I am Count Leonard Fobos, age 47, head of the venerable Fobos family, one of the twelve leading noble houses of Arcadia and right hand to the king.
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"Well... that changes everything," I say, my voice slicing through the suffocating silence that has descended upon the chamber.
The observation sphere before me, that moments ago showed a vivid projection of a grim spectacle, now dims and fades into darkness, extinguished along with the life of its source seer. The final flicker of light vanishes with a soft pulse, leaving the sphere dormant and lifeless on the table between us, its surface reflecting only the faint crystal-light that struggles to penetrate the growing shadows of my office.
The room feels colder now, the silence pressing in as the images linger, burned into my thoughts. The demonic fae, Lady Willow, her monstrous form drenched in blood, tearing through the mercenaries I had hired to deal with our little "Ren problem." No hesitation. No mercy. They never stood a chance.
Lord Cromwell, seated across from me, remains pale and speechless, his hands clenched on the armrests as we process the massacre we both witnessed. One of the men, a competent mage, had been the source of our vision. His spell had let us see the encounter through his eyes, up until his death.
“W... What was that?” stammers Lord Cromwell, terror etched across his face, a stark contrast to the devilish grin creeping across mine.
“That,” I say, my wide smile threatening to break into laughter, “was a fae.”
“A fae? A forest spirit?” Cromwell’s voice quivers with disbelief, his face pale. “That monster looked like some kind of DEMON.”
“Oh ho, you still believe those old children's tales, don’t you?” I chuckle, leaning back in my chair. “You think fae are harmless little sprites, flitting around and granting wishes? Fairy tales, my friend. Pure fiction.”
I shoot him a knowing look, voice low and measured. “The fae pretend to be innocent. They take non-threatening forms to gain the trust of mortals, hiding their true nature.”
I gesture toward the observation sphere. “That was the truth. A predator, a monster that preys on mortals. And we’ve been entertaining it within our very walls.”
Cromwell, normally so composed, looks shaken to his core. He’s a tall, sturdy man, a skilled magical practitioner who never shows fear. Yet here he stands, pale, hands trembling. It’s almost amusing how completely he misses the good news.
“How do we kill that... thing?” he demands, his voice hoarse. “We should alert the castle guard immediately!”
“Calm yourself, my friend,” I reply, raising a hand in a placating gesture, the corners of my mouth curling into a smug smile. “The fae are powerful, yes, but not invincible. They have their weaknesses.”
His expression shifts, curiosity mingling with desperate hope. “Weaknesses?”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
I nod, leaning forward slightly. “Yes. What makes them so dangerous isn’t their power. It’s deception. You rarely realize you're facing a fae until it’s too late.” I pause for effect, letting the tension build. “But now we know. That hag is a fae. And now, we can prepare to kill her.”
“But we need to tell the King, we need to tell the royal court!” Cromwell insists, his voice rising. “They need to know this thing has been living so close to all of us!”
“No. We must tell as few people as possible,” I say sternly, my gaze sharp.
“Why not?” Cromwell asks, his confusion evident.
“The only reason the King let her and that boy live must be because she has enchanted him,” I say darkly. “The King has been compromised.”
This revelation explains his strange behavior, the way he insists they remain in the castle while simultaneously fearing her presence.
“In fact, anyone who has been in close contact with her may be under her control,” I add gravely. “That includes Lady Muara and… your estranged son as well.”
Cromwell visibly recoils, wincing at the mention of his son. He pointedly avoids the topic, his face tightening, and instead refocuses on the pressing threat. “Okay… how do we kill her?”
“First,” I begin, raising a finger, “fae magic is blocked by steel and iron. Anyone around her must wear a steel or iron helmet to prevent falling victim to her enchantments.”
“Second,” I continue, holding up another finger, “the fae have an uncontrollable compulsion to make contracts. They are bound to the terms of those contracts and can die if they violate them. We may be able to trap her into a bargain leading to her own demise.”
“Third,” I say, my voice intensifying, “if you know the true name of a fae, you can summon and command them.”
“Fourth, and finally,” I conclude, raising my fourth finger, “the fae do not lie. Their words can be twisted but never outright false.”
“That’s all very interesting,” Cromwell replies, narrowing his eyes. “But are you certain of all this?”
His voice turns accusatory. “Do you know anyone who has actually killed a fae?”
“It is written in the Book of Voltheron,” I proclaim, invoking the ancient tome of wisdom left to us by the great Dragon God. “And there are several firsthand accounts preserved in the Academy’s archives that verify these facts,” I add confidently, my voice steady with authority.
“Assume you’re right,” Cromwell says, his voice still laced with doubt. “Then what’s the plan?”
“First, I need you to contact Lord Kael. As the headmaster of the Academy, he has conducted far more research into enchantments and curses than anyone I know.” I lean back thoughtfully, tapping my fingers against the arm of my chair. “See if he can assist in breaking the enchantment on the King or, at the very least, help us identify who else may be under her control.”
“And what will you be doing while I handle that?” Cromwell asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Me?” I respond, a wicked smile curling on my lips. “I’ll be preparing a trap to capture and kill Lady Willow. It may take some time to arrange, but I believe I can solve several of our problems at once.”
“Speak plainly, Fobos!” Cromwell snaps, his frustration breaking through. “This is not a time for theatrics.”
I laugh, low and deliberate, relishing his irritation. “You don’t seem to understand the position we are in, friend. Once we kill the fae and free the King from her control, we will be heroes. And the King...” I pause, leaning forward with a glint in my eye, “...well, let’s just say his reputation won’t recover so easily. The council may decide it’s time for a new King.”
Cromwell narrows his eyes. “And you think they’ll back you?”
Of course they will back me, you fool.
“Oh, not me,” I reply smoothly, bowing my head just slightly. “It will be you, of course. I’m more of a... power behind the throne kind of man.”
Cromwell exhales slowly, measuring my words. “Glad to have your support. But you mentioned other problems?”
I smile, the largest, most joyful grin I’ve worn in years, my mind already weaving the threads of a masterful scheme. “I have a plan that will rid us of the fae, eliminate Ren, and remove that thorn in our side, Griswald, all in one stroke.”