Tristan transported the trio and the horses to the Fey Realm. After handing off Onyx and Midnight to their fairy dragon handlers, Obadai went off to his assigned abode, while Tristan went over to the alchemy and potion-making area. Calling over fairy dragons, and channeling the power of the Realm through himself, he planted the various herbs that he had acquired – along with uncapping the jar of oil and putting the roots of one shrub partially into the substance, and some into the ground.

  Invoking his will, and speaking in Elvish, he felt the Realm respond as the various substances took root, and the plant life sprouted with easy-to-harvest herbal supplies. The one with the oil, however, did not produce small amounts of oil that would drip from the leaves, like he had imagined. Instead, small spheres akin to berries with a slight skin were grown. Picking one off, he found that with a little bit of pressure, the skin would burst and release the oil inside.

  Felicity watched and was enthralled with the process. “Oh! I got a bunch of nick-nacks. Let’s see if any of those can be buried to sprout up!” she opened her storage dimension and began pulling out all manner of odds and ends, swapping to her Elfanoid form as she did so. Tristan couldn’t help but chuckle and feel confusion at some of the items she pulled out. After a few minutes, she had a small pile of worthless items sitting on the ground and began pushing them into piles.

  Tristan knelt and examined each item in turn. Most were just bits and bobs of junk. But he did find a few more valuable items he considered growing trees from; notably, other types of wood. He grabbed a deep, red bloodwood, and a blackwood. A cup made from the former, and a plate made from the latter – both with slight ornamentation. Holding them up, he got her attention by clearing his throat. “Do you recognize these types of wood at all from in the Fey Realm?”

  Felicity glanced up from her spoils and shook her head. “Nope! We have purple, green, brown…no red or black. Oh! Or white!” She fished around through the pile and pulled out a small fork carved from a holly branch. “Here!”

  Tristan took the three pieces of wood and looked up at one of the fairy dragons lounging above him in the canopy over the crafting and future-marketplace area. “Hey, mind going to grab me three saplings?”

  The fairy dragon grumbled but nodded, slapped two of his sleeping fellows nearby, and after some brief arguing and some insults lobbed between them, they flew off. Returning a few minutes later, they delivered the freshly uprooted saplings. Tristan set to work, invoked the power of the Fey Realm through himself, and caused them to sprout up near what he had established as a carpentry area.

  The three trees grew quite quickly; and the wood was absolutely stunning in the array of white, black, and red. Felicity walked over, “You’re not going to cut and hurt the trees, are you?”

  Tristan shook his head, “We can use Flora spells like Plant Shaping to take off chunks as needed without hurting the tree.”

  “Good! I like trees.” She walked over and hugged the black one, frowning as she stood there for a moment. “This one feels…weird. Scratchy.” She moved over to the red one and hugged that. “Hmm…tingly.” Last she hugged the white one, “Oooh!” she exclaimed, “I like this one! It feels full of life!”

  Tristan raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “You can…feel trees?”

  “Duh. Everyone can!” She grabbed him by the arm, flung him against the tree – which he allowed given he could resist if he chose – and she grabbed his arms and wrapped them around the trunk. “Now…close your eyes, and just breathe deeply.”

  Tristan closed his eyes and began breathing. The first thing he noticed was the scent of the holly tree: it smelled sweet, almost like honey. Then he felt a faint thrum under his fingers. Almost like blood rushing through veins. He gripped a little tighter, and even through his gauntlet covered hands, could feel the pulse of the tree. It also…whispered to him. He couldn’t make out words, just faint sighs and echoes of sighs.

  Pulling back, he looked at Felicity with a smile, “That is neat. I didn’t know that I could do that.”

  She dragged him over to the blackwood tree, “Try this one! You’ll see what I mean when it feels scratchy.”

  Tristan did so, and when he shut his eyes and felt the tree, he did not feel the scratching sensation that she had briefly described. Instead, he felt the surge of its inner life that felt ticklish in a way; as if reaching small feelers out to him. Pulling away, he looked at the enormous Queen’s Wood, “I wonder what that feels like,” he stated.

  Felicity followed his gaze, and she shrugged, “It’s kind of boring. Just…dull.”

  “Can you also hear whispers from the trees?”

  “Yes. But they are assholes. Always hate us up in their branches.” She blew a raspberry at the blackwood tree, then looked back to her pile of nick-nacks. “None of this stuff is really valuable, is it?”

  Tristan walked over and shook his head as he moved a few around with his foot, “Nope. Lot of junk. Sorry.”

  She shrugged, “It was fun taking them. And I promise! I did not steal stuff that looked important. Mister ‘I don’t want to make people sad’.”

  Tristan chuckled and pointed to the various herb bushes. “Start picking some of that for me. We need more elixirs.”

