Chương 101: Chapter 99. Welcome To The Fae Realm

There are certain expectations that even the most open-minded researchers develop when studying other realms. Adom was no exception. He'd spent decades poring over ancient texts, expedition journals, and the occasional rambling testimony from the few who'd visited the Fae Realm and returned with their sanity relatively intact.

The historical facts were established enough: during the Primordial Age, when reality was more flexible and magic flowed freely between all living things, the Fae had walked the same earth as humans. They'd witnessed the great wars between dragons, phoenixes, umbra, and demons—civilizations so powerful they reshaped continents with their conflicts. As these ancient powers tore the world apart, the Fae made a collective decision that changed the fabric of existence itself. They left.

Not in the conventional sense of migration, but by literally removing themselves from the common reality. Through rituals that combined the magic of thousands of Fae practitioners, they created their own dimension—a realm entirely separate yet still tethered to the original world by thin threads of reality. The spell was so massive that its aftershocks reverberated through existence, creating ripples in the dimensional fabric.

These ripples became tears, and these tears became dungeons—self-contained ecosystems existing between realities, following their own rules of physics and magic. Any seasoned adventurer could tell you no two dungeons were quite the same, and now Adom understood why. They were fragments of a spell weaved by beings who'd decided reality itself wasn't quite to their liking. So yes, Adom had certain expectations upon entering the Fae Realm.

He'd anticipated the impossible architecture, the colors beyond the human spectrum, the strange flora and fauna. He'd mentally prepared for the way time might flow differently here, for the potential dangers of eating or drinking anything not approved by Bob. He'd even been ready for Zuni suddenly developing the ability to speak. After all, when you've studied magic for eight decades, you develop a certain tolerance for the unexpected.

Adom had seen beastkin like Valiant, who resembled animals more than humans yet spoke perfectly well. He'd once conversed with elementals composed entirely of water or fire. A talking quillick wasn't particularly shocking in the grand scheme of things. What Adom was not prepared for—what caught him completely off guard—was Zuni's voice. When you look at a creature like a quillick, with its round amber eyes, tiny whiskers, and little spikes, you naturally expect a certain type of voice.

Something high-pitched and chirpy, perhaps. Maybe even cutesy. Something that matched the adorable exterior. What you don't expect is the crisp, cultured accent of an academy professor who's mildly disappointed with your latest research paper.

"I TALK!" Zuni had exclaimed, and then, examining his own paws with newfound interest, cleared his throat and continued in a tone better suited to discussing fine wines than celebrating newfound vocal abilities.

"How fascinating. The transition between realms must have accelerated certain latent capabilities in my species' vocal apparatus. I always knew I could understand complex language, but the physical production of human speech seemed biologically impossible given the limitations of my laryngeal structure." Everyone stared.

"What?" Zuni asked, head tilting slightly in that familiar gesture that now seemed incongruously scholarly.

"Have I said something inappropriate? I realize this development may be somewhat jarring, but surely it's not the most extraordinary thing one might encounter in the Fae Realm." Adom opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

"You sound like..."

"Like what?" Zuni prompted.

"Like my Ancient Languages professor," Adom finally managed.

"The one who once failed a student for using a semicolon incorrectly."

"Well, semicolons are frequently misused," Zuni said with complete seriousness.

"The improper application of punctuation reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of syntax." Bob chuckled.

"Told you quillicks were more than they seemed."

"But why does he sound so..." Adom gestured vaguely, unable to find the right word.

"Articulate?" Zuni suggested.

"Pompous," Thorgen muttered.

"Distinguished," Zara offered diplomatically.

"Like he's about to demand to speak to someone's manager," Artun drawled, earning a glare from the quillick.

"Did you expect me to squeak 'oh golly' and 'gee whiz' while bouncing around excitedly?" Zuni asked.

"Just because I'm small and covered in quills doesn't mean I have to conform to your preconceived notions of what constitutes appropriate speech patterns for creatures you deem 'cute'." He made air quotes with his tiny paws. He never did that before.

"Well, no, but—" Adom started.

