Tristan smiled at Felicity, “How have you been.”

  She pouted and frowned, “It has been h-o-r-r-i-b-l-e! I was investigating more about the assassins, and I saw a ton of people being killed. All of them were a bit Winterbloom Elf.”

  “What?” Tristan asked as he felt his heart seize up in horror. “How many?”

  “Oh, dozens, easily. But none of them were half-Winterbloom like you. In fact, most were such little Winterbloom that they were practically fully Human.”

  Tristan was speechless, “I…” he gestured to the boxes.

  Felicity flew over to them, opened the tops, and nodded. “I’ll put these away.” She opened her storage dimension and shoved the elixirs inside. The inside of the space was also full of various knick-knacks and small coin pouches.

  Tristan finally found his voice again, “How many did you see die?”

  “Over thirty. Once I found out what was happening, I got to work finding everyone I could sniff out with your blood. But that is a stinky city.”

  Tristan felt the Archon’s favor vibrating against his chest, scrabbled for the item around his neck, and poured some essence into it as he held it. “Hello.”

  “Good. You are back. Developments in the capital have grown dire.”

  “I heard,” Tristan replied as he glanced at a still-annoyed Felicity. “My fairy dragon companion advised me that Winterbloom-blooded half-breeds are being assassinated.”

  “We had a series of killings done by the same assassins that I divined from the killing of Archon Farsight. They were all half-breed, yes, but some of them had very little Elven blood. Yet you say your companion determined they were of your bloodline?”

  “Correct. She is an excellent companion.” This seemed to elicit a happy noise from Felicity.

  “Shit. That changes things entirely. Then I don’t think the assassins were paid for by your father. Perhaps he gave them a hint that your mother was Winterbloom, if he was involved at all. But it seems to me that someone is hunting down your kind.”

  “Not just my kind,” Tristan replied. “Winterbloom, specifically. The question is…why?”

  “I do not know. Ancient tomes in the forbidden archives – as the line of kings here has restricted all non-Human heritage knowledge – that the Winterbloom were an ancient elven bloodline. Perhaps they seek to ensure your bloodline is extinct. It would corroborate my divinations.”

  “Which showed you what?”

  “Elves have been dying in swathes across the Mortal Realm. Now, I need to do another divination to see if it is specifically Winterbloom-bloodline elves. Our conversation time runs short. Will you be able to receive my spell tomorrow morning?”

  “Yes, I can do that.”

  “Good. Make your way back to the capital in disguise, under illusion, however you need to. Your grandfather Hurvun is back.”

  “Pass word to him! Please, tell him to go to our manor estate, and I’ll find him there.”

  “I will do so. I must go. Our spell is just about out-” he was cut off as the spell faded.

  Tristan put the amulet inside his armor and gestured to his head, “Come on. We have to go.” Spinning his crucible and channeling the essence flow into his amulet, he assumed his half-elf disguise.

  Felicity flapped up to his head and nestled on his skull. “Your ears got longer,” she said with some slight amusement. She began playing with them with her paws, batting them a little as a cat would bat at a toy.

  Tristan just ignored it and made his way out of the cave. He immediately made for the nearest village. The entire walk he filled Felicity in on his time in the Fey Realm, including going into detail about the intrusion from the Elemental Realm of Fire.

  As the sun to the apex of noon they arrived in the small village. “Wow! You really grew a lot then,” she said after he went quiet upon entering the village proper.

  “Mhmm,” he replied, not wanting to be seen talking to himself.

  “And you got really skilled with these spells you’ve been practicing with!”

  Tristan arrived at a farm house that had a few nags he could see in a small field near the house. He knocked, and was greeted by a middle-aged woman holding a child in her arms, “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “Hi. How much for your horse?”

  “I’ll have to ask my husband-”

  Tristan fished around in his coin pouch and pulled out fifty gold coins, “Please. It is urgent.”

  She nodded, “Well, you can take Netty. She’s the brown one. Older of the two, not much good for hauling goods to market – but she’ll get you where you want. There’s an old saddle in the stable; it’s not well oiled, but it is her size.” She held out her hand, and the money was exchanged before she shut the door.

  Tristan went to the small field, vaulted the fence, and walked up to the old, brown horse. This horse won’t be fast, but it will be better than walking. He clicked his tongue, and she raised her head, letting out a whinny. He raised his hands and approached slowly, “Easy, girl. Come, Netty, we need to go.”

