The Glade was . . . exactly what is says in the tin.

As we passed through a tight circle of trees, my senses went through the roof at the number of eyes on us from high up amongst their branches. Then we came out into a wide clearing, probably the size of two or three football fields.

At the very centre was a massive pool with tributaries running off it to disappear into the trees. There were about ten of these, which gave the impression of the Glade being a gigantic wheel with liquid spokes running off it.

I couldn't see anything resembling houses in the clearing, but this wasn't surprising: Orwyn had explained that the Fae lived above the ground in the forest canopy. By the radiating hostility I was feeling from all the hidden eyes, I wasn't sure I would be invited to a play date any time soon.

The same could not be said for Corys, who was unceremoniously slung over Allavan's shoulder and spirited away into the woods. His men made some half-hearted argument, but he sheepishly waved them off. I couldn't blame him, to be honest. He appeared to have become the sex slave of 90s vintage Cindy Crawford. Sucked to be him.

A small group of manifestly older Fae were stood by the edge of the pool, glaring at us with barely restrained disgust. If Tresaith and the others who had come to see were ancient, then it beggared belief the age these guys must have been to look like this. I was not getting the impression we were a welcome addition to the community's social calendar.

"Tresaith Morningshot, explain yourself!" I wondered if that was the Fae equivalent of your mum using your full name when you were in some serious shit.

The speaker looked like one of those people who spent the whole of their retirement in Florida 'for the sun'. Its skin had turned to leather, and I could imagine, in another setting, proudly wearing all manner of 'Make American Great Again' merchandise.

I'm not saying that this group looked like they'd be at home at a Trump convention, but neither did they give the appearance that wearing a white sheet would be wholly beneath them. Even the voice of this first speaker gave the impression of a bag of piss and vinegar.

Tresaith stepped forward. "As requested by the Council, we made contact with those from the mortal realm . . . "

"You were told to exterminate them, not bring them to tea!" A second desiccated Fae crouched out their displeasure. I made a guess this one was female, purely on the boob tube she was rocking. My word, she was old. Her eyes had sunken so far into her weathered face that I was amazed she could still see. I mentally flagged her as the Ur-Karen.

"That is not so, Bresith, and well you know it!" Orwyn's voice was firm. "We were instructed to make contact and then use our best judgment on how to proceed."

The withered face turned to her. "You were given latitude on the assumption you had finally grown into good sense. We expected better."

Tresaith came to his mother's defence. "These mortals had dispatched the goblins marshalling to attack this place."

All of the Fae elders spat on the floor in an impressive display of phlegm synchronicity. "Trash that would not have lasted two minutes in our woods." The first speaker was back, spreading joy and sunshine.

"They then destroyed a second, newly arrived force led by a Hobgoblin."

Orwyn's words caused a little ripple of discussion. Then, a slightly less ramshackle elder pushed his way forward. He reminded me of nothing so much as Gandalf - right down to the flowing beard and giant staff. "You would have the Council believe that these mortals vanquished not just one goblin army but a second? And one under Hobgoblin command! You mock us."

"Their wizard bested Maewyn in one-to-one combat," Bessen said, having been suspiciously quiet thus far. She appeared to see humiliating her friend a notch above hoping for our imminent execution.

All eyes were suddenly on the Fae whose arse I had kicked - recollections may vary, my dear - who nodded solemnly. To be fair to him, since he'd woken up, he'd not been a drop of trouble. So much so, I had idly wondered whether - due to some ancient Fae tradition -whether he owed me some sort of life debt. I could do with my own Fae bodyguard.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

I'd asked Tresaith about it, and he found it so hilarious that he couldn't breathe for several minutes.

"Not at all," he said when he regained control of himself. "He's just now understandably cautious around someone of your power. It has been centuries since he was bested in sword combat - much less via whatever dark art you used to appropriate his Qi."

This did not seem to be an auspicious moment to reveal that Drynwyn did all the fighting, and I had no idea how I'd nicked Maewyn's Qi. 'Fake it until you make it', and all that.

"It is true," Maewyn said. "The wizard showed unusual martial promise."

