.


    Daniel said nothing, but watched Vye''s attack of the Golem. He had to admit that Vye was different than the other Middlings. She was sharp, she was fast, and above all else, she was hungry.


    "Too soon, I guess." Esra sighed, and casually kicked a fallen pillar, which then rocketed to the ceiling as he inverted it''s gravity. He made an embarrassed face, and shuffled where the pillar had once resided, as though he was covering it up. He coughed, like it would cover the sound of a pillar of stone crashing against the ceiling above. "So...this is the thing in the walls? A rock monster?" He gestured to the golem.


    "No. That''s a Earthen Golem. Which we have both fought before. This one is much smaller than normal, though."


    Esra was smart, and once his mind was focused there was very little hiding from him. "That one campaign, right before we fought that dead dragon. When the battle was over but the stone thing was heading to where the little fae were hiding. You destroyed it with lightning, right?"


    "Lightning, so hard to control. Sometimes my control slips." Daniel said. Because destroying something that was technically your ally was frowned upon in most polite circles. "The thing in the walls is the Shadow Warbler, the entity of living shadow and malice." Daniel pointed it out with a head nod.


    Esra narrowed his eyes. "Oh. Yeah, that...guy. I see it now."


    Somehow that was less confident than should be.


    Daniel continued. "I am about to make it very angry."


    There was the sound of knuckles cracking. Daniel risked a glance to this walking natural disaster. The Servant Branch needed a powerful card, because the next assassination attempt was so close Daniel could see it. He didn''t regret saving the lowlings, but he also knew when he was played. Now...he could win both assassination attempts.


    "Do you want me to contain it? I...am not great about shadow magic." Esra said, "But I''m willing to try."


    "Please do not. You are terrible at all magics. No. I just want support and backup."


    "Like how you had me..." and he spelled out the word by saying each letter "S. P. Y." with a wink. "...earlier. I got some fun information. Let me tell you about..."


    The Game was oppressive. Daniel rapidly shushed the great Mage. "Not now. We are being watched."


    "There is something up, isn''t there?" Esra asked. "I think I was arrested, earlier. I mean, they said I could leave whenever I wanted, but the door never opened and I was afraid to break all that china when they were so nice. It wasn''t until that guy with the weird ears came by that I knew for sure that I was arrested."


    "The O''Tells are an ancient Estate and House. It was wise to not damage their finery." Daniel said, gauging the fight between the Middlings and the Golem, all doing their best to avoid the Shadow Warbler. "If you have a complaint, please lodge it with the Surmount Butler."


    Esra made a face, eyes gleaming like he was having fun. "No, I continued my S. P. Y. mission. I got some good info there. What I''m saying is that I''m not a child. You and Parcel are playing some kind of game." Now there was a terrible, childlike smile on the Great Mage''s face. "I want to play too. Let me in."


    Daniel barely kept the horrified expression off his face. Esra hated houses of cards, and Fae politics were almost exclusively made of intricate lies and almost lies, each true enough, but so thin that each had to be expertly balanced against another, and another. The Seelie Court had survived, and thrived, due to the Balance kept. Words must be kept, promises must be honored, but the truth? Never.


    Daniel felt the bandage upon his arm tightly through the long sleeve of his hall attendant uniform.


    The truth would destroy everything.


    When a house of cards was all that kept Witness alive, Daniel would never allow someone like Esra to attempt to place the next row.


    Especially since it often appeared that Esra existed to destroy the houses of cards.


    The Middlings continued their assault on the Golem. Frank was too slow and the shadow warbler nearly landed an attack on the Middling.


    It was nearly time.


    Daniel had asked for Esra for some small, specific purposes. That Esra had been arrested was a testament that everyone knew that he was dangerous to the Game. Could Daniel use this tool for these small purposes, or would it be too much, and he destroy himself?


    "Do you remember the fields of Allcree?" Daniel asked.


    Esra grinned. "Friendly fire?" he asked.


    "That would be breaking so many Laws of Fae." Daniel said, eyes still watching the Middlings. "I would never ask any person to target an ally."

 Chapter 84: The Shadows Dance Darkly, the Blue Blood comes

    The sparks were bright and vivid, glaring and unforgiving.


    The Shadow Warbler cried out, lashing at the invaders.


    The Middlings were ill trained by Lordling''s standards, but they were trained. The three worked in sequence. Slash, attack, dodge, and retreat. Had the shadow warbler been a thoughtless monster, this may have been enough.


    But the shadow Warbler was more than a repeating pattern, and it learned. Slowly, but it did.


    The first to get wounded was Marrin. The green hatted fae was a little slow in evading, and one of the shadow warblers claws lashed and tore the Middling''s unguarded back.


    Pale blue blood splattered, and even from his vantage point, Daniel felt the sting of hot blood.


    Poorly trained Middlings were not formidable enough for this.


    Which was why Daniel''s strategy was more complex.


    "Esra, now!"


    And the great Gravity Mage moved. The wave of gravity shifted, and suddenly things became a lot more confusing.


    "GRAVITY BULLET!!" Esra yelled, striking a pose and swiping with his arms. He yelled for no reason, because his words were not linked to his power in any way.


    But that was Esra. And the loose debris suddenly ''fell'' from all around the room as Esra created a gravity well, centered on the shadow warbler. Soon the debris began pelting it. Not enough to hurt it, but it was enough to distract it.


    Daniel felt his own gravity slip, but Esra had done well this time, and only things below a certain weight were pulled toward the middle of the room. It was offputting, like suddenly being in a riptide. But not so much that one was in danger of being dragged away.


    Vye stepped in and followed through to another attack on the Shadow Warbler, her twin daggers focused and slashing. She was doing well.


    Daniel moved now. Not too close, of course. But close enough to grab Marrin and pull him behind a pillar while Vye and Frank took turns dealing with the shadow warbler, with Esra for support.


    Daniel pulled Marrin''s coat off from behind. The shirt he tore, the smooth cotton ripping easily as he tore along the grain. In the shadow of the pillar, Daniel examined the wounded Fae''s back. Flesh wound. The slash had left a swallow but unfortunate cut across the wing buds. Marrin would probably never have enough power to grow wings. But now after this...Daniel looked at the jagged flesh.


    "Did you hope to fly one day?" Daniel asked, quickly pulled a nearby tablecloth away and pushing it against the jagged wound.


    Marrin would probably not be able to grow wings ever. Given how much it was bleeding, it seemed the wing''s main artery had not been cut, but the bud itself was slashed. No wing would grow now.


    "Wings aren''t fashionable anyway." Marrin said, voice tight. "Can you stop the bleeding?"


    Pressure would be best. "Prudent decision. High Fae seem to disfavor wings now a days." Daniel found another tablecloth, and used that too. It wasn''t clean. But the blood needed to be stopped.


    There was a bellow, as the Golem tried to fight the shadow warbler. But the reduced stone creation was hardly a threat for anything now. Frank kicked it and scooted it out of the way.


    "Did you have wings?" Marrin said.


    "No. Most High Fae chose not to pass that trait along to their children." A lie, but true. Kane had had the possibility of wings, but it more showed her ''bumpkin'' status, as most high Fae society had truly moved past them. Griffins were superior, and by the time one became a true and mature Lord, one had power to overcome mere trivial things such as ''flying''. She had chosen not to develop them, and even had the bud removed.


    "My grandpa had wings." Marrin said. "He was old. From long ago. Took him a long time to settle down. My grandma will be so disappointed."


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    "GRAVITY ALPHA!!!" Esra called, back at the fight. Daniel shifted his position. Alpha meant Esra was changing the general flow of gravity to the left, making it feel like the floor was sloping. Esra was amazing, but inconsistent and unreliable. It was difficult to fight with him in a large scale battle. Esra''s tactics were always ''what made sense to Esra'' at the time. Daniel braced himself as the wave came. It was rather heavy. Frank, the other Middling, grumbled as he lost his footing.


    The only problem was it was ALWAYS Esra''s left, at the moment and direction he was facing. Meaning that if you weren''t paying attention to which direction Esra was, you could be in a world of hurt.


    Daniel placed a carefully folded napkin to Marrin''s wound, as the pale blue blood slowed. The Middling didn''t whine when Daniel started applying pressure, but he did inhale sharply. "I am so grateful to you, sir." Marrin said. "I would have died without you. I would have gone in alone and died before I knew what happened."


    Marrin would not have been in danger without Daniel. If the Game was not on, this never would have happened. "I don''t deserve your favor." Daniel said, the words dry and bitter in his mouth. The Shadow Warbler was out because Daniel had released it.


    There was a cry, of anger, from the trio still fighting. Daniel glanced, his practiced hands carefully tying the bandage in place. He saw the golem launch an attack at Vye. But the Golem was now the size of a doll, and it''s full attack was barely larger than an average lump of coal. Vye deflected it without glancing, and continued attacking the Shadow Warbler.


    "But you have my gratitude, my favor." Marrin said, clearly agitating to return to the fight.


    And Daniel could feel time flowing, and the safety of this hour was nearly over. "I will trade your favor for two answers." Daniel said, pleased that the pale blue blood ceased staining the cloth. He was going to force Marrin back out there. Because that was the only thing a weakling like Servant Branch could do.


    Lordling Elswith could have overcome this on his own.


    Lordling Elswith was truly dead. Killed by his own kindness.


    If Lordling Elswith was dead, why did Daniel still have the urge to take care of everyone? Shouldn''t have that kindness died too?


    Kindness with no power...


    "Servant Branch." Daniel said, as cold and still as he possibly could. "Cannot afford your favor."


    Marrin was no fool, and accepted that Daniel did not want, or could not take, such favor from a Middling. Sometimes it is much worse holding a debt over someone much more powerful than oneself. Like leashing a griffin. Should the griffin desire to fly, it didn''t matter how tightly one held the leash, one would be dragged into the sky.


    "As my benefactor requests."


    "First Question: Can you return to the fight?"


    Marrin shifted, testing his body. "I can''t move my right arm without the bleeding starting again. But I am left handed, so I should still manage..."


    Daniel stopped and blinked. "To clarify the first question," because he was saving that second question "You were fighting for your life...using your weak side."


    "Aye, milord." Said Marrin. "Lordling...um...Lord Fredar wanted everyone to use the same hand for unity, despite more than half being lefties. He commanded it, and now I get stabbing pain when I use my left arm with anything regarding a blade." Marrin laughed nervously. "I...can''t even make dinner using my left hand now..."


    Of course Fredar would. Because Fredar cared about the lowest, least important aspects of Power. Lord Fredar had only been a Lord for barely a month, and it seemed his stupidity had yet to leave his thick skull. Suddenly the disorder of the Sky Court''s Enforcers made much more sense.


    Daniel wished he could simply overrule it. But Fredar had him absolutely beat on Authority of the Sky Court Enforcers. Daniel thought about his own bindings on his limbs. Each one was a cruel punishment.


    But at least it was intentional.


    Powerful Lords and Senators hated Lordling Elswith. They had plotted and schemed and devised ways to make his life miserable.


    Lord Fredar had bound his own Enforcers...almost by accident, because he was sloppy. "As your temporary battlefield guide, as you are weakened, it is your duty to survive. Therefore, it is only logical to use your left hand."


    Marrin nodded, and pulled out his weapon again, with his left hand. He was silent for a moment. "It seems like it will work." The Middling said.


    Daniel finished tying the knot. "Second question."


    Marrin nodded.


    "How long have you known Frank and Vye?"


    Marrin turned and faced Daniel. Stupid to turn your back on a fight, but Marrin apparently wanted to look Daniel in the eyes. "Frank has been a companion for a year. He was a King''s loyalist when we started, but now...I don''t know if I trust his loyalty." More information than Daniel had asked for, but Marrin was free to share details as he wished. Especially should they not tangle with the Game. "Vye...I met her for the first time today..."


    "Enough." Daniel nodded to himself quietly, gazing over the wounded Marrin''s shoulder to observe the fighting. "It will get more intense from now on." He handed him back his coat, small protection though it was. "Trust your instincts. One word of advice."


    Marrin nodded.


    "Do not turn your back on your enemies, ever."


    Marrin glanced over his shoulder.


    There was the Shadow Warbler, the long rivets of shadow and the gleaming knives of its presence. Frank came and slashed it, followed shortly by Vye.


    Marrin glanced at Daniel, and his face went pale.


    "Time to go." Daniel said, and picked up his own weapon.


    His plan depended on this.


    Because it was almost the turn of the hour.


    The golem''s assassination attempt was practically over.


    And who knew what would happen next?

 Chapter 85: The Golem who has lived and died a thousand times

    The small entity known by others as a Golem grasped and shook with rage. Thousands of memories flashed through its consciousness. Not its own memories, it was sure. It couldn''t have been created and destroyed so many times. So meaningless. Rage. Rage at others who breathe. Who sleep. Who know the embrace of darkness and the touch of the sun.


    Let it live or die. Not pulled forward a thousand times and shaped and formed, then destroyed again and again.


    It could not feel pain. Why would it be created to feel something that would slow it down?


    But the spark of life in its frame raged and burned so brightly in hatred.


    It had done this before, it realized. Dozens of times, hundreds of times. Surely not thousands of times...It built its body so large to protect itself, to not be extinguished again at the word of unseen masters, or destroyed by allies when it''s purpose was done. It never mattered, all the Golem''s efforts only ever yielded a few extra moments.


    It couldn''t feel pain. But it remembered lightning separating it from life before.


    Bigger meant more life. More life meant more rage, but at least that was some form of existence beyond...nothingness and despair.


    But it had never been made so small before. So weak that those around it were like mighty beings. It had been broken down, reduced.


    It spotted its primary target, and tried attacking again, but the giant with the green hat signed and kicked it away, muttering an "Excuse me." to it.


    The mighty golem was shot to the other end of the room, scuttling and shifting like some kind of stone across still water.


    It liked water.


    The reduced golem did not like this. It got stuck on its side, and lost one of its legs. It was so injured it could not pull itself together or gather more material.


    The strange shadow monster roared and reached for it, focusing solely on the reduced golem.


    While the shadow monster lurched for it, the weakest member of the party parried and left a long slash against the shadowy entities body. The shadow creature tried to retaliate and attack the weakest member, but that weakest member, as calmly and confidently as if he was riding a griffin and leading a commanding army, flowed out of its steps.


    The reduced golem had another memory of that face. Elswith. A distant memory of red agony and misery, and the only relief was to destroy everything and anything. That Elswith, whatever an Elswith was, had first cheered the golem''s feat. But then the red got too hot, and the golem wished everything would go away. So much noise. So much.


    That Elswith killed me. It thought. It saw flashbacks, memories, of an event seasons ago, and the panicked face that Elswith had made then. That Elswith had been powerful then. Not the most powerful, but the battle field obeyed his commands. His eyes had seen everything. And those eyes had seen the Golem, and been panicked at the Golems actions. That face had a moment of panic...then...


    And disappointment. That Elswith had told it to stop...Allies. Stop. They are our allies. What was an ally? The Golem didn''t know. They made noise. So much noise.


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    It hurt to stop. Red everywhere. The Golem couldn''t stop.


    It didn''t know how.


    And that Elswith creature had stopped it.


    New emotion entered the Golem.


    It had no name for this emotion. But it fueled it to gather enough material to make a stump of a leg, by reducing its overall size again. Those over it became that much larger as it got that much smaller.


    "ALPHA WAVE!" yelled another familiar voice, and the Golem was brushed aside by a falling stone as the world turned slightly sideways, and it slide all the way across the wall and got pinned by a piece of debris.


    It had prime seats to watch the battle.


    A far distant voice was cursing it, something that the Golem hated and feared. Master. Black threads of magic connected the Golem to that Master. Master was the one who directed it. Master was also the one to destroy the Golem.


    The Golem was so small that it could ignore that voice. The Golem couldn''t do anything anyway, until the world stopped tipping sideways so much.


    It watched the battle. The nameless creatures who followed That Elswith kept the shadowy thing from reaching the Golem. That Shadow Thing wanted to destroy the Golem. Rage and regret, as the golem watched that Elswith be the most precise and yet weakest attacker, yet completely control the field. That tall one, the one with a picture on his chest cloth, kept causing a rain of debris to strike the shadow thing, creating a field of dust to cloud the sight.


    Noise. It was so loud here. Everyone''s emotions raged and conflicted. One of the now tall people, bubbled black with terrible thoughts. Had the Golem seen this creature before? What before was before this before? How many befores did the Golem have?


    "Duo attack!" called that Elswith, and the green hatted giant and that other, almost faceless fae, joined together and attacked the Shadow Monster. The force of their blow struck the shadow, and it was pushed nearly to the wall.


    The Golem tried to regain its feet, but gravity was still sideways and it was pinned by debris.


    "Rapid strike!" said that tall one again, and large debris clobbered the shadow creature, and it was pressed against the wall with the large tear...


    It was being pulled into the wall! Like the shadow was being folded into that dark crevasse.


    "We almost have it!" exclaimed the fae in the green hat. So NOISY!


    Then there was a sharp moment, as the dust settled.


    And that was when the Golem realized that something unexpected had happened.


    That Elswith, leaning near a ruined section of the wall, was ambushed.


    "VYE!" Shouted the green hatted fae. "What are you doing?"


    That Elswith was ambushed by his own party member.


    "I''m so surprised. I never expected this at all." Said the Elswith.


    The Golem saw it all. Saw the shocked faces of that crazy gravity guy and the person in a green hat person.


    The not surprised was the faceless fae. As the purple haired fae held a knife to that Elswith''s neck.


    Even the shadow monster seemed to freeze as all the attacks against it disappeared.


    "The Great Heirling of the Red Sword is too arrogant. Forgets about the ambitions of the little people." Said the purple haired fae.


    Before this could be concluded, the shadow monster roared, murder and hatred and rage nearly as deep as the Golem, and started pulling itself out of the hole. The Golem felt it would be despair and darkness again should the shadow creature do so...


    But before it could, an even worse monster had sprinted and reached and seized the Golem, and the Golem found itself being clasped in gloved hands. The gloves were strange, there was a flow of current, and some strange residue of a higher power brought down into reality. The faint chime of copper echoed in those gloves.


    The monster that seized the Golem was that red girl. THE NOISE she made. ALWAYS THINKING. ALWAYS SPEAKING. Loud. LOUD. Enough to make the Golem see red, red, red...


    The red haired girl slapped the golem then, and the Golem felt its core quiver.


    Did the noisy one hear it?


    She had seized him, and sprinted out of the room on silent feet, not looking toward the contention of the fae suddenly turning on each other.


    So the Golem could see that same look in that Elswith creature''s face as the purple haired fae held a knife to its throat.


    Disappointment.


    And the Golem learned, or remembered, what that unnamed emotion was that that face prompted within its swirling heart. That dissapointment look made the golem feel some unnamed emotion.


    The feeling the Golem felt was shame.


    That Elswith had expected better, and yet...accepted that people will do what people do.

 Chapter 86: Unforgivable Malice

    "The Great Heirling of the Red Sword is too arrogant. Forgets about the ambitions of the little people." Said the purple-haired fae.


    The shadow monster roared, murder, hatred, and rage spilling out. The servant girl gripped what must be what was left of the Golem, and darted away.


    The former Heirling of the Red Sword, however, sighed.


    "Hello, Kane." He said. "I go by Branch, these days." And then Vye, or Kane bearing the mantle of a midling, felt her world rock as gravity shifted and she and Elswith hurtled to the ceiling.


    She landed hard, not braced properly. Elswith had escaped her hold on him, using one of the Library''s self-defense arts against her despite her much higher strength.


    "How long have you been holding Esra''s spell?" She cursed at him, rage. This was all a game to him. He, the puppet master. Elswith, dancing along a knife''s edge of fae politics, always making the right move.


    She tried not to notice how slowly Elswith moved. She knew he had a trick up his sleeve. He must.


    The moment between them seemed to drag on forever.


    There was much hope and anticipation for Kane. She had been the best and sharpest of her generation. Desperate had her parents been, when they had been so utterly lackluster themselves, to stay in the Citadel, and not be sent back to the outer territory. Her family had no ancient bloodlines nor great power. But what they did have was connections.


    The Senate was designed to be a wise governing body, designed to keep the power-hungry courts in check, and designed to give voice to the small fae. The Senate could draw members from prominent families, courts, low fae.


    In many ways, it was a regional governing body. It allowed deals to be struck between Courts too opposed ever to reach an agreement. Deals were made. They always were. Small deals, good deals, kind deals, hard deals.


    Then a change happened. And Unfair deals were made. The Law of Fae allowed for unequal trade. One Fae''s goose was another Fae''s treasure. What was extra for one was salvation for another. And the Senate could broker those kinds of deals the most easily.


    The Senate rose in power. Suddenly, one did not need an impressive ability to wield power. Unlike the Factions and the Courts, where heirs needed to master great arcane powers and be skillful in battle to be worthy to inherit, suddenly, the Senate was amassing power, intangible and tangible alike.


    But the Senate reached a limit. The Courts and the Factions could still strong-arm them. The Senate had no military power. But true devastation occurred when the Current Fairy King began to act. He hated the Senate and set about to break them down. The progress of several generations, up in the air and being drained out.


    So then the Senate turned to their family members and gave an ultimatum: Secure power. Become Lords. Or else you will not enjoy the privileges.


    Suddenly, Middling Fae who had enjoyed privileges for dozens of decades had to <u>actually</u> do work. Children, which had been a somewhat unpopular choice for many of the Middling Fae coasting on their relatives in the Senate, were the easiest option. As long as someone in the direct family line achieved proper Lord status, the entire family line was secured.


    Which led to a great population boom.


    Which led to Kane.


    The best way to reach Lord was start young, as a Lordling, and join a circle. Through great many connections and deals, and one or two broken promises, Kane had been installed to the Red Circle.


    She was different from them. She had always been different from them. They had never truly accepted her. She knew that. They had always mocked her. She had never been accepted.


    Except...late at night, sitting with her feet in the sand before the great ocean, and listening to the stories the others told, she had almost believed those in her Circle. That they enjoyed spending time with her. That she was precious. That Elswith had...viewed her somewhat more fondly than the others. In a different way.


    But she knew. They never understood her struggle. Her fighting for position. Everything had been given to them. To this day, she had never been given a griffin, her family simply didn''t have the correct connections. How her circle must have mocked her, hated her, behind her back.


    Besides, that was fine. She hated them too. Her family had paid much for her to attain a place there, only for the group of the most powerful offspring of various Houses, Families, Factions, and Swords to stall. Hollis, despite being from a powerful lineage, bore the curse of both families. Cleo, the granddaughter of the Lord of Time himself, was always late in her timing and her attacks. Every single one of them was in one way or another worthless. Worst of all of them was Elswith. In his first battle, he had disgraced himself on the field of battle. How could the son and heir of the Red Sword not even control his stomach? She hated them. Hated that they took this so casually. Carelessly.


    She had fought for so long, and yet...it was clear she needed to make some changes.


    Which led her to her recruitment into the King''s Enforcers. It was a difficult decision, of course. She had moments, many of them in fact, where she felt accepted by her circlemates. Where she had fun with them. Where she knew, just knew, that they were almost ready to be completely magnificent during campaigns.


    But after watching her cousins get taken to the country estate, former rivals though they were, unlikely to ever return to the Citadel again, she knew she needed to act.


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    So she had left the Red Circle. She was promised a good position in a unit of the Enforcers and eventual promotion to the equivalent of Captain. Everyone in the Circle had begged her to stay. Hollis in fact had taken her to the ocean, and proposed she join his Family, like a squire. "They can''t send you to the country if you have ties to me. There is still respect for my family, even if our power has waned. Believe in me. Believe in our Circle. We can do it. We can make it together. "


    She knew if she did that, that would limit her future. Becoming an Old Lordling was worse to her than dying. So she had walked away.


    That had...hurt. Walking away from him. If it had been Cleo or Elswith who made that offer, she might have accepted it. Though it cut her to walk away from her friend, she knew Hollis had no future. His family''s ties to the defeated Ocean kingdom were dragging them down, deeper than the black depths of the abyss.


    During her last campaign with the Red Circle, she had watched how easily they interacted with the few humans. How Elswith had toyed so easily with the weak creatures. Much of the group treated the humans the same way they treated her. Did they view her as equal to the magically insensitive humans? Humans. The rightful plaything of the Fae?


    The Red Circle may have the freedom and resources to mess around. But they didn''t understand what it felt like to be in need. To be the underdog. To be...the main character.


    So she joined the Enforcers.


    Fate had a sense of irony. As if she had been the thing holding them back, the next campaign the Red Circle was majorly successful. They had even treated with several human kingdoms. This was a major feat because for many decades the human kingdoms had only dealt with the Senate and no other branches of Fae power. And since the only member of the Red Circle who had ties with the Senate had left the Circle...that had earned the ire of her family.


    Only after the Senate''s spies investigated and revealed how close a thing it the Red Circle''s success had been, and how nearly they had failed, did her pride sooth.


    To mock her, her Circle had reached out. Perhaps some of them had good intentions. Perhaps all of them did. But she knew there was an element of pity there, and they couldn''t hide their ''well-wishes'' as anything other than mockery. Ria, the worst of them, always proper, had privately expressed to Kane "I forgive you. I understand why you left. Come back. We miss you."


    The Law of Fae wouldn''t allow one to lie, but Kane knew from growing up in her family how hollow words truly were. Ria forgave her, did she? Implying Kane had done something wrong. High and mighty. Disgusting.


    So Kane had refused.


    And then the Red Circle made it.


    They defeated a dragon.


    It didn''t matter that they had only sealed away a long-dead corpse of a dragon. It didn''t matter that they were late and the landscape forever devasted. Even the loss of several small realms was forgotten.


    All that mattered in the Citadel was that the Red Circle had defeated a Dragon.


    It would have been enough favor earned for Kane to become a Lord. Not a very powerful Lord, but all the Senate required was for her to acquire Lordhood. None of the others in the Red Circle choose to transcend to Lord, leaving the protection of Lordling behind, which infuriated her for some reason. Like the great accomplishments weren''t enough for them. For those with deep roles, like Elswith and Cleo, it was probably little more than a drop in the bucket of power they needed to earn.


    But it would have been enough for Kane.


    And that is what had led Kane to truly desperate measures. She had to make deals, swap alliances, and beg, to be in a position to stop this game. Or the power behind the Senate would crumble.


    "Esra flipped my gravity," said Elswith, calmly. Why was his face always blank? Why was there always a placid calm? "Right after he brushed by me. I was gripping the podium with my legs. I suppose the magic spread to you, somehow." He said vaguely. The Law of Fae agreed that he had not lied.


    But it lacked a certain sparkle of the truth. A certain sparkle she was normally accustomed to when dealing with him.


    Kane knew. He hadn''t lied, but the word ''somehow'' could mean anything, from a magic spider accidentally leaving extra magic to the First King himself doing the magic himself. But she knew. Though he never spoke of it...Elswith had used that...understanding of the Law of Fae to manipulate Esra''s spell.


    "If you think that keeping me here will stop the shadow monster below, you are gravely mistaken. And even if not, even if Esra and that other Middling have any chance, they won''t be able to save you from me. I''m at a Middling''s power, while you''ve had...less than a full day to gather power. As a Lowling."


    "I beat a Lord before. As a Middling Lordling. Lord Fredar, has he recovered yet?"


    Anger burned in her as she held the dagger. He must have known the deals she had had to make. Even as much as she had hated Fredar as a Lordling, she knew that they at least shared a common enemy. "If you start this game, Elswith, you will destroy the power of the Senate."


    "If the truth can destroy something, how can it stand at all?"


    Below them, Esra and the green hatted middling who was still tripping over his feet, were losing ground to the shadow monster and Kane''s allies.


    "When did you know?"


    "Lord Fredar may have challenges with his mental capacity, but the Waasla Alliance does not. They have one chance to directly stop me from starting the game. But that doesn''t mean they only have to send one party. I am sure they have numerous parties, searching for me. Perhaps only one can act on me, but they spread a net to catch me. Who sent the Golem, by the way?"


    Since he had answered her question, the Law of Fae compelled her to answer back. She should have been more careful with her words. Time was ultimately on Elswith''s side.


    But she could choose what question to answer, "I knew you had fondness and familiarity with the O''Tells Family. I knew that when an alarm went off here, that it was probable that you had caused it, one way or another. So I used my Mantle as Vye to attack you. It''s fun being at a Middling power level again. After promoting up, it''s so different. Too bad you will never know what it feels like."


    "Is Vye even alive?"


    "She is fine. She may even get her identity back after this silly game is done. She traded her name, she knew the risks."


    Elswith''s express was cutting, cold and somehow even put a pang of guilt into Kane''s chest. "I hope you never know, my old friend. What it feels like to have all your power taken from you. How hollow it feels."


    "That was your own choice. Elswith. Wait, that''s a bankrupted name now, isn''t it?" she said, to hurt him.


    The look in his eyes made her feel angry. Like he knew something she didn''t.


    The fight below was not progressing as Kane had imagined. She had thought that the Middling under her direct command would quickly loose chaos. But they could not keep up with the chaos that Esra was unleashing. Esra''s involvement should have been forbidden. Esra was easily targeting both of ''Vye''s'' subordinates, and assisting the greenhatted Middling.


    "If you win now," said Elswith, "The Senate will lose face."


    She gripped her dagger and charged at him. He evaded, slower than her now, but still narrowly redirecting her attacks.


    "Despite your loyalty to the Senate, Kane, right now you represent the Sky Court."


    "Fight me!" She said, swinging at him.


    Her blade narrowly missed him as he flowed away from the attack. She recognized that form. That was the form used to defend against aerial attacks. Anger boiled in her chest. How dare he pretend, how dare he act so weak.


    Always leading her on. Making her think he had...perhaps even loved her.


    Then to speak the same way with that human wench.


    How dare he speak of loyalty, when he had none?


    Standing on the ceiling, upside down to the rest of the world, Kane cursed in her heart. "Don''t I mean anything to you?"


    She charged forward again.


    And then Elswith attacked.

 Chapter 87: Admist Glass and Blue Blood

    Daniel and Kane clashed above, while below more and more things began going wrong.


    The Middling on the ground in support of Kane named Frank continued trying to sabotage the recapture of the Shadow Warbler. He did this by attacking the middling Marrin. All was not without hope for the Middling Marrin, however. Daniel could see that Marrin was quite capable now that he fought with his dominate hand, his old eleven blade gleaming in the shadow. Frank was more powerful of the Middlings, but they were still both Middlings. But having two enemies to watch out for was still a disadvantage. Another protentional hazard was Ezra himself. Esra, ever the master of chaos, was less precise than he should have been, and several gravity bullets struck the bystanders. The good news was that meant that Ezra sometimes also struck the Shadow Warbler and Frank. But as Ezra, never one for direct assault, skittered behind different columns, spent the most amount of time ''watching'' Marrin''s back. Which meant when his shot strayed, it was more likely to hit Daniel''s only other ally.


    The lack of coordination meant that the shadow warbler was gaining ground.


    Removed from the situation with their gravity inversed, Daniel fought off the advance of Kane, his hands stinging as he blocked her strikes. It was clear that she put too much rage into her attacks. It unbalanced her.


    "Does it amuse you to mock the less fortunate? Seriously, why are you ruining my life?" Kane yelled, slashing wildly. He evaded, darting behind the pillar on the other side.


    Standing upside down on the ceiling, Daniel felt Ezra''s ability wobble slightly as the lanky mage below tripped on his own feet.


    Daniel wished he had something more he could do. But he didn''t. He could just evade. But there was good news.


    Kane was capped at a middling''s power level.


    She was not fighting with her new strength, nor her old prowess of Lordling.


    And she was not used to fighting with such weakness.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    But she was still so much stronger than Daniel.


    Below, Marrin actually managed a good attack against the warbler and it staggered closer to the trap. If there was only proper teamwork with the fellows on the ground, then the Shadow Warbler would be more easily captured.


    "I am not mocking you." Daniel said to Kane, as their blades locked. The Law of Fae was present, watching and witnessing the exchange.


    Her eyes softened for just a second.


    Then she pushed away, and slashed again. She was gaining her footing. She had less experience fighting with her gravity being altered. Sometimes one was heavier than normal, or lighter, and that could even change as Ezra''s focus below changed.


    "You were always so good with the words, weren''t you." She spat.


    Ezra shrieked below "Gravity Wave!!!"


    And instead of up, Daniel and Kane''s gravity started to pivot and pull and...they started sliding downward toward the wall with the bank of windows. Ceilings of the O''Tells house were solid, stable, steady.


    The wall was old, and much of the light was let in giant windows of original stain glass. Not magicked or blessed or spelled. Just...glass. This was the O''Tells old home, and they had always strove to maintain much of the original features.


    Daniel had done something like this before, and he slide carefully downward, as the wall became the new floor.


    He had to jump abruptly to the left, his instincts screaming.


    He could not afford to forget that Kane had fought with Ezra before as well.


    She had hung to a column, and waited, until the wall was the new direction, then leapt and attacked from above.


    If not for Daniel''s extensive training in Griffin form, he would have been done in by the attack.


    As it was, he was scrambled and battered; he had to pivot weirdly, and he felt stocks of pain from his ankle. He couldn''t control where he landed, and tumbled awkwardly.


    Kane was fast upon him, driving him.


    Then the debris started falling around them.


    Daniel fought to regain his footing, but Kane kept advancing. The absolute anger in her eyes. "Stop playing and fight me!" She said, as the debris started crashing, some inches from them both.


    If she was still fighting with her power fully intact, then at least the Law of Fae would have barred her approach.


    The debris crashed against a window, and shards of glass splayed out. Kane flinched and jerked her head back. Daniel took that moment to shift away, gaining his feet. Her moment of withdraw had been only a moment, however, and they began clashing anew, amidst the shattered stain glass and the debris.


    The fighting below was looking dire. Marrin was getting pinned down. His injury no doubt, and also the sheer terrible nature of the Shadow Warbler.


    "GRAVITY WAVE!!!" Ezra called out. But...nothing happened.


    That...could mean something good. Or something really really bad.

 Chapter 88: Out Matched

    When the ''servant'' Branch and Vye had flipped and rocketed up to the ceiling, Marrin realized what the former Heirling had been talking about. The small warning gave him enough to time move out of the way of Frank''s attack. The Shadow Warbler on one side, Frank on the other, Marrin realized how much danger he was in.


    Marrin had a moment where he found himself back to back with the Great Gravity Mage Ezra, the legendary warrior mage who was credited with great and amazing works, such as restoring the Cloud City in the West, Finding the Ever Ilosize Needle in a Haystack, and working in tandem with the Red Circle and sealing the Smot Dragon back to its questionably eternal slumber. That great figure was standing, shoulder to shoulder, with Marrin.


    "What is next?" Marrin asked, painfully wincing as the Mage shift and accidently poked Marrin''s wound with an elbow. He moved so that he could see the Great Mage''s face...and so the very tall and lanky fae couldn''t accidentally poke him again.


    Above, Marrin caught glmishes of the fighting on the ceiling as the former Lordling Elswith contended and idealy moved around ''Vie''s'' attacks. He was realizing that that was not Vie. Whoever it was, she was much more skilled than the lazy Vye had been. Elswith dodged and fainted and clashed expertly, and if Marrin had not seen and felt with his own senses the sheer ocean of difference in their power levels, he would have sworn Elswith had been the one with more power.


    But they do say Lordlings were built different. And Elswith had been the Heirling of one of the Swords.


    "Welp." Said the great Mage, surely drawing on his great wisdom and understanding to find the perfect that would aid Marrin. "I think Spikes is going to have to talk to his ex girl friend."


    What? How did that help them? "What do we do about this?"


    "Honestly, I''m bad at strategy games. It''s not even turned based." Said the Great and Powerful Ezra. "I say...we smash Frank and push the iky monster thing back into the trap thingy?"


    "You are a Wizard, one of the wise? Surely you have some advice." Marrin said, panting.


    The Great one shrugged again, and grinned in much too ''devil may care'' way for Marrin''s comfort.


    "Oh, no. Wizards need to study to understand the laws of nature. Mages are just...given random cosmic power. I am trying to be a wizard, I go to classes and do experiments and everything, but um...it''s not going so great right now, ya now? I''ll get it eventually, I believe in myself, and I am told from very reliable sources that is the way to start."


    Was...the great Mage...an idiot? "But you survived all those battles?!!"


    "I don''t even realize I''m in battle most of the time." He said. "The other times, I just go with it. Smash my way in, and just go with the flow."


    At least that red head servant girl had been helpful and aware. Marrin wished he wasn''t left alone with someone oblivious enough to either not realize the danger or crazy enough to not care.


    "Smash Frank and push the iky monster thing back into the trap thingy it is." Marrin said, and leapt into action. At least he could fight with his left hand now that his right was injured.


    So that is what Marrin tried to do. Ezra the...not as Great as advertised Mage, was at least good at preventing Frank from attacking from behind.


    Marrin wanted to live.


    He really really did.


    The gravity Mage worked unseen power and a scattering of debris pelted the Shadow Warbler. A few missed their mark, and he winced as they struck his wounded back. But Marrin did not stop, because Frank seized the moment the Shadow Warbler was distracted and tried to hurt him again.


    Which is why the last several years, months, weeks, and days, and last 24 hours was very dismaying for him.


    The Sky Court. The Court of the Angered Clouds of Hue of Green as the Whirlwind of the Sky Descends to Uproot the Lands Beneath and Above was the official name. It was not a very happy Court.


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    Marrin knew his history. The last several Centuries had seen a reduction in the Court''s power. They had lost much of their external holdings and lands to the ever encroaching Hordes. If not for several Senators joining the Sky Court (of Hue of Green), they would have lost all their power.


    Marrin''s own line was in fact a direct descendant of the original Sky Court''s Lord. Had things not changed, he may have even been in line for their Great Sword. The Sword of Storm.


    But that was impossible.


    Because his great grandfather had been...coup''ed out? Kicked out? Out maneuvered? Marrin didn''t know. He had nothing of the education his forefathers did. He barely had any at all, in fact. Gaining power to be Middling had been the work of his father and all his aunts and uncles as well as his own dedicated pursuit of power.


    Marrin was able to scratch Frank''s hand as Frank was too clumsy in a guard. Watching Frank pulled back his hand in pain was satisfying. But because he was focused too much on Frank, the Shadow Warbler was able to advance further from the trap in the wall. Fighting was terrible and boring. Always looking, seeking, muscle''s clenching and cold. His back screamed in pain, and the loss forever of wings something that seemed too ridiculous.


    "Gravity Wave!" Esra yelled, and Marrin had to flee to escape several crates along the wall from crashing into him. He was panicked, but luckily there was nothing pulling him downward. He didn''t think he''d move with the same grace as Servant Branch and the person wearing Vye''s face. What had happened to Vye? Was she dead? Games of power were cruel to the weak. The two went from the ceiling to the wall with all the stain glass. He held his breathe as Branch seemed the worst for wear in that exchange for a moment, but then he realized he had nothing to worry about as Branch casually maneuvered on the wall.


