BERNARD WASN’T QUITE SURE WHERE HE WAS.

One moment he was in a dark echoey room with a fairy looming over him, the next, he was outside in the afternoon sun. Agatha wasn’t with him.

He was standing in a small walled courtyard. It was strangely empty. Just a square cobbled space with a high stone fence. No plants, no benches. No obvious clues about the courtyard’s function. He didn’t think it was a pen for animals. There wouldn’t be much reason to put cobbles down in a space like that. The courtyard had a gate, but it wasn’t locked. He could hear a cart passing outside, and people talking. He cautiously peeked out into the street. He was pretty sure he was back in Hochenberg, right near the entrance to the path they started their journey up the mountain on. He wondered if he should climb back up the mountain again to find Agatha. He wondered if she would want him to.

Bernard felt more alone than he had in his entire life. He hadn’t realised how much he’d come to depend on her presence.

With a clattering of hooves and a startled whinny, Agatha appeared behind him.

‘You’re back!’ cried Bernard.

Once she had her footing, Agatha shook herself. She didn’t like teleportation magic. It didn’t feel right. She said;

‘Yeah. The fairy asked me to tag along with you as a favour. I don’t have anything better to do, so I said; ‘Why not?’.’

She wasn’t the right shape to hug properly, but Bernard tried.

‘Okay, kid, let me go. We’ve got places to be.’

He released her and looked her over to make sure she was still in one piece.

‘You have a saddle now.’

‘I do. And you’ve got a nice hat.’

Bernard touched his head. He was wearing a crown. He took it off and held it in his hands. It was made of twisted strands of gold. It felt very light. While examining the crown, he noticed he had a new ring on his finger. He hadn’t even felt that he was wearing it.

‘What’s all this?’

‘I guess they’re gifts.’

‘I asked for purpose, not presents… oh. Oh no. Is she telling me I have to be the King?’

‘I doubt it. She’s never been fond of those. She asked me to help you, so she actually wants you to succeed. If she wanted you to be a King, she’d be setting you up to fail.’

‘Hah.’

‘Have you checked your pockets? She said you’d have instructions.’

Bernard gave himself an exploratory pat down. He had a new jewelled pendant and a belt with a pouch, but otherwise, his clothes and belongings were the same.

Agatha was pretty sure the crown was intended as a satirical gesture, meant to mock King Lothar. Lothar had a rubbish sword he couldn’t use, and this kid got a fairy crown? Ouch.

The fairy was fond of jokes, so it seemed like the kind of thing she’d do. Agatha wasn’t sure she would be able to resist the temptation to do the same if she were in the fairy’s position. It was all too good.

Here, she had an unfairly exiled prince who, in turn, refused to acknowledge his own birthright. He was deliciously ironic by himself. But then, that exiled prince offered to serve her. He practically begged to be included in her game against his family. If Agatha thought Bernard knew what he was doing, she would have been surprised at how suave he’d been. If he’d asked more directly, it would have come across as insincere. She imagined him kneeling, hands to his heart, saying; ‘Fair lady, I reject my vile heritage. I refuse to even seek vengeance against them. All I seek is to serve you - please, use me as your instrument.’ The image was revolting.

Bernard was only a human boy, though. She couldn't expect that much foresight from him. He didn’t seem to fully understand what he had said or done. He probably didn’t even know what his ancestors had done to the fairy. Human memories were short. They learned to compensate by writing things down… but, if those written texts said inconvenient things, later generations had a habit of making them disappear.

She nudged Bernard into the street.

‘Put the hat back on, and let's find somewhere to stay the night.’

Bernard put the crown back on.

Now that he was in the street, he could see other humans. When he put the crown on, they changed. Around their shoulders were colourful wisps of… something.

He took the crown off. The wisps vanished. He put it on, and they reappeared.

‘Agatha, this crown does something weird to my vision.’

She rolled her eyes. She didn’t know what the exact enchantment was, but she guessed it’d be something extra symbolic. Something that shows you when people are lying, or lets you see people’s intentions. Genuinely useful abilities for a King to have, but a deadly weapon in the hands of the opposition. She said;

‘Tell me what you see.’

‘When I have it off, that man over there is just dressed like a normal guy. When I put it on, he’s wearing this weird moving shawl around his shoulders.’

