Spidena was the first to react to Daffy’s panic, prompting her to swoop down and wrap Filif in her arms.

“Filif! Let’s go to the dining room! There may even be other sprites to—” The sprite squirmed in her arms, his eyes fixed doggedly on Daffy who was doing her best to get to the doorway.

“What’s happening?” Ben called over the scuffle.

“Mushroom… sprites–argh!” Spidena started to explain as the sprite wriggled around her torso, forcing the witch to pin him awkwardly to her side. “Can… attach… and… NO BITING!” Spidena burst out as Filif started to tentatively gnaw on her upper arm. “Live… off… wood nymphs!”

It took Ben a few moments to piece together the broken sentences. “Oh. Like mushrooms on trees? They grow and live off of them?”

“Yes,” Daffy whispered from just behind Ben. “And sometimes they make us rot.”

“How do we make him stop?” Ben asked with a worried frown.

Daffy raised a trembling finger. “Go outside, and get him a thick tree branch. W-we’ll smoke it a little for him.”

Another garbled yelp echoed from Spidena, prompting two things to happen. The first being Paulav stepping forward to lend his assistance to the waylaid witch. The second, Ben sprinting down the hall out the door to find the tree limb.

It took all of fifteen minutes, but by the end of it, Spidena was completely disheveled, Paulav’s coat was missing two brass buttons, and Filif was sitting happily on the ground sucking on the side of a maple tree branch freshly smoked from the fire in the dining room, that had littered some bark and dried leaves over the inn’s floor.

Ben looked at Daffy, “So… I think we’re staying the night. How can we pay you?”

The wood nymph eyed Filif uncertainly as she dabbed the sweat on her forehead with the kerchief Paulav had helpfully supplied. “Well… I’ll have to talk to Obbie about it.”

Ben nodded in understanding before looking at Spidena. “Come on. Maybe if we sit outside like he asked he won’t make us do something ridiculous.”

The witch at that moment was stretching her jaw wide open in an effort to relax her muscles as she had, at long blessed last, been able to stop smiling.

“How about I buy you two some dinner?” Paulav smiled at them, his eyes twinkling.

“I won’t say no to that!” Ben grinned.

Spidena didn’t argue the offer either, and so the two of them made their way back outside where night had already cooled the forest.

Spotting a wooden bench pressed just under one of the windows to the dining room, Ben headed in that direction, and proceeded to plunk himself down.

“You know, if more magical creatures come because of us, we should demand commission,” Spidena speculated aloud as she joined Ben on the bench.

“I’ll leave that kind of discussion with Daffy and Obbie to you.” Ben leaned his head against the wall, closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

“Do you believe me now about the big magic around us?”

“I guess,” Ben responded, unenthused.

Spidena made an irritated noise in the back of her throat, crossed her arms over her chest, and slumped back against the inn wall.

“Did Filif hurt you anywhere?”

Spidena’s head snapped around to stare at Ben. He didn’t even open his eyes, but he sensed her do it.

“His teeth are basically mushrooms. No, he didn’t hurt me. He pulled my hair a few times, but that’s it,” she answered warily.

“You could use less hair. He was probably just trying to be helpful.”

Spidena narrowed her gaze. “I noticed this earlier… You threw yourself over me when the pixies were attacking. Now you’re asking if I’m hurt. Don’t go expecting me to be nicer to you or to give you any favor—”

“In the military we protect and treat the best weapons with the utmost care. You were the best person to get us out of trouble, so I made sure you wouldn’t have a problem doing whatever needed to to save us.”

“I feel like I was just insulted.”

“There are worse things than being useful.”

Spidena snorted. “Yes. Thank toads you aren’t developing any romantic feelings for me. You’d probably give a woman you’re interested in something ridiculous. Like a pocket knife.”

“A pocket knife is a great gift. But really the gift depends on the person.” Ben’s eyes came half open as the first sightings of fireflies started to rise up from the thick grass near their feet.