Everyone turned to stare at me, including a bunch of kings who really, really gave the impression that they'd had enough of my shit. I did wish I'd stop giving them reasons to get hold of Caeldfwch and then use it to cut off my head. This quest was turning out to be less about keeping Arthur as Pendragon and more about ensuring my own survival.

"I have offered them guest protection," Tresaith boomed out.

"You had no right," Gandalf replied, his voice louder than the younger Fae's. "We have had no mortal in our Glade for an age. What you propose is the most egregious insult."

"My lords and ladies," Arthur pressed forward. "I am Arthur ap Uther ap Constantine. I have been granted the status of tongued one, and I would speak."

The response to this was silence. I didn't know whether this was a good sign or not. Neither did Arthur, who took a breath and then pressed on. "We are on a quest for Caeldfwch. We have completed the Step of Blood, and believe - in our destruction of the goblin armies - we have moved past the Step of Faith. However, I realise now that this cannot be the case.

Interesting, Merlin breathed in my mind. He's playing for keeps here.

"Our people have been close before, and I understand that, on occasion, my father may have played you false. I would ask for the opportunity to make amends. We have dispatched a threat to your lands, but I recognise that this has merely allowed us an opportunity to truly show you our good faith. What can we now do to show we are worthy allies? That we mean you and yours no harm."

"Hang on," Beric began, "we're not here for you to purge whatever sin your father inflicted on these fucking things. This is a quest for - "

"You are not a tongued one!" Tresaith stepped forward and punched Beric in the mouth. I could have kissed him. The King of Powy's eyes rolled to the back of his head and dropped like the veritable sack of shit.

The members of the Council completely ignored the show, eyes focused on Arthur. The Ur-Karen was the first to speak. "Harm? What possible harm could you short-lived things cause us? You are gnats around a stag. Irritating, but we will put up with your brief annoyance as we make our way through our lives. You ask the sun to make a pact with the clouds."

"The first metaphor was just about workable. The second . . . not so much. I expected better."

Everyone turned to look at the speaker. Who I realised was me.

Well, in for a penny . . .

"Dudes, look, let's not make this any more than it needs to be. At best, this is going to be a side quest, isn't it? We've got to raise our reputation with you guys far enough to unlock the final stage of the main quest line. Don't get me wrong, I'm not anxious to begin the Step of Betrayal, but we've been on the road for a while, and I need to sleep in a proper bed and change my pants. Why don't you crack on and tell us what we need to do to make up for whatever grudge you're holding - it's kind of surprising slaughtering two goblin armies didn't make us quits, but, you know, whatever - and we'll get right down to it. I'm not feeling the whole vibe here."

"Fuck's sake," Arthur swore under his breath. "Don't you ever shut up?"

Mark was glowering at me, but at least Owain gave me a cheeky wink and a thumbs up.

The MAGA Fae was staring at me like I was a dog that had just shown him a card trick.

"You dare . . . "

"I'm a tongued one. Pretty sure that means I'm allowed to speak."

Gandalf banged his staff on the floor. "Enough. This is unseemly. Tresaith, you have granted these things guest privileges. However unwise this may have been, we will not profane that rite. These men and women - and their followers - will be kept safe for three days."

I did not like the implications that lurked, unspoken, in his words. Tresaith was likewise alert to the subtext. "Murrayin, what do you intend?"

"Just as I say!" He banged his staff on the ground once again, and roots exploded upwards, forming neat little cells around us. In an instant, we were all contained in little six-feet by six-feet lattice cages made of tree roots. If I hadn't been so pissed off, I'd have appreciated the smoothness of his cultivation work.

I went to draw Drynwyn to bring the fire when Merlin whispered caution.

Not yet. There will be time enough for escape. Let's not give them more reason not to trust us than they already have.

I looked through the gap in the roots and could see Tresaith and Orwyn - and even Maewyn - arguing with the departing Council. Only Bressen stayed behind, and the look on her face was the cat that had got the cream.

She sashayed close to me and gloated, "Three days. Then we'll see."

Oddly, that didn't seem like a promise to make daisy chains and swap make-up tips.