‘Is he the only one that has one?’

‘No… Everyone has one. Well, every human I can see. You didn’t have one. That dog doesn’t have one. Neither do those chickens.’

‘Do you have one?’

He turned his head from side to side to examine his own shoulders.

‘No.’

What had that fairy given him?

She spotted a pair of human children watching them, mouths agape, and nudged Bernard.

‘We have an audience, let’s go somewhere else.’

He climbed up onto the saddle and sat comfortably. As Agatha trotted down the street, she noticed a lot more people staring. Some knelt. Some bowed. They had seen the pair go up the mountain poorer than dirt. Now the boy was covered in gold and jewels, and the horse had a saddle that matched. It was fairly obvious what they thought had happened. The fairy had chosen the new King. Agatha was worried.

‘Bernard. We’re drawing a lot of attention.’

Bernard didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want people to think he was laying claim to the throne.

‘Please, don’t bow. Don’t kneel. I’m not a King. The fairy just gave me a task.’

‘Are you here to save us?’ asked an older man. His invisible shawl was mostly a yellowish green, shot through with threads of black and brown.

‘No! Well, maybe. I don’t think you need saving now, but later, if you do, I might? I don’t know!’

Bernard was flustered. He didn’t understand what his task was, yet. He couldn’t answer questions about it. Agatha sensed his bewilderment and sped up to end the conversation, cantering down the street towards the forest. The door to the tavern they had visited that morning was open. A familiar old woman waved them over.

‘Quick! In here!’

Agatha slowed to let Bernard dismount, then used the enchantment on her saddle. She shrank to the size of a wolf and followed Bernard in. Once they were safely inside, the woman shut and barred the door. She said;

‘Don’t worry, I’m not trying to trap you in here - if I don’t bar it, they’ll all come in.’

Bernard collapsed into a chair.

‘Thank you, Miss.’

‘No need to be formal with me. Just ‘Ida’ will do.’

He nodded, leaning forward to rest his head on the table. He wanted to sleep. He couldn’t. Agatha was out there, running off to hide in the woods. She was wearing a saddle she wouldn’t be able to get off on her own. If he left her to fend for herself, she might be hurt. He’d wait until people stopped knocking incessantly at the door and he’d go out to find her.

Agatha wasn’t used to being small, or indoors, so she wasn’t entirely sure how she should be acting. Even the sound of her hooves as she crossed the floor was strange. It reminded her of the sound she made while crossing a wooden bridge. It was quieter but more resonant. She pressed her muzzle against Bernard’s dangling hand to get his attention.

‘Chin up. We’re safe here. They’re not out for your blood. They’re just curious.’

Bernard jumped. Agatha was right there, and she was tiny.

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‘How did you get so small?’

‘Did you think you were the only one that got neat trinkets?’

‘Your saddle?’

‘Yep. It’s resizable.’

Ida placed a plate of bread and stew beside Bernard. He noticed her invisible shawl - it was as long as a winter cloak, and mostly grey. He said;

‘Oh, I’m not sure how I’ll pay for this…’

‘We’ll work it out later. For now, stay. Eat. You can sleep in one of the rooms upstairs tonight. It will all make more sense in the morning.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Every conversation I’ve ever had with the fairy left me feeling confused until I got a chance to think about it. She has a hard time talking to little things like us.’

‘Little things? She was only human-sized.’

‘That body isn’t all of her. Fairies aren’t like people. They can look like us if they want to, but their minds aren’t like ours.’

‘If that wasn’t all of her, where’s the rest of her?’

Ida made an expansive gesture.

‘She occupies the entire mountain, the valley below, and part of the next mountain over. That whole space is inside her. We’re inside her right now.’

Bernard looked around, unsettled. How could he be inside her? Was he breathing her? Probably not. It felt like he was breathing air. Were fairies made of air? Maybe she was in the ground, like tree roots. He lifted his hands off the table. Maybe she was like the thin film of glossy stuff that forms on the surface of stagnant water, but as an invisible coating on everything.

Ida knew she’d made a mistake. The boy was already confused. She’d made it worse by trying to explain how fairies work. It had taken her years to develop the understanding she currently had. She wasn’t sure how to condense that into something easy or succinct. Behind her, Gertie spoke up;

‘You sound like an educated boy. Do you know what ‘omnipresence’ means?’

