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The Matriarch nodded as Tristan concluded. She was silent for a few seconds before speaking, “Well, Lord Tristan…I would have to say that based upon your descriptions, your father could very well be the source of the assassins. I am truly sorry that you had friends die.”
Tristan dipped his head down and let out an exhausted sigh. “I’m tired, Matriarch. Just…I need some alone time.”
She nodded and whistled a loud, trilling sound. The various fairy dragons who were flitting about – fluffing the pillows, smoothing the sheets, laying out night clothes – all flew out. She left the chamber, and her tail pulled the door shut behind her.
Tristan sank below the still-warm water and kept his eyes shut. I’m sorry, Gertrude. I’m sorry…all of you died because they wanted me dead. Eight guards. The new maid he barely knew. Tristan knew of Marlowe’s daughter and wife in their small apartment in a lower district of the city. She’s going to grow up without her father, he thought.
And all the servants at the manor house. Whole families he had known growing up. Gone. Tristan emerged from the water and pulled his knees up to his head, letting himself pour out his emotions as he cried for the lives of those lost.
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The next morning arrived, and Tristan was woken up from his slumber by an interesting smell. Sitting up, he saw several fairy dragons who were walking quietly on the ground carrying a few plates and cups. They froze in place.
“Sorry, Lord Tristan!”
“Didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“Breakfast is ready!”
“We even found eggs! Not sure where they came from, but we fried them up anyways!”
“They tasted good.”
“Eggcellent, even.”
The different voices overlapped, and Tristan couldn’t help but smile at the bad pun-based joke. “Right, I’ll eat your mystery food.”
They left the plates and cups on the desk nearby, and Tristan left the warm, comfy bed to partake in the repast. It was delicious, and he could not help but wonder what type of eggs he was eating. But he didn’t care much.
The fairy dragons had also left out clothing, and Tristan quickly swapped out to the more active wear before grabbing his armor and weapon. Ascending to the top of the Queen’s Wood, he saw quite the change had been wrought overnight. The alchemy station had been pushed to the side of the platform, and a variety of workstations had been set up or brought in.
An enormous, red tree had been transplanted onto the top of these spread-out boughs, and the center was hollowed out and glowed a deep, cherry red. He could feel the heat radiating from it, and the anvil he had purchased was placed in front of it on a stump. Deep, black wooden tools such as pliers were placed around the space, along with barrels and buckets.
Alongside that were more mundane crafting stations: a desk with several grooves for artificed items to be placed upon which could double as an imbuing workstation, a tailoring bench with several large leaves placed nearby that made up the clothes that he was wearing, a cooking station similar to the alchemist’s one with all of his gear set up, and most curiously to him a fancy set of metal tools on a low bench.
Going over to inspect them, he saw that they were jeweler’s tools. Did elves do jewel crafting? He thought to himself as he stood up and went over to the other currently filled platform. The Astrologer’s Glass was still fixed in place on the platform, but nearby were several circular-shaped bags that were stuffed with some type of substance that felt granular but provided a comfortable seat.
And the bookshelf. It was old, gnarled wood that had been carefully crafted to form a gentle oval along the top. All his spell primers and the potion manual were sitting there, awaiting his perusing. Right then. What to do first...It makes the most sense to identify the rest of the items I have. Pulling out the artifice primer, he returned to the crafting benches and set the first object down – the essence-lantern. Following the instructions in the primer, and making the appropriate symbol and spell gesture, he performed the spell required to Discern Artifice.
“Je cherche à savoir ce que fait cet objet. Remplissez mon esprit de compréhension et laissez l'effet se répandre en moi. Distiller la réponse à l'ustensile que je tiens dans ma main.” (I seek the knowledge of what this object does. Fill my mind with understanding and let the effect flow through me. Distill the response to the utensil in my grip).
The device thrummed with energy and vibrated almost out of control, but settled as his essence finished its swirling and his writing-hand stilled.
> Essence-Seeking Lantern
>
> Detect Essence-weaving (First) [Divination]
>
> When in the presence of essence that is directed (i.e. non-ambient) within thirty feet, the user is notified.
Moving through the next few items, Tristan repeated the Discern Artifice spell; draining his essence crucible down to the last drop before reverse-spinning it to suck in the ambient essence within the realm.
> Ring of the Fey Lords/Ladies
>
> Interrealm Warp (Fifth) [Teleportation]
>
>
> This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
>
>
> By channeling essence into the ring, the user may travel across the barrier between Realms, without creating a portal, taking themselves and anything within three feet of their location. The departure and arrival point in each Realm is the same.
> Cloak of Winterbloom
>
> Thrice Command (Third) [Enchantment]
>
> After activation, the next three command words that the user says will be followed by all who can hear and understand their speech. They will attempt to follow the command words to the best of their ability for the next minute. Command words that require harm of oneself or others will be automatically ignored.
That made Tristan pause as he stopped to suck in air. That…okay, wow, enchantment spells are powerful. How would resisting it work? If someone, say, wanted to affect me with an enchantment spell…how would I resist it?
He heard the loud flapping of The Matriarch as she landed on one of the open platforms and her body shifted into that of a tall, well-muscled woman with fairy dragon features. A more amazonian version of Felicity’s elfanoid form. “Ah, I see you are busy identifying the various items you have been gifted.”
Tristan nodded, “How does resisting enchantment work?”