“Oh? What was the last gift you gave?” Spidena tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, well aware that the rest of her hair atop her head was in a frightful state.

Ben felt a sad weight claim his expression. “I bought my brother a wagon.”

Spidena settled back onto the bench. Her brief quiet made Ben suspect he’d surprised her… Oddly, the silence made him feel like continuing the story.

“It was used. Old. Rusted to hells, and its back left wheel was loose. But it meant that collecting wood for the fire went faster, and we’d have more time to play together before dinner.”

“What was your brother’s name?” Spidena asked softly.

For a second Ben was almost smiled. His eyes opened a little more, and his cheeks lifted… But when he next spoke his voice betrayed his pain.

“Mervin.”

Spidena waited before asking another question.“Was he older or younger?”

“Older. By three years.” Ben blinked a few times and looked away.

“Was he a dodder too?”

“Yeah, but he… He wasn’t as good as I was at spotting magic. One time we,” Ben faltered with a laugh. “One time I swore we were following wisps to treasure. Really I was just following a rabbit that some witch had marked for hunting. Luckily the animal seemed to have outsmarted them because no one shot at us.”

Spidena smiled at the story.

“But holy bog was Mervin annoyed…” Ben laughed a little more substantially while shaking his head. “He wouldn’t talk to me the rest of the night.”

“Is he… Is he still alive?” Spidena ventured delicately.

Ben’s smile faded. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the instant regret on Spidena’s face for asking the question.

“I have no idea. When my mom… When she… Uh. The day I met Ostrig was the last time I saw my brother. So… I’m not sure.”

Spidena sat up straighter in alarm. “But the Hounds were disbanded five years ago! Why didn’t you check on hi—”

“I don’t want to know.” Ben interrupted stiffly. “And if I found my brother, I might find my parents and I can’t… I just can’t… See them. If they’re still alive I don’t know what I’d say.”

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Spidena sprung up onto her feet and rounded on him. “Stop being a coward and see your brother. I understand not wanting to see your parents. They sold you. But your brother? He didn’t do anything and he might need you!”

Ben stared up at Spidena, the glow of the dining room lighting her face. “Mind your own damn business.”

She scowled down at him in response.

“My, my, don’t you two smell positively divine!”

The new regal voice that sounded behind Spidena startled her into swinging around. She found herself staring at nothing. Then she dropped her gaze and backed away so quickly that she tripped on the bench, knocking her bum back onto its surface, before consequently bumping the back of her head against the wall in the inn.

“How you have lived this long should be investigated at some point,” Ben noted drolly.

“Shut up,” Spidena muttered, her eyes opening while still clutching the back of her head.

“Honestly, either there is magic involved, or—” Ben’s words died when a black duck waddled up to him with a businesslike air.

“So what, pray tell, are you two?” The duck had a low, sonorous voice, and Ben stared at it without moving an inch.

The question mystified him almost as much as the fact that there was a talking duck with a voice as bass heavy as a giant.

So rather than answering, Ben responded with, “Us? But you’re a… A duck—”

“I am Conquestorov.”

“Uh.”

“Con for short,” the duck allowed patiently.

Ben took stock of the duck’s unnerving red eyes as it turned its head to better see him.

His stuttering mind was gradually overcoming the oddness of the situation.“Con, how are you—”

“I am a minion.”

Ben looked at Spidena helplessly. The witch had been incredibly quiet during the duck’s introduction.

However Ben’s look of devastating confusion prompted her to reply—albeit dazedly. “Minions are basically pure magic. They are made by witches or warlocks that specialize in certain kinds incantations. This… minion—”

“Conquestorov.”

“Conquestorov, acts as an agent to his creator. Minions are very tricky and pricey to make, so they aren't common at all.”

“It took my master five years to finish me,” Conquestorov confirmed. “Now. What are you beings? You are generating magic all around you, and it is utterly intoxicating!”

“Er.” Ben wasn’t entirely sure he trusted a magic duck.