‘Being everywhere at once?’

‘She’s omnipresent within that area, but not physically present anywhere other than the mountain.’

‘Can she see us?’

Gertie nodded.

‘See and hear. All her senses. Over the entire area, all the time.’

‘Then… did I even need to go up the mountain to see her?’

‘You did. There’s a process. An order to things. You had to prove you were willing to go that far to find her.’

Bernard thought about the journey he’d taken to get to the town. Climbing the mountain had been pleasant by comparison. If she wanted proof he was willing to endure discomfort and travel a distance, the journey from his home should have been enough.

Climbing hadn’t been the only component of the ascent, though. It wasn’t just about being athletic or stubborn. Not being able to speak had forced him to think. When he got to the door, he had to demonstrate patience. When the door was opened, he had to brave the darkness and trust the lights were leading him the right way. Then, there was the conversation. The terrifying voice, moving around in the dark. His skin prickled thinking about it. He said;

‘Is there a process to working out what she wants me to do?’

Gertie smiled. She thought he’d throw a tantrum about being made to follow procedure. When he came in that morning looking for provisions, she wanted to chase him out. She was incensed at her sister for helping him. She didn’t have to see his expensive-looking horse to know he had status. Yes, he was dressed like a commoner, but the way he stood and the way he spoke made it clear he was a noble. That was enough to infuriate her. Commoners who dared dress like nobles were executed for their audacity. The reverse was treated as only slightly mischievous. The damage young noblemen did to the lives and livelihoods of the commoners they toyed with was never repaired. They never paid for their cruelty.

She assumed he was like that. Like any other noble. Selfish, greedy, conceited, valuing titles and wealth above everything else. Completely unaware that the world was greater than what little happened in palaces and ballrooms.

Viewing him like that meant his presence had felt like a sword at her throat.

Then, while watching through the window, she saw him openly refuse the title of King in the street. He told the townspeople not to bow to him. He’d even admitted he didn’t know everything. Here, he was humbly asking a pair of old women for advice. He was listening to them. She was wrong about him. It gave her hope. She said;

‘There is a process. It starts with trusting the fairy has already given you everything you need to put you on the right path.’

‘Then, I should probably start by properly looking at all the things she’s given me.’

Gertie touched her sister’s shoulder. The two sat at the table across from Bernard. He began taking off the items he’d received.

Agatha had made herself too small. She couldn’t see. She circled the table uncertainly, not sure how big she could make herself without damaging the house. Ida saw her and pulled a chair out. Agatha eyed it. It looked flimsy to her. She’d seen dogs leap up onto seats before. Dogs had paws with grippy little toes. Horses, even very small ones, didn’t. She was sure she’d fall. Ida patted the seat. Feeling pressured, Agatha imitated the jumping pose she had seen dogs do, and lept. It worked - barely. She slipped and slid, scrabbling to find purchase on the wooden seat. Ida held her to steady her. She sat, hindquarters down, forequarters up. Like a dog. It felt awkward.

Bernard laid out the crown, the pendant, the ring, the belt and the pouch. Agatha said;

‘Did she put anything in your bags?’

Bernard frowned. He opened the sack he got from Sade. It just contained his blanket. He opened the satchel he got from Avelin. There were the things he expected; Agatha’s brush and comb, the sliver of soap, his knife, and the empty water skin Gertie had given him earlier. Tucked in beside these things, there was something new.

‘She did.’

He took out a slim booklet with a cloth cover.

‘Well, what does it say?’

Bernard opened it and squinted at the letters. They jittered slightly. He didn’t like it.

‘It says; Go west. Retrieve my sword. Point at it, say; ‘That is not your sword.’ and it will return to me. You do not need to fight your brothers. You will find your purpose on the way.’

He turned the page. Gertie said;

‘Your brothers have the fairy sword? You’re a Prince?’

Bernard nodded.

‘I was made a Duke once father died… though I’m probably neither now. The title of Duke was a formality. I didn’t have a duchy of my own yet. Lothar ordered me killed, so I don’t think he’d let me keep either title. I think I’m just Bernard now.’

Gertie scowled. She knew the boy was highborn, but Prince was a significant step higher than she expected. She said;

‘Find your purpose?’