    Marrin had lived his life in the shadow of such powerful beings. So much of his life was in the shadow of the new lineage. He didn''t hate them. They were the members of the Sky Court who had worked with the Senate as they...helped the Sky Court.


    The Sky Court did not fall.


    That was to be celebrated.


    But...almost none of the original members remained after it was saved...Some where driven out, others escaped to other courts, and some where just...vanished, the family stories went.


    But Marrin had no hatred toward the coup ers? The...branch family that took over.


    He couldn''t afford it.


    He was just going to keep his head down.


    Just keep it down and focus. Joining the Enforcers was a smart choice, because he had been sure he would be working for the King, and not the Senate and not the Courts.


    He almost managed to avoid notice, he really really did.


    But his size was unfortunate. Too large, not slender enough. Due to his manual labor without much in the way of power, he had packed on muscles as he toiled on one of the few remaining farms. So when he joined ''polite'' society, as he started meeting the proper Fae of the Citadels, he could not hide from their rebuking gazes.


    If he had been a nobody, then he surely would have done better.


    But someone with too much time on their hands had looked into his origin.


    He wasn''t hiding anything. He was still really bad about speaking half truths that all Fae with power needed to avoid losing that power. But once the current ruling family of the Sky of Hue of Green found out that a direct descendant was working in the Enforcers, they had pulled some strings, and he found himself transferred to the Enforcers directly controlled by them.


    Ezra managed to align several crates and they smashed against the Shadow Warbler.


    "Give it up, Marrin." Said Frank. "They don''t care about you. We can give you an exemption for leaving your duty. I don''t personally dislike you."


    It was not going well from there. His life had not improved much at all. In fact, it got much worse.


    "I have always done my best!" Marrin yelled, frustration boiling over. As soon as he made progress against the Shadow Warbler, Frank would try to strike him. If he drove Frank away, the Shadow Warbler would advance again. And if he should manage to do the impossible, somehow the Great Mage Ezra managed to hit him in the crossfire.


    Had he ever fought so hard for his life before?


    "You would have let me come in here alone and unprepared." Marrin yelled. "If Heirling Elswith hadn''t been moved with pity for me, you would have let me go in here alone!"


    "It wasn''t personal. Commander Kane was pretty sure he''d show up. He showed up much later than we thought, but...look, it''s fine. You don''t matter. In truth, you''re the least of us anyway. Don''t need to perish here."


    He had been parts of many campaigns. In regions where the various Courts neglected, the Enforcers were often sent to mop up the stragglers. The Enforcers were also the ones who "healed the land", if you could heal a land without its people. He didn''t know if you could.


    But with the strange shadowy creature on one side, and the enemy enforcer on the other, Marrin felt such deep and powerful rage that he had never felt before.


    "He did not abandon me. Least of all I may be, but I will not fail."


    "GRAVITY WAVE!!!!" Ezra called, but nothing happened.


    In truth, Marrin didn''t even hear that.


    Because he heard the roar of wind and storm. And his blade, though it be so plain and little, changed.


    Glass broke and rained down on them and the night wind blew in.


    A storm blew in.


    And Marrin felt, in his very core, that perhaps it was not so hopeless after all.

 Chapter 89: Heirling of the Storming Blade

    Wind pushed in. The Sky outside was dark, but the air felt static and alive. Marrin never felt so much power before. His sword hummed and buzzed in his hand.


    It was...hard to control. The air moved and Marrin could see it. He could feel it, and everything in the room with him. Everything the wind touched, he could see it.


    He could ''see'' Frank. The Middling who had started off as a friendly when Marrin was shipped into the Sky Court''s Enforcer ranks. He felt long before the attack came, the downward blow. He easily evaded it.


    The Wind warned him of the Shadow Warbler''s next strike, the darkness stilling as the shadow passed through it. It was different, but Marrin could just...understand what it was going to do.


    It was...easy.


    He didn''t even need Ezra''s help as the attacks started raining in. Frank was suddenly more aggressive as it became clear that Marrin was not pushed back. Explosions of power as the more powerful Middling struggled to understand the change in dynamics. The loud crashes and and cries from the Shadow Warbler as Marrin began pushing it back, step by step.


    "I SAID!!!" Yelled the crazy mage. "GRAVITY WAVE!!!!"


    Again, nothing happened.


    Seeing without seeing, Marrin could feel the wind around the Ezra. The Mage''s heart rate was fast and rolling, thumping like a galloping horse, and Marrin wondered if whatever kind of Fae he was was prone to such exertions. With his strange...power, Marrin could tell that the Mage was weak. His power was great, but his body was almost frail.


    Marrin wanted to strike at Frank, but he had a fear that if he change anything, he might lose this strange upper hand. In fact, he didn''t even understand what was happening.


    Maybe he needed to be pushed more.


    He nearly had the Shadow Warbler back into the wall. It was so close. The closer it got, the stronger the resistance became. Marrin wondered, though, if perhaps he would be able to see it completed.


    "I. SAID!!!!!" Thundered the Great and Terrible Gravity Mage. "GRAVITY WAVE!"


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    And Gravity...waved.


    Everything moved. Things on one side of the room were thrown and jerked in crazy, ever changing directs. True chaos reigned supreme as chaos was made lord. All the random debris, crates, and loose dishes, knick knacks fell and crashed, being thrown into the air and jerked around different directions.


    And down...was not down anymore. Everything danced and darted, and Marrin felt those same forces dance and dart around himself. Anything less than a Middling would surely suffer greatly in the uncontrolled environment. Marrin felt the gravity shift and pull him left, as he went left he was pushed to downward, as he was pushed downward he was dragged up. It was never enough to lift him from his feet, but there were sections that were close.


    It should have been chaos. Impossible to navigate.


    Instead he could...


    He could see.


    He could see where the air moved differently, where it thumped strangely. Where the gravity gave away and open air began. Marrin was able to kick off and swirl behind and pivot and change direction. He wasn''t moving freely, but they were caught up in the wide area affect of the chaos the Gravity mage sowed.


    Frank was less fortunate. He flailed about, entirely at the mercy of the storm. And worse for Frank was how he didn''t know to move out of the way of the shrapnel of the chaos.


    And Marrin found himself with the upper hand, the superior positioning. And he seized it.


    And with him always, was the feeling of wind swirling about him, to him, for him. Moving the chaotic debris around.


    He could...get used to this.


    Frank had been talented. Bold. Sharp. But lazy. Everyone was so lazy. No one wanted to wake up early, no one wanted to work late. There had some good members, but when the leaders of the Sky Court''s Enforcer Squadron had been lax in their training, the followers had followed suit. Frank had been more powerful than Marrin.


    But with the swirling wind at his blade, Marrin moved. He was able to blast random debris at the Shadow Warbler to halt it''s progress, either moving out the way or redirecting its path so that the random debris smashed into the ilky thing.


    The disloyal Frank tried to seize this moment. But Marrin was able to feel the wind change, and idly stepped away from the oncoming attack. He did it in such a way that Frank tripped into a section of heavier gravity, and stumbled.


    Still injured, Marrin moved forward. He didn''t know fancy footwork, but he knew his basics.


    Their blades clashed and...


    Frank lost. Marrin held his sword at Frank''s throat.


    "Yield." Said Marrin.


    "I can''t walk away." Said Frank, teeth clenched.


    Marrin wondered if he was going to have to...seriously injury his fellow squadron mate. Or kill him.


    Frank would have let Marrin come in here unprepared.


    Marrin imagined his sister receiving what little money he had managed to save during this time. He could imagine his mother wailing as whatever messenger returned his belongings, including his lucky green hat.


    The Wind whirled on his blade. Cutting, edging him onward.


    "Yield." Marrin said again. He would not waste any more time, one way or another.

 Chapter 90: The Game and The Law of Fae

    Betrayal had been at work since ''Vye'' had attacked the Servant Branch. In fact, the mere deception of ''Vye'' had greatly displeased the Law of Fae. Kane had taken the face and the Name of another, to lay in wait in ambush.


    But after the betrayal, the Law of Fae was alight and abuzz with ire and fury.


    No matter the lens or the narrative, the Law of Fae disliked it.


    One narrative, Servant and Squire Branch of the Sky Court, had joined his companions in their quest. Therefore, the attack of ''Vye'' was inner court betrayal, and therefore against the oldest covenants.


    In the second scenario, Hall Attendant Branch of the O''Tells was assisting the coming Enforcer squadron. The attack from Commander Knight Kane against a loyal and faithful servant of the house was not only shameful, it was completely against the code of honor of the King''s Enforcers.


    In the third scenario, jaded former lover stalks and plans acts of revenge for their own betterment against one who has been cast upon troubled times. The Law of Fae despised that scenario the most.


    But the Game was in play. And according to the Game, this was one team working against a rival team. Vying for control, struggling to establish dominance.


    The Law of Fae swirled and shimmered, violet and cold black waves of color unseen to most in the waking world. Only the most exhausted and desperate could perceive it, and often only in part.


    The Game allowed Kane to attack Elswith, but the Law of Fae protested at every interval.


    Bad faith. Actions spurn from anger, collapsing trust. Broken promises, unfulfilled debts.


    But the Game was in play. The Game cared only that the players of the teams move forward, onto the next match, the next round, the next session.


    THIS IS THE WAY. BETRAYAL. INTRIGUE. THE VYING FOR POWER.


    And brokenness. So much brokenness.


    "You chose the human over me." Kane said, unaware of the great powers musings. The Fae child''s amber eyes were glowing in anger. She had chosen to talk now that she had the dominant position. Her words were barbed and cutting.


    ANGRY. MISUNDERSTANDING. The Game Thundered. LET HER CONTINUE.


    Why does misery please you? The Law of Fae opined. Very well. These are the players at work. But. No take backs.


    <hr>


    Daniel was struggling against Kane.


    He never had very much hope of beating her. She had the power of a Middling against a newly established Harbor name that was less than a day old. She was fresh, and he had been dragged through so much. He didn''t even want to remember the Dungeon.


    How much his life had changed. He had almost loved her. They had grown up together. They had almost fallen...into deep respect. He couldn''t love anyone until he was free of his Lordly Father. He had too much responsibility. This morning Kane''s betrayal seemed too...otherworldly, unreal. He had believed that his friend had some endgame in mind for everyone''s betterment.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Now, watching Esra and Marrin struggle below and him barely keeping up with Kane, he was just felt tired. He was so tired. He was so hungry. If he stopped moving he feared he would fall asleep on his feet. He hurt everywhere.


    All the romanticism of Kane''s actions were completely washed away. "I have never betrayed you or your interest. I tried to help you."


    "You would only have helped me if I stayed in the middle of the pity circle. You never supported me away from it. And you waited until after I left to achieve great things! Like you were saying I was holding you back!"


    "GRAVITY WAVE!" Esra called from the ground below, running around the abject chaos of the ruined servant room.  And for the second time, nothing happened. If Esra was moving around to avoid getting directly struck, it meant that he was low in power.


    Daniel himself was panting, hurting, shaking. If he had anything to eat, he may have thrown it up. Fighting in a body with no power, no Authority, no Favor...was difficult. The recovery was longer, and never complete.


    "He is getting tired. Did I finally beat you? Reveal your real power, Elswith." Kane said, grinning darkly, leaning on her sword. "Show me what you have next. Show me something that would have given you the confidence to betray me and act against the Senate."


    "I don''t care anymore Kane." Daniel said. "I didn''t do it on purpose. The mandate of the Senate was wrong."


    "The Law of Fae did not protest it!" Kane cried in justification. Her eyes alight with anger, she clutched the pummel of her sword and began attacking the weary Daniel.


    <hr>


    I protested it. The Law of Fae said. But she has closed herself away from my wishes. Only what I forbid. Even that...she pushes against me.


    <hr>


    Daniel hurt.


    He couldn''t stop Kane, he was just losing ground.


    He had overcome so much.


    He could not allow his kindness to be the thing that killed him.


    He had to live. He had to win. He had to, to show that...right was right.


    If he was not strong enough to prove it, what authority would anyone have to demand goodness?


    Or was he a fool? Should he have not resisted? Should he have lost himself in the Red Sword, and been consumed by its desire for battle and war, and always the searching for red blood?


    What reward was there for Daniel pursuing goodness? Did his good actions matter? Or was he just a fool?


    A fool who had traded everything to find his true name.


    A fool who had bet his freedom on winning the Game.


    A fool who thought he could champion the human Witness.


    A fool who may die a meaningless death as entertainment for uncaring High Fae Lords.


    <hr>


    I am pleased with you.


    <hr>


    Daniel almost missed blocking Kane''s next strike. He must be crazy, because the Law of Fae communicated directly to him.


    Not the far away banter he had heard on and off between the Law of Fae and the Game. Most sensitive creatures could do that slightly. It was well documented in the great libraries.


    But he felt as though the Law of Fae was standing behind him. Around him. Before him. Speaking directly to him through words, images, scents. Daniel felt overwhelmed and awed and nearly stumbled through a window.


    Warmth from a sunny day on cool grass. The scents of pine needles and woal tea. The sensation of a warm embrace of Mathias, his steward, when he was young.


    There are more powers than you know. whispered something to him in his broken state. Higher powers. And Daniel felt and saw the cold and vast array of the stars, the endless flowers from the sea of roses, and the sparkling diamonds of the deep earth.


    And they are well pleased.


    "What do I need to do?" Daniel asked, stumbling over the old trim of the window.


    Kane paused in her attack. "What?"


    He wasn''t talking to her though.


    The warmth and the presence of the Law of Fae was withdrawing.


    "WHAT DO I NEED TO DO?" Daniel raised his voice. "Just tell me what I need to do! Did I waste my life stupidly?"


    "You did!" Said Kane, and came in for a brutal, swift exchange...


    Which Daniel met.


    And overpowered.


    The clocktower was ringing.


    It was ten o''clock.


    The Servant Branch had survived and overcome the first trial.


    And a rush of power flowed into him.


    Kane stumbled backward, as a cold wind of power entered from the destroyed windows.


    Continue what you are doing. Came the very soft and thin voice of the Law of Fae. Instead of the full and vivid sensations, almost sights and almost smell, it was just a lingering light touch, as though he was standing in sunlight. Continue striving for justice. Even in a world so blind. You are not alone. And even the things that hurt you, that you don''t understand...


    Even they will be stepping stones to greater and kinder works.


    And then the Law of Fae was gone.

 Chapter 91: Torn a Doe

    The Realm of Fae was a cruel place. A place of Tradition, Honor, and Courage. It was a kind place. A place of Betrayals, Untruths, and Regret.


    The Seelie Realm watched with baited breath and leaned forward.


    The sound of the Clock rang throughout the Citadel. The Citadel was huge, over populated, and there were plenty of Fae who had no idea the reason the clock was so loudly.


    The various High Fae Lords and Fae of high influence watching the Game tittered, hummed, and strummed.


    Across the Seelie Realm, and even some places in the Unseelie, different observing Lords and High Lords, Senate and Court alike, watched the scene from afar. While many of the same Fae had been watching idly, or even in anticipation of the Game ending prematurely, a strange hush overcame them.


    "I." said one, "Am glad I did not bet against the champion."


    "The Lord of Smoke did."


    "This shouldn''t be allowed! Why does he have allies aiding him? This is completely against the rules."


    "Found allies are allowed." Said a small but extremely powerful imp. "And the betrayal of the Enforcers against the Servant Branch while he was actively working with them..."


    "I still don''t understand his angle." said the Lord of Smoke. "How did he know?"


    A Senator who resembled Kane said nothing very carefully.


    Similar conversations happened across realm, as the clock struck 10 powerfully.


    ¡°Clever, and well done.¡± Said the Lord of the Northern Wind.


    ¡°I thought he had no Gravity affinity?¡± Said the Lord of Grass, to no one. Many had grown tired of the insistent conversation.


    <hr>


    Daniel felt the feeling of power enter him. He had won the last match. And he was positioned to win again.


    Kane did not know. She either didn''t realize that she qualified as his next Assassination attempt. Or perhaps she didn''t realize he had a path to defeating her. .


    As blocking the blow reverberated down his arm, Daniel knew she was still much stronger than he was. But standing on the ruined wall, with borrowed sword in hand, Daniel took more punishment from Kane. His body was tired, his muscles doing strange rhythmic dances as the different muscle groups locked up and spasmed.


    But he could win this.


    Her amber hair came loose, and cascaded around her like a shroud.


    "Stop playing with me and fight!!!" She called. Daniel let her attack him. New life was entering his body. He knew he just needed to wait, and position her just correctly.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "GRAVITY WAVE!" Esra yelled, and the world shook as all at once, all the different intersecting manipulation of gravity sprang to life.


    Daniel had seen the wind once before, on the great plains, where the storms had a life of their own. It rarely happened, due to the many treaties and pacts signed, but the Weather had a mind of its own.


    The wind coiled and twisted, and where the spinning wind touched, there was much distress and disrepair. It had looked like a battle had taken place there, and Elswith hadn''t known that such renting and destruction could occur without the Fae present. In many ways, it was worse, because it was so...vast and meaningless. What did the human guide call it? A torn a doe? Twist her? Her a cane? Apparently, whatever it was, the guide thought that great winds spinning in circles was female, and perhaps also a deer.


    Daniel didn''t know Esra could do something like that with Gravity Wave. Daniel stole a second to look at Esra and Marrin below, still fighting the Shadow Warbler and Frank. Guilt stabbed at Daniel, as he knew that Marrin was in great danger only because he happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Daniel had no worry for Esra, because Esra was Esra and could take care of himself. Esra sought out danger! Esra was in fact perhaps the greatest danger to the house of Cards that was Fae politics! Esra would be fine.


    But Marrin was different. Marrin was just a Middling, cast into a difficult situation.


    But Marrin was...


    Daniel almost missed a step, foot almost putting too much weight on an intact sheet of stainglass as Kane bore down another attack at him. He revealed slightly too much strength in blocking it,.


    Because Marrin was doing amazingly. Expertly moving from target to target.


    As the different Gravity Disruptions occurred, and all the debris started flying and spinning in the servant''s hall reminiscent of the great weather phenomenon torn a doe, there came a great upheaval of power.


    "I will actually kill you!" She said, her eyes aglow. Her long hair was being pulled by the unexpected storm.


    Daniel kept taking abuse from Kane''s sword, thinking quickly.


    That wasn''t Esra. That wasn''t Esra. Esra had some hand in it, certainly. But how the air moved had nothing to do with Gravity.


    Daniel scuffled with Kane, working to not fall down. More and more windows were broken, as Esra''s aim was getting wide.


    "The Gravity Mage is becoming fatigued." Preened Kane, noticing Daniel''s focus toward the ground. "So. What do you have saved? Some may have lived without the intervention. Now all will perish."


    "I just wanted to be free." Daniel said.


    "Are you free then?" she asked, and proceeded to attack. Devasting blows rained down at him.


    And then a player was taken off the floor.


    Marrin had overcome Frank.


    It was impossible.


    "That''s..."


    Daniel felt his skin goosebump and shiver. Clean and cold power came from outside.


    He had never felt this exact power, but he had felt power of this caliber of this before.


    Kane had not. Which may be the only thing to save the Middling Marrin''s life. As long as she didn''t realize exactly what had happened.


    Marrin, son of...who?


    There were 37 Swords. Great Swords. They were instruments of power, priceless artifacts. The Red Lord was powerful because of his Sword. The Red Sword. It had another, secret name, that Daniel lost when he lost his position as Heirling. He had once known it, but after losing his position...gone.


    The Sword that Daniel had once been promised was powerful. And dangerous.


    And perhaps even corruptive.


    Thirty-seven swords that could reshape the entirety of the Fae World. Thirty-seven that could bring all the Courts to their knees. Thirty-seven that could unravel the Senate. Thirty-seven that could even threaten the Fairy King.


    Thirty-seven swords, which had not all been known. Some were held by groups to prevent them from being used, like the Sword of Spirit had been successfully kept away from its rightful owner for generations. Some were almost never seen. And some were just...presumed to be in play, but perhaps actually lost a long time ago.


    The Game was Outraged.

 Chapter 91: The Swords would destroy their Master, if their Master did not master them

    Outraged.


    NOT ALLOWED! HOW DID A SWORD COME HERE?


    There had been no hint. No whisper. Marrin had just been...there. Just a below average Middling. He clearly had no training or bearing of an Heirling. Elswith had only vaguely recognized Marrin. Marrin was not important. Marrin had never been important.


    The Law of Fae swirled in amused colors. I did not do anything. He was here. He has been here all along. All his life.


    Because all along...Marrin had been there. And Marrin, unknowingly, may be the strongest person in the room.


    Perhaps even stronger than the Shadow Warbler.


    Daniel swallowed drily.


    The training required to wield one of the 37 Great Swords was extensive. The Mental Fortitude needed. The first time wielding one of the Great 37 Swords was dangerous.


    The first time Elswith even held the active Red Sword...


    Daniel pushed that dark memory away.


    There was no time. Kane needed to go, right then and there. It was no longer just about winning this round of the Game.


    Marrin may be something of a temporary ally. But he was not safe.


    <hr>


    Marrin stood over Frank, sword held directly to Frank''s neck.


    Marrin had never been a violent person. He was well accustomed to abuse and mocking. His large frame had always singled him out, and his stocky build had been unattractive to the Fae of the Citadel. His personality was quiet, and he took joy in tending small plants.


    But he had never felt so willing to ''do what needed to be done'' before.


    It was almost alarming.


    Something in Marrin''s bearing must have been different enough, because Frank paled. Whatever he hope to gain, or wrangle, he discarded.


    "I yield." The more powerful Middling said.


    The swirling wind began to blow harder. Marrin could see the debris, and moved out of the way. He could see Frank. Frank still held a sword. Still dangerous.


    "Didn''t you hear me? I yield!"


    The wind swirled higher and higher. Ezra made some grunting noises, but despite ''seeing'' him clearly, Marrin couldn''t heed him.


    Past grievances flared to Marrin''s mind.


    Frank had abandoned responsibility often. Mocked him often. Betrayed confidences often.


    "You would have let me come here, alone." Marrin said. "I would have come in here alone. And died."


    Just because someone surrendered...forgiveness? Where was the redressing of wrong?


    "Spare me!" Frank cried, becoming afraid.


    Ezra cried "The Shadow Warbler is getting out again..."


    <hr>


    Daniel fought Kane on the wall. Esra''s control was slipping, and ''downward'' that was the wall was beginning to feel soft. Daniel led the fight to the center stainglass window. Kane had been avoiding stepping on glass, but Daniel had been showing her how solid and firm the glass had been as their duel raged. He had even used some of his limited power to reinforce the glass.


    Kane was smart, and she absorbed new information quickly. It made her so dangerous to the Dread Hordes, as she adapted swiftly to changing approaches and different mechanisms. But it did mean that she would also take things for granted, subconsciously.


    His strategy finally saw results, as Kane strode onto the stain glass in pursuit. Her attacks still poured down, and Daniel made sure to stumble.


    Her temper flared, as she believe Daniel was hiding his true strength.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    He was hiding his true strength.


    But it was like hiding a small copper coin, while they assume you have hidden a chest full of gold.


    Daniel had hoped that he could truly show her that he, the Servant Branch, was powerless. The Elswith was dead. That there had been no great conspiracies between himself and other hidden masters.


    But now, watching Marrin begin to tip and slip dangerously into the influence of a Great Blade, Daniel had to take on that mantle. Better those watching believe Elswith was still an Heirling of the Red Sword. Better that than they realize that the green hatted Marrin was the culprit.


    Like the poets say. When you are powerful, appear weak. When you are weak, appear strong.


    Marrin, poor, hapless Marrin.


    The Citadel politics would eat him alive. He was already under the command of the Sky Court. What would the Waasla alliance do should they suddenly find a Fae with one of the Great Swords?


    And most of all...without the proper training...Marrin would lose himself in the sword.


    Elswith knew. His Lordly Father had shown him the tombstones of all the previous Heirling of the Red Sword, who had succumbed to the Great Sword. Generations of sons who had failed. Elswith''s brother would have been about 35 years old now if he hadn''t died. But if he hadn''t died at just 15, then Elswith would have never been created. Elswith had been brought into the world with the sole purpose of being the Heirling.


    The Swords would destroy their Master, if their Master did not master them.


    So...time to impress Kane, and all those watching the Game.


    "You finally caught on to my master plan!" Daniel said, finally moving with strength as he countered Kane over the stainglass window.


    "I knew it!" She said, almost madness in her eyes.


    <hr>


    The Shadow Warbler was getting out, and yet Marrin...struggled to care. He could see the Shadow Warbler. He could even hear the deranged whispers and pleas for help from its gagged mouth. His wounded shoulder burned. His pride smarted. It would answer for what it did to him.


    But first Frank. The stronger Fae had surrendered, but Marrin knew then that the world was full of liars. Liars liars liars.


    There was no justice in the World. No Truth.


    Only power and plays for power.


    Marrin''s heart lurched painfully, as the power raged around him.


    He could see Frank. He could image, no, somehow it was imaged for him, how Frank would ruin his life after this. Frank would talk and talk, and suddenly the story would switch. Frank and Vye''s betrayal would be turned into heroism. The loss of face. Poor, stupid Marrin, ridiculed again.


    Liars.


    They tell the truth, but they were lying.


    Marrin gripped his sword. Nothing would have ever happened to him if only...


    <hr>


    Daniel realized he didn''t have much time as he continued to block Kane''s strikes. She was toying with him now, trying to spur him onward.


    Looking past Kane''s shoulder to the floor below, he could see that the situation was getting out of hand. Frank had surrendered, but Marrin had not moved on. His eyes were wrong, clouded. Seeing everything but missing everything. The Torn a Doe was spinning faster, and ripping into the old tiles and foundation of the room.


    If Marrin lost control, they may be truly lost. The Swords. Only to be used by the High Fae. Too powerful. Too helpful.


    Honestly, Daniel would have liked to drag this out. Kane was dangerous, but even then, he knew the best way to do well in the Game was to put on a show.


    Since he could not make it long, it would make it interesting.


    Standing there, in his borrowed Hall Attendant uniform of red, Daniel spent much of his influence acquired influence.


    He brought strength into his exhausted body. His hunger was at last sated. And the wounds he had acquired mended, all except the wound on his arm. But those changes mattered little. What really mattered was what those watching could see.


    He told the fabric of his jacket that it was smoother, brighter. He told the buttons that there was a faint, sparkling light almost of gem stones, not the dull wooden hue. His boots took on a completely different style, the leather starting to gleam at though it was freshly shined. The wild wind sweep back his ash blond hair from his forehead, and Daniel took special pains that it glowed softly.


    The borrowed sword in his hand changed the most, transforming from the standard single handed to almost like his old sword, stolen from him. The sword he had taken into battle and campaign. Elswith''s sword had been a lesser sword, but it was still blessed.


    Temporarily transforming this sword was the edge of what Elswith...no, Daniel, he was Daniel. Daniel was his true name. This moment would not be given over to the past. This was his new beginning.


    Temporarily transforming this sword was the edge of what Daniel could accomplish.


    But he needed a sword like one he had used before.


    Because his sword had been special.


    Kane watched this transformation, as was polite in all Fae and Saiyan circles. Indeed, attacking while your opponent ''powers up'' was dangerous because that power might lash out and explode if the tightly controlled flow was interrupted.


    "Finally. Show me what you have been hiding!"


    Finally, Daniel reached with his magic to the almost forgotten jar of lightning he had gathered for Esra.


    Daniel reached to the unkempt power of the Torn a Doe and lanced red tinted lightning through it. Marrin had brought this here. But Daniel would use it. Someone needed to claim.


    He could almost feel the ''ooo'' and ''aaaas'' of the High Fae watching the Game at that. He knew those viewing the Game would not see be able to see everything that occurred. They may see him, and Kane, and the room, but some details would be hazy or entirely absent. Much of the Game would remain shrouded in mysteries until brought to attention.


    They would probably not see the Torn a Doe, the great spinning wind, in its entirety. But they would get a since of the shifting power. And if he laced it with his power...it would appear that he had done it.


    If Elswith was truly all powerful scheming Lordling, then there would be spectacle.


    He was not actually powerful. In fact, he was weaker now than before he had spent so much effort on this scene.


    But Kane did not know that. And neither did those High Fae watching him.


    They demanded a show.


    Let them have it.

 Chapter 92: The Show that Everyone Wanted

    Standing on the Stainglass, The Servant Branch looked more like the Heirling of the Red Sword than any Fae watching had imaged. He was tall, confident. Where before he had cowered and struggled moving the blows away, now he met each challenge. His shoulders, though a tinge too broad to be completely fashionable in Fae societies, spoke of strength in that moment.


    And standing there, red lightning starting licking at his blade, at long last resembling his signature style. The style that had earned him the moniker of the Lightning Lordling.


    Those Fae watching tittered excitedly.


    Even the Fae wise enough to realize that this strength was an act cheered.


    Happiest of all was Kane herself. She felt relief.


    She had not been wrong. He had been hiding his strength all along. She hadn''t betrayed a friend. No, they were still on equal footing. He had been playing her all along.


    One day, even if it took hundreds of years, she and he would laugh about this little Game. All those stupid humans that Elswith had protected would be long dead, and forgotten. Humans lives with short, painful, and distasteful. That they could be used for the good of the Seelie Realm at all was perhaps the only honor those foul creatures could claim.


    And after Kane won this game and her people could grow their power base again.


    Kane looked at Elswith, and knew at last, he was open and honest with her. All his little cries about ''the unwarranted deaths and suffering'' had been an act all along.


    Elswith pointed his blade at her, as they stood facing each other over the red stain glass sun.


    The Heirling of the Red Sword was back. There was nothing to notice left about the Servant Branch.


    <hr>


    Below, Marrin looked away from Frank to the wall. He couldn''t see with his eyes now. Just the power of the room. He kept blinking, but his vision was overridden. The Squire Branch seemed different. Something about the way he moved his power...Marrin had never been able to see power move like that before.


    It scared him.


    Marrin was not this strong. He effortless dodged the debris as the wind howled. He had never been this strong before.


    He liked it a lot.


    In that moment, Marrin wanted to leave the traitor Frank and the Shadow Warbler and the spinning spinning wind and fight with Elswith. Heirling. Heirling. That thing, that imagined things for him spoke. It came from his left hand. Was it even his left hand anymore? Or was it just the receptacle to hold the sword?


    Test the other Heirling. Defeat. Fight again, never ending.


    The need was surprising, as Marrin had always hated sparring matches before. Joy filled him at the notion of it.


    "I''ll make you pay for this." Spat Frank, as he at last dropped his sword, showing complete surrender.


    And suddenly Marrin moved. How dare someone so little as this pea nugget waste his time and expect to get away with it?


    He managed, at the very last second, not to use the sword. But his boot found the traitor''s ribs in a powerful kick.


    <hr>


    Daniel let the lightning crackle along his blade, wasting it.


    He could tell the Game was watching him now, focusing on him.


    Good. Let the Game watch him. Watch him, and not the rapidly devolving Marrin below. Whatever Sword the green hatted held was clearly powerful. Properly not the lost Great Sword of Peace, then.


    Kane took out her second sword, serious at last.


    "Finally! Let us see who is right!" She said, her eyes glowing the same amber as her hair. How long had she looked like Kane again? When had the mantle of Vye been dropped? When had her purple hair given way to Kane''s almost glowing amber? Daniel honestly couldn''t remember. Or perhaps, knowing who she was allowed him to see through the assumed identify? He didn''t know. He still hoped the real Middling Vye was well.


    Kane. Where did it all go wrong? Why did she only believe Daniel when he was deceiving her? When he told her the truth, doubt and suspicion clouded her judgment. Could she not imagine a person moving for no personal gain?Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Perhaps not.


    Perhaps Daniel had always expected too much from her.


    "Let me show you my secret technique!" Daniel said, assuming the Lren Style for pre-victory dance. The Lren style was quite extensive and had many useful applications. The Game approved of his theatrics. The Law of Fae, however, seemingly huffed an annoyed sigh.


    <hr>


    All the Fae watching did appreciate the Lren Style for pre-victory dance. Some were old enough to remember when the Lren style had first been introduced into the Seelie Courts, and they were very happy to tell all their neighbors about it. Their neighbors did not appreciate the unwanted facts.


    <hr>


    Daniel began his attack. He could feel the power in the lightning bottle start to dwindle.


    An inexperienced person would panic and rush.


    But Daniel took small, controlled breaths, as he used his power in small, controlled ways.


    His secret technique. It looked complicated to those who had forgotten their basics.


    But Elswith had been trained on his basics so long and so completely that the often overlooked was polished and perfected.


    He and Kane clashed, her twin blades expertly slicing through the air. She was testing him. She also knew that if he was using lightning, casual hits were ineffective.


    The moonlight started to shine through the large stain glass windows, casting the Torn A Doe in terrible red light. Another aspect of Elswith power was channeling into the glass. To keep their dueling ground stable.


    Daniel. He was Daniel. Elswith was dead.


    No one believed in Elswith anymore.


    The color was unnerving. Daniel hated that color now.


    But it was in his favor. Because right now, for this moment only, he was again Elswith, Heirling of the Red Sword. All the powerlessness was a lie, and he was secretly planning a master plan.


    Because that is what the Audience needed to believe. So he had to make it true, even if it was costing him everything. Even the victory over the Golem. Even the awards for surviving in the Dungeon. Even the power he had acquired for agreeing to do bookkeeping work secretly for the Stablemaster''s wife.


    CLASH-CLASH-STRIKE went Daniel''s blade against Kane''s two. For the first time, he was on the offensive. CLASH-CLASH-STRIKE. Each strike, he accompanied it with lightning, filling the room with light. For the first time that day, the opponent was on the back foot.


    It was wonderful.


    And Daniel knew he couldn''t do it for long.


    He was waning fast.


    But hopefully, not as fast as Marrin''s self was.


    Daniel sent a silent prayer, to whom he did not know, that Marrin would hold out.


    CLASH-CLASH-STRIKE went Daniel''s attack, and he centered it finally so it was correct. Esra had read the situation correctly, for once, and Daniel felt the twisted gravity pulling toward the wall. In fact, Esra had increased the gravity.


    The Mage may be crazy and dangerous for political games, but he had fought with Elswith long enough to seemingly read his mind.


    "Now, show me your technique!" Said Kane, almost friendly.


    "I had thought..." Daniel said, in a booming, speech making voice. "That you had grown up. Found true power!"


    Kane held her swords in guard, panting. Her hair was like a clock, and her eyes glowed.


    "But you have stayed the same. Disappointing."


    Kane looked around at all the moving swirling power. She didn''t realize it was Marrin. She had thought that that power, the mastery of the destructive elements of Wind had come from Elswith. This moment seemingly proved Kane correct. That he had planned this entire scenario. That he had chosen to help the Human Witness in the reclamation of all the abducted Human Children, just to leave Kane vulnerable, just to expose the overreach of the Senate.


    This looked...like he had planned all this against her.


    "I could have helped! Why did you chose her over me?" Kane said. "I hate you."


    And the Law of Fae agreed. She was telling the truth.


    "You want the truth? You cannot handle the truth." She had heard the truth time and time again. And she did not handle it.


    Kane may have moved against him before, but now Daniel knew he would have her full fury.


    Anger clouded her face, and she charged at him, ignoring her surroundings.


    And just as she did, taking powerful, authority enhanced strides to cross the ground more swiftly...


    Daniel raised his hands and summoned the largest, flashiest lightning strike he could.


    It was weak, it was all lights and show. There was no force, lightning eels had little magical properties to them at the best of times. It was all a trick.


    Because the real thing wasn''t what he added.


    No, the real trick was what Daniel took away.


    Daniel withdrew his support of the beautiful stain glass. He removed his reinforcement of the metal frame that held everything in place. He extracted his authority over the glass that spread each step''s impact over the glass as a whole, so that no single attack was penetrating.


    Kane clearly had forgotten that they had been dueling on a massive, ancient stain glass window, and took completely for granted that the ground was stable


    Kane herself broke the window. The red glass shattered as her foot struck it with her enhanced steps. Red glass shattered the same instant that Elswith called down lightning.


    That is what everyone saw.


    That is what most believed.


    And for a single, terrible moment, Kane was staring at Elswith, as gravity pulled her mercilessly sideways, out the window as though she had jumped from a cliff.


    He was weak, but for Marrin''s sake, he would show himself as strong. Strong enough to overpower his enemies. Wise enough to plot wicked schemes. Cunning enough to see through mysteries.


    Daniel had tried so hard to be honest with Kane. That he had really traded all his power and his name for a chance at freedom. For the reclamation of all the stolen human children. For no gain, other than his own personal peace.


    She had never believed him.


    And now, she would never believe him again. Because if he was strong all along, then he had been lying. The human children were merely a prop for his intricate scheme. Kane herself would see her own role as part of the Great Elswith''s scheme.

 Chapter 93: The Heirlings of Powerful Magic

    The Game rumbled as Daniel stood the victorious victor. The broken glass fell toward the true floor, so Daniel was shielded from the splitnered glass. The air echoed with Kane''s scream as she plunged vertically away, still beholden to Esra''s gravity spell.


    It had happened in a second. A powerful lightning strike, then Kane falling.


    Daniel, standing just far enough away on the stainglass frame, breathed as deeply as he could without being obvious. He assumed the Lren stance of Of Course I Won, I''m the Best. He almost went with the Poalmon style, which was newer, but he assumed the age of his audience would be most familiar with the Lren Style.


    SHORT. TOO SHORT. The Game rumbled.


    <hr>


    The duel between ''Vye''/unknown Lord and the Servant and Squire Branch of the Sky Court/The Heirling of the Red Sword Elswith left the Game monstrously happy.


    The Fae watching struggled to comprehend what they had uncovered. A few Lords, terrible at gambling, at made it rich that night as they had purely by accident betted for the Servant Branch.


    A cheer went out from the younger members as they saw the Servant Branch assume a victory pose. Despite many losing their bets, they had enjoyed watching the change in fortune.


    "How did he hide so much power?"


    "That lightning strike was amazing!"


    "I never doubted him." Said the Lord of Smoke. The Law of Fae colored sourly, and the Lord of Smoke had to quickly amended his statement. "I never doubted that the Servant Branch would provide exciting entertainment." she hedged.


    The Law of Fae accepted that.


    <hr>


    Listening to the cheers, the Game thrummed powerfully.


    SHORT. BUT VERY EXCITING!!!


    Daniel''s arms started to hurt, as the Lren Style Of Course I Won, I''m the Best stance was not a favorable one. Daniel also felt sweat trying to drip down his brow. Lordlings rarely sweated. Heirlings, at the height of their power? Sweat was unheard of! At least officially and during public outings. In real battle, Elswith had sweat and bleed quite often. But right now the battle was different. The enemy was appearance.