  To his surprise, she trotted right over to him and dipped her head. Felicity chuckled, “Even the dumb beast recognizes a Fey Lord when she sees one.” The horse must have understood to some extent, be cause she looked right above Tristan’s head and let out a braying whinny. Felicity frowned, “Yeah? And you can go choke on a carrot!”

  Tristan glanced up at Felicity, “Can you talk to her?”

  “Not really. Horses aren’t very intelligent. A little bit, but not much. However, creatures from the Fey Realm, such as you and I, well, we have a way with animals.”

  The horse stomped her foot in agreement, and trotted in front of Tristan to head to the stables. Following the nag, Tristan saw her grab the saddle with her teeth off of a peg, drop it on the ground, and then a saddle blanket that she brought over to Tristan. “Okay, girl,” Tristan said softly as he pet her forehead with little scratches. “Let’s get you saddled up.”

  The task was quickly done, and he led her to the gate, opened it, led her through, closed it, and then mounted up. He had chosen to ignore the bit and bridle. If she can understand me and feels the need to follow my commands, I don’t want to handle her like that. “Netty, let’s go at as fast of a pace as you are comfortable maintaining.”

  She let out a snort and began trotting forward at about triple Tristan’s walking speed. Much faster to get to the capital this way, he thought. It would not take a day and a half travel at this speed – he would be at the capital just after nightfall. Thankfully, this small, mountainous region was close to Bhant’s Holdfast, and since he was going to the estate he would most likely arrive just before the fifth moon rose.

  During the trip, he kept his eyes open and scanned the few groups of travelers for any sign of shady individuals who could be these assassins. The same went for The Black Company, as Tristan was sure that the group he had beaten away would have spread word about their embarrassment and defeat at his hands.

  The few patrols he did spot from far off in the distance were easy enough to get around – he would simply just use his amulet once more and masquerade as an elderly farmer. This enabled him to pass without issue. But, if he had gotten close, or if they had lain hands on him, the illusion would have been easy to see through as his armor well exceeded the confines of the phantom appearance, and if the armor touched something, would reveal some nature of the illusionary covering.

  He made it to the Anorox family estate a few hours after nightfall. Glancing up at the five moons, he was able to determine the date. Thirty-fourth of Shine Season. Damn, this year is going fast. It had been seven days since he had seen the whole of the townhouse staff slaughtered, performed his midnight ride to escape the capital, and the time in the Fey Realm. All of that had let him push aside the grim reality of what he had witnessed.

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  But now, with the approach to the site of the slaughter he witnessed at the manor so close, all the memories of the pre-Fey Realm stay flooded back to him, and he felt himself feeling immense sorrow. “Felicity,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear him.

  She leaned her head over, “Hmm?”

  Tristan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Thanks for being a friend.”

  “Well…hmph. You’re welcome, I guess.” She began making little claw-biscuits on his head.

  Tristan sighed and rode the nag up to the gates. Thankfully, the Black Company mercenaries were gone, and instead a few of the actual soldiers, members of the standing army of the capital, stood at attention. Tristan fished out his symbol and held it up, “I am Tristan Anorox.”

  The two men looked up at him with suspicion, and four more came out from the nearby guard house. One with a slight plume on his helm spat out the side of his mouth, “I heard that the half-breed went and became full-Elf.”

  Tristan nodded, “You are not incorrect. Now, let me through.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  Tristan glowered at the man and let his essence crucible spin as he vented ice into the surrounding air – focusing on letting it vent out of his upper body as to not upset his mount. The men each went for weapons, and Tristan stopped the spin of his crucible. “Let me pass, or else I will freeze you lot just like I froze the steps of the Blackspire.”

  The men looked at the commander who hefted his pike back up to a relaxed position, “Let him through. I’m sure the old man and his son can deal with him if he gets out of control.”

  Tristan glared at the man, “My father is here?”

  “Aye, the mighty hero and dragonslayer. Not like you, you mongrel pup bastard.”

  Tristan just patted Netty on the neck and whispered, “Go ahead, I’ve got a nice set of stables for you to stay in.” That was enough goading to get her to move past the armored men who did clear a way for him. After getting her settled at the stables on the edge of the estate, he began going towards the main house.

  But a figure was standing on the steps. And he recognized the silhouette instantly. Fawkes Anorox, his father. “Move aside, I’m here to see grandfather, not you.”