Agatha said;

‘He asked the fairy to give him purpose.’

‘What kind of request is that?’

Ida elbowed Gertie, shushing her. Bernard blushed. He asked on impulse. He didn’t plan his request out, nor did he think it would be scrutinised in public like this. Rather than answer, he read;

‘The Vexed Crown grants you an element of my sight. You will see the pain humans carry with them.‘

He looked up, noting the absence of the matching cloaks hanging from Ida and Gertie’s shoulders. Now that he knew what they were, he was glad he couldn’t see them. He said;

‘I guess that explains the shoulder things.’

Ignoring their confused expressions, he continued;

‘The Ring of Promises sends subjects you kiss to the courtyard you were sent to. That seems straightforward, if weird. It’s a ring of magical transportation. What’s the promise?’

Bernard put the ring on, then bent to kiss Agatha on her forehead, experimentally. She vanished in a flash of light. He hadn’t made her a promise. The promise might not be his though. Ida stood and went to the door, chuckling. She said;

‘I’ll let her back in.’

Agatha returned, still small. She galloped across the room and bit Bernard’s leg.

‘Ouch!’

‘Why’d you send me out there?’

‘To test it! I didn’t understand the promise part.’

‘People saw me!’

‘They saw you before.’

‘They saw me small!’

Bernard held up his hands in surrender.

‘I’m sorry. I should have asked first. I did it without thinking.’

Agatha snorted. Her nostrils were flared and her ears laid back. She said nothing. She was clearly angry. Bernard said;

‘I won’t do it again. Not without your permission.’

‘Fine,’ she tossed her head. ‘What do the rest do.’

Bernard returned to the booklet, turning the page again.

‘Indefinite Amulet. There’s no description for that one. Enduring Belt. No description either... Coin Purse. No description, though it probably doesn’t need one.’

Bernard opened the pouch. There were a few coins inside. He tipped them out. One gold, two silver, four bronze, eight copper. Ida said;

‘I wonder if that’s real money.’

‘You think it’s fairy gold? There’s an easy way to test that. I’ll leave it there. If it’s still there tomorrow, we’ll know… and I guess I’ll be able to pay for the food and room.’

That left the belt and amulet. The names were vague but suggestive. Indefinite and enduring both sounded like they might grant some kind of invulnerability. Maybe one stopped him from ageing, and the other preserved his health. It wouldn’t be easy to test either of those. Ageing wasn’t a fast process, and he didn’t want to deliberately endanger his health. He didn’t really want to stay almost fifteen forever, either. He donned most of the items but left the crown where it was. Looking at other people’s pain felt invasive. He said;

‘Judging by the ring and the crown, I guess I’m supposed to go out and send people back here. Who, or why, I have no idea.’

Bernard picked up a piece of bread, dipping it in the stew. He brought it to his lips to take a bite. It vanished. He looked at his empty hand, confused. Agatha said;

‘Probably in the courtyard now.’

He sighed and took the ring off again.

‘I guess I could also be sending back supplies.’

THE DOVEMASTER DIDN’T LIKE TO BOTHER KING LOTHAR AT NIGHT.

The message was urgent. He stood anxiously at the door outside the man’s chambers while the Chamberlain repeated his report to the King. Minutes passed. The Chamberlain stepped out and motioned for the Dovemaster to enter. Lothar looked furious. The Dovemaster bowed deeply. Lothar said;

‘You’re certain Bernard was seen travelling north, away from Senau.’

‘Yes, your Highness.’

‘He never entered the town at all.’

‘Yes, that appears to be the case.’

Lothar didn’t know how Bernard could have spotted the ambush across the river. If he’d gone into the town, some idiot might have let slip that there were men loitering on the other bank, but he never went in. It could have been luck that saved him. Maybe he wasn’t heading for the crossing. He could have taken a wrong turn and unintentionally diverted closer to the river. Lothar didn’t think Bernard was smart enough to have taken that route deliberately to try to confuse trackers. If he were really trying to be tricky, he wouldn’t have ridden in a straight line for so long. He said;

‘Next time there’s a sighting, don’t bother with the Chamberlain. Bring it to me immediately. Now, get out.’

‘Yes, your Highness.’

The Dovemaster turned and scurried out.