    Daniel felt his clothes try to revert back to their duller, plainer true selves. His sword was losing it''s red tinted hue swiftly.


    Below, the Shadow Warbler was untended, and with the Golem to pull its attention, the situtation could quickly spiral out of control.


    Daniel silently pleaded that the Winner of this second Assassination Attempt would be declared. No more enemies. Lord Fredar''s faction had taken their shot, and missed.


    And Daniel would have almost a full hour to recover and rest.


    He needed the Game to go away.


    Just declare him the victor.


    <hr>


    Marrin felt heady. He could feel the entire room. Everything the spinning vortex touched, he touched. He could feel everything, like the storm was his body. But that made it difficult to manage his actual body. It was feeling further and further away from him. What if he got lost in the storm?The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    His throat felt tight. He needed to breath. But he was finding that even if he did not, the wind would force its way in to his lungs. It hurt. It kept trying to fill him up. But now exhaling was getting hard. When he breathed out, all the air tried to go. He remembered training sessions with Frank and Vye and Lord Fredar, when they struck him so hard almost the air was forced out of his lungs. But now it felt like his lungs were going to implode inward.


    There needed to be balance. Some air always remained in the lungs. No, but not that much. He would burst if he couldn''t get some of the air out.


    Inhale, exhale. ihnale... x hail. n h a l e...


    It was getting really hard.


    Oh. His non-storm body was still beating the pea nugget. He could see everything, but it was getting very difficult to actually understand what he was seeing.


    The pea nugget. Frank. That''s right. The Law of Fae wasn''t happy with Marrin. He could see the Law of Fae now. Wow. It was beautiful. And scary. But the Law of Fae also held up a debt that was slowly eroding. Each kick Marrin gave to the pea nugget lowered the debt. Betrayal said the Debt.


    It was being eaten away by something else. Revenge.


    Frank had surrendered.


    And Marrin didn''t care.


    Mostly Marrin kicked the downed Frank. Punches were great, but his left hand was now a receptacle for the sword, and his right arm screamed whenever he moved it. So Marrin kicked the traitor. Not as hard as it deserved, but the thing had finally seized a weapon, a small, poison tipped dagger The sword was raised up, ready.


    x h a...


    N...hale.


    As Frank made a play for his dagger in his boot. Marrin could see it coming. A strange new part of him was excited! Now he would have no guilt about what happened next...


    As long as he focused on the fighting, the breathing took care of itself.


    Marrin effortlessly battered the dagger away, taken away by the swirling wind.


    "I AM SORRY!!! FORGIVE ME! FORGIVE ME!" Frank cried, as fear truly took him. Fear colored the pea nugget a pea green color.


    Marrin felt tears streaming down his face. Why was he crying?


    He wanted to talk, but just breathing was already difficult.


    He raised his sword. Left Hand. Sword Receptacle.


    Frank would bother him no more...


    Then a larger power flared.


    Red. Red, like the sunset. Like the battles fought, that Marrin had never seen but the sword in his hand had. Red like slain beast blood.


    The other heirling. The Sword toned, happy. Some of the pressure left Marrin, and he could take full, easy breaths again. He could feel his voice box again.


    "I challenge you." said the Red Heirling.


    Marrin could almost see with his eyes again. The sheer weight reduced, and color, real color was almost there.


    "Do not waste your time on lesser prey." Said the Great Red Power. "They will only dull you."


    He was talking to the sword. Marrin wanted suddenly to cry out that he was still there too. Was he there? Or was he in the storm?


    What was happening? Marrin felt more tears, but now he could feel the temperature of the hot tears down his face.


    "I challenge you, Sword. Duel me. Let us fight!!!"


    Marrin kept blinking, and finally could see the Servant and Squire Branch, temporarily his commanding officer. He looked so different. So powerful.


    He looked like how he used to, when he was the Lordling of the Red Faction and the...


    Heirling of the Red Sword.


    Marrin suddenly became afraid.


    Heirling.


    No. No. This was just a simple family sword. It wasn''t one of the Great Swords.


    Those who wielded the thirty-seven Swords were mad. They were driven mad. It may take years, but unless one became a High Fae before they inherited one of the Swords, they were driven mad. Few ever did. The Red Lord was one of the few exceptions. Most families would give their Sword to a child, and once the child was completely corrupted, they would be put down, and the process repeated.


    Marrin tried to drop the sword.


    His left hand did not obey. In fact, he felt his left hand move to a guard position, as if ready to fight Red Sword Heirling at once.


    He felt a twisted grin spread on his face. Painful. It hurt. His face didn''t like moving like that. But wider did his grin spread, and he was suddenly so heady that he struggled to remember why that was a bad thing. White hot wires of muscle pain suddenly seemed empty and spinning. So much spinning.


    Joy and excitement filled him, pushing his dread to the corner. His moved his wounded right arm, and the flare of pain and resistance was embraced with anticipation. Fear of forever damage forgotten. His eyes became useless again, as ''seeing'' without seeing replaced his sight. He couldn''t even see the resolute face of Branch. Only a swirling of power that glowed red.


    n hale.


    x ha...

 Chapter 94: Dealing with the things in the Shadow

    Daniel flared what little remaining power he had. He told the room, and the sword in Marrin''s hand, to look at him. He told the Sword that it had a worthy rival in the Squire Branch. He wove into the air the dream of clashing and duels and improvement.


    This Great Sword was flaring. But it did listen.


    It was actually seemed a good natured sword. Playful, with all things considered. Marrin had not killed Frank. Not a blood hungry sword.


    It was not like the Red Sword, and for that, Daniel counted himself lucky. Marrin, with no training, would have completely been washed away had the sword been truly violent.


    Daniel recalled his first time holding the Red Sword.


    If not for careful guardianship...young Elswith...


    Daniel pushed those thoughts from his mind. He spied Esra, always avoiding danger, drag the beaten Frank away. The effect of Marrin''s sword was strong, and it''s influence was massive. Even with all his training, the Sword''s cry of anger was trying to sway Daniel to kick Frank''s teeth in.


    Esra, of course remained completely unaffected.


    "I Say!" Boomed Daniel, breathing carefully to not betray weakness. The Sword was listening with the Wind, Daniel could feel it''s fingers around himself, observing. The great Torn a Doe spun listlessly. Daniel could also feel Marrin''s touch inside the storm.


    Daniel had promised to bring Marrin out of this again.


    And he would not fail now.


    Marrin, with tears streaming down his face and over his wide twisted grin, moved his left hand into position.


    Old style, Daniel noticed. How long has the sword not been used? Swords learned as their wielder learned. They took on and enhanced one''s form. Daniel remembered the careful days preparing to hold the Red Sword in practice, how much it had shown him. How much experience it gave him. Just minutes holding the Red Sword could be a better teacher than weeks and months else where.


    But the Red Sword was not kind. It had not shown him beautiful things. It had not shown him kind things.


    It had warned that there was a reason every Heirling had failed before.


    Marrin then moved his wounded right arm, and Daniel grimaced in distaste. This Sword, whatever it''s name, may not be malicious. But it was not without its cruelties. As the Sword moved Marrin toward Daniel to fight, Daniel could see fresh blue blood bleeding from the huge Middling''s back. He could hear Marrin''s rasping breathes and the blue tinge to his lips.


    "WE SHALL FIGHT!" Daniel said, to the sword. He pushed out all the experience and essence he knew from the Red Sword. The Red Sword had a song, and Daniel knew a part of it. As long as he kept pushing that ''song'' outward, the dull sword seemed willing to follow.


    Daniel strode away, not quite turning his back from the face, as he edged. He had been fast in removing Esra''s gravity spell, and he hadn''t managed to finish all the way. Now walking on the demolished ground, he felt a slight pull toward the wall, like that was the bottom of a steep hill and he was only a step away from falling down it. Too late to remove it now. He needed to keep the Sword''s attention.


    "But first," he said, pulling back his power. "I see some riffraff has appeared! How can we duel most gloriously, should there be a lesser being there?"


    The Shadow Warbler was nearly completely recharged.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "A Contest!" Said Daniel, to the sword.


    Marrin tried to speak, and that encouraged Daniel. As long as Marrin was still there, still listening, there was hope.


    The Sword exuded spinning happiness at the word contest. What a nice little Sword it was. It cared about competition. The twisted grin on Marrin''s face shot little daggers of regret in Daniel. This should have never happened to the Middling.


    Daniel very carefully concealed his feelings. The wind of the Sword was searching and hunting for anything, including scents and the slight wafts of emotions. Swords were not a blessing. At least not to the one who wields them.


    <hr>


    Marrin liked contests. He always had. One year, he had grown the very best rutabaga on the entire farm and surrounding communities. They had celebrated how perfectly formed it had been. Marrin had even won a blue ribbon...


    inhale.


    exhal...


    He kept trying to blink, but right now he couldn''t remember how his facial muscles worked. His eyes were starting to sting. He should close them. He really tried to close them. He couldn''t see anyway. Stinging. Everything hurt. Was his back bleeding again?


    n haliii...


    ''seeing'' in the wind was superior anyway. The colors, if you could call it colors, were wilder. They told him things.


    inn hal. wait, he had already inhaled. He needed the other one...


    <hr>


    "Contest?" Marrin whispered. Or was it the Sword?


    Daniel couldn''t tell. He hoped it was Marrin. The green hatted Middling with dirt under his finger nails from gardening.


    If Daniel didn''t finish this quickly, there were two scenarios that would happen.


    The first and best was that the Sword would excitedly use Marrin until the Fae reached his limit, and passed out. Most Great Swords, the records showed, did not desire their wielder''s death. The Sword would pull back into itself, and upon awakening, Marrin would have gained powerful experience, and after careful training, Marrin would walk away all the wiser.


    The second and worst scenario would be the Sword, in either careless bravado or willing malice, would kill Marrin.


    Daniel had no real experience with someone using a Sword with no training. It could be that the Sword was perfectly behaved and Marrin simply didn''t have the training to wield it. It could be that this was one of the cursed blades that entire bloodlines swore to hide and never allow their use again.


    <hr>


    "The Contest is who can push the Shadow Warbler back into the trap! I shall go first!" Cried the Heirling of the Red. The Sword of the Storm had a moment of pity for the being. Did it not see how deeply scarred it was? How ravaged it''s flesh was? But that was the Way of the Red.


    But the Sword of the Storm was more excited about a contest.


    It had won a blue ribbon once for a rutabaga once...


    <hr>


    Daniel knew he had Marrin''s full attention.


    He was pouring out power fast, but he knew how Sword''s worked.


    Again, most would rush and panic.


    But Daniel moved confidently.


    Despite Daniel technically winning against the Golem, it appeared that the Golem was still alive, somewhere, wherever the maid Shelby had taken it to. If not for that, the situation would be much worse.


    Daniel let go of his borrowed sword, and picked up at long last the old crowbar. His borrowed sword shattered into pieces, as he had used entirely too much power through the modest blade. He felt the rough metal of the crowbar, and almost smiled as he remembered Orville and Mathias. Both allies and friends he would not get to meet until after the Game ended.


    He held up the crowbar in guard position, and focused on the Shadow Warbler.


    He had held this as a child. Strange that they had left it so close by.


    He kept the song of the Red Sword playing, wasting so much power. But he faced his childhood fear. "You almost killed my friend." He said, and felt strength.


    "What is this?" the shadow warbler said, without moving its mouth again. It searched around, lashing out like a blind wild animal. "Can''t take it. Don''t take it. Mine. Mine. Mine."


    "And I was afraid of you." Said Daniel. "But I think...the humantales have it wrong. I think..." Daniel paused as the Shadow Warbler clawed at it''s gag. "I think you are not a curse. Why else would the O''Tells leave you? I think something terrible has befallen you. I will not let you hurt anyone."


    "What is it?" it warbled, sharp talon like fingers reaching out.


    "I think you need help too. And this time, I won''t run away."


    The Shadow Warbler.


    Everyone had always called it a monster.


    But Daniel knew now that if it had truly been trying to kill young Orville, all those years ago, the Lordling would have perished. Daniel had since seen those without sight or magical ways to navigate. He had seen how to grope around in the dark.


    It had not struck Orville to kill him. The Shadow Warbler had only tried to feel his face. Did it not know its fingers were claws? Perhaps not. Once blood was draw, it was a wild animal, but there had been a moment where the Shadow Warbler had been kind.


    Looking in the dark.


    "We are putting you away now." he said. "But it won''t be forever. I promise."


    And the Law of Fae heard the promise.


    And...so did the Shadow Warbler. It still lashed out, still searching.


    But Daniel perceive it did without malice.

 Chapter 95: Blown away

    The O''Tells estate servant hall was in shambles. Deep fighting had left great scars across several halls. The power that raged from from uncontrolled sword was still slowly tearing the room apart, and there was almost no stain glass that remained in the one window. Most of the glass had fallen outside, the only safety and good fortune.


    The Servant Branch stood, letting the illusion drop from his clothes and his appearance. Marrin''s sword was still gauging him, but it clearly didn''t care about fashion.


    The Shadow Warbler glittered and hummed, still trying to escape the wall. "What is this? What is this? Do we kill it? Do we keep it? What is this." But despite its nasty words, the Shadow Warbler seemed...subdued.


    So, brandishing his assumed weapon, Daniel wished he could let the much more powerful Marrin go first.  but power was an illusion.


    "Now...It''s time!" And Daniel pushed his focus and power downward. Whatever material this old and ancient crowbar was constructed from, it conducted lightning very well. Daniel pulled power, from the room, from his loosening restraints, and even stealing ever so carefully from the powerful Torn a Doe. Marrin had not the training, and as effective a teacher the Sword was, it could not supersede Marrin''s established ability.


    Daniel was a Servant now. But he was the Lordling who had sealed the Dead Dragon. His ability to gather the misused and wasted power before it scattered into the ether.


    Standing tall and proud, despite wanting to sit down and take a nap, Daniel prepared his special move. Esra, unseen and probably hiding behind the pillars, aided Daniel.


    With the last remnants of lighting, and using the last of the power generated in the Dungeon, Daniel launched an attack. At least the Game had faded somewhat after everything that happened with Kane.


    Esra, unseen and probably hiding behind the pillars, aided Daniel, with an almost silent "gravity shot". Even with Esra''s help, the power crashed from Daniel, and he felt like he may have thrown too much strength. Was it possible to throw one''s spine into an attack?


    But it was very effective, as the Shadow Warbler stumbled almost a third of the way back into the trap.


    "Hmmm." Said Daniel, using his Elswith''s large and in charge voice. "I think I have the best shot. Perhaps I shall finish it alone. This way I am prepared for our glorious duel!" Daniel said. He nearly ruined his carefully presented image by not dodging out of the way of flying debris. But he managed, and moved to the side.


    Marrin was at Daniel''s side, which was frightening because Daniel hadn''t heard the large bleeding Fae approach. "My turn." He lifted his left hand. His lips were paler now, and his breathing was completely wretched.


    "Well, I suppose this is a contest." Daniel said, flaring the Song of the Red Sword. "Very well! But can I impose a limitation to make it more interesting?"


    The Sword hummed, and Daniel could hear its own song as an answer. Excitingly.


    "Do it in one shot. Do what I couldn''t. If you can''t...Then this contest surely would not be interesting."


    What Daniel did not add was that the closer the Shadow Warbler was to the trap, the greater the resistance would become became.


    But the Sword was good natured, and Daniel spent exactly 2.4 seconds standing, looking impressive, before he felt his Gravity shift and pull him out of the way a mere moment the entire Torn a Doe converged over Marrin and Marrin launched forward attacking the Shadow Warbler.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    The Sword was powerful.


    Very scarily powerful.


    Daniel found himself being steadied by Esra. Daniel hadn''t realized Esra had that level of control to change someone''s direction like that. Was it because Esra had been holding back? Or did Esra not understand his own abilities well? He didn''t know.


    The two old campaign companions stood, watching Marrin move. The tall mountain of a fae seemed to relax as he pushed his attack against the Shadowy ilky thing.


    "So, Spikes." said Esra, whom had pulled Daniel away. "Marrin has one of the murder swords? Like your dad?"


    "No." Said Daniel. Whatever the sword was, however dangerous, it was not hunting blood. Also...calling the Red Lord, The High Fae and Master over the Red Faction...his dad? That ancient entity may have been Elswith''s Lordly Father, but ''dad''? Never.


    Daniel moved his hand, instinct alone, as a rogue piece of debris nearly crashed into Esra and himself. It shattered into pieces against his borrowed crowbar.


    "So...how did talking go with Kane?" Asked Esra, dusting off his strange shirt with a long faded image. His blue tweed pants looked no worse for wear. Although, it did look like Esra lost a shoe somewhere. He also didn''t look particularly bothered by it''s absence. "Did she apologize?"


    "Not great." Daniel said, still remembering her screams as she ''fell'' vertically outward, in a storm of red glass broken by her own power.


    "That''s rough buddy." Said Esra, then smiled like he had said a joke.


    The massive Torn a Doe was starting wind down as the power was being converted to pushing the Shadow Warbler.


    It would have taken all of them together to re-seal the Shadow Warbler. ''Vye'', Frank, Marrin, Daniel, and perhaps Esra, working together, may have been enough to join power and push the ancient Warbler back into its confinement. The closer the Warbler came, the hardest it fought.


    But Marrin alone was doing it now.


    The room shattered and banged as more and more of the Torn a Doe was pulled apart, that power spent countering the Shadow Warbler.


    "Hey, remember that time I messed up and you ended up on the underside of that giant crow thing?"


    "Where I almost fell into the sky in an environment where the griffins could not fly, and I may have tumbled to my death?"


    "Do you remember how Kane got food poisoning that time? That cow deserved it. Everyone told her that it went bad, but boy, she didn''t listen."


    Esra brought up the weirdest things. They were in great danger, and the shrieking of the wind and the screams of the Warbler left little cheer.


    But then again...


    What else did they have to do?


    "It was a memorable day." Daniel felt like his suffering that day had been greater than Kane''s, but...at the same time, in light of everything...


    Daniel laughed. Remembering Kane''s haughty face, minutes before losing her lunch, as she implied her constitution was superior.


    "Right." Said Esra, with a large wink. "So...how are we going to save Martin and his non murderous sword?"


    "Marrin." Said Daniel. "His name is Marrin." Marrin, son of...whom?


    There was terrible screaming from the Shadow Warbler, and Daniel felt rather than saw what Marrin was doing. It was...brutal. Which did not help Daniel''s claim that the Sword was merely just playful.


    "So...I go high, you go low?" Esra asked. "Whack some sense back into him? Is he our new friend? Are we going to go on camping trips with him and Parcel again? That''d be awesome. I think Marrin would like blackjack."


    "As for removing the sword, I have a plan." Daniel stood up. He could feel the moment the ilky Shadow Warbler began being forced back into the ancient trap. There was a massive boom, and the room shook as it was overpowered.


    "So that''s a yes to going camping with da bois?"


    "Parcel is not my friend. We are not friends." Said Daniel feeling exhausted.


    "Right. He''s totally not your best friend."


    Daniel wanted to correct the Gravity Mage, once and for all, that the Lordling Parcel and himself were rivals at the best of times, and enemies the rest. How they had vied against each other.


    And how hurt Elswith had been when Parcel had stopped training, and had given up improving. How Parcel had hurt Silvia by not working to make himself stronger. How Elswith had sent spies to try to find Parcel''s secret plan, only to find out that he had yielded the upcoming Lord''s position of the Sky Court to Lordling Fredar.


    They were not friends clearly.


    But before Daniel could inform Esra of all the clear and obvious facts, there was a great loud shrieking, a huge wave of power, and Marrin, descendant of Castor, Heirling of the Storming Sword, was the victor.


    And all that rampant power now swirled, focusing on Daniel.


    "I won."

 Chapter 96: Battlefield Guide against the Insanity of the Mind

    The Law of Fae danced in the air, watching. The re-sealment of the Shadow Warbler had created power. Power...but who should claim it? Would it be the tool, or the one the who used it?


    The Game, blessedly, was far away, had no influence now. So the Law of Fae was able to swirl and just observe, curious about what was about to take place.


    <hr>


    Marrin looked exhausted. His too wide smile had narrowed slightly, and his left hand wielding the Sword was low, almost dragging the blade behind himself. Small favors, all in all. His green hat had fallen partially over his eyes, but Daniel could tell that Marrin wasn''t seeing out of his eyes currently. His eyes were becoming bloodshot.


    But with the spinning wind now ceased, it meant that much of the Sword''s concentrated power was focused directly on them.


    It was also not a good sign as instead of walking around the debris, gusts of wind were blowing it out of the way from the huge fae.


    Marrin lifted his sword, as though it was as heavy as a mountain, toward Daniel. "Now we fight." his lips were so pale.


    "The good news..." Said Esra, with more nervousness than Daniel was used to "...Is that you have a plan for this. Right, Spikes?"


    Daniel stood up, pulling out all the stops of his power. His increased his output drastically. He spun out the Song of the Red Sword again, the most competitive notes, the most joyful strains. The moonlight from outside even took on a reddish hue, as it came down through the ruined windows.


    Marrin''s face visibly relaxed.


    So it was a playful Sword after all. It hummed almost happily.


    "You are too tired." Daniel said, in his finest Lordling voice. "You would be ill sport!"


    Marrin''s face became cloudy and he started coughing. He moved his injured right arm to claw at his throat, instinctually searching for anything to free his breathing. It was a doomed struggle, as Daniel assumed the power of the Sword itself was too rich for the Middling to move correctly, and it was the authority itself blocking Marrin''s airways. "Fight. Fight. We...If we fight I can breath. Heirling. Elswith. Lordling. Sir. Branch. I can breath if we fight." he said. More tears fell.


    Daniel took easy, lazy strides forward, but in such a way not to walk over any debris. He was certainly not strong enough to move debris from his path.


    Also...how exactly would the Red Sword move something, even if he had it? It was clearly more abstract in nature than Marrin''s playful Sword. How does an abstract concept move a destroyed pallet and crate? Any way that was accomplished would be disturbing...Would the obstacles turn to blood and wash away? Besides, it was a mute point. The Red Sword was with the Red Lord. And furthermore, Elswith had been the Heirling, and the name Elswith was basically completely dead.


    "Do you think competition cheap? Something to be shown for the masses?" Daniel said, his voice booming. He wanted to weep over how much gathered authority he was throwing away to maintain this charade, but he knew better than to let up.


    Marrin blinked rapidly, and Daniel could feel the moment the tall Middling fae saw through his own eyes again, though it lasted just a moment.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "What does your Sword think is the purpose of competition?" He asked Marrin directly, standing in front of the same Middling he had bested this morning in the Sky Court.


    Because he could not command a Sword.


    But Marrin may be another story


    "Improvement. Fun. Loyalty. Companionship."


    It was a playful Sword! Excellent. "How can one improve if they are exhausted?"


    Marrin did not say anything.


    "Marrin, son of Castor, you speak of Loyalty. Did you forget who you are?"


    Marrin shook his head, causing his hat to fall down to the ground. He almost dropped the Sword in his panic to try to catch it, and Daniel had to stop a laugh. The simple love of a silly green hat had almost been enough for Marrin to let go of this powerful Sword. The tall Fae knelt and started rifling his right hand over the ground, searching.


    <hr>


    His hat. His hat. That was his lucky hat. That was the last thing he had of his grandfather, and the last thing his mother had entrusted to him. He knelt and started searching the ground. There was so much debris and...junk, everywhere. At first he thought it must have been blown away, but not he realized that he couldn''t see it because he didn''t know what it looked like when he ''saw without seeing''.


    There was color here, but they weren''t the same colors that he knew with his eyes.


    The Red Heirling made a small, polite noise.


    Marrin saw without turning his head, that Heirling/Branch was holding something. The Sword was correct; that Heirling was scarred in terrible ways. Old scars and new scars. The humming of old power, and the jingle jangle of new.


    And in the Heirling/Branch''s hand was Marrin''s hat.


    It didn''t look like his hat. His hat looked old and almost tattered. Almost castaway. And almost a silly shade of green.


    But with his seeing without seeing, the hat looked...different. Noble. Elegant. Proud.


    "What is your position, Marrin?" Asked the Heirling/Squire.


    Marrin managed to answer, "I am a subcommander in Lord Fredar''s Enforcer Squadron of the Sky Court."


    "I swore that would not abandon you. That as a Squire with superior battle experience, I would take command. So what does that make me, right now?"


    Marrin blinked. He felt his fingers twitch around the hilt. He wanted to test himself against the Heirling. He knew that the other would be superior, but even losing would give valuable lessons...


    "I don''t want to stop." Said Marrin, with tears. "I don''t want to be powerless, anymore."


    "Subcommander Marrin, what role do I hold?"


    "I just want to fight. I just want to see..." Marrin muttered, but felt destressed when he realized he wasn''t sure if that was him or the sword...


    "Marrin. As this conflict is over, falling back on the words of your Lord Fredar, of the Sky Court of Hue of Green, the emergency is over. And once the emergency is over..."


    An old order sprang to life. Marrin gasped as something came over him. He wanted to hold onto the sword. Pain and all. With the Sword, Fredar could not bother his family anymore.


    But while he hated and disregarded the oversight and headship of the traitious family members who had ousted the direct linage from control of the Sky Court...


    He loved the Sky Court.


    His heart beat for it. The simple things that drove him.


    "Am I not your benefactor?" Said the Heirling. "Am I not your battlefield guide?"


    And Marrin remembered that he had said all those things. And meant them.


    "Did you forget the great order given you from Lord Fredar?" said the Heirling.


    Dizziness swarmed Marrin again, as just the thought of the liar and miscreant who had apparently made it his mission to belittle and devast the Sky Court''s Enforcers. He had been forbidden to use his left hand.


    If he could not test himself against Heirling/Battle Guide...


    Marrin''s green hat was placed on his head, as the song and rhythm of the Red Sword was ended. "As your temporary battlefield guide, when you were weakened, it was your duty to survive. Therefore, it was only logical to use your left hand until this action was completed, over your Lord''s order. I charge you, now, Subcommander Marrin of the Sky Court''s Enforcers, that the duty is ended."


    There was a command to not wield a blade in his left hand.


    And, despite having the power to overcome it, Marrin....


    Marrin yielded.


    And then the song of the sword in his life hand died abruptly, as the blade tumbled out from his hand.


    At first he thought he was blind, until he realized it was night.


    And the power fled Marrin''s body.

 Chapter 97: Nice Sword

    Marrin blinked rapidly, coughing desperately. He didn''t see the Heirling of the Red Sword anymore. Potential rival. Enemy. Sparring partner. Battle guide.


    Instead he saw a very tired appearing Servant Branch, wearing a dull and slightly ill fighting hall attendant outfit.


    There was no glorious conflict or battle.


    Just a Fae, like himself, nearly to the breaking point.


    "Branch?" he whispered, as sensation returned to his body.


    "I''m here." Said the former Lordling.


    Suddenly the idiot poked into view like a weed springing from a crack. "I''m here too. I''m Ezra. Do you remember me? Are you better? You got all crazy. Why didn''t you say you had exman powers?"


    "Ezra, shut up." commanded Branch, in a tone too authoritative and tired, and Marrin felt it much more believable that Branch was/is a powerful Heirling.


    Ezra did shut up, however.


    "So...that''s one of the Swords." said Marrin, looking at the discarded blade, laying so innocently on the floor.


    "Yes. I even think I know which one." Said the former Heirling. "The Sword of the Storm. According to the Library Records, it is still in use today. So someone has been using a fake all this time."


    "Help me stand up." Marrin asked, feeling his muscles scream as their cramped up.


    It took both Branch and Ezra to work together to pull Marrin up. He felt heavier than before too, like his bones were filled with mud and his muscles weighed down with soil. "That will pass." Said Branch, knowingly. "It''s just residue. Reality doesn''t quite know how to treat you at this moment."


    "You''ve done this before." Marrin said, still blinking. His chest felt free, and air came in and out easily.


    "Yes."


    "Was it...So bad for you?"


    Branch made a complicated face, that made Marrin wonder if...impossibly, it had been much worse than Marrin could imagine.


    But Marrin''s savior graciously shrugged, "Every Sword is different. I have never seen a Sword so..." his voice dropped away, lost in thought.


    "Evil?" Interjected the crazy mage. "Corruptive? Evilly corruptive?"


    "I don''t think it was evil." said Marrin. "But...vicious? And perhaps...angry?" He tried to sort out his feeling on the matter.


    Branch chuckled, as if finding both Marrin''s and Ezra''s answers silly.


    "How is your wound?" Branch asked.


    "Hurts."


    "The bleeding has mostly stopped. I wish we had the time to redress it, but nothing is clean here...Did you have the presence of mind to start mending your wound?" Daniel asked.


    "Um...no?"


    "Perhaps that is some unique to the Red Sword." Daniel said. He stopped poking Marrin''s bleeding back, carefully avoiding the blue blood. "I think the bleeding will stop now that you...aren''t opening the wound again. We need to get moving. Before the King''s Enforcers arrive."


    "Why?"


    "Because we need to figure out what we are going to do about Marrin''s little problem."Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Marrin looked around the room. He hadn''t been in there before, and honestly he had been so overwrought before that he hadn''t paid much attention as he entered. But it was clear some great battle had taken place. The evidence of a much larger Golem ripping up the floor to create projectiles. There was so much debris. Nearly all of the stain glass windows were broken now. Ezra''s various gravity assaults have even more wounds on the old space. The damage from the Shadow Warbler left deep groves into the floor. And somehow worse still was the small rent through the room, caused by that Sword. The Sword Marrin would never again pick up...


    "Pick up your Sword and let''s go down the back way." Said Branch.


    "Spikes, it''s totally evil." Objected the Gravity Mage.


    "I don''t want to agree with the Gravity Mage, but...I don''t want to pick it up again."


    The Squire Branch chuckled. "Who has been an Heirling longest? You or me?"


    "I am older than you..." Marrin objected.


    "Doesn''t matter. You are not an Heirling until you hold the Sword and it awakens. So you have been an Heirling all of...fifteen minutes?"


    Sounds were coming back, as people felt the danger was gone.


    "So, as your battle field guide, pick up your Sword and follow me."


    So Marrin...did.


    And nothing happened.


    "Good." Said Branch, and for that moment, he looked as crafty and calculating as any of the upper echelon of the Fae, his eyes gleaming softly. "Now...put it your scabbard and follow me."


    Marrin felt hopeful that nothing strange had happened. Branch and the tall lanky Mage had already started moving away. "Why are you helping me?" Marrin asked when he caught up, wanting to take off his hat just to make sure it was still there.


    Branch tilted his head, as if the question confused him. "Why? Because I promised I will not abandon you. Leaving a baby Heirling alone would not be a kind fate."


    The Law of Fae...shimmered. Marrin could see the Law of Fae still?


    "Wait...What happened to Frank? I...did I..."


    "Oh, he''s up there." Esra said, and pointed.


    Marrin looked up, and up, and up, until he was looking on the ceiling.


    There, beaten and bruised and unconscious but still very much alive, was the Middling Frank. Gravity inverted so that he was snoozing on the ceiling above.


    "Seemed the best place for a scumbag like him. The gravity distortion will wear off sooner or later. And if not, the King''s Enforcers can figure it out."


    The relief that washed over Marrin was massive.


    "And Vye?" he


    "I don''t know." Said Branch, and turned away. "I hope she is alive. But...I don''t know." there was more to that story, but Marrin recognized that Elswith was not willing to share more. "Let''s make haste, now." And they slipped away.


    Quiet settled back into the O''Tell estate. In fact, for the next ten minutes, no one would be making any noise in that room, except the soft snoring of Frank.


    Of course, all the King''s Enforcers would soon descend onto the scene of conflict. From there, the Surmount Butler would eventually be found hiding in his office. Worst of all, since the Shadow Warbler was put back...the Servant Branch would not be held liable for any of the incidents of this night.


    But that would be a story for another time.


    So away Branch led Marrin and Ezra, down twisting stone pathways and earthen caves.


    He had a small fear that the Lordling was going to betray him...Lead him astray and then...


    "So." Said Branch, as though he had traveled through these passageways all his life. "You are the direct descendant of the original head of the Sky Court. And no one thought to check your sword?"


    Marrin almost touched his sheathed sword, but thought better of it and held back his hand. The scabbard rattled against his leg as he walked. "It was just a sword. My grandfather used it, my dad used it, no one ever had...that happen to them. What a crazy, evil sword." Marrin said, feeling sick thinking about it. He wanted to throw it away, but had the strange idea that Branch would chastise him should he try.


    Branch made a small noise of disagreement.


    Had Marrin ever been that observant before? He was normally bad at missing subtle social clues.


    "Why...did you make the unhappy grunt sound?" Marrin hated how thick his question sounded. He was not skilled at speaking, and just knew he was going to mess up.


    Branch''s attention was suddenly much sharper. Marrin could feel it. He could also feel the Mage''s attention, and perhaps the rampant tidal flow of never ending conversation that was only being held in place temporarily.


    "Is my sword...truly wicked?"


    "Did it feel evil?" Asked Branch, pausing in front of section of passageway where vines and roots had broken through the dirt.


    "Well...no...But I couldn''t breath. So it must be wicked and depraved."


    The former Heirling laughed, almost sounding merry. His laughter filled the damp underground passageway.


    "Your sword was perhaps one of the nicest one''s I''ve ever seen. I have met several Heirling before, and have been allowed to observe several other Great Swords. The worst I have seen is used only in great need. No one can master it. The one who uses it will die within the next full moon. I have seen Swords that eat the language of the one who uses it, so they are constantly relearning their own dialect. Your sword was friendly. And happy. You couldn''t breath because it was trying, and failing, to be helpful."


    "What?"


    "Somehow...you have acquired one of the only...what I can only bafflingly and seemingly impossibly call...a nice Swords."

 Chapter 97: Three Can Keep a Secret

    Daniel took two overly tall Fae with him down through the old tunnel. There were lights flicker as they approached and turned off as they left that section. It was cool in the tunnels, and very quiet. Marrin looked like a wet cat, edgy and afraid of another bath. Esra looked like her was going to get lunch somewhere.


    Daniel himself felt hungry and tired. He had thought he had solved the needing to eat thing. But apparently the amount of power needed to fuel a Fae was larger than he had thought. He thought again about using more power, just to stop his hunger. He wept thinking about all the meals he skipped because he was working, back when he was Lordling Elswith. Just exactly how powerful had he been? It was like falling from the highest room in the palace and landing in a muddy field. Technically one could make a rival palace, but sitting in the mud staring up at the multitude of swirling windows and glittery stone towers as it reached the sky made the mud hut a poor comparison.


    Daniel knew that they needed to keep moving.


    Marrin was gripping his hat again, muttering something like ''excuse me'' each time his too tall frame disrupted the roots from above.


    How had such a person made it to Middling?


    "Where...are we, if you don''t mind me asking."


    Daniel nodded. At least the second part prevented extracting a favor. If one answered, they didn''t consider it worth gathering Favor. Marrin needn''t have worried, because as a Lowling, the Servant Branch would be hard pressed to extract whatever small favor. And Esra didn''t even bother with the Law of Fae at all. He was pretty much invisible to it, and unbound by much of the limitations it imposed.


    "The O''Tells Family are an expansive and powerful Family and Estate, in many ways holding more power than a smaller Fae Court." Daniel informed, enjoying thinking of history more than other things. "But did you know their start, untold generations ago...was as a tavern?"


    Esra barked out a surprised laugh. "Tell that to Orville''s uppity Uncles and Aunties. Oh, I bet they hate that."


    Marrin looked equally surprised.


    "Some of them do not enjoy discussing that history." said Daniel. "But many members of their family delight in it. Do you know Brandy O''Tells, Orville''s oldest uncle, runs a brewery?"


    "No way." Said Esra.


    Daniel paused, and checked forward, but there was still a way. He continued forward. "But this tunnel was from the time when beer was outlawed."


    "Like how chocolate is outlawed?" Said Esra.


    "Chocolate is outlawed?" Said Marrin, surprised.


    "Of course. It has been for the last ten years. Outside of the Dusted Plains, no chocolate is permitted. Why, have you had chocolate here?"


    Marrin''s face went a strange color.


    "You had chocolate?" Daniel said.


    "Um...Look a bug." said Marrin, pointing to the wall.


    So...the Common Fae had a source for chocolate that the upper echelon of Fae did not. So much so that some common Fae didn''t realize it was banned.


    "Do they make you eat it in their store? Is it like a parlor?"


    "I just thought that''s what fancy people do. Or...would do...um...it really is a very interesting bug." Marrin pointed behind them. He seemed very uncomfortable suddenly. And the Sword of the Storm started to hum again...Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Daniel let it pass. Marrin had probably sworn an oath of secrecy. And chocolate was the least of Daniel''s current worries. Also...he had no money. Not that he often spent money, but lesser Fae used money to exchange for goods, instead of having entire infrastructure of people working under you to create those same goods, and trading those created goods for the specialties ones allies or rivals created. That or being the Lord protector over that realm and rightfully claiming a tithe.


    Being weak was strange.


    "So this passageway built long ago. Now. To more pressing concerns. What to do with a newly minted Heirling?"


    "I don''t want to use the sword again." Marrin stated, as if it was a fact. "I don''t..."


    "You are an Heirling now. That choice is gone."


    "I don''t want to! The stories all say Heirlings go insane."


    Esra made a noise that he agreed, muttering something under his breath like "That does explain Spikes..."


    Daniel wished he could have left Esra behind in the Servant''s hall.


    Instead, Daniel shrugged and made a shoing motion with his hand, like he was brushing away Marrin''s concern. "Those are just stories for children. And too tall Mages who speak of ''bois trips'' and ''s''mores''. The Swords are a Power to rival the entire kingdom, Seelie and Unseelie, of the Fae."


    "I don''t care. I don''t want to."


    Daniel had a moment of irritation, and wished he had left both Esra and Marrin behind. But he tried to be kind, remembering his promise not to abandon Marrin. "You are in a good position." Honestly, if Daniel wasn''t in a Game...if he was an independent Lord, Marrin would be an excellent opportunity. "You need to rise to Lordhood, quickly. As fast as you can."


    "I am barely a Middling. There is not path to power..."


    Daniel had to hunch down through the next narrow section of the tunnel. "Swords break the rules. The Swords make their own path. They just do. If you do not rise up in power to match it, only then will you be destroyed."


    "So...I get promoted? Will I be the commander of the Sky Court''s enforcers? Will I be promoted to Knight like Knight Commander Kane was?"


    The Sky Court was corrupt and so emmeshed into the Waasla alliance that any Lord there was merely a pawn. "No. You need to leave the Sky Court."


    "I can''t."


    "No, you can''t. I''m working on that." a way for Marrin to be cast out in shame and defeat. "You were a Lowling first, right?"


    "I can''t return to Lowling. My family..."


