Chương 74: A World of Drama II

Rico didn't return, which was honestly quite rude. He would've helped me a lot navigating faeworld. However, the fae magic between us was gone, leaving nothing to bind him to me. I… it was a bit of a bummer. I thought we'd become friends by now. But evidently, he had more important things to do, like visit his family maybe, or tear up some poor innocent fae's furniture. My motivation for dealing with the fae wasn't entirely innocent.

Learning the language of the birds would be an unexpected bonus, and making new friends was always welcome, but what I was really after was information. The Pactmaker had employed fae after all, and even if he was eaten by a giant kaiju-sized fish, someone needed to take care of his minions. Preferably by verifying any workplace misconduct and promptly shutting down his operation, then tossing him into the unending sea of being sued by the Madagasi people, preferably. Yes, I remember what he did to me.

No, I don't think that I was being petty. After so long stuck in a hole, the opportunity to counter some of The Pactmaker's shenanigans from the other side was titillating. In between driving me from the Academy and tossing me off the side of Hill 43, he must've stolen tens of thousands of soulcoins worth in magical reagents. And of course, there was Silica, the fae judge slash executioner slash magical girl.

After returning to her house for some supplies, she wordlessly set off on a path past the forest and out onto cobbled roads spanning a countryside replete with castles, flower-overgrown villages, and fields of gold. Learning bird-language couldn't be done in her mansion, or in any of the wheat-growing villages nearby. Parsnip poked an ear, only to find that the alien wheat was made of metal.

Apparently there was currently a major food shortage after some landowner recklessly made a deal with an ancient prankster, and now an entire harvest was turned into literal gold. Which was terribly useless, since the fae didn't even use gold for coins or jewelry, and because gold was awfully close to yellow in hue. And yellow was the domain of the insane Xanthus Queen in Beige. So, yeah. Worthless fields of gold.

The food shortage had in turn caused a surge in burglary and petty crimes, leaving Silica's forest replete with transfigured prisoner-animals. But I was more curious about her getup. She was still wearing her black-as-night armor as we walked down clean cobblestone paths, Parsnip drilling her with a million questions.

"What's that bright thing in the sky called? Why are these 'roads' not hidden from predators of the sky? Does this place have fried grubs and honey? Your buildings are so weird and geometrical, have you thought about changing that? Can I see your lance for a moment — I promise not to break things with it. Where did your antlered deer skull helmet go? Is stealthily removing it part of your transformation sequence? Sam also has a transformation sequence — I am sure I will grow one too when I'm older.

Not that I'm young -young, and I'm only short compared to her or people like you, but I heard that with age there comes a grace and a certain change none can escape before they end in the great acid lake. Would you agree?" Silica's answers ranged from one-syllable answers to nodding mutely, bone-white hair bobbing around her face, nearly reaching to her hips like a willow tree of spun ivory. After two hours of Parsnip yapping on, she looked to me for salvation.

"So, I've been meaning to ask: Why is your hair color changing all the time?"

"I-it just does that. D-dark in shade, l-light when bright."

"Fascinating." I tried to imitate the change on myself through [She of Many Colors], but gave up after a while. Too distracting, and adapting to every shadow was just too exhausting.

"Must be hard to put together an outfit that fits you in every color of light."

"It is." Her gaze flicked around nervously, sometimes lingering on me before zipping away.

"I prefer armor." She was probably afraid of my extra arms. Eight was decidedly too many.

"You look so much more approachable without it. Love it!" More spluttering. