You know something? Fairy flight is weird. I mean it. I understand the basics instinctually; if my mind needed to get drivers for my new hardware, figuratively speaking, then Meden took care of it already, but it just doesn’t seem right. Don’t get me wrong, it’s exhilarating, but there’s a strange weightlessness to it that I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s like my wings are levitating me instead of generating lift.

Maybe it’s magnetic in nature? I’ll have to check eventually.

I’m getting feelings of uncertainty and curiosity from my sister, but I think she’s focused on the destination and not the journey. I figure she doesn’t really have to think about flying. Most animals don’t need to learn to move on their own to quite the same degree as humans, and most people get used to driving and piloting things and don’t have to think about it so much; it’s probably some kind of combination of that.

Really, humans were always the odd ducks of the animal kingdom. I wonder if they exist here? Albert seemed to be human, but between his apparent divine status and his mention of alternate timelines and “holoshows”, I can’t be certain yet.

We’re getting pretty close to the group now. I’m starting to make out the shapes a little more clearly. They’re definitely fairies like us, so at least I can cross “another bloody murder of crows” off the list of bad jokes Meden might have played on me.

We slow as we approach, and I hear a commotion growing louder. Belladonna flies up to me.

The fairies around are as vibrant as the fields, and range across a myriad of sizes, but all of which are larger than us. The smallest is easily twice as tall as I am, but even the tallest wouldn’t come up to Albert’s knees, with one exception.

At the formation’s center, one fairy towers above the rest. He’s clad in oaken plate set atop a silken, jade-dyed gambeson. Strapped at his back is a heavy stone axe peeking below his wings, and resting on his pointed ears over his bright yellow hair is a wooden circlet with an emerald set in its center.

“Your wings still work, don’t they?” he shouts at a nearby fairy. “Take the injured down to the ground!”

“But sir,” the other, a pink-haired fairy, objects, “we don’t know what happened!”

“What’s happened is we’ve been given a moment of reprieve,” he yells. “I don’t know how the eruption receded or where the incursion has gone, but I will NOT let us squander an opportunity to save my peoples’ lives! Get anyone cut or burned on the ground for treatment, now!”

So, this is the Fairy King. Makes sense, given how massive he is. Erm, relatively speaking. Did he just say incursion, though? Was this an attempt at arson, burning down the fields? No, if fairies are born from flowers, then setting the fields aflame may have been an attempted culling.

“Y-yes, but your highness, the system isn’t working,” he says regretfully. “How are we supposed to triage if we don’t know our patients’ HP, let alone cast healing spells when the command words aren’t working?”

The man bites his thumb, clearly torn in his decision. “I don’t know,” he says. “But letting them rest without flying better than doing nothing. Hm?” As the pink fairy flies off, his gaze shifts in my direction and his eyes flick between Bella and me.

Uh oh. What do I do? Do I bow? Nobody else is bowing. I’m not going to get punished for disrespect, am I? Maybe it’s like an “at ease” thing so I should bow? He can’t blame me for not knowing, right? I haven’t even been on this planet an hour yet!

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Before I can freak out any further, he turns and snaps at a violet-haired, bow-carrying fairy at his side. “I’d ordered an evacuation of the area! Why are there newblooms here?”

“I-I don’t know, your highness,” she says. “We evacuated the area hours ago after the underworld breach opened!”

“’Underworld breach?’” I echo in surprise, only for both the king and the archer to turn and stare at me. “Eep!”

Aah! Me and my big mouth! I didn’t bow or ask for permission to speak or anything! Why does this keep happening? Whyyy? I’m caught in an unintentional staring contest, like a deer in the headlights. This is too much! Maybe I should call Meden and- huh?

My eye contact is suddenly broken by a shock of violet hair. My sister moved in front of me, arms held wide protectively.

“Did you say something?” the king asks. I peek over Bella’s shoulder, suddenly aware that the other fairies have gone deathly silent, save for groans of pain below.

He doesn’t exactly look pissed, but I can’t tell with this man. He could very well be seething with cold fury. I can’t sense his emotional state like I can Belladonna’s, and I’ve heard plenty of tales of vicious royals having people imprisoned, tortured, or executed for the most minor of perceived slights, like talking out of turn. He’s asked a question now, though. I can’t refuse to reply, that would be even worse.

I take a page out of Belladonna’s book and nod my head silently. Why am I losing my nerve in front of this man? He doesn’t have the mystery of Meden, or the overwhelming presence of Tri, but there’s something different screaming at me from the back of my mind that any fairy that size must be treated with utter deference.

An instinct.

“Can you speak English, little one?” he asks. “Speak it if you can.”

“Y-yes sir,” I eke out. “I mean, your highness.”

Murmurs erupt around us. “How old are you? Do you have a name?”

“Uh, I think I came out of the flower about twenty minutes ago, maybe less. My sister came out of her flower first, I think by less than a minute,” I answer, to which she nods. “And no, sir. I don’t have a name yet, at least not officially. I gave one to my sister, though.”

“I see. Would you like me to give you one?” he asks.

I feel the tension in me die down as it seems less and less likely that I’m looking at a butcher king. Sensing this, Bella moves back to my side. I look to her. “Only if Belladonna’s okay with it,” I say. She in turn gives another silent nod.

If Albert was telling the truth, then that means this is King Finvarra, and that name he’s going to come up with is probably…

“Liandan, then. I think that suits you, do you agree?”

“Sis?” I ask.

Rapid nodding and a wide smile. Enthusiasm.

Well, that’s 3 for 3. I’ll admit I don’t hate the name, but I suppose a small part of me was hoping Albert was full of it. “Okay then,” I allow, resigning myself. “I’ll take the name Liandan. Thank you, King Finvarra.”

“Hmm...” he interjects, eyeing the two of us curiously, “… well, I would love to confirm your true name is set, Liandan, but something is wrong with the Tri System,“ he says. “We aren’t sure what happened, but no one can access it, which is why I can’t talk any longer. Rocket!”

“Yes, your highness?” the purple archer from before asks.

“Take Belladonna and Liandan to Floria Grove and get them something to eat; see what information they have. I’m needed here for the time being. We need to figure out how to recover from a battle with the system not working,” he says, frustration clear in his voice. With that he flies down to the field below.

Rocket flits over to us. “Okay, let’s get you two some fried mushrooms,” she says. “We can’t use our Cooking skill right now, but it’s hard to overcook even without the system. This way, please.” She motions for us to follow her, flying toward a group of trees at the edge of the field, slowly so that we don’t lose her, and we take off after her.

Wow. They’re totally lost without the system, aren’t they? Is this my fault? I wasn’t expecting condition three to have such a backlash, I just didn’t want to get killed by some kind of ”housecat vs commoner” nonsense.

I pipe up, against my better judgement. “Miss Rocket, I think we know why the system isn’t working.”

“You do?” she asks.

Bella nods in response. “It’s not good news, though,” I add.

“I see,” the older fairy says. “Okay. Please tell me about it if you can when we get you to safety.”

“I will.”