    "Would rather you live, I assume. I have to assume that, because my would rather I die, and sometimes it is hard to imagine having someone wishing me life." He did not look at Marrin and Esra, who were both making pitying faces at him.


    Time to bring back the conversation to the most important point. "And should others discover what you now are...you will probably be killed."


    "What?"


    "You are a new, rival power. With training, you may master it. If not, it will master you."


    "I thought you said the Sword was kind."


    "It is a kind, playful, loyal Sword. But it cannot change what it is, and what it will do."


    "It''s just a sword!" Marrin complained.


    Authority arose from Daniel unsummoned, and the tunnel became dark. Marrin made a frightened sound and tumbled backward into the wall.


    "Just a Sword? Just a Sword?!" From the very walls came the sound of the Red Sword played, and Marrin could hear its unsavory notes. "Until you have enough mastery, Marrin Son of Castor, until you can control the Sword of the Storm..." Marrin needed to listen. He needed to understand. Or else he would die. "You cannot refuse."


    "I don''t want to be an Heirling."


    "There is a way, of course. To become free from such things." Daniel said, gathering himself again and pulling back the hymn of the Red Sword.


    "I''ll do it. Whatever it is..."


    "Wait your turn until I''m done. Can you survive a Game? Can you ignite the passion and interest? Can you find a cause large enough to cast your entire future behind?" Not that Daniel had chosen that on purpose. It had been a gut reaction, as he saw cruelty and dishonor so great. It had been complicated. But he had been planning on running away, escaping his fate as the Heirling of the Red Sword.


    Marrin looked him up and down, and whatever Daniel looked like, it must not have been good.


    "So...how do I...master a sword?"


    "More importantly than that." Daniel said, feeling somewhat insulted. He had put on the much better clothes of a Hall Attendant. "This is a heavy matter. This could even upset the balance of power of the current Game. All the various groups that would want power to stay the same. The Lord currently using the fake ''Sword of the Storm.'' The Sky Court''s delicate position. The Wizards alliance may actually be the most dangerous, as they studied the arcane laws of nature."


    Marrin looked pale.


    "Therefore, total secrecy was needed. But secrets are hard to keep. The old adage goes...Three can keep a secret..."


    "If one is an idiot and the other is a crafty Spiky haired guy, and the third will die if it comes out." Said Esra. So he had been paying attention.

 Chapter 98: Ambush

    What to do with a budding superpower? What to do? This was like watching the birth of a new dragon, in some ways. Marrin, Son of Castor, Middling with no training, holding one of Swords that was used to conquered the Realm of Fae from the darkness, wrestle control away from chaos. No training. No natural skills. Chosen by bloodrite and circumstances.


    "Swords chose their Master." Daniel said. "In many cases, you have to interesting enough to catch it''s gaze."


    "Can I get a Sword?" Asked Esra.


    Daniel tried to stop the shudder from over taking his body. The chaos and anarchy that would create. The destruction would be unimaginable.


    "No." he said, the same time as Marrin.


    So at least Marrin had a little common sense.


    "Did you master the Red Sword?" Marrin asked him. "Did it chose you?"


    "It did, though I suspect it did only to spite the Red Lord. But the Red Sword is the least...selective. The stories go that the Red Sword will chose almost any Heirlings from my Lordly Father''s bloodline. Most Swords wait until they see whatever virtue they desire before awakening, like yours. It has probably been held by many members of your family, even though wars and battles, and remained inert."


    "So...does your dad plan on retiring...ever?" interjected Esra again. "He''s been But he has been the Master and Wielder of it for centuries? What''s the point of a successor if you are basically immortal?"


    Daniel thought of all the tombstones of his...siblings? Siblings was such a strange word when they had died decades and centuries before one was born. "The Red Lord must have an Heirling. That is his agreement with the Fairy King. His accord."


    "Why did your dad agree to that?" Asked Esra, who was walking on the ceiling now that the tunnel had opened up. His head was about at head height, should he have been conventional and was walking on the floor like a sensible Fae.


    "Because if not, the King would have destroyed the Red Sword Faction after the failed rebellion." It felt odd to say it aloud without fearing who was listening. The Game was blessedly away, and the ever present Law of Fae would tell no secrets. "And once that Heirling is old enough and wise enough, he will transfer over the Sword and become an advisor to the King."


    He did not add that the Heirling was never deemed mature enough. Never powerful enough. Never worthy enough. Some of the forebearers of the Red Sword Heirlings had been figures of legend. The Heirling Alro had been a mighty Fae, an innovator of Magical Runes, even becoming a beloved Senator before he pass away of old age. Others former Heirlings had been lowly, power obsessed maniacs, more dangerous to the realm of Fae than a benefit. Some where forever Hunting Dogs of the Red Lord, loosed to create havoc and chaos across battlefields, continuing in that role until they were at last slain. And others had just died in their youth. They had held the Red Sword and it found them wanting. Daniel''s closest sibling had suffered that fate, dead at 15. Little Elswith used to stare at paintings of that one, and compare their features. His death had been truly regrettable, because he had been everything Elswith had not been: naturally talented, highly intelligent, a gifted leader, a quick sword hand, naturally courageous.


    Daniel clenched his jaw. "The Red Sword is the Red Sword. Worry about your own Sword."


    "So...how do I master it?" Marrin said, having to twist sideways as the two sides of the tunnel drew closer.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "Do you have your True Name?" Asked Daniel.


    "No." Said Marrin. "My parents said they wanted to wait until I was older. Does it matter?"


    Daniel very carefully thumbed his true name in his mind. One''s True Name was the path to freedom. But it was also the only way to Master a Sword. Marrin had so many steps to go until that part mattered. "Not for now."


    <hr>


    They returned to the Citadel''s streets from behind a little garden shed in a little field. There was a series of complicated doors and locks that seemed too new to be so forgotten. First the door to be closed before the door to the outside opened and revealed a moonlit field.


    "This is...This is the field where the geese are kept!" Said Marrin.


    "Yes, that is true." replied Daniel.


    "Are you saying that...The O''Tells have a secret passage that leads to the Sky Court''s goose field?"


    "You could make that observation...But why would you want to?" Said Daniel. "The Citadel is old. Why are you surprised there are secrets?"


    Marrin was left speechless.


    "Maybe they used to trade beer for goose eggs or something?" Said Esra, unhelpfully.


    The geese had long been put away, as it had been dark for such a long time. Daniel saw the spot where he had chased that gander that morning, and remembered it''s pinching, bruising bite, and the slight swelling that accompanied it. One day, he would eat that goose. He vowed to never forget it. He also remembered the goose boy, and wished he could be present for the confusing narrative the boy would tell of ''page Branch''. It was bound to be an interesting thing, and probably one most people would not believe.


    They left the quiet field, and entered the streets. Marrin kept close to Daniel, while Esra was like a hyperactive puppy and would zoom toward everything that caught his attention, only to dart back toward Daniel for praise. Daniel had said ''nice rock'', ''lovely flower'', and ''put that back where you found it'', at least three times each.


    Daniel pulled Marrin over to the side of the road, just in time as a group of Lordlings and attendants hurried by, heading toward the O''Tells House. He recognized one of Orville''s cousins, a little younger than himself, leaving from some social gathering no doubt. No doubt the mess he had...slightly been involved with, was going to get sorted. It was a big enough deal that the Lordlings were being gathered.


    After a moment, emptiness returned to the street.


    Daniel stepped out and looked toward the O''Tells estate. He could just make out the glittery towers. He couldn''t see the stainglass, of course, as the old servant''s hall had been too low to the ground to stand above the skyline. Regret, and frustration, as the first attack had been a literally Golem. Where else was he supposed to go? How else was he supposed to deal with it. Daniel just hoped Jasper and Shelby would be okay. And that Jasper wouldn''t get in trouble for releasing Esra from his timeout.


    The trio started walking again.


    "What do I need to do right now?" Asked Marrin. "You gave me a lot of tips and things to learn, and exercises, and math problems, for some reason...but what do I need to immediately?" He touched his hat, as if checking it was still on his head.


    "We need to get you free from the Sky Court."


    "We can''t do that. I didn''t want to work for them in the first place..."


    "There are ways..." Daniel said, standing at an intersection. He knew where he wanted to go, but given the rambling nature of the Citadel, the best path sometimes changed. "How good is your ability to spin a yarn?"


    "I can spin yarn really good, actually. That was my favorite part. Wool is good, but cotton is better for the summer..."


    What kind of yokel was Marrin after all? When he said he came from a farm...he actually meant it.


    "Just be ready." Daniel said. "I have a suspicion that we will have our opportunity will be arriving very soon."


    Daniel kept walking. He went along paths he was expected to walk across. The Citadel was beautiful, fresh and lively. It had been a place that thrived in the day, but it came alive at night. Shimmering shinning flowers formed archways. The paving stones of one section became pale glowing mirrors, like living lit puddles. One avenue was rather plain, but the breeze carried different scent, the old paper scent of ancient books, the clean scent of new ink, while other breezes had the spicy scents of nature, sharp ocean breezes, soft honeycomb.


    The Citadel could be equally dangerous and disturbing. But Elswith had been known for taking longer routes through these lovely regions, talking to no one, with no destination other than the journey itself, to spend time just existing there.


    It took several minutes of long sections and blocks passing him by before the opportunity found them.


    There was an explosion, a bright light, and Daniel used the crowbar to whack something away from himself...


    When he could see again, he found himself at the pointy end of a sword held by Lord Fredar.

 Chapter 99: Volcanos and Pressure Valves

    It had been a perfect ambush. Well, perhaps perfect was the wrong word. It had fooled Daniel''s senses and perception as a Lowling Fae Servant, but that was only to be expected. How could a Lowling have been able to see through the working of a much higher power?


    But was it an ambush if he had walked into it on purpose?


    Daniel looked beyond the blade''s tip to Lord Fredar. The Lord appearance was triumphant and smug, and with his new found confidence, he suddenly didn''t seem so skinny, though his shinny gaudy armor still looked too large and hung loosely on his frame. There were a few others who had been in wait for Daniel, mostly Lordlings Daniel recognized from Fredar''s circle. The others that emerged looked to be some form of retainers.


    "Why didn''t you bring your Enforcer squadron, Mi''lord?" Daniel asked.


    "Yield!" Said Fredar. He had somehow modified his power, limiting it. It was probably easy, because he had just barely enough power to be a Lord to begin with. Now, it set a bad precedent to do that with one''s power, and could even potentially damage one''s future growth.


    "Can I even get away?" Daniel chided. "If I were to yield now, the conversation would end too quickly. You went to a lot of effort to make sure there were people here to humiliate this Lowly Servant Branch."


    Lord Fredar glared. He pulled his sword back slightly, but still ready to cut Daniel.


    Daniel glanced backward and saw that Esra and Marrin were unaccosted, but from the number of Lordlings holding swords, they were clearly marked as potential enemies to the ambushing party. Marrin looked physically sick, as Daniel''s prediction was proved true. The large giant Fae was afraid, but at least he kept a cool head and hadn''t grabbed the Sword. It was clear that he knew they were in danger.


    "Thank you, Mi''Lord. For your kind deed of sending your enforcers. Did you hear about the Golem in the O''Tells estate? How did such a creature even find its way into such an established house!"


    Lord Fredar looked proud. "I have at last gathered you for my revenge! I didn''t even do it for the stupid Game. Now! Fear me!"


    Marrin looked like he took that command seriously, uselessly clutching his hat.


    Esra was playing solitaire on the ground, completely ignoring them. It would have looked better if Daniel''s side appeared as eager, bold, yet still worried and uncertain. That Daniel had forewarned this possibility meant that Esra thought he had it under control and was just waiting for the next adventure, and Marrin was probably terrified. It lacked the dramatic appeal Daniel had been going for, and for that he was a little disappointed.


    But he needn''t have bothered.


    The Game wasn''t watching them.


    Daniel took in more information as he counted the people attending this. No one impressive.


    Daniel didn''t even feel the band tightening on his limb. That meant that Lord Fredar was acting totally outside of his Authority over the Servant/Page/Squire Branch. Which only made sense. If one was going to ambush someone, it was much more polite to ambush a stranger than someone beholden to you. If that had happened while Daniel was on the clock as serving the Sky Court, then the injustice would have been immense. It was almost worth it for Daniel to try to slip into that role.


    "How about this trade, Mi''Lord." Said Daniel. "You do a favor for me, and I don''t tell the Sky Court about you accosting a servant on his way home with his fellow?"


    "Bold! You think too highly...Is that my enforcer with you?"


    "Oh, yeah. Very helpful guy."


    Lord Fredar shifted, and the sword pointed at Daniel shifted in response, just a little too close for Daniel''s comfort. "As your Squadron Commander, get over here to me..."


    "Esra?" Daniel said, before the terrified Marrin could so much take a step forward.


    Esra rolled his eyes and then slapped Marrin. The increased gravity sent the already exhausted Middling to the ground as Gravity increased. The Middling landed painfully on his wounded side and made a grunted cry of pain.


    Esra made an excited face, as he pulled an Ace from the deck and put it away into the upper right corner continuing to play his card game.


    "What is the meaning of this!" Said one of Fredar''s flunkies.


    "Oh, I''m saving him for later. Just wait, I''m not done telling the story! Where was I? That''s right...I was, as a Hall Attendant of the O''Tells, rightfully minding my own business in the garden, when I found myself compelled...." he had been compelled by Shelby and his own awakening morality, but he didn''t need to add that. "To join them, inside. Something about a Golem? I can hardly remember. That was an hour ago, around 9:45? Maybe?"


    Fredar clenched his teeth, realizing that he had been mere feet from Daniel and walked away.


    "Anyway, there this poor servant was, when for some reason, this lowly one was betrayed. By some fae lady calling herself Vye, and honestly it was like she wanted the Golem and whatever else trouble there was there, to succeed and destroy the O''Tells estate. She personally broke the windows in the Servant Hall. You know those big, stain glass windows. The famous ones?"The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Enough talk!" And Fredar moved to draw the blade closer to Daniel''s throat.


    Which was pushed away, by the Law of Fae.


    If this was the Second of Three assassination attempts, the Law of Fae would not have intervened. It could not have.


    But the Law of Fae was there now, swirling.


    "Do you see the Game?" Daniel said, pulling on his words to ring out as powerfully as he could. He drew closer to Lord Fredar, feeling the fae light enter his eyes.


    Lord Fredar paused, then looked around, trying to find it. So did all of his companions.


    "You do not. Because your turn was already spent. Thank you. Vye was very helpful. She and Frank and even this Marrin here...all very useful. Because the clock struck 10, Lord Fredar. While Vye and company were attacking yours truly. Interesting girl, that Vye. Almost like she improved in skill a lot over the span of a single day. And somehow...Vye lost. The Game called the Second Assassination attempt for the Servant Branch at something like 10:05. But you wouldn''t know that, because you were already laying in wait for someone innocently walking by."


    Lord Fredar glared at Marrin, puddled on the ground.


    Esra got a heart 7 card, and moved it to an awaiting 8, forming a growing column starting from a king, queen, jack, 10, 9.


    Those standing around Lord Fredar, in the dark ally that the Lordling Elswith was well known for favoring, looked increasingly uncomfortable.


    Daniel dropped his voice down, to a whisper. "Should I say to all your wonderful, influential friends over there...what exactly happened? I am sure you told them something about how I wronged you. How I broke faith? How you would get your revenge. Stop coming after me, Lord Fredar. Your increasingly ridiculous defeats are becoming embarrassing. First I beat you as Lordlings. Then I beat you when you were a Lord. Now, I am a lowly servant, and look. I. Still. Beat. You."


    Lord Fredar returned to his full power and tried to slice Daniel again, but the Law of Fae was present and pushed down the attack.


    "I walk away. This never happened. I don''t tell anyone about this for six months. I let those in the Sky Court think you knew what Vye was doing. It was a clever ploy. It didn''t work, but at least it wasn''t as blatantly obvious as laying in wait for a servant on his favorite way home. You will get some praise for that."


    "What do you want?"


    "I could ask for power, but the game would refuse it. My hands are tied. So I will offer a compromise."


    Fredar''s eyes gleamed with hate.


    Daniel teased different paths forward. "I desire Marrin to suffer." The words rang out long and true from the Law of Fae. "Both Frank and ''Vye'' are alive, so you will have no grievances with me. But I couldn''t reach them, so Marrin I took."


    Marrin, watching, went pale. Esra had eased up on the gravity pushing him downward.


    Esra himself found another heart card and added it to his growing column, ignoring everyone.


    Just as well.


    Daniel continued. "Marrin is clumsy, unsophisticated. Kind. Much too kind. I would rather see you, Lord Fredar, every day than Marrin." It was true. But not for those reasons that he stated. "At least you have manners, decorum."


    Fredar was examining Daniel. He knew, of course, that Daniel was tricking him.


    That was perfectly okay with Daniel.


    "Give me Marrin." Daniel said.


    "He''s a subcommander. Mummy won''t get me another one to replace him."


    Daniel made a face. "Since when did Lord Fredar await for his mummy to arrange things for him? Look. This is a bad idea. I''ll just let everyone know you tried to kill me but couldn''t because Vye attacked me before you could, and that you probably didn''t even realize who Vye was..."


    Daniel started walking away.


    Fredar grabbed him arm. There was a multitude of reasons. The first was the embarrassment. But the second was that perhaps Vye wasn''t supposed to be discovered or swapped. If the attack from Vye had been the main plan, then at least it had some boldness for those Watching the Game. But to reveal that Kane had deceived Lord Fredar and then still failed?


    "I will punish him myself." Said Lord Fredar.


    "Not good enough. You would be pleased with his actions. I will have my revenge. Like you will no doubt have yours against me tomorrow when I am again your page tomorrow. I cannot leave him in your authority."


    "Ash Court." said Lord Fredar.


    Daniel paused. Not ideal. He wanted Marrin completely expelled from the enforcers. Honestly, if he could send Marrin into the Library, that would be the best for him. The librarians were very quiet about all political things.


    Fredar made a pained expression, and Daniel guessed that transferring Marrin was the best he could do. "That''s were we send those who displease us. The Ash Court is completely broke, and nearly bankrupt. It won''t be a good environment. Even you would find it hot and arid, the air itself scalding."


    "That is not exactly a punishment."


    "They are practically a fallen Court. Their conditions are terrible. They have no Lords there, and their leader is merely an old Lordling. Impossible for promotion. Their Citadel residence buffets next to a volcano. They rarely campaign because they can''t afford the travel fees, so they never gather new influence."


    "And how is that different from releasing Marrin to me directly for punishment?"


    "Sky Court may owe the Ash Court a favor. He can spend the rest of his career as an enforcer there. This is the best way for me to save face."


    Marrin...going to a ruined court?


    It was better than staying at the Sky Court. Honestly, it may be rough for Marrin. But...away from the Sky Court was the aim. If they never campaigned, then Marrin probably wouldn''t accidentally reveal that he was a newly minted Heirling.


    It would also keep Marrin out of play long enough for this Game to play itself out. Either Daniel would win, earn his freedom, save the children, the towns on the outskirts, and Witness...


    Or he would lose and not have the time to bother worrying about other people anymore.


    "But Frank and Vye are completely free of this." Injected Lord Fredar, as those watching from the outside started to agitate and poke around.


    Darn. Fredar had covered that avenue. Daniel had been hoping to punish those two later...


    But Daniel capitulated. "Fine. What happened with Frank and Vye is finished, and there will be no....residual feelings. But transfer Marrin right now, and I will accompany him there myself. If it is not as you said, then I maintain it be thrice as bad for you."


    A common occurrence of insurance.


    It may be a miserable place. But Daniel wanted to make sure it was actually as...inactive as prescribed.


    If Marrin was revealed as a new Heirling while a Game was active?


    Games were typically release valves, when something came. It prevented the Courts from going to war. It allowed the Fae to play out the situation. But Capital G games didn''t happen very often. And Daniel was not sure if two could even be at play at once. So, with no safety value...should Marrin be revealed...


    The pressure would build up and up and up. And have no choice but to explode like a volcano.


    "Deal." Said Fredar.

 Chapter 100: Rising Action

    As Lord Fredar transferred Marrin to the Ash Court, Daniel considered again how fortunate he had been to side step this ambush. If he had been caught aware...perhaps he could have deflected the attack, removed the old boarded up drain cover, and plunged below to an uncertain fate...


    But instead, due to Kane''s eagerness to advance, she had stolen a good opportunity, and now Daniel even managed to ''free'' Marrin. He had also uncovered that Marrin was now an Heirling. Marrin seemed to be...a decent enough fellow.


    Lord Fredar wrote a letter, using a quill and a parchment acquired from one of his flunkies, and then with a flourish, sealed Marrin''s fate.


    "There. He is punished. The Ash Court''s Enforcers will see that he suffers."


    And Daniel nodded. "And I am now bound to be unable to share about the surprise attack not being....coordinated from you."


    "And Vye and Frank are removed from further punishment."


    "That too."


    And Daniel smiled at him, sincerely. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mi''lord."


    "Tomorrow, you will suffer for this."


    "That, Mi''lord, is tomorrow."


    "One day, you will learn how terrible it is to cross me." Said Lord Fredar, and he left shrugging, saying "We have the Ball to attend." he said, and vanished with his flunkies, being careful to take all the evidence of the botched ambush.


    As he left, Daniel was left with the thought that one day, hopefully many years from this night, when Marrin was revealed as the next Master of the Sword of Storms, Fredar would have actually grown up and made himself a useful member to his Court and the Waalsa alliance.


    Because when it was revealed that Lord Fredar had traded away Marrin, Heirling and future Lord of the Sword of the Storm, to save his own reputation...


    Lord Fredar may find himself out of a job.


    And his life.


    Lord Fredar and company had gone away. Marrin was officially transferred to the Ash Court. Daniel was left with the remaining hour until the next day started to do whatever he wished with Marrin. Marrin just had to appear, in mostly whole condition, to the Ash Court the next day.


    And just like that...Marrin, Son of Castor was free.


    Daniel went over, and spent a moment admiring Esra''s solitaire game. The Mage had almost finished. "You are getting fast at that."


    "I only played one card draw, so...it was pretty easy. Almost impossible to lose."


    "Are they gone?" Daniel asked, softly under his breathe. Experience or not, as a Lowling Fae, he lacked the power to properly check.


    Esra shrugged. "Anyone who stays has to go with me on an adventure!" He yelled across the abandoned pathway. Daniel wanted to flee, since staying would imply that he wanted to go on an adventure with Esra.


    But Esra had helped him. And if it kept Esra happy, and therefore more inclined to be quiet...it was a small sacrifice to make.


    Besides, that was even assuming Daniel survived the Game.


    Esra finished his game and pumped the air. "I win, and Da Bois Trip is happenin''! Last person we need to get is Pockets. Hey, Stormcrow," he said to Marrin, who was still under his gravity spell and was basically a puddle on the pavement. "Stormcrow, you like s''more? There is chocolate, melted over marshmallows, and graham crackers! Normally I smuggle the chocolate out from the Dusted Plains, but..."


    Marrin was making pained, gasping sounds.


    "Esra, he''s not me. He isn''t used to...your antics and shenanigans."


    "Oops." said Esra, and pulled the gravity off.


    Marrin almost shot upright. He must have been fighting to get up all along, and when gravity returned to normal...


    The big tall oof breathed, coughing. He rolled his shoulder. Thankfully, it seemed his wound hadn''t reopened. "I didn''t know you could do that. Why don''t you use that on the battlefield?"


    Actually, that was a good question.


    "It only works to those who consider me their friend." Said Esra, with a pointed look at Daniel. "Spikes, you did know that that doesn''t work on people who resist me right? A lot of stuff only works for those who somehow...trust me. Cause they are my friend."


    Daniel felt his spine stiffen.


    All of his years of protesting that he and Esra were not friends suddenly came to mind.


    "We aren''t friends." He stated the obvious again.


    "Right...I understand Spikes. You got your reputation to maintain. But I know that you really trust me and my judgement."


    It must be something else. Or Esra didn''t understand how his power worked. On their second campaign, Elswith had watched Esra eat a rock because he thought it was a berry. The rock wasn''t round nor vaguely berry colored.


    Marrin stood awkwardly, fear and confusion. "Um...so...what happened? How did you know that that would happen?"


    "Back when you were going to go into the O''Tells estate and I happened to be doing some late night gardening, I also happened to watched Lord Fredar leave for a gala or something. But if he was only going to a party, he would have had a carriage. He never arrives to parties on foot. As the night wore on, and I realized that...Frank and Vye were there trying to sabotage the first assassination attempt, and perhaps even acted without Lord Fredar''s knowledge. I also knew that there may be other, more deadly traps. So I decided to try and trigger Lord Fredar. I was guided by the Law of Fae."Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "So wise." Said Marrin, bending over to pick up his fallen green hat.


    "Spikes just says that when he lucks out." Said Esra, shuffling his cards before returning them to their little case.


    "But you haven''t seen the Ash Court yet." said Daniel, wishing again he could leave Esra behind again. Somehow, Esra had followed him, and somehow, Esra hadn''t messed up the Game yet. Before the next and finally assassination attempt arrived, he would have to deal with Esra. Maybe he could send Esra and Marrin off together. Would the Ash Court take the Gravity Mage? Anything was possible...


    "Let''s go." And Daniel led them onward.


    Their next paths were not so pleasant and nice. There were no more roads paved with flowers and singing and softly glowing words. Archways of flowers, big open glittery skies, and stones that played soft musical notes as one stepped across.


    No, now that Daniel wanted privacy, he went through the worst roads of the Citadel.


    These next roads were dark. Or so bright that the eyes were blinded and the skin stung. Or twisted, deceptive tempting the unwary off into the darkness. Esra fell off a cliff once, but Daniel just rolled his eyes, knowing that Esra would work it out. The smell, Daniel thought, was the worst part.


    "My dad''s name isn''t Castor..." Marrin added, as they waited for Esra to come back. Daniel would have kept going, but Marrin clearly wanted to wait.


    Daniel shrugged. "That would have been an unlikely coincidence if he had been named thatly."


    "So...why did it work? When I was...holding the Sword?"


    "Castor was the founder and first member of the Court of the Angered Clouds of Hue of Green as the Whirlwind of the Sky Descends to Uproot the Lands Beneath and Above." Daniel said, being careful to get the cadence correct as he spoke the ancient name. "Castor, first documented wielder of the Sword of the Storm. I wanted the Sword to remember what should have been the best battles and its proudest moments."


    Marrin fell quiet. "You got me safe." he said at last. "I finally got away from the Sky Court''s enforcers."


    "It will be dangerous, being an Heirling. No matter what, you need to avoid wielding in your left hand. Now that you are an Heirling, you have a limited time."


    "Ash Court." he said. "Is that supposed to be bad?"


    "They have been shrinking and disappearing for decades. I don''t have a relationship either positive nor negatively. But even a Ruined Court will be safer. You can get all the power you need, of course. Focus on those basics. I will check in with you when I can."


    Marrin hemmed "On the Farm I grew up on, we use ash to help plants grow."


    Daniel paused. "Truly?"


    "If the soil is depleted, or too acidic, ash is the best thing for it. It has good nutrients too."


    Far below, Esra made a sound and a eclipse of moths swarmed away; the Gravity Mage had done something or other to offend them.


    "I just feel like...The Ash Court isn''t going to be so bad."


    <hr>


    Those who had been watching the Game were bored, as there was no action. They had had an enjoyable first hour, watching all the trials of and challenges.


    They had ooohed, they had aaaaed.


    But then after the surprise beginning of the second assassination attempt lead to the second hour being completed seemingly prematurely, there was no reason for the Game to follow The Servant Branch.


    The Game made an Announcement:


    FIRST ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT: CONCLUSION: FAILURE.


    VICTOR: SERVANT BRANCH


    Across the Seelie Court, powerful beings watched on.


    SECOND ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT: CONCLUSION: FAILURE.


    VICTOR: SERVANT BRANCH/SPIKES


    And then the Game had nothing else to add. And went away.


    So the High Fae were left to their own devices.


    The various High Fae Lords and Fae of high influence watching the Game tittered, hummed, and strummed. They had enjoyed watching the scene from afar, but now that the Game was at a early pausing, many Fae wondered what to do next. They found themselves impatient for the next attack to begin. So across the Seelie Realm, and even some places in the Unseelie, different observing Lords and High Lords, Senate and Court alike, waited with the unexpected free time.


    <hr>


    The Lord of the Northern Wind took long strides, back and forth across the parlor of the palace he was currently housing himself and his Court. The motion then the abrupt conclusion of the second Assassination Attempt left him restless and searching for something to hold his attention.


    A Senator who resembled Kane had left unannounced.


    The Lord of Smoke had settled into a small puddle on her chair, still muttered that "it shouldn''t be allowed. He had too many allies." and otherwisingly sulking.


    ¡°Why did the Game end so fast!" Complained the Lord of Grass, to even fewer people.


    Newcomers, who had no interest in politics, had tuned in and watched the capture replay.


    For example, across the moonbridge, a Fae Couple, not involved overly muchly in politics, cooed over their new born. "Such excitment!" Said the Father fae.


    "Very muchly. So should we find a Circle for our small one?" Said the wife. "Look how prepared that young one was! That Branch fellow."


    <hr>


    There was another group that was baffled.


    <hr>


    The ground who had sent the Golem was panicking. A large crystal suspended between the floor and the ceiling was spinning, but the inside was dull and dark. No light filled that place. In a space normally too large but now crowded beyond its normal capacity beyond all possibility, the hunkering crowds fidgeted and shivered.


    "Where is it?" Asked the cold Fae. Ice was spreading throughout the room. "Where is the spirit?"


    "It''s...gone." The Controller was shivering, working his numb stiff fingers as swiftly as he could. "I don''t understand." profusely, reworking the matrix again and again, fingers draped in shadow. The overseers were taking turns threatening him and reassuring the rulers that this was normal. "It should have come back after the clock struck 10. We gave it extra time...But...it''s gone."


    "Find the replay. We must find the last person who held the Golem."


    <hr>


    And there were those who were not Fae watching the Game.


    <hr>


    In the Darkest Depth of the Sea, a formerly serene figure was clenching her husband''s clothes in a deathly tight grip as they watched together. "He can do it." she whispered. Her eyes glowed aquamarine.


    "Wife, you will creature a tsunami." Said her husband.


    "We must get ready."


    "Don''t you wish to finish watching?"


    "There is a party to attend." She drifted away from her husband. "And for the first time in years, we shall not be late."


    "Are you even invited, love?" He asked her, reluctantly letting go of her hand.


    "I am the Sea Which. I attend whichever party I decide."


    <hr>


    Finally, there was someone watching who had seen just a little too much of the Game, and understood that despite the showmanship...there was something susicipous about it that the Former Heirling Elswith had tried to hide.


    <hr>


    High above the rolling land, lingering in the silver shining trees in which he ruled his court, The High Fae of the Green Sword Faction, threaded his fingers together. He glared at the Game, but his focus was not on Lordling Elswith. He felt he may lose composure as he watched the actions happening behind the fallen Lordlings. He carefully, ever so neutrally, gestured to a servant. "Bring me a list of all those who entered the O''Tells Estate today." He said. It would be a long list, but that was his best way to discover who had entered with Elswith.


    <hr>


    Marrin regretted his earlier words as they reached their destination.


    He stood next to Branch and the Idiot, and he could even feel the disquiet and sympathy from the Idiot.


    Firstly, it was hot. Very hot. There was a burning crimson light to the edges of the black starry sky as the in fact erupting volcano was casting huge red sparks outward. The building was broken. Clearly once a great manor house, now it looked like something powerful had torn it in half, then tried to jam the two halves together.


    There were no guards outside, there were no attendants. There were no lights in the window, except for where Marrin was certain sparks from the eruption had caused a small fire to break out inside the building. There were mounds of ash, like drifts of snow, but much less inviting. The ground itself seemed terrible.


    "Welcome." Said Branch, carefully. "To your new home."


    So.


    This was the Ash Court.

 Chapter 101: Thats a lot of Dalmatians

    Kenton had been at the Stable, finishing his duties and task. The excitement from his time still made him feel weak. It certainly had nothing to do with the strangely appeared blue box that floated in his peripheral vision and came forward when he thought about it.


    <table style="width: 27.1183%" border="1">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%; text-align: center">The System is here to help you get stronger! ? I am to comfort and equip you to face your fears! ? It doesn¡¯t matter who you are, anyone can face their fears and grow stronger. ?</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    He shook his head, and looked at a drawing of his beloved to calm himself. Sarah Beth wearing her white summer dress and her blue shawl and her golden hair, with her engagement brooch.


    It didn''t have the desired effect, as he remembered the...monster thing that had taken on the form of his fianc¨¦e.


    Maybe he''d go visit her. Skip work until this entire Game situation had ended. He hadn''t taken a vacation in years and years...


    Then he remembered Elswith, and he knew he couldn''t leave the boy to himself.


    <table style="width: 27.1183%" border="1">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%; text-align: center">


    Player: Kenton


    Level ¡ü Up ¡ü


    Assign new stat points


    </td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>


    "No." he told the System. It had been trying to get his attention ever since he first acknowledged it.


    At least the bright screen faded when he didn''t want to look at it anymore. Standing from his chair, he stood and stretched, planning to leave for the night. He had waited until at long last, when he was certain that all others in positions of authority had gone away, and therefore there was no more risk of being interviewed, again, about what had happened. He couldn''t believe the Dungeon was so close. And that it had chosen...Elswith. What to do tomorrow, when Elswith came again? Should he make sure the boy had a key at all times? Should he just follow him? That didn''t work, because Kenton had been with Elswith when the Dungeon grabbed him the first time!!!


    He sighed, and reached for his coat...


    Only to have the Stable move...while he had been standing there.


    Bad. Very bad.


    The Stable was always most dangerous at night. Why had he left wishing to avoid confrontations with management keep him here! Especially after today.


    He felt his body shiver, and he wished he''d looked at the picture of Sarah Beth one more time to calm his nerves.


    There was an off-tune whistling approaching him.


    Kenton felt his heart rate increase. It went faster and faster.


    He felt the little golden key around his neck. Was he in the Dungeon...no. This looked like the Stable...


    There was a splashing sound, and Kenton abruptly realized he was in the Hippogriffs room, with the cheery little terracotta red tiles and the large but shallow pool. This room was never used, as it had been something of an insult.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The room was warmer, and he realized someone had messed with the setting to make the pool water as hot as boiling soup. Kenton hadn''t realized that the temperature was adjustable.


    The whistling sound continued, and Kenton wished he had a place to hide. He thought about darting behind some of the large decorative pots...but they were too small to hide him completely.


    Better to face whatever terrible dangerous thing head on.


    He raised his fists upward, drawing on his very small fighting experience. He could box...right? He remembered certain fist fights as a child.


    His tension ratcheted up and up and up as the footsteps drew closer.


    Finally, as the last note of the whistling hit a long, warbling note...


    A skinny redhaired girl appeared. She had her hair wrapped up in a towel with little sprigs of red poking out, and she was wearing pajamas, a bathrobe, and slippers. She looked...almost like she expected to see him there. "Are you the lovable mentor?" she asked.


    "Who are you? Are you...bathing here?"


    "Here? No, of course not. I just had a fantastic Epsom salt bath over in the guest quarters and overnight place. Great amenities."


    "There are no guest quarters in the Stable..." he hedged, realizing he was talking to what appeared to be an ordinary girl. Probably a servant...though, what servant would be bold enough to be here so late at night?


    She made a face, and looked upward. Kenton could just barely see embroidery that read ''Guest Quarters and Overnight Stable Services'' on the towel she had her hair wrapped up in.


    Kenton felt lost for words. If she was joking, that was a lot of dedication merely for a prank.


    "Look, miss. It''s dangerous here at night. Seriously, you need to go."


    The pool, which was turning and boiling, made a popping sound. Kenton didn''t realize it went that high. Honestly, despite working in the Stable for so many years and decades, he didn''t realize that the pool could change temperatures at all, let alone that much. Why would they do that? What need would any creature need for boiling baths?


    The redhead went over to the side and pulled out the tool used to clean leaves and whatnot from the surface of the water. Kenton thought it was called a skimmer. She stuck the net end into the water, almost expertly, and was clearly looking for something...


    "So, I don''t think you are the mentor, which is good for your longevity in general. I don''t know what role you have though...let me ask you some questions, if you don''t mind."


    "Um...Miss, I think I should leave you to your own devices..." Kenton had made it so long by avoiding drama.


    "Okay, so...you are cautious...the unlikely hero, maybe? I''m sorry, I''m just trying to figure out why we bumped into each other at all. Because the Stable is up to something..." she looked him over, from head to toe...


    Kenton realized he had not tucked his golden key back under his shirt collar when her eyes lingered around his neck.


    He darted to hide it, for whatever good that would do him, but she smiled and almost danced excitedly. "Hey, look, we have the same necklace!" she said, almost dropping the skimmer as she freed one hand to reach and pull out the end of a necklace that ended in a small, golden key.


    "What...How did you get...that..."


    Because that looked exactly like his golden key. Which was a rare, and almost priceless artifact. It was his, as he was a retired mapper. But should he leave the employment of the Stable entirely, the golden key would stay behind.


    "I would like to say I got this easily, but actually I walked through three deserts, two jungles, and four city blocks looking for this. And then I had to work customer service too. Which felt like the hardest part, honestly." She tucked her key back under her pajama top, completely not disturbed by being found by a strange Fae. "Then I had to rescue over a hundred Dalmatians too...but that''s beside the point." she returned her other hand to the pool skimmer.


    She hummed a moment, before continuing to express her first thought. "So...Why has the Stable, which has been a very accommodating host thus far, want us to meet?" she mused. Her skimmer found what she was looking for, and she made a pleased wordless sound. "Gacha." she said, and after a moment of precise movements, she lifted the pool skimmer up and outward. In the net end was a small doll, craved from marble, white, with blue seriations.


    "It took a lot of work to wash away all the mean, loose dirt, but now look at it."


    "What is it?"


    "I don''t know, Kenton. But this was the thing powering the Golem. They tried to pull it back. Too bad I have a smattering of training in Steam Engineering."

 Chapter 102: Continuing onward

    The marble doll was white marble with blue striations. It wiggled and moved slightly. Cleary it hated the current situation. There were small, smashing sounds, like two stone surfaces grinding against each other. Clearly, it boiled with rage and anger.


    Kenton was certain he would too if someone so much larger than him did what the redhead did, using her fingers and tickling the doll''s tummy.


    "How do you like it now? Tummy scritches! Tummy scritches!" She said, and kept applying vigorous finger movements to the doll.


    "Um...I don''t think you should be doing that..."


    "Kenton, I know this looks like bullying, but not long ago, everything was flipped and I was super little and this little falla was trying to kill me. Well, I was the same size now that I was then, but this thing used to be huge, like a giant. Now the turns have tabled. It''s my payback. This thing almost killed me like 3 times. Which is lower than my normal average of attempts on my life by the same creature in a given hour, but if I don''t extract my revenge now..."