The Matriarch frowned slightly, “That is a tricky topic and hard to quantify. Those with weak wills or who are easily manipulated will fall victim to that spell type without much resistance. But the stronger willed a person is? The more resistant they will be.”
“How would I protect myself against something like that?” Tristan asked.
She sighed and leaned against the table, glancing down at his papers. Despite her leaning over, she was just as tall as him still. “First, you need to know what it feels like. Once you can recognize what enchantment feels like, then you can react to resist. May I use such a spell on you?”
Tristan nodded, “I need to know what I’m up against.”
She turned to face him. “This is a First Order spell called “Command”, much like the Thrice Command of your Cloak of Winterbloom. However, this only allows for a single command word. Mine will be “sit”. With me so far?”
Tristan nodded as he focused wholly on what she was saying, putting to memory everything. Including the fairly simple spell gesture she made; index and middle finger of the dominant hand, pressed together, and placed horizontally along the lips matching the top and bottom. She held the position for a moment and turned slightly, and he could see that her lips were not touching the fingers but were very close to doing so.
“You will first use a spell phrase. Then, after the spell phrase, you pull the fingers away from your lips like this-” she moved her fingers down to her throat and held them there for a second. “And you then speak the command word.”
“Can you say the spell phrase before putting essence into it?”
She nodded. “Lukekaa sanat huuliltani ja noudattakaa käskyjäni niin kuin parhaiten osaatte.” (Read the words upon my lips, and obey my orders as you are best able). She paused for a moment, “I will ensure to write this down for you as well. Are you ready?”
Tristan took a deep breath, “Yes. Do it.”
“Remember, you will feel something foreign, almost pressing against your temples. To try and resist, you will need to focus on a single object to the exclusivity of everything else. Something solid is normally appropriate; such as a rock, or metal.”
Or my armor, Tristan thought. I can visualize it protecting my mind. He nodded, “Do it.”
The Matriarch held up her hand and repeated the two-finger spell gesture, said the phrase, then moved her fingers to her throat before speaking a single word. “Sit.”
Tristan felt an enormous pressure against his temples and inside of his ears – as if he was diving deep down into the lake they used to travel to in order to learn how to swim. Staring at his armor nearby, he tried to think of only the protective, metal carapace. It had saved his life a few times previously – never from dragons, since he had not yet fought any real dragons. But the shell that gave him a sense of comfort was easy to envision wrapping him fully.
Then, the pressure vanished, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “That…felt weird.”
“You are still standing,” The Matriarch said with a faint smile. “That is good. Now that you have felt it, you will know when it is happening and how to resist it. But be aware, higher Order enchantment spells are far harder to resist, and will act much more quickly.” She turned to the alchemy station and waved her hand over the artificed item, heating the top. “I will assist you in your preparation of these various potions, leaving the essence-infusion of proper imbuement to you – so that you may improve upon your essence capacity.”
“Thank you,” Tristan replied. “The recipe book-”
“I read all of those books last night,” she said haughtily as she looked back at him with her lips drawn into a very slight grin. “I was curious. I can perform the same spell types as Felicity, so the ice elementalism was not very useful. But I am very well-versed in essence-weaving in general.”
Tristan returned to his task as he responded with a question, “How did you learn essence-weaving?”
“From your ancestor. The First Fey Lady.”
“What was her name?”
“Zeltana,” The Matriarch replied. “The first of the Winterbloom bloodline. The first Elf to emerge from the primordial Queen’s Wood when the Fey Realm first came into being. She was one of the most powerful Archons that Elvenkind ever saw.”
“What happened to her?”
“She died,” The Matriarch muttered as she began grinding herbs down into a paste.
Tristan turned back to the bench and pondered what The Matriarch had said. I could still have a distant ancestor alive out there. That…is kind of reassuring. I could have a ton of family out there. Well, relatives. Not really family. The only one I really have left is grandfather. He sighed and stood up. “Well, I am going to read those spell primers.” The only spell types I don’t have primers for but can still access are dragonbane, which just has the one spell that scales with my essence capacity according to grandfather, and fortune. He walked over to The Matriarch, “Who could teach me fortune spells?”
“None of my children,” she replied as she continued grinding away with the mortar and pestle. “All fairy dragons may only use illusion, flora, and enchantment. Plus, our innate spell-like ability to shape change and turn invisible.”
“Felicity said she could use a little transmutation as well.”
The Matriarch nodded, “Sometimes my children develop an extra spell type. But none have manifested fortune thus far. To learn that spell type, you will need one of those books from the Mortal Realm…or find a teacher.”
“Thank you for helping with the potion-making, by the way.”
“Oh, it is not a problem at all. Flying around the Fey Realm on my patrol leaves me quite physically tired, and letting my wings rest is a nice break. Plus, I can get some of these lazy children of mine to help out.” She said that last bit with her a glance up to the highest boughs above the two, and Tristan glanced up to see dozens of fairy dragons looking down at the two and eating starberries.
“Oh, right!”
“Coming, mom!”
“I don’t want to mush berries!”
“Hey, at least you don’t have to carry buckets of clearcool up and down!”
Tristan chuckled and moved to the study area as fairy dragons swarmed around The Matriarch and began helping her with the herb processing, or flying off into different directions to get ingredients from around the Fey Realm. Which spell primer first?