  The next few hours saw Felicity gathering and preparing the various herbs, suspending them in wooden jars of oil when necessary, given the type of herb; all in Tristan’s direction. Tristan spent his time brewing up the various potions, and he only had to pause to send Felicity up to the top boughs to fetch the potion manual he had acquired, which had the recipes listed out.

  “It looks like the difference between the minor, lesser, greater, and supreme versions of each elixir is determined by the amount of herbs utilized, prepared, and then processed into the correct form of potion. We could make a single supreme quality healing elixir, which would be valuable in a pinch, but would also reduce the total number we could make.” Glancing over at the bushes that were practically barren, Tristan sighed, “and we don’t have enough on this trip to make a variety. Either one supreme, two greater, four lesser, or around ten minor. Thoughts?”

  Felicity looked at the various pots of clayware that were bubbling away on the artificed stovetop. “I think we should do two greater. One for me, one for you.” She looked at the other bubbling pots on the opposite side of the stove, “And the essence elixirs?”

  “Same thing,” Tristan replied, “when it comes to potency. Just requires more herbs. Keep in mind, the one time I saw a healing elixir for sale of supreme quality, it went for fifty gold coins. A lot of money for a person.”

  “What’s that equate to?” Felicity asked. “I never had a good grasp on money. We don’t have it here.”

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  “Given all your time in the Mortal Realm, you never picked up on how much things cost?”

  “Cost, yes, but not how much people made.”

  “Put it this way, an average farmer in the kingdom of Bhant – one of the richest farming regions in the whole Mortal Realm, from what I was told – makes one gold piece a Season. That’s nine gold pieces a year. This single elixir we’re about to make? Ten years’ worth of a farmer’s income.”

  Felicity paled slightly at that, “I stole…so much from people,” she whispered. Her long, Elf-like ears flattened slightly against her head, and her whole demeanor instantly shifted from inquisitive and upbeat to being depressed and moody. “I am a bad person.”

  Tristan frowned, “Well…you did something bad in the past, sure. But you can make up for it in the future. Start by less stealing. Other pranks that are relatively harmless? Fine by me. But a good person doesn’t steal.”

  “Wait a second,” she said as she crossed her arms and became angrier, “You told me to steal from the king’s vault!”

  “That’s because he had so much money he could afford to lose out on some.”

  “Got it! Steal from people who won’t miss it!”

  Tristan sighed and turned back to his potion-making, “Yes, that works for me.” He portioned the different herb compounds, mixed them together, and then dipped his finger down into each mixture, swirling the finger around as he spoke the spell phrase for Infuse Elixir. “Lis?? t?m?n liuoksen luontaisia ominaisuuksia. Anna t?lle aineelle minun voimani. Tuo esiin n?iden ainesosien todellinen luonne.” (Increase the inherent qualities of this solution. Imbue this substance with my power. Bring out the true nature of these ingredients).

  Both solutions glowed with a vibrant, silver hue before it faded, and he was left with four doses: two greater quality of each type. Putting them into the small, clay jars, he sealed them off with leaves wrapped tightly on with vines. Felicity walked over and put them into her storage dimension. “Well, what now?” she asked.

  “We go up to the study and put the books in place. I’ll meet you up there.”

  Felicity swapped to her fairy dragon form. “Nah, I’ll just leave them up there for you. Then I want to go for a flight to clear my head.” She lifted off and flew to the top boughs.

  Tristan made his way to the Queen’s Wood entrance, but was stopped by Beatrice, the half-breed Broxtar jeweler. “Pardon, Lord Tristan! I finished up several pieces, and offered them to the other residents…but they insisted you take them to sell or artifice.” She held up a small cloth and unwrapped it, revealing a single gold amulet with a single sapphire embedded in it, several gold rings with sapphires socketed on the top, and a set of broaches that were shaped like an oak leaf with a sapphire at the base where they would connect to the tree if on the real plant.

  Tristan gently took them from her, “These are lovely. Thank you, very, very much.”

  “Oh! Some of the new people who joined up are getting started with the wool and making clothes. Anything you fancy?”

  Tristan shook his head, “See to our needs first, and then we can produce trade goods. The hottest time of the year is almost past, and then we will head to the colder Seasons. I think that we would be best served by making thicker, cold-weather clothing to sell or barter. Oh, speaking of, any materials I should keep an eye out for?”

  She nodded, “Yes. There are lots of good crafting materials you could get your hands on. For me? Well, we’ve got silver and gold, but we don’t have any other gemstones. Rubies, emeralds – anything that is a different color from the sapphire bush. Other valuable metals aside from the two I listed…silk, of course-”

  “Tell you what,” Tristan stated. “Coordinate with our other craftspeople and come up with a shopping list. When I reach Jewel’s Point, we will sell our goods and purchase what you desire to add.”