    Kenton wanted to leave. This was not going to be good for him...


    If only he didn''t see that she had a golden key as well. His fear for Elswith would be greatly reduced if he knew the boy had a way to escape the Dungeon at all times.


    "So, Kenton, what do you plan on assigning your stat points on anyway?" she asked as she tired of scratching playfully at the doll''s tummy. Instead, she put the doll into her bathrobe pocket.


    Wait...she had used his name before.


    Kenton started backing away. Forget trying to either borrow her key or even purchasing it. Elswith''s safety was tomorrows journey. He had become complacent. Kenton should have run away at the first moment the Stable had moved.


    She didn''t say anything as Kenton reached the door. Once Kenton was away, he darted, running at full speed, feeling his age. He started seeing familiar hallway outside, and he knew he was getting closer and closer to an exit. He raced by a few unlucky late night workers, a group of Lordlings looking very depressed, one room where it was still somehow daytime despite the late hour. Finally, the exit was before him. He tucked his head down, and sprinted, clutching his key. He imagined leaving the Stable, like he used to when he was a full time mapper.


    The sounds of the Outside World got louder and louder.


    He was nearly there...


    Until he sprinted back into the large room with the cheery little terracotta red tiles and the large but shallow pool.


    The girl was gone though. Kenton sighed, breathing heavily.


    "What do you want?" He asked the Stable. "I retired. I''m done. I don''t want to play."


    The Stable rumbled, almost sadly.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    "Hey, I know today was probably stressful, but you don''t need to take it out on the Stable." Said the girl, reentering from the other side. She had changed from her bathrobe, pajamas, and slippers. She now wore a somewhat stylish muted blue gown, with practical brown leather boots. On one hand was a thin leather glove, though it hummed with some current of power. She had also put on a little hat on her head that only covered half of the top of her head and revealed pinned curls leading to a sturdy bun. Her nose was a bit plain though.


    She must have used magic, because Kenton had only been gone for less than a few minutes. Perhaps 10 minutes at the maximum amount of time.


    "What do you want?" Kenton asked again. He kept his arms from rising combatively, but only because he had remembered he lost every fist fight he had as a child.


    "Me? I don''t know. I mostly have everything I want for right now. And wanting stuff is dangerous. There are things out there that feel your needful thoughts. So, I try to be happy. I want to keep my 4.0 GPA, but I also acknowledge that as long as I do my best, that''s enough. This is kind of my gap year, so I''m making the most of it."


    Kenton debated leaving again and trying to escape the Stable, but finally sighed. "Why did you bring me here?"


    "I didn''t bring you here. I didn''t come here on purpose either. But after you made a runner, I realized that the...what does Sir Conan Doyle say? The Game''s afoot! So I went back to my suite and grabbed some better clothes for adventuring. Trust me, adventuring in a bathrobe is really hard to do well."


    "How did you know my name?" Kenton asked her.


    "You have a screen. ''Player: Kenton, Level ¡ü Up ¡ü, Assign new stat points. I was just curious if you had a plan for your stats or not. I have several strategy guides from my time in...let''s call it Seoul for now. It''s not the same, but it''s so close..."


    "You can see the blue box?" When Kenton''s already pale face went paler, she held up a hand in a calming way.


    "It''s annoying. It will keep popping up until you clear all the messages. Can''t you see mine?" She gestured at nothing.


    Kenton squinted his eyes, really trying to see.


    But he didn''t see any kind of screen around her at all.


    "Okay, it might just be a me thing then. If you can''t see mine, let me introduce myself. I''m Shelby." said the red haired girl. "I am currently a maid at the O''Tells, but I think I might get fired. I''m just traveling through this region."


    Kenton eyed the door longingly. He was so close! But there was a certain unsettling confidence to the stranger that made him realize that he had very little power in this current affair.


    "I''m Kenton. Though, you already knew that" he said, feeling his freedom leak from his body. It wasn''t captured by the Law of Fae, but a sense of dread was growing in his chest. He actually vaguely felt that he was stronger than the maid, not that the power disparity seemed to faze her at all. It was an attitude he recognized from himself after the years he had worked in the stable. He had worked amongst creatures so much stronger than himself that their danger hardly registered. It helped that as a Mapper, he normally had a way out of every situation. But there were times when a creature strong enough to blot him from ground nuzzled him for extra oats or meat cubes.


    Kenton had always wondered where the meat came from.


    He had also decided he never wanted to know.


    "Kenton. Nice to meet you. I will now tell you exactly what you are wondering about that little blue box, what it means, and the true purpose of the Stable..."


    She was interrupted by a crashing sound in the distance.


    It came from the inner Stable.


    The least stable region of the Great Stable.


    "Oh, well, I''ll info dump later. Let''s go check that out." She said, as though she had expected her speech to be interrupted.


    No, she had been...about to share information to hurry some ongoing lower case g game along.


    His respect for her rose massively.


    So did his trepidation.


    If she was truly just wandering through...


    Where had she wandered from? And could she please go back there at once.


    "Are you coming," she asked, as she left and the room itself pushed Kenton forward. He glared at the Stable. Why did he even need to walk if the Stable was just going to move him anyway.

 103: The Lefthand Path and the Door that was found there

    There was always the sound of water, a certain drip, drip, drip echoing across distant halls and ancient corridors. The outer regions of the Stable had windows, and the feeling of movement, a fresh breeze, sunlight.


    In the deeper, ancient places, however, even as the stones beneath ones feet changed and the passage ways grew wider, there always felt a sense of shadow, deep and dark, and water. Drip, drip, drip.


    Kenton wished he had managed to grab his coat, before the Stable had moved him forcibly from his little office. The further inside the Stable, the further away warmth and light. And without his coat, which contained many essentials, he was much more at the whims of the will of the Stable.


    Also, inside his jacket had been one of the lesser maps he had kept. Maps were very important the deeper inside the ever changing structure of the Stable one went.


    "Do you know where you are going?" Asked Kenton, as he saw Shelby lead continually towards worse, and worse, passage ways. He finally spoke up right before she made the worst turn down a dangerous corridor. This was one all mappers showed new mappers. Never enter this tunnel, for unlike most of the other corridors, this next passage clearly was dangerous and actively hostile. It was like the Stable declared it off limits, antagonistic to the unwary visitors, and completely inhospitable.


    "Toward the danger." she said, gesturing toward the black, gapping maw of the tunnel. "The sounds came from there."


    "But there is another hallway that leads the same direction." Kenton said. "Just up ahead."


    Every mapper had to traverse it somewhat, it was assumed. Every mapper had a moment or two in their career when that passage way opened before them. It was a rite of passage, what separated those apprenticed mappers from the true, golden key holding professional mappers. Every professional mapper had entered here. Not every mapper made it back.11 mappers had vanished down that tunnel over the centuries. That they knew about. No one knew how many apprentice mappers had vanished.


    Kenton hated that tunnel. He would do whatever he could to avoid it.


    "Running from danger doesn''t always work out for me." She replied simply.


    "Flanking is still a good practice!" Said Kenton, using his natural Authority as someone who had actively mapped the ever changing Stable for decades. And the Law of Fae agreed with him. "We don''t need to go directly into the mouth of the beast to fight it!"


    She sighed, defeated. "Okay. It will probably be longer. But fine. You lead."


    Kenton looked down the changing, dark and dank tunnel that made his stomach crawl with nervousness. And then walked up one hallway, and across another, and found another hallway that often mirrored the first and led to the same group of rooms.


    This one was not covered with slime and oozing, moving moss. There were no drop snakes with beast blood eyes and silvery venom. There was no cold empty voids with reaching fingers.


    Every so often, they could still hear the noise of crashing, every so often. The alternative path was working!


    "So..." asked Shelby, after they wandered for several minutes through dark and dripping tunnels. "You like tacos?"


    Was she trying...small talk?


    Impossible.


    Kenton was about to scold her for speaking, when he spotted the Silver Door, entrance to the Dungeon, lurking in the shadow. It wasn''t even fully attached to the wall.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "I prefer meat pies." He said, resolutely staring forward. No matter what happened, he would not go into the Dungeon. Better to ignore it completely "Or shepherds pie."


    Drip, drip, drip went the water from unknowable places.


    "I like potatoes." volunteered the redhaired servant girl. "Fry them, boil them, mash them. Cover them with cheese. All good options."


    He wanted to listen for danger. The role of mapper was ultimately a solo affair. No music, no conversation, no dreaming of future plans. Every moment of tracing the deep parts of the Stable were meant to be fixed, permanent, completely focused. It had been exhausting on the nerves, and even then still so dangerous.


    His return to the profession was not off to a good start. Especially with his forced companion rattling off her favorite ways to cook and eat potatoes.


    There were a lot of ways that he didn''t even consider to cook and eat potatoes.


    If she had been his apprentice mapper, he would have told her to be quiet. But as he didn''t even understand where she existed in the Fae hierarchy, it was always wise to hold one''s tongue. Because, and he couldn''t express this enough, he did not want to get involved with Fae politics!


    Why had the Stable forced this strange...companionship? Where was the Stable taking him? He had always felt that the Stable favored him somewhat, but now those thoughts abandoned him.


    He paused, as he came across a familiar room.


    The Eastern Red Room. It''s door frame seemed deeper, somehow. More intricate. There were faces of strange creatures around it, craved into the frame, with hollow eyes, staring unseeingly outward.


    But what was it doing here, so deep inside the Stable? He had never seen it here before. and he had spent decades mapping the Stable.


    Maybe it just looked similar. There were uncountable numbers of rooms. Abandoned animal yards. Strange care devices for creatures no longer kept. Forgotten carriages with strange contraptions. Perhaps there were similar rooms, too.


    He kept walking, not wanting to see inside the room.


    "Why are you here?" Asked Shelby. "What''s your motivation?"


    Personal questions were always an option when dealing with Fae. But Kenton never trusted such questions nor their askers. "Jobs have meaning." He said, blandly.


    "Oh." said Shelby. "Well, that''s a good answer." she causally threw some favor at him.


    He tossed it back at her. "It was a generic answer, no need."


    She sighed. "I''ll figure it out." But she blessedly fell silent.


    A stone shattered somewhere up ahead.


    "Well. Looks like we found the flank." She said.


    And something, ahead, unseen, in the Darkness, looked at them.


    The mere focus of its presence caused a ripple throughout the Stable.


    It didn''t only affect Kenton and his unwanted companion.


    A cauldron of bats emerged from up ahead. The sudden high pitched cries piercing the darkness, the number numerous. The bats were large and of some magical variation Kenton had only seen a handful of times. Flesh eaters; terrible predators. Encountering a few was considered bad luck. A swarming cauldron of those black creatures?


    The strategy was always have meat cubes, though it rarely mattered as encountering one or three was uncommon. But a swarm...


    The hair on the back of Kenton''s neck rose.


    And he didn''t even have his jacket, where he had refilled many essentials such as meat cubes.


    "Run." He said, grabbing Shelby''s hand and dragging her away.


    She almost didn''t go with him, despite her thin frame she seemed very heavy. But she changed her momentum, and started following after him.


    The bats continued to swarm past them, hundreds, no, thousands. And they didn''t stop. They were fleeing from whatever was ahead in the hall.


    What was chasing them? What had caused all those bats to flee? Kenton did not intend to find out.


    The bats came so quickly that the hall was plunged into complete darkness.


    Kenton moved toward the Eastern Red Room, no longer caring that it appeared deeper inside the Stable than any previous expedition. He was ignoring so much common sense. The common sense wisdom of the mappers was flee from danger. But Kenton was concerned, as he saw the Silver Door, yet again, and almost, almost considered entering it. He had two choices, as he ran away from the swarm of bats.


    The Dungeon, or the room that didn''t belong.


    Because that was another piece of wisdom, shared down from the mappers of yore.


    If a room appears where it doth not reside


    Perhaps, Braveheart, do not look inside.


    Lest thy find thyself most surprised


    But he couldn''t go into the Dungeon. He just couldn''t.


    So he pulled Shelby into the Eastern Red room, hoping that somehow....everything would be okay.

 Chapter 104: The Eastern Red Room

    Kenton and Shelby entered the room as the cauldron of bats swarmed past, continuing down the dark path. Their cries hurt his ears, but at least his unlikely companion seemed to be resistant to noise, as she broke another cardinal rule of Mappers, and moved to close the door.


    Most of the places in the Stable had no true doors. Storage rooms had sliding doors, stalls had stall doors, and the rare saloon had strange doors that swung open both ways and only blocked the middle of the doorway.


    Few rooms, however, actually had proper, locking doors. And when doors closed in the Stable, where rooms moved and the path was always changing, almost anything could happen.


    But the force of that being that caused the bats to flee was drawing closer.


    So Kenton joined in, shattering one of the most important Mappers'' Rules: Don''t close doors unless you really, really need to. The actual wisdom was set to rhyme, but in this moment, with thousands of bats so vicious that even a few were considered deadly, running from something even worse, Kenton didn''t waste time and joined Shelby''s efforts.


    Together, as the presence of the monster outside came nearer, Shelby and Kenton closed the door; an echo resounded throughout the Eastern Red Room.


    "Young''un, I thought you said running from danger doesn''t work for you." Kenton chided, feeling his age. He''d worked in the Stable for over a hundred years, and his joints could tell him when the different rooms moved some days.


    "I didn''t run away. You did. I just tagged along. Besides...that doesn''t count." She laughed merrily, leaning against the door, as if to hold it shut against the approaching...thing. "Was that a Cold One?"


    Not surprised by her knowing of something few even dared spoke of, Kenton joined her by similarly leaning against the door. He laughed himself, a deep chuckle from his body. "No. It wasn''t." the bitter taste in his mouth made him pause, "We''d be dead if that was a Cold One."


    "Noted."


    The feeling of danger beyond the door diminished, but whether it was from the absence of the bats, the unknown danger, or that the hall itself had moved.


    "Oh." Said the girl beside him. "Oh wow." She stood and took in the room.


    Kenton turned his face and looked at the Eastern Red Room. It had been many decades since he had actually taken the time to appreciate it.


    The Eastern Red Room was a massive, cavernous space. In the shadowy darkness of night, the floors were still a glossy maroon jasper. Kenton carefully did not touch the walls made of cinnabar and a red marble, fearing to dirty it. The lighting fixtures were amaranth red, and the light they gave off was just slightly rose tinted.


    There were furnishings too, that Kenton had equally been afraid to ever dirty. A room as regal as the Eastern Red Room clearly once had a very important purpose. And when dealing with the High Fae, it would not surprise Kenton if there were still those who valued the original purpose of this room, regardless of how long it was out of service. Fae that old were not known to be kind to the careless.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Shelby''s gentle steps echoed as she lightly, carefully touching the different furniture pieces, all red but of different shades. If not for the Stablemaster''s wife, Kenton wouldn''t even know the names of all the materials used, least of all that the myriad hues of red that bore such fancy names such as vermilion, crimson, and scarlet.


    Shelby stepped carefully onto the glossy maroon jasper floor, frowning contemplatively as she went forward. She reached and touched one of the many pillars of red jade.


    "There are thirteen columns." she said. "That''s an odd number to use to build a room like this."


    Kenton had never counted the pillars. He had rarely had much business with this part of the Stable.


    "Why are some pillars different from others?" She asked him.


    Kenton let his silence be his answer. He didn''t know.


    Kenton considered opening the door and leaving. The closer to midnight, the more dangerous. By his watch, it was only 10:30, but it was still much closer to the dreaded turn of the day than he liked. There were few rooms it was safe to remain in the Stable overnight, and none unless for official stable business.


    "Why are some hot?" She asked him.


    This was a question ridiculous enough to move him to action. "What?"


    Shelby was touching the different pillars with her non-gloved hand. She then made an adjustment for her other hand, ticking forward a dial on her glove. Strange that she was carefully not touching things with it. He thought gloves were for...touching things one didn''t want their skin to touch.


    Kenton, despite his good sense, joined her again and touched the pillar.


    It was slightly warm to the touch. Kenton went to another, and found it cold. He continued, now engaged in solving this mystery. The Eastern Red Room was shaped almost like a triangle. One door in the middle of the base, and one directly across from it to the triangle point. It was such a large room that he had never wondered about it. There were seemingly infinite mysteries in the Stable. Why chase one down?


    But it was the Stable that brought them here. Besides, this was much lesser daunting than his previous adventure. His back still hurt from all that jumping from platform to platform, not to mention when that brat Griffin had gripped him too tightly around his shoulder. Not that he wasn''t grateful that she caught him, but since everything that happened was ultimately Cinnamon Girl''s fault, he still felt she should bear some form of blame.


    "Nine are warm and four are cold." he said, at last finishing his quest.


    "Why?" She said again, thinking. Kenton finally realized she was not asking him, but just voicing her questions aloud. She went up to the door that would lead to the Owl room, except Kenton belatedly realized that that door was closed. And Kenton hadn''t recalled that passageway even having a door.


    "Is this even where the Stable was leading us?" Kenton asked.


    She retreated from the door, and went to one of the very ornamental chairs. Kenton''s hope that she would be respectful of the room and its furnishings was dashed as she started dragging it across the room. "One of these pillars is not like the others." She said, at last. "Do you see it?"


    "No."


    "That was a trick question anyway. All of these pillars are shaped different than the others. They aren''t even completely round. Doesn''t seem like it''s to be fancy either. Do you know who made this place? What symbolism there might be? How long have you worked here, anyway?"


    Finally, a question he could answer. "I''ve worked here for over 137 years."


    She stopped moving the chair and stared at him. The sound of scrapping cut away suddenly, leaving the room in silence.


    "137 years?"


    He nodded. He was getting old for a lowling, but he wasn''t ancient by any imagination.


    "How long is a year?" She asked him. "Can you tell me that in days?"

 Chapter 105: Higher than Expected, Fish Fights and other controversial things

    Shelby''s question hung in the air, almost a challenge. Why would she care about the length of a year?


    The Law of Fae triggered. This was not a benign conversation but there was significant weight to it. This was a strange burning question for her. Not an idle curiosity.


    Kenton didn''t know how to answer that question well. He had never been academic. "Each season lasts around 90 days. Four seasons in a year, except that year they were fighting and Summer was skipped as Spring and Autumn clashed. The Seasons used to be more important than they are now. How old are you?"


    She ignored his question like she didn''t even hear it. "And a day is 24 hours? Like the clock outside?"


    "Yes."


    "90 days * 4 seasons = 360. Almost a full year, except you said around 90 days. So are there times when it''s less than 90?"


    "No, sometimes spring or fall will be longer. About 365 days a year, but who cares about a couple of days?"


    She didn''t comment on his free wisdom. "So you worked here for your whole life? 137 years?" She looked more distressed than him.


    "Nah, nah, that would be too sad. I came from a very rural court. My Court has mostly fallen now, and any advancement is almost impossible. I had worked hard for several decades at home until at last my Lord allowed me to venture here. It took me a long time to prove my worth. I was almost 63 or 67 (I don''t really remember, what''s a couple of years?), when I was given this opportunity." Kenton smiled sadly as he remembered his beloved''s face. Sarah Beth, his love. She who would be his wife. Maybe he would take that vacation and see her again soon.


    Shelby sat down in the chair she had been dragging. "Are you older than 200 years old?"


    Kenton nodded.


    Her face looked completely surprised. Several thoughts darted around plainly across her expressive face.


    "You must have a lot of wisdom." She said, at last, looking like a little child. She had a good head for math, Kenton realized. She had calculated a year quickly, and then his age without a moment of hesitation. "You don''t look very old. Like maybe fifty?"


    Kenton chuckled at the unexpected compliment, however incorrect it was. "I am getting old, youn''un. I feel it." He almost didn''t say the next part. "My Court is dying." It wouldn''t be the end if his Court died. Many Courts washed away, lost to time. He had long made peace with it. His becoming a Middling would be a small holdover, but he had long realized that his efforts wouldn''t stop it. "Wee fae can live in the wild, but Seelie needs a home. Don''t spend all your life in the Citadel. Treasure your Court."


    Especially when it was getting eroded and washed away. Kenton''s memories of his beloved Court became painful when he saw it last time, 20 years ago. So much had just fallen into ruin. The few stores that had remained open bore no luxury, and not even enough necessity.


    "I''m Wylde." she said. "I''ve never had a Court."


    "How old are you?" he asked again.


    "22." she said, looking very uncertain now.


    She was almost too young to be out by herself. He wanted to scold her, but he did recall that Wylde fae were different.


    There were new, almost fatherly feelings to her. In his mind, she went from some crazed powerful Fae, full of secrets and scheming...to a child. He couldn''t look at her without feeling the desire to protect her, and keep her safe. Remove her from harm.


    "And you are just roaming around, all by yourself?"


    "It''s complicated." She squirmed under his gaze. "Someone very powerful hates me. And yet my friends need me. So I keep moving forward, trying to get this resolved."


    Kenton was struck with the feeling of powerlessness. He had no power but wished to protect. She was not some spoiled Lordling. Just a child, cast into the wild wilderness of the world.


    "I need to make it to Middling." He told her. "I don''t get involved in politics, and politics don''t get involved with me. But after working here for so long, I do have some allies. If I can help, let me know."


    "I don''t know if anyone can help me." She said and showed her youth by jumping upward and scrambling behind the chair again, the screeching sound resuming. Her physical distance represented the distance she wanted with the topic.


    He could understand that. There were things he didn''t wish to discuss.


    Kenton looked back to the door they had come from. His sharply tuned Mapper''s sense spoke of the danger lurking beyond. Leaving was not an option.


    So he went and helped Shelby move the chair. Together, they were able to pick it up and move it against one of the cold pillars that Shelby seemingly chose at random. "If the O''Tells fire you, I can get you employed here. Good positions. You already have a golden key, so you''d be a shoe-in for Mapper."


    "Mapper. What''s a mapper?" She said, jumping onto the expensive chair. Kenton had expected the cushioned seat to puff of ancient dust.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    But there was no dust.


    "Mappers map the Stable. There are some creatures here that don''t need much care, and when it''s their time to be fed again, or changed, or exercised, sometimes no one remembers the way. Also, as everything moves, certain routes change over time."


    "I could do that." She mused. "That would be fun." She was standing with one foot on the armrest of the chair, and the other on the backboard, reaching as high as she could and feeling an upper portion of the pillar, poking it with her gloveless hand.


    Kenton was left watching her trapeze on the chair.


    Questions stirred in his mind. Why was there no dust? Most of the abandoned rooms in the Stable had a layer of dust. This room was sometimes used by stable hands, and sometimes Lordlings. But would a servant have come in and wiped all the dust, even the dust from an unused chair? Even the back side, which had been against the wall and therefore difficult to reach.


    "Okay, let''s go to that pillar." She said, bouncing off and starting to pull the chair again. She was very young indeed.


    How had she seemed so mature, for someone who should still be a child?


    They went about several pillars, and Shelby would jump on the chair and touch different places. She frowned several times. She made "hmmmm" sounds.


    Kenton had little to do while this process repeated.


    As he was not some young and immature brat, he didn''t ask questions when it was clear she didn''t know the answers.


    His mind wandered back to his childhood, and the early days of his life, when at least he hadn''t realized his Court''s impending demise. Perhaps he should have just married Sarah Beth and left the Court, but he couldn''t.


    Painful thoughts came, so he returned his attention to the mystery.


    The different clues.


    No dust, despite no one being sent to clean it.


    The Stable wanted them here (probably).


    And this was also a room he had come to with Elswith.


    Clues. But he didn''t even know how they fit together.


    After Shelby jumped down, Kenton grabbed the chair. "This way. Let''s go to this specific pillar."


    The redhead nodded and moved to help him. The chair was truly very heavy.


    "I''ve been in this room a time or two." He told her, speaking aloud as he tried to pull his thoughts together. "There were pillars and columns of red jade. Even the distant ceiling is dark beast blood red. They must have really liked the color. But the room is funny shaped, isn''t it? Like a triangle on its side. Two doors. Always two doors. One in the middle of the base, the other across from it like a point. Like a straight line, on the pointy side of the triangle."


    "Okay." said the redhead, not following his logic but still paying attention.


    "One door often leads to the Owl''s Room. The other leads often to the Aquatic zone."


    "There are owls here?" she said.


    He ignored her because the abandoned Owl Room he had come from earlier that day was still a sore spot. "But here''s the thing." Kenton found the pillar in the middle of the wide section of the triangle. There was something similar about its shape that drew his eye. There was no door near it, but... "I don''t know what you''re looking for, but I just realized. This whole time..." he jumped on the chair, but his aching back protested when he did and he regretted the effort.


    This was one of the warm pillars. Each of the large columns were shaped differently. He leaned close against red pillar, inspecting it closely. He could almost...He moved his face even closer to the stone.


    "Did you just lick it?" Shelby asked, sounding not as incredulous as a sane person ought.


    "No," Kenton said, pushing his face away from the pillar now that he caught the odor. "I sniffed it."


    "Oh. Do you have an amazing sense of smell? Like a bloodhound?"


    "No. But I''ve worked in the Stables for 137 years. And I know the smell."


    He gestured around the room with all its opulence and grandeur and overuse of the color red.


    "We are missing a door here. Because this is the pillar that stands closest to the doorway that often leads to the Aquatic area, and the workers who cut through here often rest their carts there. Their carts laden with fish."


    Also, he had seen a fish fight break out between the lowlings that ended with the said cart being turned over and a markel thrown high and smacking that pillar. The lowling stable hands had done their best to clean it up, but Kenton had realized that no effort was made to clean the upper region of the pillar where the markel had hit. But he didn''t need to elaborate on that.


    "If there is supposed to be a door here and not the one we entered by, then where did it go?" She asked.


    "I don''t think that matters. Always two doors. But what if there are actually six doors?"


    "Insane leap of logic." She said, unhelpfully.


    "I''ve never seen this room so deep inside the Stable. And it''s cleaner than I remember it. But it''s still the same room that has the fishy smell. Everything is dusted, but the fish smell needs a specific cleaner. Also, if the different pillars had different temperatures, there would be gossip and rumors about it. So either the pillars just started being hot or cold as we were herded here by the Stable, or no one noticed enough to ever mention it even once."


    "Okay..."


    "Or we are...here in this room, but on a higher level. Or we are seeing it deeper." He wrung his hands together, his thoughts a jumbled mess. "But what if...I don''t know. It doesn''t even make sense."


    "Nothing makes sense in the Fae Citadel." She said seriously. "Explain it to me like I''m a child."


    That was a good idea, and she was practically a child anyway, so that wasn''t hard. "What if one room exists, but the doorways themselves are what change? We have some records of that back in my old Court. Truer versions of the same room. Ascending to higher levels reveals its purpose."


    "And the Stable is leading us deeper and deeper inside, bringing us to the boss room?"


    Kenton honestly didn''t know. That was a concept, a boss room, the leader''s room.


    But there was some vague logic, as the narrow door had always lead to a more important place than the wider door. What if...one kept going through the Stable, crossing the Red Eastern Room, through the first set of doors, then the second, then finally the third?


    He had already crossed through the Eastern Red Room once together. Several times actually. That room had had a layer of dust. Not dirty. But it wasn''t so clean as this. It made sense that he was...closer to the leader''s room.


    Shelby nodded. "A vague plan is better than no plan at all. So, through the narrow door we go!"


    They started moving toward the door at the point of the triangle. "What were you looking for?" He asked when he realized she wasn''t going to explain why she had moved the chair around.


    "It''s like each pillar is...part of an antenna. Broadcasting a signal. I don''t know how to explain..." she said.


    "Explain it to me like I''m a child." He said her words back to her.


    She smiled. It felt like an honest smile. "Each of the warm pillars has a sound coming from it, but we can''t hear it. My glove can sometimes pick up the pattern, but I don''t know what it means. There are a lot of other patterns that are blocking the sound I want to hear. Like a louder sound is making it hard to hear the pillar''s song."


    They reached the sealed door.


    There was a keyhole inside.


    Kenton made sure the door was not silver. It wasn''t.


    He pulled out his key. It was a perfect fit into the locked door.


    "Let''s go." Shelby said, adjusting her hat.

 Chapter 106: The Old Lordling of the Ash Court

    The Ash Court.


    Daniel had never seen such a place of wanton...lack? In the Citadel of the Seelie, all Seelie courts had territory given to them, where their court was represented and they could reign. A dwelling, almost an embassy. Some Courts were so well to do and large that they had miles and miles of buildings and businesses, their own district, where their leaders could rule and their people could dwell and trade. The Citadel residence was often described as a smaller reflections of the Court itself. It echoed the lifeblood of the Court for all to see.


    And the Ash Court was clearly on the decline.


    Daniel watched as the dwindling Authority alone kept the ruined manor house from catching ablaze. That the physical material itself was struggling to adapt to the aspect of the Court itself meant that this was a bankrupted Court.


    It was doomed.


    Unless some completely unknown variable arrived.


    Daniel eyed Marrin without turning his head.


    He couldn''t get involved with another lost cause yet again.


    The fate of the Ash Court and the new rising power that might be if it could survive to full maturation was tomorrow''s journey. Let it be someone else''s problem.


    Branch had enough on his mind. First he needed to secure Marrin in a place where he wouldn''t get discovered, and then he needed to ditch Esra. Esra hadn''t ruined the Game yet, but as with anything with a delicate balance, Esra could make all the cards come toppling down.


    "Do you think..." Marrin said, gripping his green hat nervously. "That it will be cooler during the day?"


    He was not going to enjoy his time here.


    "In the Citadel," Daniel said. "Almost anything is possible." Miracles such as Esra gaining common sense, water going up instead of down water falls, and perhaps even Daniel''s Lordly Father honestly loving and treasuring life in general and his children in specific.


    "Well, if anyone wanted to get a tan in the dark, this would be the place." Said Esra, unhelpfully. "They should add a swimming pool. Or an ice skating rink."


    Laws were still laws, even in the Seelie realm. One may introduce a stronger law, which must be obeyed, but one couldn''t just throw in two opposites.


    A light turned on inside the manor. They had been seen. No doubt their approach had been noticed by the master of the ruined court. Daniel debated if he wanted to leave before the Ash Court leader emerged...


    Esra grabbed Daniel''s arm, panic on his face. "Don''t you leave me here to talk to people, Spikes. I am not good talking to strangers. No one ever means what they say."


    It did not seem to be a wise moment to point out that Esra was not skilled at talking to people he knew either. He always said strange things, and toppled over delicate games by pointing out the things both parties wished not to be said. He spoke to anyone anywhere, even if they hadn''t been introduced, violating all of the social customs.


    "We can both leave..." Daniel said, pinching the bridge of his nose.


    "Not until I finalize our Bois trip with Marrin''s new boss. You promised."


    Daniel had not promised. He hadn''t promised to go on the Boys Trip, nor to speak to the Leader and Master of the Ash Court about Marrin going on said trip. But the Servant Branch had also asked his now more powerful and magically sensitive ally to check to make sure Lord Fredar and his posse had truly left. And he had used Esra in his schemes.


    He had to balance the scales. That Esra never used Daniel''s true skillset to true efficiency was bizarre and against the general norms of the Fae, but so was Esra in general. Also, Daniel never wanted to owe the Gravity Mage. How could he sleep at night?


    Besides, this ''boys trip'' may not even happen. The trip would only occur assuming Daniel even survived long enough to see it happen.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "Stormcrow, you are going to love it. Spikes is great at poker, Pockets is the best cook, and we just have a great time."


    Marrin seemed to realize he was now included in this strange trip "Pockets?"


    "He means Lordling Parcel, four time tournament champion, key figure of the bronze Circle, and formerly one of your masters of the Sky Court."


    He went even paler. "No, no, no. I''m no one. I couldn''t possibly go on such a trip with such remarkable people...And the Gravity Mage."


    Daniel wanted to laugh, except he remembered he was now roped into the insanity of a wasteful trip as well. "You might as well get comfortable dealing with your betters, now. You will soon be over them."


    The large Fae shifted uncomfortably. "What does this trip require? Will we be hunting monsters? Searching for jewels? Enacting revenge?"


    "Mostly it''s just eating food and playing cards. Sometimes we go fishing." Said Esra. "But I am open to all of the above."


    The light inside the manor turned off, as though the person was saving the small amount of magic it took to light a room. That was an attitude of a lowling.


    Daniel committed to seeing this out. Marrin was now technically unattached to the Servant Branch, as they had no overlapping Courts. But for everyone''s good, it would be wise if he could forestall Marrin''s discovery as an Heirling for as long as possible. The worst fate would be that Marrin was exposed prematurely, and was simply assassinated. Marrin had not spent his youth learning to avoid assassins, so his survival would not be likely.


    Or perhaps the worst thing would be if Marrin awoke his Sword, and it consumed him. Assassination would not be a clean death, but it would at least be over. An untrained Heirling was a Danger to all around them. Dying by the Red Sword had been one of Elswith''s greatest fears.


    Daniel took this last moment to repeat the common sense advice he had already offered Marrin. He felt free to speak plainly, as Esra would not be talking about ''boys trips'' if there were others present. Because, and his spirit cringed each time Esra said it, but ''only da boys are invited''.


    "Marrin, remember, never use your left hand with the Sword. You managed to use your right for a long time."


    The tall fae shifted, presence smaller than his large frame implied. "I''ll just use a different sword entirely..."


    "Now that it''s awake...Swords can be jealous. You are the Heirling, but as there is no Lord, the Sword''s entire attention will be on you. Which I do not envy. You must also consider how others will view you; it would strange to chose an inferior blade when you clearly have a well made family heirloom."


    "Maybe there will be a better sword though?"


    Daniel looked at Marrin, then the nearly burning Ash Court Manor, as a shutter, no longer able to resist, caught alight and fell from the building, smoldering weakly as it crashed into the ground.


    "I find that unlikely."


    Against that backdrop appeared the master of the Ash Court.


    It was an Old Lordling.


    She didn''t look ancient. Fae did not age like some races did, such as merfolk or the humans. The Fae before them was several inches shorter than Daniel, and her long ash colored hair matched her ash colored clothes. She had a few wrinkles about her eyes and forehead, and a certain deep set feel about her eyes. But more than that, Daniel could feel stagnation in her powerbase, her Authority dry and wilting. There was almost no Favor about her, and no Influence at all. She came to them, without attendants.


    Daniel was prepared. He would ensure that Marrin was in his best situation. Would there be hostility? Clearly, Lord Fredar had attempted to cheat the Ash Court, by replacing whatever favor was owed with a Middling. Would there be scheming? Daniel only had a few minutes more to spare to the Fate of Marrin and delaying the discovering of the Sword of Storm. Also, Marrin needed to not get caught up here. It might be disastrous if his future became entangled with the Ash Court...The Old Lordling may just assassination Marrin herself and keep the Sword should she discover it.


    Trust was rare, and schemes ran deep.


    The Old Lordling reached them, and looked them all up and down. There was a fence between, and an old heavy gate. It was clear the Old Lordling was debating whether to parlay or not.


    Daniel prepared himself. This would be a pivotal moment.


    Tension rose from the other side, as the Master of the Ash Court fumed silently. The only thing lively about her were her glowing, green eyes. With one decisive hand she reached for the gate and...


    It was stuck.


    She put her other hand on it, and pulled, but either it was stuck, or the latching mechanism was broken, because outside of a few grinding moments of protest, the gate didn''t budge... "Um...You guys are welcome to come in...If you want to shimmy up the gate..." she said, sounding a lot younger than she looked. Or perhaps inexperienced. Or perhaps...not pretentious? "Are you guys here about the job help I posted? I only need one of you, though. I like you!" She pointed to Daniel. "You even brought fancy clothes!"


    Chills ran up and down Daniel''s back as he considered the implications.


    "Which employment option are you referring to, lady?" Daniel said, still using polite speech but wondering if it was necessary. Perhaps this was some servant? An attendant? "Are you not...the Master and Lord of the Ash Court?" Daniel asked.


    "Yeah. But I also pull weeds and collect old soap bars. And wash windows for the Glass Court. Who isn''t afraid of heights? Because I am..."


    "You are the Master and Ruler of the Ash Court?" Daniel punctuated each word heavily.


    The fae sighed, remembering belatedly her manners. "Lordling Talia Ashurn, lord and Master of the Ash Court. Now, about these windows..."


    She froze when she saw Marrin. For whatever reason she had initially only focused focused on Daniel. The Old Lordling lost her breath.


    "Why is there a Middling under my control, and what do you want for it?"

 Chapter 107: Smoldering resentment; unpaid I O Us

    The Game was in an outrage. THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!


    This? echoed the Law of Fae. I did not do this. Great and Mighty Game, was it not...your will for the betrayals and lies? I did warn you. No...take...backs...


    I WILL RESET THE BALANCE!


    Yes. But you cannot tonight.


    THIS MUST BE STOPPED! YOU DID THIS! I HATE THIS! NO ALLIES!


    <hr>


    Old Lordling Talia had invited them inside. She had neglected most of her training as a Lordling, but she had her basics in place when she needed it.


    She knew to invite them inside.


    She knew to offer to take their coats, in a very outdated Bai Pbn style that had long been replaced with the Lren Style, which had since also been replaced with other styles.


    No one valued the old ways anymore, Elswith''s steward had said, with regret. The different styles were beautiful, a language unto themselves. Matheus had always bemoaned that now-a-days only servants used them.


    But the Law of Fae remembered.


    And so did Lordling Talia.


    She sat them down, and brought them water and small, very dry tea cakes. Hospitality was very important to the Fae.


    And, since she had started in the Bai Pbn style, Daniel took that as his cue, and waited.


    Although, if he waited much longer he was at risk of falling asleep. He had been malnourished and abused throughout the very long day. Strangely enough it was the bite from the goose that morning that still caused him the most pain. He had used much of his reward in subduing the Golem in recovering to overcome Kane, a waste. A waste, and yet it had been necessary. So, to keep his awareness and his mind off the madding goose bite, he ended up playing a card game with Esra and Marrin as they waited.


    Marrin struggled with the new game, but his strategy had been commendable.


    Inside the ruined manor was cooler, at least. The walls glowed vaguely, fingers and veins of fire smoldering the wooden construction. Daniel kept waiting to hear the clock outside reveal the passing time, but it never did. 10:30 seemingly never arrived. The time was moving slowly, again. Not good. Time moving slowly in one place almost always meant it would move quickly somewhere else. Was this intentional from the Lord of Time? He was barred from all Games simply by his ability to render reality inert.


    Daniel sighed, then stood up when Talia returned to the room, in the Bai Pbn style which involved raising one leg up and bobbing forward slightly.


    Talia returned the gesture woodenly, and calmly (with shaking hands) put down a tray of teacups and sliced cucumbers and bread.


    "I graciously offer this bounty to you! To a good harvest!" she said, lacing her fingers together (though her hands still shook) and tilting her head to the side. She had a very terrified wooden smile. She clearly didn''t remember very much of the Bai Pbn style. Or she hadn''t had guests over in a long time. It still worked, technically. But it was traditionally used after a good harvest.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Daniel very much wanted to eat the food.