“We have a bit of a fate tie. Who is… Who is your master?” Spidena interjected warily.

“A fate tie! My, my. Those are happening more often these days. Very interesting…” The duck ruffled its feathers, and Ben noted out of the corner of his eye that Spidena was looking quite pale and increasingly nervous. “My master is the great Lord Callex Earhav, the first ever warlock to be titled and—”

“Fungus,” Spidena whimpered quietly.

“I beg your pardon?” the duck shuffled its webbed feet closer.

“N-nothing! Don’t worry! A-are you here to stay at The Fey Way?”

“So this is The Fey Way!” The duck said with great awe and interest. “My master has been quite curious about this. I suppose I could poke my bill in and see what the fuss is about.”

Ben eyed Spidena, then the duck. He was unsure how best to leave the situation, when lo and behold, Paulav poked his head out the front door. “Dinner is just about ready! And Obbie has decided on your payment!”

Both Ben and Spidena sprung to their feet. “How bad is it?” Ben asked while sidling around the duck and rushing toward Paulav.

“I don’t think it's too terrible. He said something about whipping egg whites without magic?”

Spidena and Ben shared a look of utter confusion, then both shrugged and slipped back inside.

*

Paulav was just about to close the door when a low voice called out. “Pardon me good sir, please hold the door there.”

Practically leaping out of his skin, Paulav looked down at the duck and froze in place.

“Why thank you. Would you mind terribly pointing me in the direction of the proprietor?” The duck bowed his head as he waddled by.

Paulav gaped another second before jerking back into his senses. The merchant then proceeded to close the door, a renewed smile claiming his face as he discovered yet a wonderful new magical element to the world he lived in.

“Of course! Right this way, Mr. Duck!”

“Please, call me Conquestorov.”

***

“It is never going to turn into foamy peaks!” Ben barked at Obbie who leaned against his work bench with a languid smile.

“Oh it will. Keep whisking, man chop.”

Spidena scowled from her spot on the floor where she tried to rub feelings back into her arms. She had handed the task over to Ben after about thirty seconds, and her arms were still aching horribly.

Ben continued whisking for another two minutes, and not much changed aside from the fact that he had to pause to remove his coat as sweat started to build along his hairline.

Obbie chuckled. “Oh Man Chop, you are a delight.”

“Dinner better be good,” Spidena bit out.

“Oh please. The way you two look I could probably feed you an undercooked potato and you wouldn’t complain.” The fairy waved his hand, unbothered as he turned to his table and resumed chopping up the bunch of freshly washed parsley that rested there.

Admittedly, the kitchen smelled like heaven.

A thick, carrot soup simmered on the stove. The warm spices that Obbie had added in the beginning when he’d browned the onions were creating a caramelized smell that had both Spidena and Ben’s mouths watering.

And so, Ben continued whisking, and whisking. Until at long, bloody last, stiff peaks formed.

If it had happened on another day when not quite so much madness had occurred, he would’ve been awed that goopy egg whites could change so much just from being moved around.

However, it had been a terribly long day, and so he merely smacked the bowl down, in front of Obbie and said.

“There.”

The fairy leaned over, gave a cursory glance, then said. “Wonderful. Spidena, the other bowl is over there.”

“What other bowl?” Spidena demanded, her voice fraught with hysteria.

“Oy!” Obbie lifted his knife and pointed it first at Ben, then Spidena. “You’re getting a free room. The least you can do is give an hour of work.”

The point did succeed in placating Ben and Spidena for an awkward moment, until Spidena slowly wandered over to the table with her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you mean ‘a’ room?”

The fairy arched an eyebrow at her then lowered his knife and gave a smug smile. “We have a lot more customers now. We can’t just be doling out rooms left right and center. You two will share a room.”

Ben and Spidena gaped, looked at each other, then both recoiled in utter disgust at the idea of having to sleep in a confined room together.

Well, so much for getting a well earned rest.