"Just because I've been limited to non-verbal communication in our realm doesn't mean my thoughts were similarly constrained," Zuni continued, warming to his subject.

"I've spent years listening to academic lectures in the druidic classes of Xerkes, magical theory discussions, and, more recently, that awful poetry Sam insists on reading aloud when he thinks no one is awake."

"It is pretty terrible," Adom agreed.

"Abysmal," Zuni confirmed.

"The young man has no grasp of meter whatsoever."

"Not to interrupt this touching moment of linguistic discovery," Bob cut in, "but we've been noticed." He pointed toward the horizon, where several dark shapes were moving against the sky. As they drew closer, they resolved into massive birds—eagles perhaps, though their wingspans seemed impossibly large even at this distance.

"Are those..." Zara began.

"Aye, royal messengers," Bob confirmed.

"Right on schedule." The Fae Realm stretched around them, vast and wild and strange. It was beautiful in a way that made Adom's chest ache. Like stepping into one of the storybooks his mother had read him as a child.

"What happens now?" Thorgen asked, hand instinctively moving to the handle of his axe.

"We'll be escorted to present ourselves," Bob explained, straightening his jacket.

"Standard procedure for visitors."

"Present ourselves to the king?" Adom asked. Bob let out a short bark of laughter.

"And who do you think you are? The High King wouldn't interrupt his schedule for a handful of travelers from the mortal realm."

"Then who—""The Border Court," Bob replied.

"They handle visitors, verify invitations, that sort of thing. Bureaucracy exists in every realm, I'm afraid." The eagles drew closer, their massive forms now clearly visible. Each was the size of a small house, with feathers that shifted between gold and bronze as they moved. Upon their backs sat riders—tall, elegant figures that at first glance might be mistaken for elves, but weren't.

"Those are...?" Artun asked, squinting upward.

"Sidhe," Bob supplied.

"High Fae. Border Court guards, specifically." As the eagles circled lower, Adom could make out details of the riders. They resembled humans in their general shape, but the similarities ended there. Their skin ranged from pale blue to deep forest green, with features too perfect to be natural.

"Right then," Bob said under his breath.

"Follow me lead and remember—don't give your true names."

"Why not?" Zuni whispered.

"Names have power here," Bob hissed back.

"Especially true names. If you are not from this realm, you hand that over, and you might as well hand them a leash with your neck already in it." Before Adom could ask more questions, the eagles landed with surprising grace considering their enormous size. The ground barely trembled beneath their talons. The riders dismounted. There were five of them, each wearing armor that appeared to be made of living wood and polished stone, flowing around their bodies like second skins.

Their leader stepped forward—a tall female with skin the color of twilight and eyes like liquid silver. Her hair was black but seemed to contain galaxies when it caught the light.

"Cearbhallán," she said, addressing Bob with a formal nod.

"It has been some time since you last graced our borders."

"Captain Maevre," Bob replied, matching her formality.

"Always a pleasure." Her silver eyes swept over the rest of the group, cataloging each of them with unnerving precision.

"A tiefling, a dwarf, a half-human, and a full human," she observed.

"Curious companions you keep these days." Adom noticed she didn't mention Zuni, who had retreated partially into his collar, still visible but trying to attract minimal attention.

"Friends from the original realm," Bob explained.

"Here by me invitation and under me protection." Captain Maevre arched a perfect eyebrow.

"Indeed? And what business brings such a... diverse group to our domain?" Bob reached into his pocket and withdrew a small golden leaf.

"Official invitation, properly registered. Three days' passage granted." The Captain took the leaf, which glowed softly as she touched it. She studied it for a moment, then nodded.

"The paperwork appears in order. There was indeed a verbal invitation. However, I must ask the names of those you sponsor. Or at least know how to address them." There was a moment of tense silence. Thorgen stepped forward first, chest puffed out.

"Stonefist," he declared gruffly.

"Of the Eastern Mountains." Captain Maevre's lips twitched slightly.

"How... descriptive." Artun yawned and stretched lazily, as if the whole procedure bored him immensely.

"You can call me Quicksilver," he drawled.