  Fawkes scowled at his half-breed son, “I don’t know why you’re here. And I do not care. You are not welcome at this estate.”

  Tristan kept walking forward nonetheless, “Felicity,” he whispered, “Be ready to fly up and slice his fucking eyes like that one mercenary.”

  “With pleasure,” she said with a maniacal giggle as she flew off and perched above the man on one of the support beams of the covered entryway, hanging upside-down like a bat.

  Fawkes took a step forward, and his hand went to the large blade on his back, but a gruff, barking, commanding voice ordered him. “Stop! This instant!” He let the pommel of the sword go as he was shoved aside.

  Coming through the doorway was Tristan’s grandfather. The man that he saw as an actual father. The man who raised him. “My boy Tristan!” Hurvun shouted with joy. “I heard you’d gone and made yourself a full elf somehow.”

  Tristan let the illusion drop and grinned, feeling an intense joy in his heart. “Grandfather!” he ran forward and embraced the man, feeling a joy and happiness at seeing him. “It’s been two years,” he said through tears of joy, mixed with sorrow as he felt safe in his grandfather’s arms, and felt like he could grieve and share his deepest emotions with his surrogate father figure. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. People die-”

  His grandfather ran a hand through the hair on the back of his head as he hugged him close. “There, there, my boy. Archon Grimtome filled me in upon my return.” He pulled back and chuckled. “We’ll talk about it. All of it. Later, though.”

  The man was not a pretty man by any means; he was grizzled and gruff, with a shaved-bald head since it would not grow much save for small patches. A lengthy beard that was braided into a single cord and adorned with dragon’s teeth and small scales. The warm, green eyes seemed filled with a delight all their own aside from his chuckle of joy. “Look at you! Fully armored up with your dragonslayer regalia!”

  “Thanks, grandfather.”

  “Come! Come in! We have so much to discuss!”

  Hurvun turned to the door and led Tristan up the steps. Tristan saw his father’s eyes glaring, but his face was held in-check with whatever emotions that would have normally been writ there held back. Felicity flapped down and landed atop Tristan’s head.

  Tristan smiled once he entered the warmly lit house, but that light was dashed as soon as he remembered the pile of bodies where he was now walking. “Grandfather, we have to talk. Alone.”

  “Of course, my boy.” Hurvun chuckled and tapped Tristan’s elongated ear, “You look a lot more like your mother.”

  “That’s part of what we need to talk about.” Tristan spared a glance back at his father, who now that Hurvun’s back was turn was fuming with visible hatred at Tristan.

  “I refuse to stay here with this non-Human filth.” Fawkes turned and left the manor house, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Hurvun sighed and let go of Tristan as he went to the first-floor study. “I am sorry, Tristan, that your father does not love you.”

  “I don’t hold any love for the man. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my father.”

  Hurvun chuckled, “That’s fine of you to say. Come! Sit, and let us talk.” He sat down next to a roaring fireplace.

  Tristan cleared his throat, went to the doors, shut them, and then sat opposite his grandfather on a sumptuous couch. “Grandfather, I’d like you to meet someone. Felicity? Drop the invisibility.”

  “You sure?” she asked, unable to be heard by Hurvun. Tristan nodded, and she sighed, “Fine.” She appeared atop his head, hopped down to the couch, and sat on her hind legs much like a dog would. “You have the privilege of meeting me, Felicity Glimmerwing! The amazing fairy dragon princess!”

  Tristan shot her a sideways glance, and sighed, “Grandfather, this is my companion.”

  Hurvun stroked his beard, “Interesting. I’ve never seen a fairy dragon before. There is a story here.”

  Tristan nodded and slowly spun his essence crucible and pushed the essence into his ring. He spent the next hour filling in his grandfather on everything he had experienced, encountered, and come across. Hurvun kept a solid, stony stare on Tristan as the young dragonslayer spoke, asking a few clarifying questions here and there.

  At the end of the hour, Tristan stood up and walked over to his grandfather, Felicity flapping up to perch on his shoulder. “I’d like to show you the Fey Realm, grandfather.”

  The man cracked a smile and stood up, clasping Tristan’s hand, “Let us see this magnificent place you describe.”

  Tristan pushed the last of the essence needed into the ring and in a flash of white they were standing in the dirt circle. His grandfather took in a gasp of breath as he stared up at the enormous tree.

  Felicity flew off, “Moooom! We have a guest!” she flapped out of sight.