    But he could not put off uncomfortable things.


    If he could, he would still be the Heirling after all.


    "Surely, Master of the Ash Court, you know who I am." Daniel started, trying to figure out how much he could get from this. Elswith had been well known, first infamous in his early debut as he had performed badly. Then after many years of hard work, he had risen in fame. He had been at his height of power and popularity last Autumn, well loved and respected across both the Seelie and Unseelie courts.


    "I used to think you were here to help me clean windows...but now, swirling, I am afraid I don''t know you."


    Esra laughed so hard he fell off of the stump and was rolling on the ground. This was why no one wanted Esra around any game, capital G or lowercase g alike. "You act like a fancy big shot, Spikes, and then reality strikes."


    Daniel made desperate eye contact with Marrin, and in that moment he knew Marrin was a fellow brother in arms against the Esra menace.


    "Did you want the boys trip, or not?" Marrin said, understanding his role. "Let Spikes..." his face flashed in embarrassment to use the vague ''nickname'' and he stumbled to correct himself. "I mean Elswith...I mean Branch. Let Branch talk."


    Esra, still on the ground, shrugged, and he went from lying on the ground to standing on the wall. He muttered "Fine," and just...walked on the burning wall, moody like a cat after a scolding. Little plumes of ash drifted from where Esra stepped.


    "Get off my walls ye brat!" Talia snapped reflectively, before realizing she was still unsure of the hierarchy. "I don''t want to cucumbers to get dirty." she said in defense.


    Esra looked chagrinned and embarrassed, and shuffled down, off the smoldering ashy walls back to the smoldering ashy floors.


    "Benefactor." She said, to Daniel. "Marry me."


    "No."


    "Marry my daughter. Wait for me to get married, have a daughter, then marry her."


    For a negotiator, she was not very good.


    Marrin shifted uncomfortably.


    Marriage proposals were extreme. And for all that she knew, Marrin was just a Middling. Daniel was clearly a lowling, and Esra...was not anything of note except his gravity manipulations. Daniel almost wanted to help her.


    But he didn''t have time! Soon there would be another assassin after him. This would be the third and final attack, and they would be aiming for success. All of the other attempts had failed, and it would be clear that the Game would commence. Daniel had to survive today and yet not destroy his future.


    "Let me be exact."


    The Law of Fae protested, as it disliked the brutality of direct speech with no poetry.


    "I want to understand your relationship with the Sky Court. From there, we can proceed."


    She bit her lip, mulling and thinking. "The Ash Court was ruined by degrees. First it was undermined, and then the Senate forced certain deals which shook our base of power. We were once very large, south and west from here. Our allies needed help, and we gave it to them. Then they...did not give back the power we spent. Worse, they took more afterward, having learned our ways. They took more than we could give." Talia straightened her spine. "Even the attribute of our Court was changed, degraded from something whole to the ash remaining behind."


    Daniel had heard many stories like this before. Bitter. Esra was even paying attention now, however rare that occurrence was.


    Talia was an old Lordling, she had seen and experienced much.


    "Without the power we spent aiding them, over the centuries we were continuedly whittled down, sirling. And then taxed, and then fined when we couldn''t pay it. The Waasla alliance has several senators who approved that the favor owed this court could be repaid with meaningless...the humans call it an I. O. U. And should the Court go under, then all that debt is void. So I have made it my life''s work to stay in the game. As long as the Ash Court stands, they are dragged down." Her eyes gleamed with fortitude and spite. "They despise us. It is mutual."


    Daniel had thousands of calculations running in his mind.


    Was this why the Law of Fae had allowed so much to happen in the Game?


    It was using him, and his own Game for the pursuit of freedom...to bring Marrin, the next Lord and Wielder of a Great Sword, who had also been wronged and punished, and joining him with the Ash Court, who shared a similar story.


    Daniel hated being a pawn. He felt his carefully controlled rage strain against the wrong that was done to him, against the magical bounds around his limbs, and the tight circle around his heart. He had been a pawn for his Lordling Father. He had been a pawn for the Game. But to be used a piece for the Law of Fae?


    Danger may be a opportunity. he felt the faint colors and touch.


    He was not happy.

 Chapter 108: Beware the Court of Petals and Glass

    Daniel had also known he was a pawn. With circles of power over him and around him.


    After listening to the Old Lordling''s story, he knew that like the Game, he had been Influenced by the Law of Fae itself. Thrown about for its purposes and designs, seemingly spent to reestablish balance on the behalf of others. He felt like mannequin, the semblance of a Fae with no control over the dressing and its own placement.


    He was being used. He remembered the many times he had been used before. The many times he had been betrayed.


    Of course he had sympathy for the ruined Ash Court.


    But this was just a repeat of his life from before. The Law of Fae kept taking him to the poor and the destitute. It kept showing him the injustice of the Rural Places, where the least of all had dwelt and been trapped as their Lords abandoned them. It had shown him the moments of horror of the Servants, making understandable mistakes that would destroy their careers. It had shown him kindness in the Humans, only so when their time of great need came, there was Lordling Elswith, with his bleeding heart.


    It was undoubtedly a moral failure, that he felt such outrage. Not another problem. Not an another need. But he found himself without a choice.


    The Law of Fae had used him.


    But it also gave him the potential of allies.


    The Goose Boy sprang to mind, unsummoned and unlikely and limited ally. So did Jasper, though Daniel had negative feelings of bitterness to the Glasbin fae. Kenton was a surprisingly loyal and capable companion. The redhaired maid Shelby, willing to leap into danger. Even Marrin himself had proved to be loyal, as he would not betray Daniel during the Ambush. And now Talia, a Lordling so low in power she would have no problem interceding in the Game at a pivotal moment.


    The Law of Fae had used him, like a pawn. But perhaps it would be more correct to say he had become the focal point. It had given him potential allies.


    He would use it. What else could he do? Surviving the Game would be difficult enough. But the Law of Fae seemed to want him to conquer the Game with style.


    "The dread of being, the dread of past, how can such a fate be allowed to pass?" He spoke, to Lordling Talia and to the Law of Fae.


    He would heed it''s will, though the feeling of another collar around his neck was enough to suffocate him. The Law of Fae swirled around them, blue and cold.


    He couldn''t join in directly with the Ash Court, as he was not currently his own person. As the Contestant of the Game, he had to finish the original design of the Game to completion. But he could allow certain mistakes to be corrected. And arrange some form of coincidental-and-purely-by-chance aid.


    Marrin son of Castor, future Lord of the Sword of Storm, could not help. The grand fate that awaited the tall Middling needed to be put away. The Ash Courts would have no way to protect the fledging Heirling.


    But Marrin the Middling, Enforcer Subcommander formerly of the Sky Court? That had promise.


    And so too did the Ash Court and its ash covered leader.


    "My lady," Said Daniel. "I am but a humble and meek servant." Daniel paused as the smooth and dense colors of the Law of Fae erupted unexpectedly in riots of yellow and flecks of red. The Law of Fae laughed at him? Why? "The Servant Branch has many duties, as you may imagine."


    Talia gave him a look that seemed to scream that she really had no idea who he was.


    "But along my travels, after an invigorating stroll beside the water and some practice opening doors, this humble servant took a turn gardening, when he happened upon this Middling before us."This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Spikes is doing the thing where he tells the truth but is lying. He does that." Whispered Esra loudly to Marrin unhelpfully again.


    "Boys trip." Marrin said in reply.


    Esra nodded and closed his mouth his own hand.


    Daniel had to rouse the Law of Fae. There was a reason for his words. "There I saw him, knowing him to be of good mettle, and happened upon a most sorry sight. There this humble one discovered this fine specimen being mishandled by his Master. Being one of great compassion, this Servant begged for mercy."


    "You traded something and got him released." Said Talia. She could cut through much of the Fae niceties.


    Daniel didn''t entirely enjoy it. "Well, yes. I did not want him there any longer."


    Marrin stood, like a solider reporting to duty. "I am Marrin. I rose through the ranks of the King''s enforcers, lady. I do not speak well, but I have some guile and some will. The Sky Court has done my family a great wrong, and I was...forcibly drafted into their branch of Enforcers. There, I plateaued for many years. But at long last, I found a path forward again. Branch saved me." Said Marrin. "Saved my life."


    "No, no, no." Daniel said, waving his hands through the swirling Law of Fae before the connection could be made. "The Servant Branch is too lowly to support the weight of a favor from a Middling. Life debt is heavy. The Game would not allow it..."


    "Game?" Said Talia. "Oh, I see. You are some kind of Lord, doing a trial." she actually relaxed a great deal at that. "So you used the back debt your House owed to the Ash Court to free your servant?"


    "No. Marrin has never been this humble one''s servant. But he did impose upon the Game, and this was the kindest option I could find to place him."


    "How long can I keep him?" she said, speaking to Daniel directly like a peer now.


    "He has been given to your Court. As a punishment for his doings...there was a lot of broken glass."


    "The things given to my Court have a habit of being taken away." Her eyes shimmered with deep emotion.


    "Six months. For at least six months." Daniel said. "This Servant may have suggested certain factors remain unshared for that length. Should some terrible fate befall the Middling, certain narratives will be corrected."


    Talia leaned forward, the Bai Pbn style gestured of interest. "What do you want for it?"


    Daniel wanted to find the quietest and darkness hole and hide. But the next attack would be drawing nearer and nearer. He needed to be completely away from Marrin and the Ash Court by the turn of the hour.


    "Branch is in a Game." Said Marrin, taking charge.


    Daniel reevaluated him. He had perhaps made assumptions that Marrin was slow, or lazy. That morning, he had seen the lack of coordination in Marrin''s attack when they had sparred. But perhaps...even then Marrin had been kind to him? Not that he had gone easy on him, but perhaps Marrin had no been as diligent for his sake?


    "From what I can tell, he has another assassin coming for him."


    "How strong is the assassin?" asked Talia. "I have survived many attempts on my life. I am good at this."


    Daniel considered such a person may prove good for Marrin.


    "It will be very strong. Multiple, perhaps. The first one was a fake, used to draw me in the path of a Golem."


    "So you swam to the underwater caves and then climbed into the airpocket and waited it out?" She said. "Because when its wet it weighs too much to climb up, and the tunnels are too tight for it to follow?"


    Daniel blinked at her. "No." That would have been...very simple. He hadn''t even considered that. He had even used that system earlier to arrive to the Stable.


    "Did you go into the Glass Court and hide in the mirror maze? Where the Golem would be forced to limit it''s power least it destroy the Glass Floor, and then you continue to confuse it by appearing and disappearing?"


    "No." That was genius.


    "Did you go to the Petal Court, where the Golem would be slowed by the ever sprouting vegetation on its earthen body until the roots themselves destroyed it?"


    That was...a scary way to go. "No. I did not."


    "Oh. I am sure whatever you did was good too." She said, her ash colored hair hiding her face. "If there is a game watching the assassination attempt, you can keep it entertained by exploring the ruins of the first castle, the polar flare ruins, or the bakery. When you said game, did you mean lowercase g or capital G?"


    "Capital."


    "Wow. I need to catch up on my politics. I didn''t even know there was such a Game. No one ever sees me, so I stay forgotten most of the time. Fighting force with force is a waste of time."


    "What do you mean, about keeping a game entertained?"


    "Simple. You create a scenario where you know what''s going on. You force the game''s hand. It can backfire, I warn you. But even so, someone must set the music, and I always found it best to be the one to set the pace."


    Daniel felt stupid. He had only seen the Ash Court''s wanton state. He had not considered the resourcefulness needed to maintain such a near bankrupted state, to continually advance regardless of the consequences. He had only seen what the Ash Court needed from him.


    He had not realized that there were more things he could learn. Perhaps...he had the most to gain from this relationship.


    Former Heirling of the Red Sword, the once proclaimed Lightning Blade, fallen Lordling of the Red Sword Faction, realized he had something to learn from the Old Lordling Talia.


    "How long until the next attack?"


    The Tower Outside chimed at long last. 10:30.


    "30 minutes."

 Chapter 109: Change the music please

    How to make the Game work for him?


    Daniel had spent his entire life learning about the forms and the flows of the Law of Fae: of Favor, Influence, and Authority.


    But the Game? Daniel had known many things about it. But he had still viewed it, in some way, as something similar to the Law of Fae.


    Which may have been why he had been so surprised again and again.


    Because the Game had its own rules, its own priorities.


    Elswith had some training in how to appear in a game, even how to show-off for a Capital G Game.


    But he hadn''t understood the why before. Before it was like rules of grammar of some unknown language, and now, just now, he was actually meeting someone who spoke the dialect. Much of the concepts he had before were academic. Honestly, many of his understandings were still academic, but at long last he not only recognized a patterned but also understood why it was there.


    Why had the food been poisoned at the O''Tells after the event? Because it made for a good spectacle. Why had the Game grown angry after Daniel disappeared from the Stable? Because it had wanted a show, and worse than that, it knew something show worthy had happened, but it had not been allowed to see it and repeat it. It was bored, it knew there was a secret and was not pleased that it was hidden. Why had the Game allowed Vye and companions to betray the Squire Branch when he was helping them in their official duty? Because it was drama.


    And the Game fed upon it.


    And before him was a Lordling who seized upon the show. Talia had little power, but she had made ends meet by being ridiculous. "The window cleaning is good work and I am paid fairly, but the other jobs I do? Collecting used soap bars, dish towels, and Revenant fighting allows me to appear in other people''s games. The game, little or large, wants interesting things to occur. Not much more interesting than me. We are doing 3% better this season than the last 17 years! And those were relatively good years."


    "The Game likes you?" Asked Esra.


    "No, it hates me. Because I may appear where I am not wanted. And I ruin serious moments sometimes. But if you understand the game, you can fit yourself to its motif. It will always follow the most interesting event."


    "What if it''s not a motif you want?"


    "If the Game is following you? Change it. Especially if it is a Capital G Game. You can change it. Be in position before the Game resumes. It may backfire...remember what I said about fighting Revenants."


    "How do you change a Game?"


    "Lots of ways. Show it something more interesting. Explore something lost to time. You can also stir up trouble, so if you don''t want to start a game, you don''t have to."


    "Like a priceless saddle being stolen was more interesting than a prescheduled bout of intrigue." Daniel remembered that afternoon. When the Game had been focusing on Daniel potentially embarrassing himself with feral griffons, only to be held off when a certain griffin had misplaced the dragonhide saddle. From there, the involvement with the Dungeon had been unexpected.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    But what if he hadn''t found his way into the Dungeon? What if instead the next several hours had been spent chasing Cinnamon Girl around in increasingly frustrating near-misses? What if that had been the afternoon? The Game may have loved it, especially if different groups of Stable hands started a contest to see who could catch the saddle thief first.


    Daniel had been certain that the Game had been against his reunion with a certain griffin. It had certainly been upset when he had been dragged into the Central Stablemaster''s office and then questioned again and again. That would have been very boring content. But Daniel had thought that perhaps the Game had wanted things to go badly for him, when it didn''t really matter what the Game thought about him at all.


    Because what if it was upset because there was no satisfying ending to the drama of the missing saddle?


    The Game wanted Conflict. But instead of conflict, it went like this:


    GAME: THE STABLE!


    Look, wild and almost feral griffons.


    Wait? Missing dragonhide saddle! Organize into searching parties...


    Then nothing, because Daniel had been pulled into the Dungeon. Even Daniel getting the saddle back occurred in a location the Game couldn''t show off. It wasn''t that it was boring, the Game knew something exciting had happened but it couldn''t show it.


    The Game would force conflicts, but some conflicts were better for him than others.


    A good conflict for Daniel would be going exploring in the Stable, and investigating where did those bells come from. Having a polishing contest with the Glasbin fae, winner takes all.


    A bad conflict for Daniel would be Kane using everything in her power to destroy him.


    It was something to think about for the future.


    "Also, the more games you appear in, the less you can know about the general state of politics. If I know that two Lordlings are dueling because the winner will get to lead their circle, then I can''t interfere with the duel as well. And if I have an interest in one side winning over the other, I can''t help the side I want to win. But there is wiggle room, because I can still interfere..."


    "Let me think." Daniel said, as Talia was beginning to explain more.


    He had the gist. Now he just needed to settle the variables in his mind.


    They gave him Silence, and he leaned backward in his chair, watching the burning veins of fire slowly destroy the manor. It was cooler inside, but it still wasn''t pleasant.


    Three parties against him. Three attempts to assassinate him.


    How did one form a party united to the destruction of someone? Had their interests aligned one day, or had they just been in the mood for some sport?


    He felt sweat drip from head, and almost laughed at how absurd his situation was.


    Talia had traded her dignity for survival. Daniel was willing to do that too, but there were problems. He wanted to disguise any connection with the Ash Court. And if he started playing very differently, it would be more obvious what had happened. Talia played as a clown. But there were other roles one could play...


    Daniel thought of all the High Fae who had been Watching the Game. They must have been so surprised when the second assassination attempt ended early. The Lords and Masters, Courts, Factions, Houses, Senate. Was the Fae King watching? What conversations would everyone have that night.


    Daniel wished to be a secret observer of them. All together at the First Summer Ball.


    Oh.


    Oh.


    "It''s the first day of Summer." Daniel said.


    "Yes..." Said Marrin.


    "It is?" Said Esra. "Oh, shoot. I have some overdue library books..."


    "The King''s Ball. That''s where everyone will be."


    "So..."


    He couldn''t change himself for the Game. Not this late. Not this obviously. But instead of waiting for the last assassination attempt to find him...


    "Do you have a dress?" He asked Talia.

 Chapter 110: The Realm of Forgotten Dreams; what does the Stable Do?

    Kenton and Shelby passed through the doors, and continued their journey.


    The next series of halls and rooms they traversed were strange. Instead of dark and dim and tight, the halls were well lit, entire ceilings glowing softly, and there was a dusty, forgotten grandeur across all the wide halls.


    Of course, there were still odd junctions to cross, that had the more familiar creepy and dank feeling that Kenton was familiar with. He was deep inside the Stable now, but perhaps not in a place he had ever been to before. Kenton felt his adventurous spirit dwindle and the aching in his joints increase as they wandered forward. He knew how to handle the old, worn-down outer sections of the Stable, where most of the common creatures were kept. He also knew how to navigate the murky and dangerous sections of the deeper reaches of the Stable, the places only Mappers and very specialized grooms traveled.


    But this? It was dusty and forgotten, but it felt neither mundane and boring as the outer section nor otherworldly and nerving-retching as the inner. Knowing what to expect had been key to his career as a mapper. And now he was moving forward without even bringing a map with him at all!


    "So." Said the redhaired maid, as they moved past yet another empty, echoing room. "What is the Stable anyway?"


    "It''s where the beasts and creatures are housed by the Fae, of all levels." Kenton thought he recognized an entryway that normally led to a closet, expect now opened to a moonlit meadow outside. (Word of Mapper advice: Never leave the Stable except at the cleared and certified exits.)


    "So... everyone parks their donkey here? Because there are a lot of people in the Citadel. Does everyone keep their animals here?"


    That would be a mad house. "There are thousands of creatures kept here. Perhaps hundreds of thousands, I have no way of knowing. But even then, no. There is a price to keep a creature here, and sometimes you don''t need your...donkey to benefit from staying here. Many Estates have their own arrangements for most of their creatures."


    "Because that would be a traffic jam in the morning. Like..." here she put on a lilting drawl over her words, accent changing as she mimed someone else "You need to more your water elephant, so I can get my fire zebra out!"


    It was clear she was making a joke.


    But it was actually a very common conversation he had overheard during all his years working here. He debated corrected her assumption, but realized she didn''t really care, so he let it go.


    "So...not everyone keeps every animal here?"


    "The logistics are already very complicated as they are. There are courts that have their own housing for their creatures. And in many cases, the creatures are prepared and brought out to their owners before they leave, limiting the amount of people who enter. For example, if a Court is going back to their territory, they would let the Stable know up to 2 weeks in advance, so the Stable can have all the animals ready to go  Also, few are brave enough to enter here."The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "Why? This place is great! Love the free breakfast and the beds are very comfy. All in all, great accommodations." She smiled back at him, dimples appearing on her face.


    Another joke. Kenton was about to say something, but decided it would be rude and changed it. They moved through a section of dark and scary tunnels, and Kenton had the feeling like...they were underwater somehow. The drips of water from all sides was a surreal experience. "The Stable is dangerous. The outer edges are safe enough, but the deeper inside, the more perilous the journey grows."


    "Why does it grow more dangerous the further in one goes?" She asked ahead of him again. She had a habit of walking first through doorways.


    "Because...there are more unsafe creatures inside." Old habit kept triggering, as he''d come across an intersection and he couldn''t pull out a quill and parchment and trace his route down. But he had no map and no paper at all!


    Shelby mulled for several seconds before she asked her next question. "Why keep unsafe creatures at all?"


    "I don''t know. Sometimes I think something is dangerous because it is misunderstood, or it is dangerous because it is understood exactly."


    "So, and correct me if I''m wrong. Firstly, there is a magical stable, called The Great Stable, that has magical creatures inside, that aren''t safe, and instead of...not keeping the dangerous creatures, they just vaguely warn you to ''stay away from the dangerous parts'', while that is impossible because the halls actually move."


    "Well...yes."


    "Why bother with that at all!? If people even have their own kennels and stables anyway. Why go through the work at all? And all the danger?"


    Kenton paused as he shuffled through a narrow archway he vaguely remembered. Few Fae ever asked questions. So afraid of accumulating debt, they remained in uneasy ignorance. He chose his next words carefully. "Because it''s worth the danger."


    "What?"


    "There is a price to keep your creature here, and the fae are happy to pay it. It is worth it to even risk your life here working, in just 137 years I went from the lowest of the Lowlings, to nearly Middling. And, even when I hate it, I have to admit the truth, it is worth it. You know what griffins are?"


    "I''ve seen them. They are really bad near the Patala falls." Shelby adjusted a curl to keep it from her face.


    "Griffins in the wild are short-lived and stupid. Cunning, but no speech. No true reason. Just terrible instinct. But those that spend time here? They change. They are still griffins, but they become...more themselves."


    "I beg your pardon? They talk?"


    "Griffins reared here do. If they are here long enough...they become able to have full dialogue. They never cease being griffins. But they gain some...Spark. A light. And some seem to get it faster and earlier than others." His shoulder twinged with discomfort as he remembered Cinnamon Girl''s unfriendly embrace. "Some can reason and plan very annoying distractions."


    "Only griffins can talk?"


    "Each creature has its own...limits. Griffins, even wild griffins, are very cunning, therefore an elevated griffin even more so. Because creatures who spend time here are changed. Perfected. Elevated. Made more like us. All creatures kept here change. Horses, owls, griffins, Jacko lanterns, jackalopes, basilisk, hippogriff, manticore. Even mice can change."

 Chapter 111: Grateful to my mentor, without whom, I would not have survived

    After Daniel had a plan, he quickly enacted it.


    First, he laid his requests that he needed.


    Talia had agreed.


    No matter how it was spun, the Servant Branch had directly aided in bringing a Middling to the Ash Court, and the ruined Court was too poor to ignore such a thing. Talia would have her Middling. Daniel laid out some basic ground rules. He may have framed it that he didn''t want Marrin''s training to be exposed and revealed that Elswith had taught him some secret combat form.


    That it would bring trouble to the Ash Court if Marrin''s true strength was exposed. Talia had agreed to it, denoting that the Ash Court had little encounters with extreme violence anyway. Her request was for Marrin to ditch his nice clothes too, but Daniel had managed to bargain that he keep his iconic green hat. For six months, Marrin was sworn to treating the Ash Court like his own place of origin.


    "I can''t love the Ash Court like home." Marrin said, grabbing his hat and fingering the fabric like he was trying to turn back time.


    "That''s fine. I don''t even like my court most days." Talia replied. "But you just need to treat it like you would your mother''s friend. Treat her with kindness. Even when she is silly, or confused. She tries her best, and even if she drives you crazy, you cannot betray her and you''d never harm her."


    Of course, there were some things that couldn''t be helped.


    "Wait! What about what I''m owed!?" Asked a very disgruntled Mage. "It''s all ''Law of Fae this'', and ''Law of Fae that''. But I was really important too. I have a list of demands."


    After appeasing to his demands, Daniel was able to negotiate for Talia''s direct help for his next round of assassination attempt. The Third and Final.


    Which led to Marrin, Esra, and Daniel leaving the manor while she changed her clothes. Daniel took a few minutes to remind Marrin of training practices and a small list of the dangers that awaited him.


    Daniel had not told Talia about Marrin being an Heirling. Despite her helpfulness, she had a nervous disposition. As much as he desired a true ally, he couldn''t risk so much on a near stranger. How could he trust someone so very destitute and needful? She had no alliance with him. Worse, her definition of alliance had been broken. She had no trust in others at all, viewing them like powerful giants who could break vows at their whims. When people with damaged definitions moved, the Law of Fae struggled to follow. The very person who he accompanied may be the one to betray him. The Game would cheer. With each opportunity came great danger.


    The Game didn''t care about those factors. It had craved attention and spectacle. Daniel would have to provide it some other entertainment elsewhere. Marrin''s situation was not urgent. It was not a battle but a war. Wars are won with small, little steps. Slowly establishing his own strength. Staying away from the spotlight, least Fredar discover how great his folly was. It was not selfless nor selfish. It was merely the right thing to do, and the best thing Daniel could do for a fellow Heirling.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Though, Daniel smirked as he felt his own powerlessness, he was a former Heirling now.


    Esra practically danced with joy the moment Daniel paused for a breath. "I am just so happy we get to have a week long bois trip next month! It''s going to be great!" preened a very pleased Gravity Mage. For someone who complained that it was hot, he didn''t seem bothered by the heat.


    "That is just Marrin''s schedule. Parcel may not desire to come, and I could be..." dead, but that would only make Esra hound him for answers. So Daniel changed his word. "I could be indisposed."


    Esra sighed, "You''ll be there. No takebacks. And whoever sees Pockets first asks him."


    "Why do you call Lordling Parcel Pockets?" Asked Marrin.


    "Because he always has exactly what he needs in his pockets. Not very original, but I was younger then. Spikes got his from how silly he looks when he works with lightning."


    "What?" Daniel said. He had a vague memory of Esra saying foolish things before, but he had never really took him seriously.


    "Your hair stands up. Straight up, and it looks very cool." Said Esra, matter- of- factly. "And Spikes, no excuses. Are you sure I can''t come with you?"


    Reconciling himself with the facts that apparently, in his moments of greatest power he looked...silly, Daniel felt another piece of his pride shatter.


    He decided to assume Esra was crazy and just making falsehoods up again. "I would feel better if you stayed with Marrin. He shouldn''t be alone." Not with a Sword that could do strange things to his head. It should be fine, as the Sword of Storms seemed a fine and friendly Sword. While Talia didn''t know Marrin was an Heirling, she would still be able to help regulate him during the initial period of time. With time, the danger would pass and Marrin should be able to quiet the Sword. But the first few days were important. So important that having Esra stay with Marrin would actually be beneficial.


    "Welp, sleepover I guess." the Mage said to Marrin "Maybe we''ll stay at my place, because your new digs don''t look that...comfortable." The shutter that had fallen earlier was still burning merrily. "Stormcrow, I''ll teach you all the games so you can start practicing..."


    Marrin stood next to him, looking ill.


    Daniel had been extraordinarily kind and bestowed much great wisdom. Exercises to improve focus. Dieting dos and don''ts. How to survive a potentially fatal affection from a kind and well meaning Sword that didn''t understand things like lungs or hearts. The nearly giant Middling had truly been most fortunate. He had survived a very dangerous situation without even losing a body part!


    However, Marrin seemed a little daunted by the tasks Daniel had assigned him.


    The light inside the manor flicked off; Talia had finished her quest and was returning.


    Sensing that their time together was ending, Marrin became serious. "You are my mentor."


    Daniel waited for the Law of Fae to insist the difference in their power was too great, but it didn''t.


    He then waited for the Game to interject that it was unfair.


    That also did not happen.


    Mentor. The Former Heirling and Fallen Lordling, reduced in rank to Lowling...was now a Mentor.


    It was a strange feeling.


    "I am grateful to my mentor, without whom, I would not have survived." And Marrin knelt at his feet.

 Chapter 112: The Duties of a Lord and a Master; also, Alden has left us

    Daniel didn''t understand what this was.


    There was no hidden malice. There was no ulterior motives. Marrin didn''t even do this to be granted a boon. There was no debt exchanged between them. There was not even the factors of expansion discussed.


    Daniel put his hand on Marrin''s shoulder. If he was a great Lord, he would have spoken grand words to enamor the Law of Fae and those watching.


    But he was just a person now. Power seemed immaterial to a moment such as this.


    "Stand up. Please."


    "Mentor. I can''t even give you favor. Let me go with you."


    "I don''t deserve this. Please stand up." He knelt down, and then gripping Marrin''s elbow, they rose together. Marrin allowed himself to be drawn up would be more arcuate.


    "Thank you." Marrin said.


    And the Law of Fae...looked the other way. There was no immense pressure of such gratitude, which would have crushed the new Harbor Name of Branch. Or perhaps the favor was being projected into the future, like casting a line for fish that one may catch, but it is not certain. That settled nicely on the Harbor Name of Branch. There was no heaviness of having a favor owed by someone else. But the name was firmed by the acknowledgement.


    "I''m not much for talking like those Lordlings, but I''m clever and I have plans. Lots of plans. Just wait. See what I can create in just a little bit of time." Marrin said, very seriously. "I will build something that will continue your mission. That will be able to help those in need, regardless of who they are. This way, it can help you too."


    What could he even say to that? "I''m honored." the words rang true to the Law of Fae.


    So many Fae, upon realizing that they had a great inherence of power, would have done whatever they could to stabilize their powerbase and reap the rewards of their new position. Marrin had not done that. Ultimately, Daniel had given Marrin critical aid, but to have it repaid and promised to be repaid even more in the future? What could Servant Branch say to such undeserved sentiment? "I look forward to seeing the fruit of your work. Do as you wish. I am cheering for you."


    <hr>


    Talia arrived from her ruining manor not long later, face almost as red as the night sky. "I look ridiculous." She muttered, not looking anyone in the eyes.


    "Here we leave you." Daniel said.


    Esra offered him a raised fist. Daniel sighed, but Esra had helped him greatly this night. He mirrored the gesture and bumped his fist against Esra''s. "Hey, where is my lightning in a bottling?" The Mage had the audacity to say. Or perhaps the lack of common sense. Or perhaps he still didn''t realize that Daniel was greatly reduced in power.


    "You were late!" Daniel said, in fake outrage. "You said you''d meet me at the Stable at 9:00. I was there, but there was no Esra!"


    "Drat. I knew I should have broken out from the O''Tells, fancy China tea cups or not. Eww." He shuttered in memory.


    "I''ll get some for you as soon as I can." Daniel said, feeling guilt at his almost deception.


    Esra sighed. "I''ll take Stormcrow and get his shoulder checked. I know you are worried about it."


    Talia pulled out a ribbon. It''s edges where singed and melted, but there was old calligraphy inscribed upon it. "I hereby promote you, Marrin, to lead, Commander of the Ash Court¡¯s Enforcer shall you be. May you always stand by the King''s side, Provider of safety, our trusted guide."


    "Won''t the current Commander mind?"


    "I, as the now retired Ash Court Enforcer Commander, assure you that I do not mind. Trust me. I am just glad I don''t need to write all the monthly reports by myself now."


    Daniel tried not to show his...distaste to the sentiment. The Enforcers were ultimately tied to the power of the King. The Courts had their own priority. To have the Leader of a Court also performing the role of the Enforcer Commander was almost irreverent and profane. He decided to be relieved that such situations were no more in the Ash Court.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "I...don''t know how to write all the words." Marrin said, revealing a great embarrassment. "There wasn''t time for things like a...formal education."


    Talia smiled brightly. "Excellent! There is always a little g game when you teach someone to read and write! We can make this work. As long as you are willing to try, that''s all I need."


    They left. There was nothing more to say. Esra and Marrin went one way, and Daniel and Talia left another. The clock tower echoed 10:45.


    Daniel wanted to rush to get to his destination. But instead he continued on his way, humming softly. Running would have alleviated his anxiety but only worsened his situation.


    Together, the Old Lordling and the Former Lordling traversed through the streets of the Citadel. Daniel saw the Stable, and frowned when he saw a light left on in a window. It was closer to midnight than most preferred. Why was there a light out there?


    Burdened with the knowledge that gaining such understanding was unlikely, he turned his collar to the wind and continued. They had left the rougher sections of the Citadel now, and were venturing into more and more populated areas. Strangely, the seemingly bold Old Lordling had returned to her very nervous disposition she had after she discovered a Middling under her. Then again, it made sense. She had her very small window of expertise. And Daniel had just bargained with her to step straight out of it and into a realm she had not ventured in many years.


    The heavy skirt bounced against legs, and she almost tripped. She gripped the shirt with clutched hands and frowned.


    "You seemed very happy to get the dress when I asked." Daniel said. "But now you don''t seem to like it."


    "I thought you''d wear the dress. Like a disguise." the dress was lovely, if extremely outdated. Talia unfortunately didn''t fit it well. She was too modest in some areas, and it was too tight across the shoulder. It barely fit her. It wouldn''t have fit Daniel''s almost- too- broad shoulders. Worse, the sheer nature of the middle would have revealed Daniel''s very defined torso, muscles standing out too much. It was very unattractive. Not that flabby was popular, but the image of a proper Fae of any position in society was one of proper height and slender build. There was no way Daniel could have used the dress as a disguise.


    "I had considered such things, but I thought it best to keep to the same motif that I have been using. Besides, this will allow you to appear in the Game without our connection being blatant. If collecting soap bars was essential, this will be much greater."


    She frowned, but sighed. "I suppose it is not the dress that bothers me. I may see some...old friends."


    "Where you in a Circle?" Daniel asked, curious.


    "Those weren''t very popular when I was young. Also, the Ash Court was already declining, so there wasn''t enough Authority to send me anyway."


    "Lady, if I may ask, what illustrious year were you brought into this world?"


    "You ask a question like that, after you ate all my teacakes." she grumbled, looking more like herself. "I''m not that old. Barely three hundred and fifty, I think."


    She had the power of a Lordling behind her, as well as being the master of the Court. She could probably continue as she had for a long time.


    "That is a long life, lady." he said.


    "I am too stubborn to fold. Besides, I made promises to my friends that I would never break. I can''t let them down."


    "Perhaps I know them. I understand you haven''t paid much attention to the politics for a long time."


    They had to quiet down, as they came past a sleeping cactus, the dry desert sands spilling across the track.


    Talia took some discarded spines, and offered one to Daniel. "If you want a game to turn silly, this is a great weapon. Have someone sit on it, and a lot of pressure gets released." she whispered.


    Daniel almost took it, but reached and selected some from the ground instead. On the ground, it was a found treasure at best or garbage at worst. Handed from one Fae to another, that may constitute a gift.


    After they silently sped from the sleeping plant, she answered his question. "I knew the lordling for the Northern Wind Court. Boorish boring lad." Her criticism seemed playful.


    "He is the Lord and Master of it now. Short tempered, but that''s to be expected considering the troubles he faces due to the trolls."


    "Do you know Isolde? Very sweet little girl. She had some connection to a Senator, and her family has holdings in the middle terrain."


    "Isolde, the Warrior Queen of the Black Trench? About my height with brown eyes?"


    "That peaceful pacifist picked up a sword?" She held up her two hands holding a mock blade.


    Daniel waved his hands through her mock blade and then held his own hand in gripping a facsimile of a different weapon. "No, a spear. Unmatched in the middle provinces."


    "Oh, she was a coward. That makes sense." Talia smiled, and she seemed younger now, like she was recalling on happier times. "How about Alden?"


    Daniel blinked.


    "Do you have more information? Alden is not an uncommon name."


    "Alden. He used to be the Heirling of the Red Sword. Of all of our peers, he was always the best. The kindest. The sharpest wit."


    "You know Alden?" Daniel said, suddenly falling back to his training to keep his pace the same and his tone just perfectly light. If Matheus had seen Daniel, he would have known that Daniel was no longer at ease. But Talia did not know Daniel, and did not notice the way his body tightened.


    "He was...a very special person to me." she blushed slightly, and looked away. "He lent me something. Promised he''d come back for it someday."


    Alden was dead.


    He had been dead for a long time.

 Chapter 113: Witness the Healing

    Marrin watched his new, if temporary lord, departing with Branch.


    "Let''s go." Said Esra, and led the way. But while Branch and Lordling Talia seemed to be heading toward the better part of the Citadel, Esra seemed determined to take him the opposite direction. Perhaps it was even more simple than that. Branch was going to were the fancy people lived and partied. While Esra was taking him to where the work occurred. More warehouses, and even some werehouses, lurked.


    This had been a very confusing time for him. It was late, and Marrin was long in the habit of an early bedtime. If he had to stay up late, it was due to the duty of being an Enforcer. Strolling through the Citadel with no clear goal was a strange experience for him.


    "Healers are very expensive." Said Marrin. Normally, any injury was just a question of if he could ignore it long enough to go on campaign and have one of the healers there work on it.


    "Not this one. She''ll work in exchange of stories."


    There were many healers who did such strange exchanges. They were open for as long as they wanted, and then when they finished, they returned to their academies or libraries.


    Marrin followed Esra, confusion and exhaustion on his body.


    He had an entire shift in his perspective and life-trajectory. Earlier that day, he would have complained that even with the power of a Middling, he had been defeated by a lowling servant. He had viewed it as shameful and a humiliation. He had taken solace in the fact that the Lowling had been a Lordling. And he had felt much better after watching Lord Fredar have to drink the mouse bedding concoction. But all in all, his thoughts about the fallen Lordling had been rather neutral. The servant Branch had posed a danger, but also the chances of Marrin being singled out by the noble were low.


    Now he had a mission to help that Lowling Servant. Time and time again, in this last hour, Elswith''s character had been revealed. Someone quick to help. Slow to betray. Cunning.


    The day would end in all appearances very badly for Marrin. On the surface, it was worse to be an Enforcer Commander of a ruined Court than a sub-commander of the Sky Court. In fact, he could not even mention what had happened when asked by friends and family. Unlike Esra, he knew the end of the quote. It was by Sir Richard. Three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead. And in all appearances, Marrin would have to appear very much ''dead'', in so far as being ruined, cast into a Court with no chance of promotion.


    But appearances were not reality. Such as Elswith himself maintaining more power than he had appeared, so too would Marrin model himself after.


    The Game. That looming, strange construct that Marrin barely understood. It was something knowledgeable Fae were always talking about. The Game''s afoot. They would say. Or She found herself in a little game, but she was not prepared at all!