"It's what the ladies usually go with." One of the other guards snorted, quickly covering it with a cough when the Captain glanced sharply in her direction.

"Ember," Zara said simply. All eyes turned to Adom.

"Law," he said.

"Just Law." Captain Maevre regarded him closely for a moment, then returned her attention to Bob.

"And the small creature on the human's shoulder?" So she had noticed Zuni after all.

"Librarian," Zuni answered for himself.

"Under the protection of my companion."

"Very well," the Captain said with a nod.

"Your paperwork is in order, Cearbhallán. You and your companions are granted passage to Alfheim for three days by mortal reckoning." She gestured to the eagles.

"We will escort you to the Border Court for processing."

"Processing?" Thorgen muttered.

"What are we, livestock?"

"Standard procedure," Bob whispered back.

"Nothing to worry about."

"I dislike standard procedures," the dwarf grumbled.

"Especially when they involve bureaucrats."

"Says the fellow whose people invented seventeen different forms just to request mining rights," Artun commented with a smirk.

"That's different," Thorgen insisted.

"That's proper documentation. This is just... faerie nonsense." Captain Maevre pretended not to hear this exchange.

"You will each ride with one of my guards," she explained, gesturing to the eagles.

"The journey to the Border Court takes approximately one hour."

"Riding giant eagles?" Artun perked up.

"Now that's more like it. I was worried this whole trip would be nothing but pretty colors and singing flowers." Captain Maevre turned to him, expression unreadable.

"The eagles are Fellborn—descendants of the first eagles that helped shape this realm. They are not mere transportation but honored allies of the Court. You will show them appropriate respect." Artun raised his hands in mock surrender.

"No disrespect intended. I love birds. Big fan of feathers. Some of my best friends have beaks." One of the eagles fixed him with a golden eye the size of a dinner plate. Artun wisely fell silent.

"If you'll follow me," Captain Maevre said, turning toward the largest eagle. As they moved to follow, Adom felt Zuni shift position on his shoulder, tiny claws digging in slightly for better purchase. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"This is fascinating," the quillick whispered.

"Did you notice their armor appears to be symbiotic rather than constructed? And the eagles' feathers contain trace elements not found in our realm—see how they refract light differently?"

"Maybe save the scientific observations for when we're not being watched by the local authorities," Adom suggested quietly.

"I'm merely cataloging information that might prove useful later," Zuni replied.

"Someone needs to keep proper records of our observations. And may I remind you that you're the one who tends to find yourself in situations where obscure knowledge suddenly becomes vital?" This was still hard to get used to. They reached the eagles, who lowered themselves to allow easier mounting. Captain Maevre gracefully climbed onto her eagle's back, settling into what appeared to be a saddle made of interwoven vines and moss.

"Cearbhallán, you'll ride with me," she said.

"The others will accompany my guards." Bob nodded and climbed up behind her. The other guards gestured for Adom and his companions to approach. One—a male with skin the pale green of new leaves—extended a hand toward Zara.

"If you would, Lady Ember?" Zara took his hand and mounted the eagle. Thorgen required more assistance, grumbling the entire time about "unnatural modes of transportation" and how "dwarves were meant to keep their feet on solid ground, thank you very much." Artun, naturally, made it look effortless, swinging onto his eagle's back as if he'd been riding giant mythical birds his entire life.

When it was Adom's turn, he found himself approaching an eagle with feathers that shifted between deepest gold and burnished copper. Its rider was female, with blue-white skin and hair like autumn leaves.

"Law, is it?" she asked.

"And Librarian," she added, nodding to Zuni.

"That's us," Adom confirmed, climbing up with considerably less grace than his companions had shown.

"I am Lisandra," the guard said once they were settled.

"Third Wing of the Border Court. Hold tight—the first flight can be... unsettling." Before Adom could ask what she meant by "unsettling," the eagle spread its massive wings and leapt into the air. His stomach lurched as they shot upward with impossible speed.

"Oh my," Zuni commented, clinging to Adom's collar for dear life.

"Rather more vertical acceleration than I anticipated. Are you alright, Law?"

