Benjamin spent the next day helping Raja learn how to use the console. He wanted to be shooting arrows, but since this would be used to make the entire unit of massed archers that much more effective, and Benjamin wasn’t going to be around to run the show, someone was going to have to be him.

It was a nice excuse to spend time with his friend before whatever was about to happen, which was nice, too. Certainly nicer than listening to Emma berate him for his foolish, half-baked plans again. Matt and Raja didn’t give him shit for them, at least, and for now, that was enough.

Listening to Raja explain how to use the console’s function with the limited metaphors he had for computing. In the end Benjamin was forced to compare the whole thing ot the engine of the SUV they’d ridden in so long ago, just to provide common ground for metaphors, which was ironic since neither of them really had any idea how cars or engines worked anymore.

It was enough, though, especially since they were mostly talking about heat and fuel, and the importance not to slam on the gas more than you had to at any given moment to keep the whole thing from exploding. In fact, he warned Raja so much about how fragile the thing was that his friend finally said, “Benjamin, the next time you build a bomb, don’t make it quite so heavy, we will never be able to launch this at the enemy.”

Benjamin groaned more than chuckled at that, but his friend’s point wasn’t entirely off base. Despite being several hundred pounds of solid brass and precious metals, the thing was remarkably fragile, and though it could cast spells on an incredible scale, giving the general a lot of control over his troops and monitoring their well-being in inexperienced hands, it would be easy to break.

He would have loved it if they had the time to get more than one made. Perhaps then, Matt could focus on healing and defense while Raja focused on doing damage. For some reason, that made Benjamin think of a video game that relied more on watching life bars than actually playing the game most of the time, but the name escaped him.

“You know this would all work better if you just stayed here and fought by our side,” Matt said at lunch, finding yet another opportunity to express his displeasure with Benjamin’s heroics.

Benjamin nodded. “I agree; I could definitely kill everyone better from the safety of my loyal steed, the war turtle, but saving people—”

“You could let other people take a shot at risking their lives,” Emma said. “I could go and—”

“No way,” Both Benjamin and Matt said simultaneously, for radically different reasons. Matt was afraid she’d get herself killed, Benjamin, on the other, had thought it was far more likely that she would kill Lord Jarris, and it was critical to Benjamin’s plans that the man the summoned them here kept breathing, at least initially.

Besides, Benjamin no longer had to worry about killing the man. Miku would inflict far more torment on the Summoner Lord than any human ever could. Now, it was just about what lives could be saved.

“It’s fine,” Benjamin said. “I’m back up now, remember? Worst case you can bring me back that way.”

He smiled as he gestured to the amulet he wore but conveniently left out the fact that he’d be taking it with him. The Prince’s phylactery was an important part of the plan, and bringing it with her would give the Rahkshasa a lot more credibility than coming back with just Benjamin.

The messenger arrived to tell them that an audience would be granted to Benjamin and his inner circle at dusk when a four-foot-tall talking rabbit hopped into their ranks, donned its spectacles, and read from a very fancy illuminated scroll with ivory handles.

“The manthing known as Ben-jamin and up to five guests are invited to attend a small gala at sunset to celebrate the coming end of the conflict,” it read very stiffly before providing directions on where it was they should go and assuring them that the venue was already under construction. The directions it gave them were, unfortunately, hours out of the way toward a small grove of trees just visible on the horizon. “Sadly, due to limited resources in these trying times, your army is not welcome to attend at this time; thank you.”

It did not wait around for questions. As soon as it finished reading the message to Benjamin where, he sat atop his turtle, leaving them with nothing but questions.

“Why does this feel like a trap?” Raja asked.

“Because it always feels like a trap when these faeries get involved,” Emma countered.

Benjamin doubted very much that the Arboreal throne bore him any kind of ill will, not after the time that he and Dahlia had spent together. The Throne of the Sky Sea was more of a wild card, though, so he said nothing.

“This is the first time they’ve told us to leave our army at home, though, isn’t it?” Matt asked. “That doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that friends would say. ‘Go on, leave your weapons at home; everything is fine. You can trust us...’ seems more than a little suspicious.”

Benjamin shrugged. “We’re awfully close too the front, maybe they’ve devoted everything they have to fighting.”

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“Maybe they don’t care for us much more than the Rhulvin,” Emma shot back.

Benjamin couldn’t deny that entirely, but he felt like there was some nuance there. Nonetheless, even after they discussed it, the four of them all decided they should go. The benefits far outweighed the risks.

They left their army behind to camp early for the night, and Matt order his sub commanders to spread out their forces and carefully mind the perimeter throughout the night, just in case. After all, he pointed out, if this was a trap, it might just as easily be for their army while their commanders were away, effectively decapitating it. That just made Benjamin roll his eyes, though.

“Look, they don’t care for humans, I’ll give you that,” Benjamin agreed as the four of the rode off on horseback to the far away grove. “But we are literally fighting their enemies. Why would they stab us in the back before we’ve finished them off. It seems like a wasted opportunity.”