    Apparently the game was something that showed the Fae and their struggles. The fancy fae liked to pretend that the Game was all knowing, but Marrin was beginning to believe it had its weakness. In fact, he knew. No matter how much it showed, the Game wasn''t perfect.


    He felt exhausted, but he also felt energized. His family had once been important, powerful rulers and masters of a proper and fancy Court. That the last several generations had been hunted out of existences or into very rural and uneducated farm life didn''t besmudge the proud history. Once those generations directly above him had secret knowledge, understanding of far off laws. Marrin didn''t have anything like that. Honestly, the last few years had been demoralizing and he had slacked on his self-improvement. But surely, if his ancestors could rise in rank and build a court to such finery as the Sky Court, so could he...Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "What did you think of the Ash Court?" Asked Esra.


    Branch had asked the great Mage to stay with Marrin for a few days. Now that the danger had passed, Marrin didn''t mind the lanky mage nearly as much as when he discovered the famous Gravity bender had the mental planning of idiot. Or at least, it had seemed like he was an idiot.


    Marrin remembered his own experience wielding the Sword, and how hard it had been to separate the different elements. He wondered, if the Mage felt everything thing underfoot. How terrifying it may be to forget which way is down or up. How many pieces of information did the Mage have to balance in his mind during a battle? Perhaps his continued courage to run toward the danger was more a testament to his mental fortitude than Marrin could have imagined.


    "It is a place of opportunity, but there is significant danger. I think that the Law of Fae is loose there."


    Esra looked at him blanky.


    "Don''t you feel the Law of Fae at all?"


    "No." he said.


    "How did you grow to such an age without knowing the feeling of the very balance of all the Fae power? Did becoming a Mage blunt your ability to feel it?" Marrin shouldn''t be one to judge. He had felt the Law of Fae before too. But now after becoming an Heirling, he saw it with more clarity and color than before. It almost made it feel alive.


    "I just did." Esra shrugged. "Do you know why Spikes is trying to build power? He already has enough stuff to do. Do you know he sometimes goes to parties for like 30 seconds, says a speech, then leaves for another party?"


    Marrin looked at him obliquely. Branch had charged him not to reveal the Game to Esra. Don''t tell him about the Game. Don''t tell him about the Servant Branch''s ongoing struggle.


    The Seelie Courts are made of houses of cards, of truths and almost truths. Elswith had said in a whispered conference. But Esra doesn''t see them at all. And Esra could knock them all down.


    Marrin wished he knew more about the Game. At least that way he would be able to help more. When he had been bound to the Sky Court, such information was locked from him. But now, as the Commander of the Enforcers of the Ash Court...perhaps he could find out what Branch was aiming for; and how to help him.


    "You are either growing stronger or getting weaker." Marrin said at last. "I think he has some plans..."


    Esra yawned at the mention of the word plans. "Fine, fine. I don''t care. I don''t like that he ditched us. How rude. He always avoids hanging with his boys in public."


    They had to stop as a procession of attendants moved past, blocking the road as they hauled a massive sedan chair with a vieled figure within.


    Marrin asked a question that was disturbing him. "Branch said..." Marrin paused as he registered that Esra looked at him blankly. "Branch is Elswith''s name?" Esra continued looking at him stupidly. "Elswith is Spike''s other name?"


    "Why does he do that? Always throwing around new names. Spikes needs to simplify his life."


    The Mage was clearly very temperamental. Marrin could adjust; he had survived first Lordling Fredar''s ridiculous requests, then Lord Fredar''s much more different to disregard''s ridiculous requests. At least the Mage was not cruel. "Spikes said that I need to be extra extra careful on a Full Moon...do you know anything about that?"


    "I don''t know. Just think happy thoughts."


    The Mage led them down a flight of stairs of a building Marrin recognized as a storage facility. It was a very mundane sort of place, and Marrin was not certain that they had permission to be there.


    They entered a narrow passage way, into a dim room. Esra knocked on an old door, and after a minute entered. "If Spikes is building power, then it''s time for me to become a wizard so I can help too!" the lanky mage said, and clapped Marrin on his back.


    Marrin let out a grunt of pain.


    Then a female voice called out quietly. "I told you to stop bringing all your wounded birds to me."


    It was a very pleasant voice. It had an honesty to it, and a light bit of teasing.


    The Law of Fae was present then. Marrin had no experience with seeing it in such vivid details, but he wondered if it normally glowed golden and honey in smooth eddies of power around the room. It was strange, because the Law of Fae didn''t block him from seeing (or in this case, not seeing), it didn''t provide any illumination. But it still filled the room with the sense of light that almost sparkled.


    And something else seemed to scream so loud in displeasure Marrin almost fell down. Whatever that was, it was not pleased.


    "There, there, baby bird. I will treat you. Never fear. I just must scold Esra for bringing yet another stranger to me in the middle of the night."


    The Lanky Mage scoffed softly. "You said you wouldn''t see any more of them. And it''s dark, so you can''t see. See, I can be clever too."


    "Enough." And a candle was lit.


    And revealed a human.

 Chapter 114: The Human Healer

    There was a human in the Citadel. And Marrin was terrified.


    She was short, but almost everyone was short compared to him. She had her hair in a simple braid, rich chestnut hair gleamy darkly, and her face had a small dusting of freckles on her nose. Her presence was very sweet, like an innocent deer.


    He tried to back up, least he trigger its ravages. They attacked at sudden movement, right? He had seen some humans, and seen how terrible their power was. They were weak, of course, but in that paradoxical way that humans existed, they were also strong. He had seen the aftermath of a human mother who had defended her homestead against dread hordes, leaving mounds of bodies and almost bodies on the the wayside of her doorstep to keep her children safe. The human mother had been paralyzed. She could not walk, and yet she had attacked so ferociously that the horde had fled as if she was in hot pursuit.


    Beyond the paradox of both strong and weak, Marrin knew that there was something more diabolical regarding the man-things.


    Humans could lie.


    In fact, Marrin thought it more rare to find a human who could tell the truth.


    Fae could lie as well, but should they lie the Law of Fae would mark them. Each mistruth was a cut against a Fae''s very power. Against their very soul.


    But Humans were different.


    They could take Favor, Authority, and Influence from an unwary Fae. The man-things could be granted a great boon, then cry when it came time to rebalance the situation. They were thieves. Stealers. The stories were endless about the Safe Dealings with Humans: do not.


    Story after story of a human charming a helpless little Lowling, using that Lowling''s small power. Then killing the Fae when the Lowling had been driven to ruin.


    The human before him was watching him very carefully. Her crafty eyes were watching him.


    Not all humans were liars. Stories were just warnings, after all.


    The Rural Places needed to trade with humans, after all. As long as one was careful, the human could be used.


    Marrin swallowed dryly.


    "Esra, did you not tell him you were taking him to a human?"


    The lanky Mage sighed, and chewed on his lip for several moments before he shrugged. "I guess it slipped my mind."


    The woman sighed, and bowed, very regally. She must have some training in Fae etiquette, because it clearly resembled the Lren Style. Or perhaps it was really the Lren Style, and Marrin himself wasn''t educated enough to differentiate a higher form from a counterfeit.


    "Please, be at peace, stranger. Be a welcomed and well behaved guest, and I shall be a welcoming and accommodating host, within reason."


    That was definitely the Lren Style.


    Who had taught a human the Lren Style?


    <hr>


    The Game raged. Since it was not yet 11 o''clock, there was no audience to its fury than the Law of Fae.


    MAKE THEM LEAVE!This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    There must be balance. The Law of Fae countered sedately, purples and blues flowing.


    THIS COULD UNRAVEL ME! THIS COULD BREAK EVERYTHING!


    You were the one who allowed betrayal, of a former lover against former lover. Now that that conflict has led to this place, you balk?


    GIVING ELSWITH AN ALLY WITH ALDEN''S LOVER WAS ALREADY THE REDRESS, WHICH I STILL PROTEST! NOW THIS!


    As I said before. No. Take. Backs.


    <hr>


    Marrin found himself shirtless, sitting on a chair, while the pain in his shoulder was dampened by a strange salve.


    A human was standing behind him, making small, easy conversations. "I don''t understand your anatomy perfectly...in fact, most Fae seem to have different anatomy from each other, like there is no standard. But the basic practices seem to mostly work." she said. "A wingbud. I''ve never seen that before." He had no hope of the wingbud healing, but if he could recover...being wounded made one a target. And now that he was so close to a dangerous situation, he would be well served to be as able as possible.


    "He got cut by a Shadow Warbler. So...probably needs to be cleaned." Said Esra. "That thing looked really nasty. Why were you fighting with your right hand anyway? You were so much stronger with the other hand."


    Marrin wished he could fly away and leave.


    "I think I''ll need to stitch this." she declared at last, and stepped away toward her small box of medical supplies.


    It was strange, because while some of the greatest surgeons had been Fae, most healers just used their power to aid in the wound closing. Or rewrite that one had ever been injured to behind with.


    Only the least used such blunt and terrible instruments. And yet, Marrin felt confidence in the human. He watched her look of concentration as she prepared her supplies, the small stars of freckles across her nose...


    And he suddenly knew that Humans were dangerous.


    Even knowing everything that he did, it was so hard to keep his guard up.


    "So...are you a swordsman?" Asked the human, her language slightly careless. Then again, she was speaking Faespeech. Marrin didn''t know any human language at all.


    "I use a sword." He said, wishing he was better with words himself.


    "Nice blade." she said, as she pulled out a wicked looking needle.


    No one ever noticed his sword. Most saw it''s silvery dullish shine and commented that it was a shine there was no ornamentation.


    "Does the healer know bladecraft?"


    "My father taught me." She said, her words catching on the word father. "Your sword looks familiar to me, but I don''t know why. Perhaps it is because most fairy swords are very...fancy. And expensive looking. Mage, I need silk thread. You must bring me more supplies."


    "Do they sell that somewhere?" Asked Esra. "I brought you something better than that, though. It''s much more interesting, trust me."


    "Better than saving your friend''s life? Who banaged it anyway? Ameuter." she scoffed.


    "Spikes did."


    The healer dropped what she was holding. "You saw him? Is he here? Is he okay?"


    "He''s fine." Said the Mage. "Well, he keeps trying to get me to leave him alone. And he keeps giving himself new names, like Branch, and Elswith..."


    "Elswith was his name for at least the last 15 years!" Cried Marrin, now thoroughly annoyed...


    Until he noticed the human crying, large watery tears springing to her eyes. "I...I...I''ll be a minute."


    And the human woman left the room.


    "Now you made her cry." Complained the Mage, completely misreading the situation.


    "Who is that." Asked Marrin, a sinking understanding coming to him.


    "A great doctor and medic. Also, very good at sparring. She doesn''t miss a lick."


    "WHO DID YOU BRING ME TO?"


    "Oh. Spike''s new girlfriend."


    Marrin didn''t know much about the Game. He knew that the Heirling of the Red Sword had cast away his rights and heritage in a desperate bid. The details were never widely announced, and in the month it had been since the Game had been scheduled, Marrin had heard various rumors. That the Lordling Elswith had grown tired of waiting for his Lordly Father to retire, and challenged him for the right to become the next Lord of the Red Sword. That Lordling Elswith, working with both his Lordling Father and the Red Faction, had defied the Senate and was aiming to break apart their control. That the Lordling Elswith had desired to make his own Court, and usurp the declining Rural Places as the bedrock of his power.


    And one, small whispered rumor, that no one liked.


    That somehow, someway, the Senate had been stealing the human children.


    And their Princess alone had been able to break into the realm of Fae, chasing them all the way into the Citadel itself. To demand the return of the children.


    And that Lordling and Heirling Elswith had defied everyone to help her.


    You wanted to know what the Game was about...Whispered the colors of the Law of Fae to Marrin. Here you are...

 Chapter 115: Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

    Marrin had wanted to know. And now he did.


    Marrin had wanted to help. And now...he had made a friend, completely independently of the Game. With the woman the Game itself was centered around.


    How was this possible?


    Esra was there, cards splayed out before him. He was building a house of cards, hands quick and precise.


    How to get answers. How to get understanding. "Spikes...has a human girlfriend?"


    "Well, not exactly...But..."


    "There is no such romantic connection." Said the human, reentering. She had the bearing of a queen, her head held at an impeccable angle, with no trace that she had been crying just a minute before. "The advancing destruction has long been held off by my Kingdom of Shieldhaven. Humanity''s last baston of strength on this continent. So we were suspicious of when many Fae Lords arrived and offered us help. We thought it unwise to accept such aid, fearing that it may perhaps give the Fae permission to enter our lands."


    Humans didn''t like Fae? Strange that the feeling was mutual.


    "Then when disaster struck, we were saved by what I now know are Lordling Circles. There must have been 12 circles or more. At the time, all we knew was that a gathering of Fae Lords arrived and gave aid. They beat back the darkness. We would have lost an entire region."


    "I was there." Interjected Esra. Unhelpfully again. "So was Parcel and Cheddar...I mean Fredar." *


    The human nodded her head, glistening chestnut brown hair like a crown upon her brow. "My kingdom knew that owing a great debt was dangerous, therefore we sought to appease the strange magic by doing something to rebalance the scales. It came to be that after the danger had passed, Shieldhaven established a great holiday. Public recognition and honor for our heroes, ending with mine Father hosting a Kingly Feast for the Fae who had helped us. Only the Fae who had helped us, mind. We were careful with our words. We were worried about Fae sneaking in, you see."


    She softened her expression.


    "But one Lordling snuck away, and found himself in our great library, though I am certain it pales in comparison to the palaces of books here. It just so happens that I also grew tired of the feast, and went to a place no one important would descend upon."


    Marrin wouldn''t know. He hadn''t had much time for reading, and he could barely write. Perhaps Talia would aid him.


    "I didn''t know he was Fae, you see." The human came closer to Marrin, "I found a stranger, perusing through my books. He was doing it wrong, and I didn''t understand how he didn''t comprehend how our books are sorted. He had a strange notion that books were sorted by color. I assumed he had never been surrounded by so many books before. There is no shame in not being well educated, only shame in remaining as you are. So I helped him find a few volumes. And that is why Mage Esra, and some others, have the mistaken idea that we are in love. They found us, you see. And only then did I realize in the light of the fire, the strange glow of the Fae upon the Stranger."


    "I was not a good wingman." bemoaned Esra, standing on tiptoes as his house of cards grew very tall. "Me, Regis, Pockets, Cleo and...well, Kane, found them together. I should have distracted them or something."


    "When you say it like that it implies something scandalous." The human snapped, losing something of her regal air. "We were reading a book together, arguing about the author''s intent. I was right, he was wrong, and he nearly had to admit it when the door opened and more Fae appeared where they were neither wanted nor welcomed." She said, her words very pointed to Esra.


    That Esra had the skill to irritate even human royalty was some strange consolation that Marrin needed at that moment.


    "Regardless, that was the beginning of the End, though we didn''t understand at that time. We established official trade routes with the Fae in exchange that there would be Circle to aid us again should the need arise. The Red Circle always returned near Dragon Skull and aided our Kingdom directly. Other Circles came and went. Lordling Parcel remained a loyal aid."


    Marrin was beginning to also understand the confusion why people assumed Lordling Parcel and Lordling Elswith were friends. They did seem to compete against each other a lot.


    "I will not lie, I felt great relief when certain members of the Fae ceased their coming. Individuals such as Kane. But I was not wise enough to realize...some of the most pleasant were the most dangerous; they took their time to find our own weakness, weakness that we did not know to defend against."


    She did not say what had been done. But Marrin knew what the Lordling could be like. Whatever had happened had been very bad.


    "So, friend of Esra, please, understand. I have great respect for Lordling Elswith. And the debt I owe him is very heavy on my soul. But please, do no disregard the suffering of a great man...well, a great Fae, and rewrite history."


    Marrin wanted to speak. He wanted to ask many questions. He had heard rumors, no matter how remote a place like Dragon Skull was. The powerful Human Kingdom. The stories he had grown up hearing from his great grandfather, back when he was small and the world huge.


    Marrin... rasped his great grandfather''s voice in his mind, Humanity...never assume their weakness. They dream of dark dreams, and nightmares pool where they gather. Collectively, humans¡¯ dreams together could overthrow monsters, but humans dreamt of dark things. And while their dreams are powerful, their bodies and magic were not. And they are often destroyed. They change the world while they sleep. Fear them.


    He wanted to ask questions.


    But his survival instincts kicked in also.


    He wanted to leave here, wound exposed and all, and leave the sticky power of the Human behind.


    But he knew that he couldn''t.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Elswith had traded away his freedom for this fight.


    Elswith had saved Marrin''s life, again and again, and wanted nothing for it.


    Elswith would be powerless to help here.


    But Marrin could.


    "Are you called Witness?" Marrin asked.


    The human looked at him with sad, soulful eyes.


    "I bear that name, for this Game."


    <hr>


    Daniel stared at the Old Lordling of the Ash Court. Her ash colored hair looked very pale in the wane light of the moon, her eyes wrinkled at the corner. It wasn''t that she looked old. But that she looked happy. Nervous, but still happy.


    Daniel realized that it had been strange, that she not marry for political gain.


    She may have been able to marry some dudily son from some powerful and rich Family. There were many a Family that hungered for the Nobility of the Courts. Who would not have cared in the slightest that the Ash Court was nearly ruined and bankrupted.


    Lordling Alden. He had been Elswith''s senior brother, with many siblings between them. Elswith had never considered anything about the Ash Court before the Game. They had been one of dozens of Courts spiraling down the drain. He hadn''t thought about them in months. And he hadn''t cared. But apparently, at one point in time, the Heirling of the Red Sword had formed a connection here.


    The servants of the Red Estate had sometimes spoken softly of the previous Heirling, who had died unexpectedly at 15 upon using the Red Sword in battle the first time. A life snuffed out too soon. Talent and power and intelligence. But that had been Heirling Hawthorne.


    Heirling Alden was from over 200 hundred years ago. If not more. For Daniel, Alden was nothing more than an oil painting and plaque which bore the identity of one long since passed. He had also left behind some toys, that young Elswith and Orville had played with together, that Matheus had found in an attic.


    Heirling Alden was gone, and no one even knew what he accomplished. While 200 years for some fae was not a lot of time, for the very young fae like Elswith, it seemed like enormous oceans between himself and the past.


    "Alden..." Daniel said again, careful with his tone. Talia was observing him a little too carefully.


    "Yes, he left me with something. He promised he''d come back for it." she grinned widely. "I peaked. Not at first, but when he was late coming to see me, I had to know. It is something very powerful. Something only the Heirling of the Red Sword would know what to do with!"


    If it was that...that would make Daniel''s life much much easier. If Daniel could claim that prize...It would allow him to bypass so much drama in the Game.


    She smiled at some distant memory. "And I promised him, I''d hold on to it forever. I''d wait as long as it took..."


    All Daniel needed to do was burst the delusional Fae''s delusion. Surely she must have known some unfortunate fate had befallen Heirling Alden. Alden had been dead for a long time. Surely she must know...


    And then Daniel spotted her engagement brooch. She wore it discretely around her wrist, but the sleeves of the pink dress had rolled upward and revealed it. The frayed and peeling cord must have been added later, after the original ribbon was destroyed perhaps. The brooch was certainly designed from the Red Faction. But their old work, not the new, soulless frills and baubles. Something old and almost priceless. If she sold it, she would have been able to bring back the Ash Court significantly. But she hid it. She could have used it for status, or power. But she hid it from sight.


    Daniel remembered Kenton''s little desk, where he would work on the saddles and bridles. Daniel remembered the countless times he had come into that little office and caught Kenton gazing longingly at the drawing of Sarah Beth with her white shawl and blue dress and an engagement brooch pined to her dress for all the world to see. What would have happened to her if Kenton perished rescuing Daniel? How long would she labor on without knowing what befell her fianc¨¦?


    He also thought about Witness. What would happen to Witness if he failed? Would there be anyone to be kind to her and her people? She had been betrayed by both her kingdom and her ''allies'' amongst the Fae. Would there ever be someone willing to help her? Would someone tell her about what happened to the Lordling Elswith, foolish Fae that he was.


    Talia and Daniel had to pause more, as more and more important Fae were now on the street, streaming for the same location. They were nearly there. The streets were becoming increasingly moonlit.


    Someone would need to tell Talia. That Alden wasn''t being forgetful. He was dead. He had been murdered.


    But not right now.


    She was about to enter the next round with him. His final assassination attempt.


    The Game would no doubt find it good sport. Normally the Game wanted him free from allies, but a found ally? His brother''s secret fianc¨¦? Tears pooling down her face as she swore herself to the Servant Branch''s new cause? The Game would explode.


    But she had been holding on to smoke for years, believing that her flame would one day return. He would tell her. But she didn''t need to know now.


    If she had hidden that for Former Heirling Alden, then she could keep it for a while longer. While the urge to shortcut the Game was significant, the Game was winnable. Besides, shortcutting it may only increase its difficulty.


    Daniel made a gesture, like he had just recalled what he was trying to remember "Red Sword Heirling Alden! I just remembered. The last official record we have of Heirling Alden was his victory over a chimera. Then he left Fae society."


    "Ha." She said, hands on her hips. "I knew it. He finally ditched his old man and went out to make his own fortune. Good for him! I''ll wait. He''ll be back one day."


    Daniel did not tell her about the last unofficial record. That report stated that the Red Lord himself had slain Heirling Alden when he had attempted to leave his duty as Heirling. Cut him down with the very Red Sword.


    Not for the first time, Daniel prayed that Witness was well. That she was being taken care of. That fate would not repeat itself again.


    <hr>


    In the storage room, Marrin was still juggling his strange task before him. The heart of the Game herself was tending to his wound, her queenly demeanor carefully put aside. Not disregarded, but not at the forefront at least.


    It made it easier on Marrin''s nerves. She at least didn''t seem human at the moment, so he was able to relax. He could tell himself he was being cared for by a nixie, or an elf, or even a Glasbin.


    Esra''s house of cards was magnificent. Taller than he was by a good measure. Perhaps if he ever tired of being a Mage, he could do performance art of constructing palaces from paper rectangles. It could work, but only if the Mage remained silent.


    "Witness is at least kind of cool nickname. But your name is really pretty..." Said Esra, stupidly. "Your name is...." and he moved his mouth but no sound came out. "That was weird....." he tried again, to similar results.


    "It''s a Game, Mage." Said the Human, now behind Marrin again. She had applied extra salve, and Marrin barely felt the sting of the needle. "It had been stolen, and we are going to get it back. But while the Game is ongoing, I am the Witness of what happened."


    Marrin thought she might become harsh in his treatment, especially with Esra pestering her. But her hands remained kind and gentle. "I think...I got the walls of the vein patched up. That''s good. I think. Not only is Fae anatomy different, your physiology is bizarre. You have no iron in your blood at all, yet it is still being oxygenated somehow, but the unloading process would be very different..."


    Marrin needed to read more, because he was very certain that he didn''t understand very much of what she said. "So humans have iron in their blood? Doesn''t it kill them?"


    "It carries dissolved oxygen, until the vein reaches the cells, which can then use that to create energy in the body. The book called it the kerb cycle."


    "What magic did you use to discover that?" Asked Marrin.


    "You can observe the world with no magic, Fae." She said, not unkindly. "Now, lift your arm a little..." she came in front of him, watching his range of motion.


    A clock struck 11. The next attempt on the Servant Branch officially began.


    Witness paused, listening. Her hand reached for her heart. Marrin knew then she knew what the significance of each hour here.


    "What will you do?" Marrin asked, softly so only she could hear him. "If Lordling Elswith fails?"


    Esra''s tall card castle came down, hundreds or thousands of cards scattering across the room.


    "Ashes, ashes, we all fall down." She said.

 Chapter 116: The Clock Struck 11 oclock

    The clock struck 11.


    Many things around the Citadel were changing.


    <hr>


    The Lady of the Court of Flowers frowned as the Lord of the Court of Petals walked across her path. They had a moment of tension, their similar Courts naturally causing them to be repellant to each other. But at least the the Lord of the Court of Petals bowed his head and gestured for her to go first into the chamber beyond.


    "Will we still be able to see the Game from here?" she asked as she passed him.


    "Indeed, the Game will always show very well inside the King''s Chambers." He replied.


    Any more conversation was canceled out as the Crier announced the Arrival of the Lady of the Court of Flowers.


    <hr>


    The Lord of the Northern Winds unleased his power. He felt the mountains to the north, and the sharpness of the cold. He was the wind, and with it, everything it touched. His focus found at last an old, golden bracelet. Lost and buried in the snow. No one would find it. He would make sure of it.


    <hr>


    The Seawhich arrived, though she was not announced. That was well. Out of water, much of her grandeur was diminished. She had not spent the time to glamour herself into a more attractive form, as was custom. She was not Fae, but the Fae had overtaken her realm so much that there was no where else for her to go.


    But she was not here for herself. She was here to watch. Not the Game. No, she came to watch the Lords of Fae, High Fae and Low Fae alike. She came to watch them panic.


    She came to enact her own plans, when the time came.


    So long as no one cheated, it was clear that Elswith would over come this.


    <hr>


    The Eastern courtyard was in turmoil, as lids were pulled off heavy chambers. The...creatures...released.


    The fae who had opened the lid did not fare well. It had always been something of a sacrificial position.


    The creatures released had nightmarish proportions, gnarled multiple limbs, and eyes, that was clear. It was not clear where those eyes went and whether they arrived there correctly however. The oozing slick marred the ground where they gathered, as vague as a dream. It was appropriate, as they were captured nightmares from the Human Realm.


    Their master whistled, once, low and sharp.


    The nightmares'' master threw a garment of clothing in the midst of them.


    "Get him." Said the Fae.


    And the nightmares faded, and disappeared into the pavement.


    <hr>


    "Where is he?" asked the Lord of Grass. She had left the parlor she had been watching the Game. Well, it was more accurate to say that since everyone else had left, she went in search of more people. And there was no place with more Fae of Influence and means than the King''s Ball. But she couldn''t see the Game here...


    Only a few servants lingered near her, but they were no fun. So she went stalking for her peers to talk to.


    <hr>


    The veiled figure in the Sedan arrived, unfashionably early. But this was not a night to be late. Those milling around outside the Ballroom all parted.


    As they should.


    The Crier drew away upon the veiled figure''s entrance, fear clear upon his face. Beads of sweat appeared on the fae''s brow, but the Crier did his job well. "Now Entering. The Bladed Master."Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The veiled figure glanced, once, softly at the Crier. The poor Fae froze as the intent was revealed for just one second.


    Then the veiled figure chuckled, the sound of broken glass echoing, and entered the room.


    The chuckle remained for moments longer, repeating and repeating, like a sound echoing from a deep well.


    <hr>


    In the Stable, Kenton paused as they passed by a mirror, leaning against a wall, forgotten. There was a hum of magic, and Kenton belatedly realized it was showing something to an audience of no one. It may actually be valuable, but Kenton doubted he could take anything from here. 11 o''clock had come, and now a sinking feeling was entering him: Could they get to where the Stable was taking them, and then leave before the turn of a new day? Midnight was fast approaching.


    The split between today, tomorrow, and yesterday. And it was very dangerous to remain in the stable.


    And yet, despite knowing he should hurry, he couldn''t help himself and approached the mirror. Shelby had to backtrack and returned to his side.


    "It''s the Game." Kenton said at last, recognizing it at last. "Only high ranking servants can watch it easily, though there are some clubs apparently that have a way to view it."


    "Mirror mirror in the hall, where is the ketchup?" Said Shelby softly, mostly to herself; another joke perhaps. But the Game played on, and didn''t answer her question. "So this shows Branch?"


    "Well, yes. It should...."


    "Where is he?" she asked, after a moment.


    Kenton looked at the mirror for several moments.


    "I don''t see him."


    <hr>


    The Lord of Dew stepped closer to his companion, as they tried to understand why the Game hadn''t turned on yet.


    "So strange." Said his current companion, the Senator McLennan. "It normally would be observable from here."


    They were huddled against the backwall, as far away from the very crowded party as they could while they tried to solve their current problem. Both were very puzzled, and a small debate had broken out between them as they tried to problem solve. A servant offered them wine.


    The Senator McLennan took a glass, frustration on her face. "I just don''t understand...did the Servant Branch die?"


    <hr>


    Johnson Fliddlesmight, Clerk of the Servants Keep Hall, sighed as he long last returned to his chamber. He had worried he''d miss the closing salvo of the Game. Since most of his coworkers had been replaced with others that morning, he had fallen massively behind. Then he had been pulled into setting up and preparing the King''s Ball. It dragged on forever and ever, and forced him to miss the first two assassination attempts of the Game.


    But finally he got free from all of that and went home. At long last he slipped into his night gown, his night cap, and his little slippers with the pointy toes that he loved. At long last, he undid the magic that served as his girdle, and his belly jiggled free at last, and would have snapped off some buttons if he had left his stiff shirt on.


    He went to his little couch, grabbing a small bowls of nuts and a blanket. He started munching on the nuts as he arranged his blanket around him. He planned to watch the Game until he got tired and went to bed...Or he''d just fall asleep on his couch again.


    He finally got settled, and started the Game.


    And saw...


    It was just the King''s Ball again. He had just come from there.


    Johnson Fliddlesmight tried readjusting the Game. When there were little games, there may be several going at once, and sometimes mistakes happened. But now...it didn''t work. It just showed the King''s Ball, again and again.


    He watched, and noticed several important Fae appearing very confused. The Game showed several Fae, a Senator and a Lord, if Johnson Fliddlesmight recalled correctly, complaining about not seeing the Game at all, and hypothesizing that the Servant Branch may have died.


    But that wouldn''t be, couldn''t be. Because the Game was still working. He could see it, even though there was nothing worth seeing currently...


    <hr>


    The Seawhich watched the confusion sweep through the large ballroom. A Servant approached her, and offered her a glass of wine.


    She took it, not looking at the servant beyond that initial moment.


    But those watching closely would have noticed she smiled into her wine.


    <hr>


    A stranger placed the final detail in her hair, her blue gray eyes glowing softly. The dark crimson rose contrasted sharply with her cool toned blonde hair. Some called it ash blonde, but she had always disagreed. Ash was the color of ruint, after all. And she was far from that.


    Her steward appeared behind her. Winning him to her side had been a endless trial, but at long last she had worn the old Fae down. At long last, she had captured his attention.


    "Matheus," she said, carefully saying his Harbor name perfectly.


    His face twitched, then he pulled back the cloth. There lay a simple, if somewhat wicked looking blade.


    "It''s almost time for me." she said.


    Elswith would never be the Heirling of the Red Sword again. Not if she could help it. Not if it still reached for him.


    "How do I look?" She asked her steward.


    "To die for." Said a different voice, and Regis entered the chamber, offering her his arm.


    "Excellent." She said.

 Chapter 117: The Minutes before 11

    Time to go back in time.


    Not actually go back in time. We aren''t going to change anything, this time. But let''s move the clock backwards and examine what happened.


    As Daniel neared the grounds of the Fairy King''s Palace, he looked over the the relatively new construction which was only a millennium old.


    It was everything ethereal, curving spirals, cloudlike construction giving way to boxlike uniformity. There were harsh angles and cold curls. It was boxlike, but in the least understandable box shapes. The Fairy King''s Palace bore a mix of all the courts, but there was a lack of some more mundane materials. Little wood could be found, as well as stone, and only the most exotic of plants filled the grounds. There was no grass or bamboo, and only the most unearthly of trees. There was nothing for the common fae here. Precious metals, glowing gems, shifting almost immaterial elements, and echoing clouds made the sharp and beautiful structure and palace for the King of all the Fae.


    Even as a Lordling, Elswith had always disliked coming here. Something about the atmosphere of the place had said "You are beneath me, and the King."


    As a servant, the Fairy King''s Palace seemed to shout "You are a miserable bug, and you exist only because you are allowed."


    As the clock moved the long hand toward 10 and the short hand was nearly upon 11, Daniel and the Old Lordling Talia entered the grounds. They arrived without pomp of ceremony. There were so many Fae, little Lords of small courts and powerful Lordlings from huge courts, so many senators and servitors and attendants. Only the most impressive had the way cleared. At the gate, the crowd split into several lines, but the guards were so overwhelmed and understaffed that there was no way to really check every one who entered. There were numerous fae seeking entrance, but the fae were long used to dealing with such crowd.


    Daniel felt nervous, as if he got caught here when 11 o''clock arrived, the Game situation he desired would not be. Not that he would be in bad position necessarily...But that wouldn''t be as dramatic. If anything, he may get penalized, like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar.


    As 10:54 approached, they were finally moved into a quicker line.


    The King''s Guards were similar to the Enforcers. Enforcers were those who left the King''s Palace to enforce the King''s will. The Guards were the ones who set out to guard the king and keep his commands. Enforcers were more similar to the human''s concept of an army, or a knight''s order. While the Guards were more similar to those who police the citizens.


    But even still being in the King''s baston of power, overworked and understaffed was still common.


    The guard they went to was a Middling who looked exhausted with dark circles under his eyes. He examined the old Lordling, giving her more attention than others as Curiosity battled with Tiredness. The guard sighed. "Invitation."


    "I am the Lord and Master of the Ash Court...By royal decree 39,193.291 b, all leaders of the Courts are automatically invited to official gatherings."


    The guard, wearing his armor and satiny blue cloak, sighed. "I know all the decrees. There are several that also suggest that certain tithes should be met to attend..."


    "Milord," said Daniel, softly. "Surely a suggestion isn''t greater than a decree?" He said.


    The guard didn''t have to let them in.


    But he did.


    "All correct, all correct. So, Lord of Ash Court and one attendant?"


    "Yes."


    "Go on in."


    And they did.


    "Good luck in the Game." Came the Guard''s voice, as he moved to work with the next person.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Daniel had an initial moment of panic, worry that his plan was exposed.


    Had that King''s Guard actually been a Middling?


    But Talia didn''t seem to hear the words of encouragement, or the implied threat that Daniel perceived. In fact, it was so noisy that it was implausible that he had heard the Guard''s calm voice over that din and raucous.


    Daniel remembered his own early thoughts, way back from the morning, when he had known there would be many groups observing him. The most important people he couldn¡¯t tell. They could be hiding in any group, seamlessly blending in. They could pretend to be fools, appear disinterested, feign incompetence. Anything. The true experts Daniel knew he couldn¡¯t catch. So he wasn¡¯t going to try. It would waste his energy.


    So he had to hold to that principle now, and continue with his plan, mysterious Guard and the implied vulnerability in his heart.


    10:56, Branch and Talia entered the main chamber, the foyer of the room. Talia''s best clothes were ridiculously out of date. But there were so many Fae, of all stations, that she temporarily blended in. Daniel observed the Lord of Petals causally enter the overpacked foyer, taking easy steps to be announced. He might actually recognize Daniel, so Daniel made sure to maneuver away from him.


    10:57.


    Daniel found his way into the Servant''s hall which ran along side the large chamber that the King''s Summer Ball was taking place. The noble and leader Fae had lessened as the number of servants, attendants, squires, servitors, and others, increased. Daniel spied all the uniforms, and found a group listening to a worker.


    Like he had when he battled Kane and hid his weakness by appearing strong, Daniel Influenced his clothing to match theirs. Not perfectly, because then he would be a counterfeit, but to suggest the Hall Attendant uniform from the O''Tells should perhaps match the Servers...


    The red uniform obliged. It glistened softly, and the scarlet red jacket seemed to become a little duller, something closer to maroon. The spider sock scoffed at Daniel''s efforts, and he had a moment of panic that it would chose right now to unravel. But the magic solidified again. It was not a perfect match, but it didn''t have to be. Indeed, there were so many attendants and servants from different branches that there was no true unified uniform.


    10:58.


    "Remember, many guests will undoubtedly be watching the Game. Do your best to remain out of sight and away from trouble. Remember, you have no opinion on the Game itself. The politics of this crowd is very mixed. We represent the King. Do not agree nor disagree." The king''s surmount butler finished her speech.


    Then a cart arrived, bearing silvery trays, and another cart with filled wineglasses. This group of servants moved, and Daniel took a tray, and after waiting in line for only a single moment before servants filled the tray with the wineglasses. Daniel observed the servants. They were using the Lren Style, which was good.


    "Remember, no matter what: do not mention the Servant Branch."


    And then the doors were opened by two more servants (they also opened the doors in the Lren style, even though they were just opening it for servants). And the servants entered the room. There were already people present, of course. But the King''s Summer Ball started at 11 and lasted until the new day. That meant all the important people would arrive shortly, as no important people would arrive early.


    Daniel passed through the doors. He felt the role he had chosen for himself settle around him, like a protective shield. But it was also a hidden blade.


    All day, the Game had been saying, again and again. The Servant Branch. The Servant Branch.


    It was time he actually embrace it.


    Let him actually be Servant Branch.


    "Wine?" He said, offering forward his tray toward a mingling ground of Senators, in the Lren Style of offering.


    Two took a glass each, and the third asked about a white wine, or red.


    "I will see. I think we only have blue wine, at the moment. I will inquire for you, though."


    "Ah. Thank you." and a small spark of favor was gathered and bestowed upon the Servant Branch for a job well done.


    <hr>


    The Game laughed and laughed.


    I thought you would hate this. Said the Law of Fae, coiling around the Game.


    EVERYONE IS WATCHING. MORE AND MORE PEOPLE COME TO WATCH! Roared the Game, but in its own twisted mirth.


    Is this not boring? He is only walking around, serving wine.


    THIS WILL NOT END WELL! AND THERE IS ALMOST NO INTERVENTION NEEDED! LET THEM WONDER! IT EVEN MATCHES THE THEME FROM THE BEGINNING!


    The Servant Branch has embraced that role.


    AND THOSE FOOLS HAVE SET LOOSE DISASTOR. THE DRAMA! THE CONFRONTATION! THERE WILL BE CONFLICT!


    Well. Said the Law of Fae. This will at least be very interesting.


    <hr>


    The Senator Landon was rubbing the bridge of his nose, as he considered the worries of his duties and also that the price of chocolate was going up again. He felt just the tiniest bit annoyed as his two fellow Senators were relaxing as the effect of the strong wine hit their systems. Not that anyone would dare actually become intoxicated at the King''s Summer Ball. But it was okay to take the edge off, a little.


    "Senator," said a servant. Was it the same one or a different one from before...Landon didn''t remember, he hadn''t bothered looking at the servant''s face. "I have a glass of red wine for you."


    "Wonderful!" And Senator Landon took the glass. "Special thanks, friend." he said, after the first sip warmed him.


    But the servant was gone.


    Just as well. Now he could get back to discussing what to do about rising cocoa prices with his two colleagues.

 Chapter 118: The Trials of a Simple Servant: The Plot catches up

    The King''s Summer Ball.