"Fine," Adom managed, though his knuckles were pale where he gripped the saddle.

"Just... adjusting." As they gained altitude, the landscape below transformed from merely strange to utterly impossible. Rivers flowed upward into the sky before arcing back down. Forests grew sideways along vertical cliffs. Mountains floated, untethered to any ground. The three moons hung so close that Adom could see details on their surfaces—patterns that looked suspiciously like cities.

"First time in the Fae Realm?" Lisandra asked over her shoulder, apparently untroubled by the wind rushing past them.

"Is it that obvious?" Adom managed to reply. She laughed.

"Most non fae tense up during the first ascent. You're doing better than most—I've had some passengers faint."

"It's extraordinary," Adom admitted.

"It's home," she said simply. Then, with a note of pride, "We're approaching Alfheim now. The Border Court is on the eastern edge." Ahead, a city unlike anything Adom had ever seen sprawled across the landscape. Towers of crystal and living wood spiraled toward the sky. Buildings merged with enormous trees, forming a seamless blend of architecture and nature. Bridges of light connected floating platforms. Waterfalls flowed in loops, creating perfect circles of cascading water.

"How is this possible?" Adom breathed.

"Magic and intention," Lisandra replied.

"In your realm, reality resists change. Here, it embraces it." As they descended toward the city, Adom noticed smaller details. Fae of various kinds moved through the streets—not just the tall Sidhe like their escorts, but smaller beings with gossamer wings, stocky creatures with skin like bark, and elegant figures that seemed to be made partially of water or air. They aimed for a large circular platform at the edge of the city.

It was crafted from a single piece of what looked like mother-of-pearl, iridescent in the light of the three moons. The eagles landed in perfect formation, barely jostling their riders.

"Welcome to Alfheim," Captain Maevre announced as they dismounted.

"The Border Court awaits." Bob moved to stand beside Adom as the others gathered.

"Remember," he said quietly.

"Don't eat or drink anything I haven't approved. Don't make promises. Don't accept gifts. And whatever you do, don't let anyone know what we're really here for."

"Which is what, exactly?" Zuni whispered.

"You've been rather vague about the details."

"I'll explain later," Adom promised.

"When we have privacy."

"Privacy is a concept with flexible meaning in the Fae Realm," Lisandra commented as she passed by, proving Zuni's point about Fae hearing. Captain Maevre gestured toward an archway made of intertwined silver and gold.

"This way, please. The Border Court doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"No one likes waiting," Thorgen muttered.

"But some of us have the decency not to make a fuss about it."

"Hush," Zara whispered.

"We're guests here."

"Uninvited guests are more like it," the dwarf replied, but he fell silent as they approached the archway. As they passed beneath it, Adom felt a subtle tingle across his skin—a magical barrier of some kind, though not one designed to keep them out. For recognition, perhaps, or tracking. Beyond the archway lay a large circular chamber, its walls made of the same pearlescent material as the landing platform.

The ceiling was open to the sky, where the three moons seemed to have arranged themselves in a perfect triangle above the opening. In the center of the chamber stood a curved desk, behind which sat three Fae officials. They looked up as the group entered, their expressions revealing nothing.

"Names?" asked the central figure, a male with skin the deep blue of twilight. Captain Maevre stepped forward.

"Cearbhallán of the Green Hills, returning with guests under his protection. Stonefist of the Eastern Mountains, Quicksilver, Ember, Law, and Librarian the Quillick." The official made a notation in a book whose pages seemed to be made of light.

"Purpose of visit?" Bob stepped forward.

"Tourism," he said smoothly.

"Me friends wished to experience the wonders of our realm."

"Tourism," the official repeated.

"How... conventional."

"Not everyone has complex motives," Bob replied with an easy smile.

"Sometimes curiosity is just curiosity." The official seemed unconvinced but made another notation.

"Length of stay?"

"Three days by non fae reckoning."

"Accommodations?"

"The Silver Leaf Inn, east quarter." More notations. Then, "Restrictions?"

"Standard visitor protocol," Captain Maevre supplied.

