Patrick was still fully engrossed in reading through the Encyclopedia Mysteria when Seamus and Mr. Akila returned to the room nearly a half hour later. Since he hadn't yet figured out what type of Fae he was, Patrick decided to read through the collection of the different Fae races to better familiarize himself. Luckily, the book seemed mostly geared towards Fae, with over half its pages covering them. He had just finished reading through the entry for Redcaps when he heard the two mismatched figures entering through the beaded curtain.
Redcap: A race of Wyld Fae tending to the side of Chaos. Mostly human in appearance, they are almost universally abandoned at birth to grow up as foundlings among the native humans of Earth. Characterized by a fondness for pranks and wearing hats while young, their tendencies will slowly grow more violent as they reach maturity. Their true nature will awaken when they kill their first intelligent being and soak whatever hat they typically wear in its blood. This behavior is instinctual, and will need to be repeated with fresh blood periodically. Failure to do so will result in physical weakness and growing delusions. Extremely high scores for aggression and moderate scores for physical combat and moderate scores for intelligence and low scores for magical ability.
"You thought I looked like a murder-hobo?" Patrick's first words to Seamus as he returned to the room were delivered with the unpleasant face of someone who hours later just realized they were the butt of the joke they hadn't previously understood.
"I see you are diligently studying the book I gave you. As my fine feathered friend here is so fond of saying, knowledge is the foundation of power, so take heed and….yada yada yada. That's about the point where I nod off and stop paying attention to his rant." Seamus answered with what Patrick had already come to recognize as his trademark deflection packaged with some offensive humor.
"And in your case as always, brevity is the true soul of wit." Mr. Akila's retort has Seamus gasping in fake outrage. "The oaf is correct in that I always encourage others to better themselves, even if in cases like his it is a hopeless endeavor. However if you were thinking of finding what race you are using that tome, you will end up disappointed young one. If you were of any of the easily identifiable races I would be able to tell what you are, even in your dormant state."
"I didn't think it would be that easy, nothing in life ever is." Patrick closed the book as he slipped it back into his waistband. He walked over to the counter where Mr. Akila had begun tallying up the cost of the clothes Patrick had selected.
"A mature, if somewhat dismal view of reality, for one so young. Although it should serve you better than egotism or pure optimism, those people have a high frequency of being eaten or enslaved shortly after being introduced to our world." Mr. Akila wrote out a receipt by hand, then pulled out a large wooden box from underneath the counter and began removing various small bottles and leather pouches from within.
"Well, I have always found pessimism to be the healthier lifestyle choice, at least you have fewer negative surprises. You know what they say, you're not paranoid if someone really is out to get you. Didn't know how true it was before today though." Patrick looks on with interest as Mr. Akila sprinkles a powder from one of the small glass bottles over the clothes he had selected, then took out a long brown feather and began waving it in a circle over the clothing while chanting some language he did not recognize in a low voice.
"What is he doing to the clothing?" Patrick leaned over to Seamus and asked in a low voice, not wanting to interrupt whatever process Mr. Akila was working on. Seamus glanced up from the flask he had magically produced and been sipping on, before scowling when he saw what the Bird-headed man was doing.
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"What every damn salesman always tries to do, jack up the prices through pushing after-market services the customer didn't request. Like undercoating for automobiles. If it weren't for the Abyssal marketing team admitting humans came up with that shite on their own I would have sworn on Dagda's Cauldron that was one of their ideas." Seamus capped his flask and shoved it back into the depths of his coat before turning and addressing Mr. Akila. "And what do you think you are doing ya featherhead?"
After making a final circle over the pile of clothing, Mr. Akila put the feather down and made another scribble on the handwritten receipt he had been keeping.
"Just adding the Foundling Package to your young charge's clothing, you cantankerous dwarven reject. Comes with enchantments for automatic resizing, self-repair, minor elemental resistance, and a rechargeable anchored glamour that can disguise most common physical mutations that might occur after awakening. Better to be safe than sorry, especially since my services cost less than a trip to the Tribunal should they discover a Pact broken due to negligence." Although the head of a bird didn't lend itself very well to communicating human emotions through facial features, Mr. Akila did a good job of conveying condescension and amusement through his voice and the way he looked down his beak at the Leprechaun.
"And what is a Pact? I think I can understand the tribunal bit through context, but that sounds important." Patrick interrupted the odd duo's back and forth with a question. Both of them turned their heads to look at Patrick, before Mr. Akila cocked his head and glared at Seamus, who in turn started intently studying the merchandise on the walls while refusing to make eye contact.
With a sigh, Mr. Akila gave up trying to shame the Leprechaun as a futile endeavor and turned back to answer Patrick.
"Pacts are binding magical contracts specific to the Fae. They are unique in that they require no physical medium like most contract magic, but are enacted and enforced through linguistic magic native to all Fae. As your Guardian, the felonious reprobate that he is, SHOULD-" Mr. Akila gave a heavy emphasis on the last word and a pointed glance at Seamus who had quit his staring match with the wall in favor for fiddling with another gold coin, "-have and WILL explain this to you in detail, just know that Fae take their word very seriously. No true Fae will ever outright lie, but they can often do more with misleading half-truths and opinion than the most deceitful devil. A Pact will be struck whenever a Fae repeats a statement three times. Immediately pertinent to you, the Fae Tribunal ages ago issued a Pact that affected all Fae of the Domain of Order in regards to foundlings."
Mr. Akila began to fold the clothing and put them into a brown paper bag he brought from beneath the counter until Patrick waved him to hand the clothing over. Mr. Akila handed the clothing to Patrick before walking to a nondescript section of wall and waving his hand a few times, causing the previous solid wall to melt from the ceiling down, revealing a startling generic changing room that wouldn't have looked out of place in the Target Patrick had been fired from one summer when he was caught renting the store out at night as a venue for an underground roller derby.
After Patrick had changed into his new clothing and out of the soot stained orange jumpsuit with County Corrections emblazoned across the back, Mr. Akila picked up where he left off.
"As I was saying, the Tribunal made a Pact binding upon all Fae of Order, and wild though he may be in conduct, Seamus is no Wyld Fae. The Pact requires whichever Fae finds a foundling to assume guardianship and provide for their safety and basic needs until they can be reunited with their clan or undergo their awakening. Under normal circumstances, those without the desire or aptitude to be caring, responsible adults," Mr. Akila turned to give Seamus another of what Patrick had come to recognize as a look of condescension, "can simply notify someone else to take charge of the foundling, but in the case of an emergency like the one Seamus mentioned occurred when you two first met, whichever Fae is present is bound to render aid. That is how Seamus got snagged by the binding of the Pact."
Patrick turned to look at the eccentric Leprechaun who had snatched him from his old life in a blaze of fire and tried to process if this changed how he had come to regard Seamus. The man, or manlike entity, had obviously avoided talking about the Pact when Patrick talked to him about why Seamus had saved him from being barbequed like the other workers. Not to mention the whole being literally bound by your word seems like something that should have come up much earlier in their discussions about being Fae and what it entailed for him. But at the same time as someone who had always resisted authority and being bound by arbitrary rules, Patrick couldn't imagine voluntarily giving anyone information on how he had been magically bound to act in a certain way to anyone, let alone someone who could potentially use it against him. Patrick leaved up against the wall that had replaced the dressing room as soon as he was done using it, lost in thought, as Mr. Akila went back to the register and began arguing in a low tone with Seamus, who seemed to move past attempting to ignore the bird headed man, and had begun attempting to bargain down the price listed on the hand-written receipt that had been handed to the money-grubbing Leprechaun.