Despite the fact that he reminded them several times that the fae were almost certainly listening to them as they rode to their destination, the paranoid conversations continued. Ironically, because he’d spent so much time among the fae, Benjamin’s opinions mattered least to his friends on the subject.

“Maybe their reasons don’t have to make sense. Have you ever thought about that?” Emma asked. “Madness seems to be their nature most of the time to me.”

Benjamin couldn’t deny that. Not completely, anyway, they were definitely capricious and strange, even when being nice and helpful.

The grove grew in size as they rode closer to it, and that was only partially a figure of speech. Some of the trees were definitely growing compared to the rest, and like some organic palace, over the next few hours, it slowly grew minarets and a roofline. It was impressive, of course, but nowhere near as stunning as the palace of the Arboreal Throne he’d been in so long ago.

Benjamin explained all of this to his friends, and Matt agreed, though his memories of that time were dim, but Raja just laughed and said, “It makes sense to me - every queen needs a summer palace or two, right?”

When they finally reached the edge of the trees, Benjamin saw another familiar face appear: Eighteen Sharpened Points. The chamberlain stood astride a gate made of twiggs and slender branches that seemed unlikely to bar the way of even a determines horse. Still, when the four of the got close enough, the giant deer said, “You’re early. I’m afraid I cannot yet allow you entry until preparations are complete.”

Emma seemed like she was about to give the talking animal a piece of her mind, but Matt quickly interjected. “That’s fine,” he answered, eying the sun. “Can you show us where we can secure our horses?”

“Right this way,” the Chamberlin said.

He showed absolutely no sign of recognizing Benjamin, but that didn’t mean anything. The man… errr, animal had always been more concerned about formalities than anything else, as he’d previously observed, and he didn’t see why today should be any different.

The stag led them to a small grass hut not far from where they’d ridden that Benjamin would have sworn hadn’t been there previously. Then, once they arrived, he said, “The gates will open at sunset, and no weapons of any kind will be allowed inside. In the annex here, you’ll find suitable clothing to change into. Please dress to impress.”

Once he’d said that, he departed and returned to the gate. It actually opened for him, but quickly closed behind him, and Benjamin was only just able to make out the dryad that had done it because of how skillfully the thing blended in with the trees.

In the hut they found a number of outfits that looked almost like formalwear, if tuxedos and evening gowns were made out of leaves and flower petals. The colors were right even. The men’s clothing was in various styles but it all boiled down to darkly tanned hides or nearly black leaves that had been stitched together with great care.

By contrast, the dresses were a riot of color. “I am not wearing this,” Emma said, picking up a dress that had been stitched together from ten thousand tiny poppy blossoms so that it looked more like the scales of a floral dragon rather than clothing, “Or this,” she declared as she picked up a dress that seemed to be woven from dandelion seeds.

It was so light and airy that when she tossed it to the ground, Benjamin thought it would shatter into a cloud of choking seeds. It didn’t, though. Whether by magic or clever weaving techniques, it pooled into a puddle of cloth on the floor like any other slinky dress might.

“Well you have to dress in something or they wont let you in,” Matt said, obviously not looking forward to changing out of his ratty clothes or his steel gauntlets anymore than the rest of them.

“Do you think they’d count these as weapons?” Matt asked, gesturing to his gauntlets.

“I mean, yeah, probably,” Benjamin answered. “I didn’t get the sense that they liked metal too much, sooo—”

“Well, maybe I’ll just go naked then,” Emma blurted out as she stood there holding a dress made of tiny purple flowers that had been woven together by the stems to give the fabric a strange three dimension pattern “because, for timeless fairy creatures, they have shit taste in clothes.”

Benjamin, Matt, and Raja quickly resigned themselves to wearing dark, leafy suits, but Emma turned down just about every dress in the place in the fairly extravagant wardrobe that they’d been offered.

In the end, Matt was able to convince her to wear the red dress with the rose theme, but only because he argued that the severe-looking thorns made of dark, sharpened antler tips could be used as daggers in a pinch. She grudgingly agreed to that, and Benjamin thought despite how ridiculous it was, it still looked very pretty on her, even if she didn’t want to hear it.

The rest of them, though. He thought that each of them looked ridiculous. All the clothing was the wrong size, and none of it had been made for the human shape, in his opinion. Raja agreed and made a lot of jokes about parachute pants that Benjamin really didn’t understand.

All that ceased when they stepped outside, and the last rays of the setting sun touched their clothing. Immediately, the leaves and vines that made up the bulk of the outfits came to life and shrank slightly. Half a minute later, all of them were dressed in what were practically tailored suits.

“Well, don’t they just waste magic on the dumbest things,” Matt said softly, giving himself a once-over.

“Waste?” Emma scoffed. “No way. You haven’t looked this handsome in… ever.” She looked at her fiancée with more than a little lust, but before they could do anything about it, a distant trumpet sounded with the setting sun, stealing their attention back to the matter at hand: meeting with the Thrones.