"No access to the Upper Court, the Moon Bridges, or the Wells of Memory without express permission from a Court official." The official nodded.

"Very well. Your party is registered and approved for a three-day visit." He looked at each of them in turn.

"Welcome to Alfheim. May your stay be illuminating." Something in the way he said it made Adom wonder if there was a double meaning. Captain Maevre turned to Bob.

"My duty is complete, Cearbhallán. You know your way from here?"

"Like the back of my hand," Bob confirmed.

"Thank you for the escort, Captain." She inclined her head.

"Until we meet again." Then, to the others, "Safe travels." With that, she and her guards departed, leaving Adom and his companions alone with Bob in the circular chamber.

"Well," Artun said, breaking the silence.

"That was surprisingly painless. I was expecting more intimidation, maybe some cryptic threats."

"The day's still young," Bob replied dryly.

"Come on. We need to get to the inn and establish our base before we start our... tourism." Bob led them through the streets of Alfheim. It wasn't simply a city—it was a living artwork. Streets paved with stones that glowed faintly under their feet wound between buildings that defied conventional architecture. Some structures spiraled upward like enormous seashells. Others seemed to be growing rather than built, with walls of interwoven branches bearing both leaves and windows.

"I would like a sweety," Zuni said abruptly. Adom turned his head to look at the quillick.

"A sweety?"

"Yes," Zuni replied.

"You have been systematically depriving me of the blissful euphoria that only properly crafted confections can provide. The subtle interplay of sweetness against the palate, the delicate balance of textures—perhaps a sugared nut, or one of those delightful pastries from the baker near the Academy. Anything, really, to satisfy this most reasonable craving."

"You know how sugar makes you feel, Zuni."

"I was merely suggesting—""The last time you had sugar, you ricocheted around our quarters for six hours straight and then fell asleep in Sam's bowl of milk."

"An excess of enthusiasm," Zuni sniffed.

"No sugar," Adom said firmly.

"I'll find you some plain nuts later." Zuni slumped against Adom's neck and let out a pitiful chirp. Adom tried to suppress a chuckle from the ticklish sensation while raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, so you can still chirp?"

"Only when emotionally distressed," Zuni replied with dignity.

"It's an involuntary expression of profound disappointment." Thorgen was less impressed with their surroundings.

"Everything's too tall," he grumbled.

"And too... twisty. Whatever happened to good honest stone and straight lines?"

"I think it's beautiful," Zara said, her eyes reflecting the iridescent glow of a fountain they passed. Artun seemed more interested in the city's inhabitants than its architecture.

"Don't look now," he whispered to Adom, "but I think I've caught the eye of that blue lady with the silver hair." Adom glanced in the direction Artun indicated. A Fae woman was indeed watching them—along with about a dozen other Fae of various types and colors. Some of the locals stared openly, particularly at Thorgen, whose stocky dwarven form stood out among the willowy Fae. Others merely glanced their way before continuing about their business, treating the visitors with casual indifference.

"Are outsiders really so unusual here?" Adom asked Bob.

"Not unusual, exactly," Bob replied.

"More like... noteworthy. The Fae come and go from your realm as they please—playing tricks, causing mischief, occasionally helping those they take a liking to. But mortals coming here? That's less common."

"So we're celebrities," Artun said, flashing a winning smile at a group of small, winged Fae who had gathered on a nearby rooftop to watch them pass.

"More like oddities," Bob corrected.

"Passing curiosities. Like seeing an exotic animal at a menagerie."

"Charming comparison," Thorgen muttered. They turned down a narrower street lined with what appeared to be shops and taverns. The buildings here were smaller, more welcoming somehow, with warm light spilling from windows and doorways.

"The Silver Leaf is just ahead," Bob said, pointing to a three-story structure built around an enormous oak tree. The tree grew up through the center of the building, its branches spreading to form part of the roof. Silver leaves—actual metal, not just color—dangled from the branches. Quite literal for a name. As they approached, the sound of shattering pottery erupted from an open second-story window, followed by raised voices and angry shouts. Bob sighed.