  Beatrice smiled broadly and dipped her head, “Sounds like a plan, Lord Tristan!” She bowed slightly and then left, but as she was walking away, Obadai walked up to Tristan.

  “Going up your tree fort?” he asked with a slight smile.

  Tristan nodded, “You are welcome to join me. You may find the Astrologer’s Glass at the top of interest. The lower levels are off-limits, though; Winterbloom only.”

  “Understood.”

  Tristan turned to the two fairy dragons who were on guard at the entrance; they looked quite bored, but straightened up a bit as he addressed them. “You heard that, right? Archon Grimtome here is not to go down-root.”

  “You got it!” they both said in tandem.

  Tristan led the way up the large, central spire, and Obadai had to pause several times to catch his breath. Once they reached the top, he gasped and almost ran over to the Astrologer’s Glass. “This is…you don’t know what this is, do you?”

  “Can’t say I do,” Tristan replied as he walked over and saw the pile of newly-acquired books next to the bookshelf. He began placing them in category alongside the spell primers, organizing them a bit from their haphazard setup.

  “This is not just an Astrologer’s Glass. It is a Realm-Piercing one. You can turn a hidden knob down…here…” he grunted as he got onto his knees and pushed his head under the device. “They always love…putting them…in the tightest spaces…Got it!” Tristan saw the small section where the eye piece was shift. The glass swapped from the clear one to a vibrant, green one. Obadai got out from under the thing and was puffing a bit. “I am an out of shape bastard,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Let me guess, you can change that knob to change which Realm’s night sky you are looking at?”

  “Correct!” Obadai said with a grin as he went over to the eyeglass and peered down. “Ah, as I thought.” He pulled away and gestured, “Come, look at what the skies of the Thought Realm look like, then I will explain how useful this tool is.”

  Tristan went over and placed his eye on the receptacle. What he saw was confusing. A series of blue, wavy lines with darker, blue streaks and silvery white. Almost like the waves rippling on the edge of a lake. The Archon reached past him and turned a knob that helped focus the image, and Tristan saw the lines turn into small streams. Hundreds upon hundreds – so many he could not possibly count them – all traveling to a single, black point.

  “That black dot you see is Logos, the Realm Protector of the Thought Realm. The keeper of all knowledge. When one performs a divination spell, they are asking him – well I think it’s a him – asking it. Sort of like asking a librarian in an archive. The more well-hidden information is, the higher Order spell that must be used to satisfy his demands. That’s why we use Divine Difficulty before any divination spell; it tells the essence-weaver exactly what Order spell is necessary. Because we do not just spend the essence to manifest the effect; we are sort of paying it to Logos as tribute. A transaction, of sorts.”

  Tristan pulled back and blinked a few times to clear his vision. “If we wanted information about the assassins hunting down powerful bloodlines, we would be asking that thing?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what Order spell would we need to learn that information?”

  Obadai frowned and sighed, “No. Some information never gets to Logos. If no one talks about it or writes anything about it in some fashion – it never leaves our minds to travel through the Thought Realm.”

  Tristan shook his head as he went over to one of the cushions to sit down. “This is an organization though. Someone has to be talking about it.”

  “Not necessarily,” The Archon replied as he sat on the other cushion. “If every person involved elected to keep the information hidden or secret, then it would remain as such. The Thought Realm only gathers knowledge that is written down somewhere, well-known, or publicly available. I could not, for instance, use a divination spell to learn what you are thinking right now.” He held up a finger, “But, mind spells could.”

  Tristan leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, tenting his hands and resting his chin on them. “Where do mind spells travel from?”

  “Divination is special in that there is a Realm associated directly with it. Not every spell type has a Realm associated with it.”

  Tristan frowned, “Then when I’m throwing around fire from spells, I’m not drawing the power from the Elemental Realm of Fire?”

  “Correct! Fire exists on the Mortal Realm, just how it exists in the Realm you mention. It is just more tempered, here.”

  Tristan nodded, “Understood. Are there any other spell types directly associated with Realms like divination is?”

  “Possibly. There are countless spell types.” He chuckled, “It is a blessing, of sorts, to have a heritage limiting what you can do. Or bloodlines to refine your focus. Imagine being a Human with access to every potential spell type, and wanting to learn everything.” He gestured to himself, “I could, but because of my bloodlines I narrowed my focus.”

  Tristan reached over to the bookshelf and pulled out the book on fortune spells. “What can you tell me about fortune?”

  The Archon grimaced, “I hate that spell type. It is…nebulous and you don’t know if the spells worked. The one time I met an essence-weaver who was proficient with those spells, and played against him in a game of cards? He lost.”

  Tristan smiled, “Seems perfect for someone who was cursed with bad luck as a child, then.” He flipped open and began reading. The Archon moved back to the Astrologer’s Glass, fiddled with the knob hidden underneath it, and stared into the eyehole.