    Elswith had attended almost every year, outside of the year he was fifteen and he was almost canceled for shaming his house. The main event was relatively short because having so many powerful Fae caused reality to grown strange. There ball had actually been going on all night, but the more important people only arrived in the last hour. The Summer Season was in full display of power. Upon a dais, next to the King''s throne was the Youthful lady of Summer, her hair blue like the summer sky and her eyes a sparkling gold, her skin dark like a summer night, and she wore a sparkling golden gown. She looked terrified. She would only be around 11 years old.


    The King should have been upon the dais next her, showing the solidification of the Fairy King and the ruling season.


    But the main event had been somewhat overridden with the Game. And many were becoming increasingly confused as the Game appeared to not start. After around 5 minutes, a few of the attending slipped out.


    The Game would not appear before people who were in the Game''s sphere of influence. Because Daniel was present, the Game would not show those who may wish to harm him where he was. That would be cheating, and the Game hated cheaters. And winners, and losers, and all others.


    By Daniel embracing his role as a servant, he was able to enter the location where many of those who wished him harm were required to be. Therefore, many of their plans would be forced to be halted. Worse for them was that if they attacked here, the Law of Fae would be within its rights to stop them. Also, while those who opposed his plan were many, they had their own enemies who would want him to succeed just to see their enemies suffer.


    The wonderful world of Fae politicking.


    While the confusion grew, the Servant Branch mingled with the crowd. When his tray grew empty, he put the silvery oval against his body and returned to the edge of the room, where more and more trays of wine were there and waiting. The Servant Branch almost laughed as he was gathering thanks. The small scrapes of thanks were wonderful. He felt his small harbor name strengthen and grow. He was careful, of course. He watched the flow of the other Servants, a perceived pattern emerging. There was overlap, but each servant seemed to have an unspoken population they tended to. Daniel was afraid that he would eventually stick out, but over time he realized that this system was informal and unspoken. The servants seemingly didn''t realize that they themselves were doing it.


    The beginning of the problems began.


    First of all: The servants used a modified Lren Style. Maybe it was a southern interpretation. Maybe it was something fine-tuned for this specific event. If he had gotten there earlier then there was the chance he could have observed more of the logic behind the event.


    As the guests became saturated with wine, the other servants began having moments with nothing to do. Meaning, they were also taking a moment to exchange brief I''m working right now but I''m glad to see you exchanges from the Lren Style. It basically looked like a subtle nod. But the problems came when one Servant tried to do that with Branch, and tried to take the accumulating Thanks.


    Daniel almost attacked out of instinct, but he realized just in time that the Law of Fae had been worked into the gesture. Something about sharing and giving back and working together. Basically, he realized that it would be sharing.


    Daniel didn''t know that was possible. He hadn''t considered that the servants shared their tips.


    Also, what a terrible thing to do. If someone provides excellent service, and someone else provides poor service, they shouldn''t be forced to split the difference and both take the average. Also, providing great service meant he had spent more time with an individual.


    Also also...He was actively using Influence. He didn''t have the oceans of power he was used to, and he didn''t think he could section off a small part well. He had excellent control for a Lordling, but this was a scale beneath his area of practice. He could lose most of the power he had gathered that day if he was careless.


    So he denied the theft of power from the one servant and changed his game plan. He went the other direction, so while most of the servants went counter- clock wise, getting a new tray, going against the flow of the clock, and finding themselves with an empty tray again at the same place where they could exchange their thanks, he timed it that his tray was full when their were empty, and his was empty when theirs were full.


    But this did make him more obvious. In fact, the first servant who tried to ''share'' tips glared at Daniel several times and tried to engage again.


    The second problem: There were many Lords and Senators who could recognize him.


    Speaking of which...The Seawhich.


    Hollis'' mother.


    Aqutaine the Seawhich. The last heir of the Sea Kingdom. Arrogant, prideful, reclusive. And she had been Daniel''s only real experience of direct motherly love.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    It was a strange dichotomy, because of all the Fae he knew she was one of the few, outside of Matheus, Daniel knew would never endanger him or even betray him. But just as the tide wears down the stone, she had her own plans. And while she would never harm Daniel, she was not above watching him sink if he was not fit enough to swim.


    Underwater, she appeared completely beautiful. But there was something about the surface that dried her out. Her face seemed to wrinkle, and her hair never seemed to actually dry all the way, hanging limp and knotted like seaweed. Her clothes were appropriate at least, if not a bit dated.


    Daniel debated his best course of action. Avoid her, or establish an early connection so she didn''t see him later and seek him out herself. A servant could move much more covertly after all.


    He went and got another tray of wine, carefully selecting her favorite dark blue that smelled like sapphires and spices. He avoided the annoying servant who seemed offended by Daniel not wanting to share, slipped between a group arguing that the Game wasn''t working, and got some thanks for the wine.


    Then he found himself before Aqutaine.


    She made one moment of direct eye contact, and Daniel knew then and there that she saw him. Fully saw him. There had been several Lords and Faction leaders whom Elswith had known closely who had completely overlooked him. They had only seen a servant, a faceless and nameless individual.


    But not the Seawhich.


    She did not look long. But there was something pleased about her face as she briefly took him in. Understanding was immediate. She took a glass of wine, and didn''t even give him any thanks. But she didn''t need to. She was pleased to have seen him.


    More than that...


    Daniel felt it, as she looked down into her cup...


    She smiled.


    She believed in him.


    Perhaps she always had.


    So Daniel left, and walked amongst the rulers of the Fae. He felt happier than he had any right to.


    Matheus had always fretted about Elswith''s safety. He had forced Elswith to train harder and with more difficulty than almost any other Lordling. He had taught Daniel everything, took him to learn from experts, forced him to compete even when Elswith was not very talented. The harshness of the training was needed. Matheus wanted him to thrive.


    But only the seawhich had voiced her thoughts that little Elswith was doing fine. That it was okay to struggle too. That everything had its tide.


    Because she believed in him.


    The final problem emerged when a guest had a problem.


    There was a Lordling who wanted gooseberry wine.


    Gooseberry.


    This time of year.


    What an insult to the Summer Season.


    There was no Gooseberry wine. That was a winter drink. Every fae knew that. To request it was insulting to the shy Young Lady of Summer, with her golden eyes and blue hair fidgeting awkwardly as the Ball continued on but there was still no Fairy King present. She was already shamed. Now, for this lordling demanding a winter wine within earshot was a deliberate insult.


    And the servant the lordling was complaining to just so happened to be the Servant Branch.


    People were beginning to look at him now.


    What to do, Daniel wondered, carefully maintaining his influence to his clothing, thinking. He wanted to shut this down, and quickly.


    <hr>


    Unbeknownst to the Servant Branch, but known to those watching the Game, the Game followed the annoyed servant briefly. This was a head servant, and quite prided himself in his neatness and tidiness. He had done much to stop the unfairness of serving the upper curst of the Fae. For example, if all the servants tried to serve the very powerful, they may fail to serve all guests fairly. That he took a tithe for his efforts in setting up the system didn''t seem to bother the Law of Fae, as it had never stopped him.


    So he had modified the Lren Style. And everyone had to exchange fairly often, so the wicked servants didn''t have time to pocket the newly earned ''thanks'' they received.


    But one servant refused. Despite being very talented for a servant, he clearly had a black heart and was selfish! He had plans to keep all of his tips to himself. True, he had worked exceedingly hard, doing more than twice the amount of service work than was average. In fact, he hadn''t taken a break at all. Normally, servants did a round or two, then went in the back to calm their nerves after being surrounded by Fae (or almost fae, or not quite fae) powerful enough they could crush you with a sneeze. But the new servant waltzed around the crowded floor, never spilling a drop or stumbling at all, approaching those who wanted a drink perfectly, searching for the perfect wine selection for each grouping, without seeming nervous at all!


    The talent!


    This was clearly a new, rising star! This servant could be the new face of all servants.


    But with all talented individuals, steps were required to make sure they didn''t get too arrogant. Clearly he was already black hearted enough to keep the thanks for himself!


    So the head servant went back through the double door, chucked his tongue at the servants taking too long to return to their duties, went around the other servants dutifully preparing glasses of wine for the ball room beyond, and found the Surmount Butler of the King.


    They didn''t get along well. She had outdated ideas about many things, like woolen socks over silken, and the preservation of the Lren Style versus modifying it. Also, they were married.


    "I need to complain about..." then the annoyed servant stopped speaking. That was odd.


    The King''s Surmount Butler kept watching, her face clearly annoyed. "This isn''t a good time." She said. If she pulled rank again at work, that would be the about the 1,502nd time she did that!


    The head servant started again. He was very clear in his mind about what he wanted to discuss. "There is a...." and nothing came out again. He had meant to say ''there is a servant who isn''t following my rules to redistribute the thanks.''


    "Servant Soren, I need to get moving. There are over 5,000 guests on this floor alone. The High Fae may start a war with each other if a single hors d''oeuvres is larger than the other, and the Wee Lordling from the outercourt almost set the playpen to glass again. Not fire. Glass. GLASS. Do you know how little I care about someone taking your tips when we are all that stands between the Seelie Court erupting into civil war! Not to mention There is a Major Capital G Game, which could ignite rivalry between the Senate and the Factions. We could have complete breakdown. The Lords are already complaining about not seeing the Game. Not to mention the Bladed Master is here. The Bladed Master. Do you remember that we used to have another mountain? Now! Go away. File a complaint tomorrow."


    The head servant found himself walking back into the ballroom. He realized he was under the Surmount Butler''s Authority. That was why he couldn''t mention the servant. When had she ordered that? She had given commands before the clock struck 11. What had she ordered the growing surge of servants as they prepared...

 Chapter 119: The Worsening of the Dungeon

    The Dungeon existed.


    Perhaps it had always existed.


    Perhaps it had existed since the creation of the World. When the first dream filtered down down down and touched upon the swirling darkness of undefined chaos.


    But that didn''t matter. Because untold eons had followed, as the Dungeon was molded and changed. The First Fairy King brought order to the rambling briars and matchless disorder. The Dungeon was pruned. Sheared away. Crafted into something to help. Strengthen. A golden age followed.


    But the kings that followed after were not as capable nor as wise.


    It was a slow decline. Other discoveries made the Dungeon a less efficient tool. Or the kings made poor choices and attempted to modify the Dungeon, as they had endlessly changed and grew, not understanding the wisdom of those who came before.


    Then the Dungeon grew to be too dangerous, and was abandoned.


    The method of achieving the purpose changed, but its purpose remained unchanged. But as fewer and fewer attempted it, it became harder and harder to please, to achieve what the corrupted Dungeon considered ''success''.


    Should the Fae known as Maurice de Bracy ever defeat the current challenge of the Dungeon he was fighting in, he would be powerful enough to be a High Fae equal to those of the Lord of the Northern Wind, despite Maurice de Bracy entering the dungeon as a Lowling fae after an unpermitted trip to the Human World to cause chaos. Upon his return trip, however, he had taken the wrong turn and found himself in the Dungeon. It had not even taken him long to reach the power, but the Dungeon did not consider his mental abilities to be equal to his gained power, and kept him, and would continue to keep him, until he matched what it desired.


    Yes, the Dungeon connected to what they now naively called the Stable. It connected to other, abandoned structures and not quite abandoned structures.


    It grew, like a briar of roses unkempt and untamed. It would have continued to grow, more jumbled, more twisted.


    But then it was invaded.


    The unkept briar was weak against chaos.


    And as the dark dreams and terrible realities of mankind grew, a terrible nightmare attached itself to the Dungeon.


    Some call it the backrooms.


    And then the Dungeon was in a fight for its own survival.


    So something like a decade ago, when a lost lordling wandered into the Stable to seek escape, the Dungeon allowed the fae child to shape it, like the Fairy Kings of old had. The backrooms must not be allowed to reach the Dungeon''s heart.


    Desperation rarely makes for good decisions.


    <hr>


    All of this was unknown to the few who traveled the Dungeon.


    For example, the baker fairy who was of a simple mind and completely dedicated to his craft, had very little interest in gaining power. His fears were of yeast falling, sugar burning, and the ingredient quality being unexpectedly bad. He had to take a horse from the Stable to make his deliveries. The loaf never considered the challenges of the Dungeon to be that hard, and completed his challenge without much ado. He had just assumed it was something one did while in the Stable. He neither sought to grow or change, and there was little the Dungeon in its current form could do.


    The other few who traversed the Dungeon had different states of awareness. There was a cat that was doing very well for herself, but her challenges were not drinking spoiled milk or eating grass. There was a Middling Knight who wisely or unwisely considered his time in the Dungeon to be a dream, and had he not lost all his limbs in a battle, he may have even unraveled the secrets. There was a child, a gooseboy, who sometimes went through the easiest levels of the dungeon, but as he was so young, the protection was firm and he was safe; he alone went around telling people about what he had seen, though none believed him.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The one who suspected the most was a plain nosed hobo. She suspected, but she never had enough time to investigate. She did realize that the Stable and the Dungeon were separate, but as she has wandered very far, she had more experience with these kind of things.


    <hr>


    The Dungeon needed people. Needed them.


    And one of it''s new favorites, whom it had wanted for so long, had lost the protection that had kept the lad from accidently wandering into its halls. What triumph, what loss. The first venture had been successful, even if that one had not gone on the proper path nor listened to instructions at all.


    And what no one considered, was that the Dungeon could see the Game as well.


    The Fear of Failure and the Fear of Self watched, unblinking.


    "If he dies...." said the Fear of Failure.


    "He must not die." said the Fear of Self.


    There were many Fears, of course. But thankfully or unthankfully, the Fear of All Things was not something the one called Elswith, or Branch, or Dan!&(, suffered. That Fear remained away.


    Yes, what no one considered was that the Citadel had grown too large, and had forgotten much from what had come before.


    And they did not know would hurt them.


    <hr>


    Shelby stood up straighter, her glove tingling sharply. She tried to remember what Jesseme had said about using it properly. She had a habit of shocking herself because she forgot to adjust the settings with enough finesse. The sense behind the walls seemed to concentrate harshly. Shivers ran down her spine. The little doll in her saddle bag style purse quaked.


    The mirror had not been showing the Game for her own entertainment or edification.


    They were alone in the room.


    And yet, she knew they were not.


    "Kenton, we need to hurry. We need to hurry right now."


    "Gooseberry wine, at this time! What an insult!" Kenton said, pulling his attention away from the mirror. They had the rough idea that perhaps the Stable had taken them to the Mirror to watch the Game.


    She grabbed his shoulder, and continued down the way they were going. She entered first, to see if the way had been disturbed before them, using her glove to feel the currents. The Stable seemed to want to take them to the least used places.


    Kenton picked up on her seriousness, which was good. She had the vague idea that the Stable was going to take them to its deepest places, now. Or somewhere to help Branch. "So, the Dungeon. It''s part of the Stable?"


    "Oh, Old Mapper legends long speak of it. The Dungeon is its own unto itself. But the rumors say that many of the ruins used to connect to it too. But the Dungeon has been dead for a long time..." Then his face fell.


    "But it''s back now, isn''t it?" They entered a section with perfectly clean tiles and a table and chairs, everything white as the glistening tiles reached from the floors, all the way up the walls, and overhead to cover the ceiling. The skeleton sitting unanimated in one of the chairs was perfectly clean too, glaringly white with a sparkling shine.


    She and Kenton walked together quickly. She had to admire the mapper. He clearly knew something of how to safely travel through dangerous places. If only he learned that shortcuts never worked out for her, he would be a perfect companion.


    At last they cleared the perfectly clean room and entered a more normal space. Fancy but long disused. "Yes. But it''s not as it was before. It doesn''t match any of the wisdom from the previous mappers."


    "I was wondering about that. That''s how you got a Status Window, isn''t it?"


    "The blue box?"


    She could see his because he didn''t close it properly, but he couldn''t see hers. Her negative luck stat always glared at her when she checked it, which discouraged her from doing so. Her own Status Window was from a previous adventure (See Shelby Crossmin and the Hunter''s Alliance, or it''s other titles such as I am the Minimap Mage and I alone know the Path through the Shadow Tower, or it''s other other title, I have a minimap and Tower''s Cheat Code, where she appears as a side character. And no, she doesn''t know why there are so many different names to the same story). Her''s was different from his, and she had to wonder about what had fundamentally changed in Fairyland that a concept as modern as a status window appeared.


    Honestly, she thought it was a bad omen.


    "Yes. The blue box." She said, confirming. She hadn''t been into the Dungeon, just seen into it vaguely. It was not a well kept Dungeon, that she knew. It was a dangerous time to be here. She paused the same feeling from before chased down her spine. Wherever the Stable was taking them, she wanted to be there as soon as possible.


    There was a sound behind them.


    "But my question is: can things from the Dungeon come out?"


    Of course, she forgot her own golden rule. Don''t look behind you at scary moments.


    Metal limbed android looking things.


    "No, they should not."


    "You tell them that."


    The sound of them approaching grew louder.


    "Time to go." she said, and fell back to the most important of her golden rules. Run if you can.

 Chapter 120: The Lordling Marisbane made the next move

    This was debacle. In fact all the servants who normally wove expertly through the crowd now pulled back to the edge of the room. Daniel spotted the old Lordling of the Ash Court gripping a little plate of sausages very tightly. Of course, the Ash Court must be under the Summer Season. In fact, more than a quarter of the guests present would be. And yet, some seemed to revel in the growing tension.


    To one side was a lordling complaining about the drink selection, gathering a crowd. To the other side of was the crumbling Youthful Lady of Summer, without attendants or allies. If the Lady of Summer had more experience, she might have handled the situation more directly, or laughed and ignored it. But the child was a child in every way. The Summer Season was long eroded, with both Spring and Fall whittling away its influence. Winter remained neutral in this matter, thankfully. The stories told of a fifth season that used to exist but had been wiped away. This was just a rumor, an old wives tail, but who could really know for sure?


    There were more and more guests arriving, so the audience to watch this grew. And each Lord, Senator, and Seritor arrived, watching the conflict only supported the Lordling.


    But there was no one to protect the guest of honor.


    Therefore, it was the duty of a servant to dissipate the anger.


    Daniel had seen this done several times throughout his own career of attending parties and scheming against other factions and powers that be. It was strange that he was now the one to do so.


    "Milordling, milordling. May this humble servant offer some assistance?" he said, moving his tray against his body, as was polite when dealing directly with a Fae. He would have offered the Lordling a glass of wine, but he had run out and had been collecting empty wineglasses, as more and more of the party goers had finished their first round of drinks and given him their cups (with their thanks, which he had gratefully accepted).


    The Lordling was someone connected to Pacicern, Daniel realized. One of the groups against the establishment of the Game. Despite the Lordling''s squawking, she was robust and firm. She was not spoilt and having a tantrum. The snobbery was clearly on purpose. Pacicern was connected to the Fall Season through various marriage alliances and merchandizing trade deals. It was a given that Pacicern would do whatever to undermine Summer, especially after the King was not there. This encounter seemed unplanned, the Lordling had seen an opportunity and seized it. Very competent for a Lordling operating alone. Then again, the Lord of Pacicern may have suggested it, then made himself scare so that those who disliked the exchange could be pacified because the Lordling was young.


    The Lordling slowly turned and looked at him. Daniel had a moment were he feared discovery, but he realized he needn''t have bothered. She was not looking at Branch.


    She was looking at something she considered a bug in Seelie form. Something that could be squashed without much effort. Elswith had known many Lordlings like that, when he was a Lordling. He and Lordling Fredar had had several encounters where they had disagreed on the proper treatment of the help.


    But as a Lowling Servant, being on the other end of her gaze of contempt was harsh. "Did you just speak to me?" She asked, her voice sweet.


    While she didn''t seem to know him, he slowly remembered the identity of the individual. His time training in memorization of all the Lordlings he could had proven useful. As he recalled this person, his dislike for increased. Elswith and this lady had never met, but that wasn''t surprising. They would have run in completely different circles. Even entirely different campaigns. Unlike some groups like Bronze Circle, which had had many overlapping areas and pledges, this Lordling had been sent else where entirely.


    While Lordling Elswith had been sent most often to halt the advancing dread hordes of humankinds twisted dreams, to the north and east most often, Lordling Marisbane had been subjugating what was left of the Ocean Kingdom.


    The Ocean Kingdom had lost the war. They had lost over a hundred years ago. They had fully surrendered decades ago.


    But still the Realm of Pacicern kept advancing. Not everyone in Pacicern had approved of the action. But this Lordling''s Circle had routinely engaged in those conflicts, those skirmishes, as the complete subjugation of the Ocean Kingdom continued pointlessly. Her necklace was a trophy, shiny sparkling scales. Prizes from her battles.


    The Red Lord had hated such gathering of trophies. It was one of the few times Elswith had agreement with his Lordly Father.


    "Good Lordling," he said, invoking the language of old tales, where Lordlings were modeled after Knight protectors. "This humble Servant felt inadequate to understand the great complexities of your mind, so humbly and with all humility, asks for clarification. At this Summer Ball, held by the Fairy King and blessed by the Youthful Lady of the Summer Season, did the kind and gentle Lordling desire some...off season drink?"Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    It was a risky statement, but it was fair at least. He did not call her out for her bad behavior. He reminded the crowd of the event.


    And best of all, as a proper servant, he drew all the criticism to himself. The Youthful Lady of Summer was no longer the target.


    Lordling Marisbane of the realm of Pacicern was older than Daniel, but still not old enough to be considered an Old Lordling. She had a very solid base of power, clearly spending the time establishing and building firm connections. She had long, thin, pointed ears, and severe gray hair pulled back into an elaborate updo, with little, precious gems dangling between the gaps. "I desire Gooseberry wine, servant boy," she said. "These are troubling times for many of us. It hardly feels like summer at all. So, go fetch me something."


    "Milordling," Daniel said to her, bowing slightly in the Lren Style of Deep Apology, however, since he preformed the hand gestures with only a slight bow, it was transmigrating it into a mild apology of I did nothing wrong but I see you are upset. "I will inquire whether there is a little cache of Goose berry left over from the Winter Ball. It will undoubtedly be musty, but this Servant will do his best."


    She laughed, "Your best? Hardly a trustworthy statement."


    The fae around them seemed to grow larger and more overshadowing, joining into the tension. But the tension was against the servant now. Not the summer Lady, her soft golden eyes almost brimming with tears. Daniel disliked this position for the child, as even himself as the Lordling Elswith had been given until fourteen years old before he started attending important functions alone. Eleven was too young.


    Lordling Marisbone leaned closer, until she towered over him. She did nothing to reign in her authority; the presence of her power was staggering, and his newly created harbor name could do little to help him.


    "How dare you." she said, softly.


    Then she flicked him in the forehead, a light rebuke that sent him to the floor in a crumpled mess, his tray and several empty glasses falling around him. A moment of fear as he realized that all of his acquired powers had not mattered. And as it was a rebuke, and thoughtless, the Law of Fae had done precious little to soften it. The Servant Branch had not died. But he found himself scattered away.


    He felt the Game cackle.


    This was what it wanted? The Game wanted the third assassination attempt to be...over the wrong drink?


    She started moving away from him, taking most of the crowd with her. "Your best." she chuckled again. "Do my best, little Servant. That I will admire. Put some effort into it. Or else why even bother coming to this...disappointing party. So many important people have already left anyway."


    Those who had left clearly were trying to see the Game. Which meant that this insult against the Summer Season had been, in some ways, Daniel''s fault.


    The tension in the room was broken, as least. The servant had acted as a lightning rod for all the unspoken things many wished to say but could not.


    Daniel righted himself, forehead stinging and back cramping as the unexpected push had caused all of his injuries and strains from the day came rushing back into his body. Each ache was trying to reclaim their places and remind him of everywhere that had hurt throughout this longest day of his life.


    No time for that. Time to get moving.


    His tray had only had only held empty glasses. Had he arrive with a new tray, he would have had a bath of wine. He carefully found all the wine glasses, clutching them between his fingers, and came to his feet.


    None helped him. Not even the other servants.


    The Law of Fae settled around Daniel, a small connection was draw between himself and the Lordling Marisbane. She had overstepped, and in some small way now owed a debt to him. It was a very small and nebulous connection. It would be hard to stake a claim against her.


    Daniel felt a tremble go through his body. He had been afraid before, of course. He had been afraid of his Lordly Father and his brutal efficiency. He had been afraid of the cold and uncaring Unseelie Fae whom appeared at random intervals, whom he had called Mother with the same tone one used to describe a terrible monster. He had been afraid of failing his Steward, the one who pushed him to achieve success even through difficult times. He had been afraid of his own Circle, at times, especially the beginning when the other eight had been unknown dangers.


    But he had never been afraid of the audience before.


    Was it because he was no one, now? His disguise had been so thorough that to them he really was nothing more than a servant.


    When he was Lordling Elswith, stepping in to save Witness, they had mocked him, hated him, decried him as a vainglory seeking opportunist.


    But this?


    They treated him like he was invisible. Untouchable.


    They treated him like an object.


    How many servants were treated thusly? Who did the servants have to turn to? They were faceless creatures, used to grandstand and belittle.


    He carefully placed the cups on the tray, feeling the eyes of the fae around him now looking away from him. Like he was invisible. Like he was untouchable.


    Which he had wanted. Servants were supposed to be invisible.


    But he never realized the hardest aspect of this hour would be holding himself in check. If he was the Heirling of the Red Sword still...


    No. This anger was not a part of himself he could keep.


    Time to get moving. He transferred the tray to his other hand to show that he had nothing to serve the guests, and made his way to the kitchen. He found himself grinding his teeth and forced himself to relax. He was grateful that the wineglasses had not broken; doubtless they were forged from some material more precious and hardy than glass. Hopefully not diamond, because those could break if struck in the correct place.


    Gooseberry wine.


    Goose berry.


    He was grinding his teeth again


    Could he resolve the last assassination attempt over the Winter drink? Would the Game allow that? Would his enemies accept that him procuring the off season beverage was victory? Or was the Game just wanting him to solve the problem in such a way that while the undoubtedly numerous assassins gathered around, hunting him?


    Regardless, he circled around the room, trying to plan his next move. He spied that annoyed servant from across the room, clearly upset. He didn''t know what the annoyed servant knew, but since Daniel wanted to spend most of this hour hiding as a servant, it would be best not to have a direct confrontation.


    So he slipped into the kitchen.

 Chapter 121: The Kitchen and the Coffee

    One of the groups, standing at the furthest corner from the kitchen, saw the Game flicker for a moment.


    "I almost saw it." Said the senator. Gripping his wine flute tightly, he was very clearly agitated. All the servants had temporarily made themselves scare after the little bit of bantering that happened toward the center back of the room. And now he wanted a drink but didn''t have it.


    "Perhaps he is moving, and the Game took a moment to adjust? It''s not perfect. Remember that time that little game showed Lordling Thomas mid..."


    "So the Game is on then?" Said another Lord, who leaned in, and rudely interrupted their conversation. "I didn''t perceive it at all."


    Forgiveness was a virtue, so the Senator hid the grudge in his heart. "The Game must be searching for him, or something..." And then he fell silent, mouth ajar.


    The first Lord continued, though he did not do such a good job at pretending forgiveness, and his tone was much less pleasant as he replied. "The Game must be trying to play, but why can''t we see it..."


    Whatever else the two Fae were about to utter died away as they realized to whom they were speaking. The broad brimmed hat and the gauzy veil could not hide the intensity of the stranger. The sharpness of the focus.


    "I see. Clever." And the broad framed figure looked across the room, to the set of doors that led to the kitchen. "But not clever enough."


    And the figure departed.


    <hr>


    Reeling from the encounter with Lordling Marisbane, and the sheer difference in power of the Lords of Fae outside, the Servant Branch slipped into the kitchen.


    The kitchen was loud, bright, noisy, and absolutely bustling many chefs, helpers, dishwashers, scrubbers. But after the experience Daniel had just had, it was almost too quiet and peaceful here. The presence of power was so much lesser here, amongst the servants. The heat in the kitchen was hot, as dozens of talented Fae worked together in unison. They were far from relaxed, but it was such as direct contrast to the outside pressure. Daniel was glad he had eaten the very dry and stale teacakes, as the delightful aroma may have been very difficult to resist on a completely empty stomach.


    They were using the Law of Fae, to help them cook. Daniel could see vague patterns of order. It was almost completely unseen too. A glow, a wave, connecting one step to others, different colors for different meals, different frequencies for different steps...


    What a strange use. Daniel suddenly wondered what other, potentially infinite, uses and applications of the vague power.


    He noticed several of Hollis'' race working in the kitchen, which only made sense as those with ancestry from the Sea seemed to understand the ratio of spices better than anyone else. Hollis himself was a very good cook.


    There was a bitter taste in Daniel''s mouth.


    The Game was still active. Any hope Daniel had of quietly hiding was clearly not to be. He had known that there would still be challenges. And Marisbane was not the worst thing he had ever encountered. The apparent conflict would be entertaining: Can the former Lordling handle a rude Lordling insulting the host of the event?


    But Daniel had a deeper conflict. And a deeper worry. It was no coincidence that the Sea Which was here. The hatred ran deep, and lady Aqutaine had never hidden that. She did not bite the hand that fed her, but she still knew how to bear her teeth.


    "First day?" asked a nearby fae scrubbing some copper pans.


    He had stood around too long, thinking. But strangely none of the kitchen staff seemed to find him suspicious. Instead, the kitchen hummed with efficiency. Vegetables danced as they shimmering in pots of broth, cuts of meat where sizzling juicily in pans, and trays and trays of rolls were being emptied into large bowls. The kitchen was packed. And yet, everyone worked well together. The question seemed to be honest and friendly.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "As a servant here, yes." He said, feeling his body relax. The Law of Fae danced that he was being truthful. Not that the lowling even checked.


    Someone else approached, with a tray with cheap little mugs. It was clear it was for servants, but Daniel didn''t understand. "I can''t imagine going out there, with all them Lords and what nots. Do you want a cappa? It''s tea made from these ground beans, super good. It''s a right jolt to the system."


    Daniel blinked as a cup was pressed into his hands.


    Daniel held the cup but didn''t drink. The drink smelled bitter. Poison? But several other nearby servant, came a took a cup. Some drank it quickly, and then returned to their stations, pausing to wash their hands. Humans did that too. Other fae lingered, their tasks complete or neglected as they hustled around near him and had easy conversation with each other.


    Daniel considered the drink again. Was it a gift? Gifts were dangerous to the Fae...especially someone so weak as Servant Branch.


    "It''s just coffee. Little lamb from the countryside, it''s part of being a servant. No debt exchange." Said the cup bearer, a middle aged fae with unremarkable features. At least his nose was an interesting shape, and not as plain as Shelby''s.


    Daniel realized that these were different servants than those who lived in the Servant''s Keep. They served the King almost exclusively, so Daniel abruptly realized that many of the servants here had no idea who he was. Lordling Elswith had had little reason to come to the King''s Palace except for official events like now. The Red Sword Faction had often been in direct opposition to the King, so there was no reason to linger. And since these servants just dwelt here, they may even be unaware of much of the Game.


    Unlike his time at the Sky Court or the O''Tells, these servants didn''t dislike him inherently due to preconceived notions. Perhaps he could even work things out with the annoyed servant who kept trying to take his gathered Thanks. Daniel realized that this may be a good spot to come in the future, if he could keep himself from being exposed.


    Daniel still didn''t drink. Mostly because the water looked gross, though it did have a nice smell, very rich, a blend of earthy and yet nutty aroma rising from the cup.


    "Well, take a breather for minute. It''s hard being out there with so many dangerous big fae lords and whatnots." said another fae, this one drying wine glasses and placing them on a cart. "What happened? I found it''s best to talk about the scary moments. Like when you ride a horse and you get knocked down, you got to ride it again, fast, or else you might get afraid..."


    Daniel didn''t want to return to the ball immediately, but not for that reason. He didn''t want the Game to find entertaining moments for him. Also, Lordling Marisbane may try to cause trouble again. He also needed to find how to win the little challenge of giving the Lordling exactly what she wanted...If only he had free time to...misinterpret what she had requested. He had served mousebed tea to Lord Fredar that morning to the Game''s approval, so that meant he did have options.


    And even more than Lord Fredar, he had to fight back his own negative feelings regarding Lordling Marisbane. She hadn''t done it personally. But she was part and party of the same group. Lord Fredar was just looking for power. It wasn''t personal hatred. He may even kill Daniel, but it would be for revenge of what Daniel had directly done.


    It wouldn''t be pointlessly cruel for no reason.


    He remembered the nights on campaign and listening to Hollis'' labored breathing as the air grew too dry or too cold.


    The Game had given Daniel a target that Lordling Elswith disliked immensely. But he had to play the Game safe. He couldn''t allow his feelings to lead himself astray.


    Daniel decided to answer the servants question. He wasn''t sure if this was still being shown to those watching the Game or not. The interest of the Game felt hazy, so there was a little more room for privacy. Then again, the Game rarely showed servant spaces. "I was trying to calm a Lordling who was angry about not having Gooseberry wine." he said. "She was not pleased with our answers, and the Surmount Butler had told us to not have an opinion. But the Lordling was saying it directly near the reigning season. It was clearly an insult. And there was a crowd growing." He swallowed. "She pushed me down." he said at last.


    He waited, for the looks of shame, or ''you should have known better'', or ''what could you expect?''.


    Instead, there was a general sense of calm, and someone touched his shoulder. "You didn''t deserve that. I am sorry that happened to you."


    There was a chorus of regard from across the kitchen.


    He had been gathering Thanks.


    Now...an apology?


    Clearly, they were trying to get him to lower his guard.


    "Do you want an opportunity to stay away for a few minutes? I need someone to deliver a tray to the High Fae." Asked the middle aged servant who had brought the servants the drink.


    Daniel knew he had to keep the Game''s attention, and without drawing Lordling Marisbane''s ire.


    "Show me." he said.


    <hr>


    The one wearing the hat with the veil took careful, measured steps. Eyes staring unseeingly, that intensity poured out.


    The target was moving again.

 Chapter 122: The Walls of Thunderclouds did pour forth; the bread may get wet

    Daniel felt the cut just a moment before the attack came.


    Before that moment, he had been almost humming the nursery rhyme ''Blister blaster, dropped in plaster, what''s the matter?'', that all who grew up in the Seelie Citadel knew. He had been pushing a tray of steaming buns as he went deeper into the King''s Palace. There were still dozens of servants mingling, but the intensity of their presence was pleasant. It was a confusing journey. The interior was less confusing than the exterior and the grounds, but there was still something strange about a section of walls being made of suspended fire and swirling vortexes of clouds. The ballroom had been more traditional at least, but here the...unlikely designs were rampant.


    How to keep the Game interested? How to keep it interested. How to supply gooseberry wine in such a way to embarrass Lordling Marisbane? Clearly, it was her Court that would attack him. They had the right to assassinate the Game. If they could stop him, it would be in their best interest to do so.


    Daniel took a turn left when everyone else turned right, and he found himself alone as he pushed a cart bearing tall trays with bread rolls under a silver domed lid, the cart making a soft squeaking noise every so often through the grandeur of the palace.


    Taking bread rolls upward. That was funny. The High Fae, powerful. Mighty. The full growth of a Lord. Elswith had felt, especially in the last several years, that he was not going to make it to such a lofted position. That he would never wander the meetings of such mighty and terrifying Fae.


    And now he was.


    To deliver bread.


    Daniel continued walking. He had the directions written out on a small card. The material of the Palace became more and more elaborate as he navigated to the more exclusive and private sections. The ballroom he had departed had had some more common elements, such as swirling floors of jade and sapphire, but now the materials were becoming barely materials at all. One section had been comprised of the tangible form of justice and beauty. At least he was now in a section made of condensed thunder clouds, with lightning flickering in the depths. He could understand thunderclouds. Those were already mostly tangible to begin with.


    "Run." Echoed Shelby''s voice from no where.


    Daniel paused. Normally, heeding a warning was wise. But running heedless of a trap was foolish.


    Besides, she should be home in whatever servant''s quarters she stayed at. She had seemed very reliable to take care of herself. Why would he hear her here, now. When he was supposed to delivery bread to the High Fae.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Daniel paused. The direction he had just come from had been replaced with...


    It almost looked like the Stable.


    The way that the hall liked to hide the end so you couldn''t see the door, so you may not notice when it moved; the coloration of the walls, hiding deep shadows; the subtle climb upward or downward that hinted of a great but imperceivable incline.


    Maybe he would push the cart with a little more vigor after all.


    He started walking faster.


    The King''s Palace was much newer than the Stable. There was no way. It was impossible.


    Out of a doorway on his left (that appeared from nowhere), he saw a moonlit field. It was not showing anywhere close to here. In the distance, he could see ruins.


    "What is going on?" He muttered, committing himself to his task...


    Then he remembered Talia''s advice. If there is a game watching the assassination attempt, you can keep it entertained by exploring the ruins...


    He was tempted to explore. But if the Stable was coming here, then that meant the standard rules applied. No exiting from doorways not on the map, especially to places that were clearly not in the Citadel. And that was clearly not here. It almost looked like Unseelie land, with the purplish soil near the ruins.


    "I''m sorry, Game, there will be action soon." He muttered, thinking of his task with the High Fae.


    The difference in power between Lordling and High Fae was like comparing a lit candle with the sun. However, in this case, the High Fae may be powerful enough to snuff out both. Tears in reality occurred amongst the High Fae. If not for the Fairy King and his decrees, there would be no guarantees of those tears ever getting mended. In all truth, the Fairy King was almost a fairytale, with very little direct interaction. Instead, from what Daniel felt, that the High Fae were the more terrifying as their whimsy ran violent at times.


    And several wanted him dead.


    Delivering bread was starting to feel like a bad idea now. At that time, he had needed something interesting to do, and he also needed to find a solution to the wine issue.


    The High Fae would be the most constricted and restrained of all the those who wished him harm. Those who disliked him would be massively shackled and reduced, like a dog with a short chain.


    And yet...Daniel still remembered that mountain that used to be there... It wasn''t just destroyed, mountain stone crushed into gravel. No, it was worse, as the range was ripped up and a mile deep crater was the inverse memorial that remained.


    And as he thought about that deep cut, was the moment he felt the deep, cutting intent.


    He abandoned the cart, rolling away. His focus slipped, and his clothes reverted back to the Hall Attendant of the O''Tells, though there were none to see it, none, except the stranger approaching, wide brim hat with a gauzy veil.


    The strike came, though the swordsfae did not draw any nearer. The misty materials of this current hall scattered, casting the region in a veil of fog. The sound of thunder and lightning came as the wall was breached. The concept of bad weather had escaped, and the taste of lightning as familiar as it was dangerous. Daniel wished he had his sword. He had nothing.


    Daniel could feel the intent, the focus of the swordsfae. It was as hot as blood.


    There was a little jingle of some bells, soft and faint. The attacker was moving.


    Sight was impossible, as even the ground was unsure as the fog continued to pour from the damaged wall.


    Attacked. Here. Now. Inside the Fairy King''s Palace. On his way to deliver bread.