"Fantastic. The Moorigans must be at it again."

"The who?" Zara asked.

"Fellow leprechauns. Cousins. They—" He was interrupted by more shouting. Something flew out of the window—like a blur heading straight for Adom's head. Adom didn't think. Didn't even have time to flinch. His body simply moved, hand snapping up with to catch the projectile before it could hit him. He was also consciously already weaving a barrier spell. Too slow, apparently.

"Nice reflexes," Artun whistled. Adom stared at the object in his hand—a shoe. A very small, very ornate shoe with a silver buckle.

"Those exercises are paying off," Zara observed quietly. Adom nodded, still surprised at how automatically his body had responded. Was Axis interacting with his nervous system as well? It was likely, as the mana pathways were treated the same way nerves were by the brain.

"MO BHRÓGA!" a female voice shrieked from the window.

"TABHAIR AR AIS IAD, A GHADAÍ!" Bob winced.

"She wants her shoe back."

"I didn't steal it," Adom protested.

"She threw it at me."

"NÍ RAIBH MÉ AG CAITHEAMH LEAT!" the voice continued.

"BHÍ MÉ AG CAITHEAMH LEIS AN BODACH SIN!"

"She says she wasn't aiming at you," Bob translated.

"She was aiming at... well, her husband, I assume."

"Should we go in?" Zara asked uncertainly as more crashing sounds emanated from the window.

"Might be safer out here," Thorgen suggested. Bob sighed again, deeper this time.

"Unfortunately, that's our inn. Come on." They entered a cozy lobby wrapped around the trunk of the great oak. The interior was warm and inviting, with polished wooden floors, comfortable-looking furniture, and soft, golden light emanating from glowing orbs that floated near the ceiling. A small, red-headed Fae with pointed ears sat behind a reception desk, looking thoroughly bored despite the commotion upstairs. She brightened when she saw Bob.

"Cearbhallán! It's been ages!"

"Bryony," Bob nodded.

"I've reserved rooms for my companions and myself."

"Of course, of course." She glanced at the others.

"Quite the diverse group you're traveling with these days."

"Never a dull moment," Bob agreed. More shouting erupted from upstairs, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting a wall.

"The Moorigans," Bryony explained with a long-suffering expression.

"They're celebrating their three hundredth anniversary."

"That's... some celebration," Zara observed.

"Oh, they celebrate by fighting," Bryony said, as if this were perfectly normal.

"Leprechaun tradition. The bigger the fight, the stronger the love, or so they claim." Bob just shook his head.

"Let's get settled quickly, shall we?" Bryony handed over several small silver keys.

"Second floor for you and your friends. The Moorigans are on the third, so you should be safe enough." They had barely started toward the stairs when a small, red-faced man came stomping down, muttering furiously in what Adom assumed was some leprechaun dialect. He wore clothes similar to Bob's, though more ornate and considerably more disheveled. When he spotted their group, he stopped short.

"CEARBHALLÁN!" he bellowed, his scowl transforming instantly into a beaming smile.

"MO CHOL CEATHAR!"

"Finnegan," Bob replied, looking resigned.

"Still alive, I see."

"Takes more than that banshee upstairs to do me in!" Finnegan replied, switching to heavily accented common speech. He looked past Bob at the others.

"And who might these be? Bringing non-fae into Alfheim now, are we? Your taste in company has certainly... diversified."

"Friends," Bob said simply.

"Here for a short visit." Finnegan's eyes narrowed, focusing on Thorgen.

"A dwarf! Haven't seen one of your kind here in centuries! Good with metal, your people. Made my favorite belt buckle, a dwarf did."

"We're known for our craftsmanship," Thorgen replied stiffly.

"And a tiefling!" Finnegan continued, turning to Zara.

"Rare sight indeed. The Courts don't much care for your kind since that unfortunate business with the Southern Duchess and the missing tapestries." Zara raised an eyebrow.

"That would have been before my time."

"Time is a flexible concept here, lass," Finnegan chuckled. Then his gaze landed on Adom.