  Fairy dragons began swarming over, asking Tristan if he needed anything, and he waved them away. “Thanks, but no. I’m just showing my grandfather here the place. Come on, grandfather, I want to show you this Realm from the top boughs.”

  His grandfather was a jovial individual, but he looked extremely excited. “Lead the way!”

  The ascent up the tree was rapid, and grandfather Hurvun gasped in awe as they reached the topmost boughs. “Every time I enter a new Realm,” he muttered, “It takes my breath away.”

  There was an enormous gust of air and both men looked up as The Matriarch landed on the platform before shifting to her elfanoid form and bowing to Tristan, “Lord Tristan, you are back later. I assume this is the man you spoke so highly of?”

  Tristan smiled broadly, “Yes, this is my grandfather, Hurvun.”

  His grandfather walked forward and knelt, “A pleasure, Realm Protector. Forgive me, I believed that fairy dragons were like the dragons of the other Realms, but clearly, I was mistaken. You do not have the hunt-urge about you.”

  She looked up at Tristan who just shrugged, and then she plastered a smile on her face. “We shall prepare a chamber for you, if you wish to stay the night.”

  Hurvun stood up, “I would like that, thank you. Your hospitality is most appreciated.” He turned to Tristan as The Matriarch walked away, “She’s a nice lady.”

  “You mentioned hunt-urge. What is that?”

  “Ah, you wouldn’t know unless you fought a drag-”

  “I did,” Tristan interrupted. “Fire Realm adult. Your training was invaluable, but I would have died if not for my newfound essence-weaving.”

  The man’s eyes lit up with glee, “Ah, you are capable! That is wonderful! You are truly the true heir of my bloodline. I doubted you would form an essence crucible on your own, and that I would have to force you to chug down essence potions or elixirs, like with your half-siblings and father.”

  “This Realm gave me mine,” Tristan replied as he touched his long, pointed ears that swept behind his hair. “Along with pushing aside all of father’s heritage.”

  Hurvun looked at him, “When you fought that dragon, did you have a feeling like you had to have it? That you had to kill it?” Tristan nodded, and Hurvun smiled, “That feeling you experienced is the hunt-urge."

  “Huh. Okay, well, that is good to know,” Tristan muttered.

  Hurvun looked out over the landscape surrounding them, “I don’t know why you would ever want to leave this place. It is truly astounding.”

  Tristan frowned, “You know why.”

  “Yes, I do. The assassins who slew your mother. The ones who seem to be slaying Elf-blooded across all of Bhant’s Holdfast.” He looked to Tristan with a sad expression, “I viewed her like my own daughter, you know. The daughter I never had. A good child, who truly loved her children. I mean, your father’s first wife was a good enough woman…but she was not filled with the same warmth and joy.”

  The man chuckled, “Which, considering your mother’s icy stare, is quite the opposite.” He walked over to Tristan and put a hand on his shoulder, “Do you mind taking me to where you lay her to rest? I would like to pay my respects.”

  Tristan gulped down the knot that had formed in his throat, nodded, and led the way down the tree to the sap pit. Hurvun cleared his throat and spoke softly, “Thank you Lilliane, for being such a good mother to your child. Thank you for being the daughter I never had. I hope you find peace, here, where your people came from.”

  Once more, Tristan swore he could feel some type of light breeze, very faint, that carried some words – but he could not discern what they said, or even if it was words. Placing a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder, he gave it a squeeze, “Come, I want to show you some of the culture I’ve been learning about.”

  The two were up most of the night into the wee hours of the morning as the various fairy dragon ensemble struck up a tune and played the cultural music of the Winterbloom, and Hurvun seemed to enjoy the bawdy humor of the fairy dragons quite a bit. When the sun finally began to rise in the green-hued skies, Tristan led him to the circle of dirt, Felicity landed on his head, and he returned them to The Mortal Realm.

  They both appeared in the study, and Hurvun chuckled before pulling Tristan in for a hug, “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

  Tristan returned the squeeze, “Of course. I wouldn’t want to share the experience with anyone else.”

  Felicity cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m h-u-n-g-r-y.”

  Hurvun cracked a smile, “I could go for some bacon. How about you, boy?”

  Tristan shook his head, “Meat never agreed with me.”

  “Ah, right. Well, I want a slab of bacon, a bunch of eggs, and whatever else the chefs can cook up! Come! We’ll find something for you to eat yet!”