"And a human! Full-blooded, by the looks of it." He leaned closer, peering at Adom.

"You've got my wife's shoe." Adom had forgotten he was still holding the projectile.

"She... dropped it."

"DROPPED IT?" came an indignant shriek from upstairs. A moment later, a female leprechaun came storming down the stairs, her red hair wild and her face flushed with anger.

"I AIMED IT! WITH PERFECT ACCURACY!"

"At your husband's head, I presume," Zuni commented dryly. The female leprechaun stopped short, noticing the quillick for the first time.

"It talks!"

"Indeed I do, madam," Zuni replied.

"And may I say, your throwing arm is quite impressive. The trajectory was nearly perfect, accounting for wind resistance and gravitational pull. Had my companion been less efficient, I believe he would now be sporting a rather distinctive bruise." The leprechaun woman stared for a moment, then burst into delighted laughter.

"I like this one!" she declared, pointing at Zuni.

"Sharp tongue, sharp mind!"

"Siobhan Moorigan," she introduced herself with a small curtsy.

"And that trouble-making sprite I'm unfortunate enough to call husband is Finnegan."

"Three hundred years of wedded bliss," Finnegan added with a wink at Adom.

"Every moment a joy."

"Every moment a trial," Siobhan corrected. She held out her hand to Adom.

"My shoe, if you please." Adom returned it.

"I apologize for the interception."

"No harm done," she said, slipping it on.

"Though your reflexes are unusual for a human. Almost... enhanced." There was a moment of awkward silence as everyone in their group tensed slightly.

"Law has been training with some of the best in our realm," Bob cut in smoothly.

"Combat mages, specialists in physical enhancement."

"Is that so?" Siobhan's eyes gleamed with interest.

"Perhaps you'd care to demonstrate these skills while you're here? The Court is always looking for new entertainment."

"We're on a rather tight schedule," Bob interjected before Adom could respond.

"Just a brief visit to show my friends the sights."

"What a shame," Finnegan said, eyeing Adom speculatively.

"The Autumn Court is hosting competitions next week. Good coin to be made for anyone with... unusual abilities."

"As I said," Bob repeated firmly, "we're on a schedule." Finnegan shrugged.

"Suit yourself." He turned to his wife.

"Speaking of schedules, weren't we in the middle of something?"

"Indeed we were," Siobhan replied, her expression suddenly fierce again.

"You still haven't explained those silver hairs I found on your coat!"

"For the last time, woman, I was at the stables! With the silver horses!" And just like that, they were arguing again, heading back upstairs as if they'd completely forgotten about their audience.

"Charming couple," Artun remarked as their voices faded.

"They're actually quite fond of each other," Bob said.

"That's just how leprechaun marriages work. All fire and fury on the outside, deep loyalty underneath."

"Sounds exhausting," Zara commented.

"You have no idea," Bob muttered. He gestured toward the stairs.

"Let's get settled. We have planning to do." As they climbed to the second floor, Zuni shifted on Adom's shoulder.

"That was an interesting demonstration of your new capabilities, Law," he said quietly.

"I don't believe you even consciously registered the shoe before catching it."

"I didn't," Adom admitted.

"It was like my body reacted on its own."

"Fascinating. The Axis training seems to have enhanced your reflexes beyond normal parameters. I wonder what other improvements we might observe."

"Let's hope we don't have to find out the hard way," Adom replied. They reached a hallway with several doors. Bob distributed the keys, assigning everyone their rooms.

"Rest up," he advised.

"We'll meet in my room in one hour to discuss our next steps."

"And what exactly are those next steps?" Thorgen asked.

"You've been awfully vague about this whole expedition." Bob glanced around the hallway.

"Not here," he said quietly.

"Walls have ears in Alfheim. Sometimes literally." As if to emphasize his point, a small section of the wall nearest to them shifted slightly, revealing what looked like an actual ear before quickly blending back into the wooden paneling.

"Well that's not disturbing at all," Artun remarked.

"Welcome to the Fae Realm," Bob said with a shrug. He headed toward his own room.

"One hour. And try not to cause any scenes before then."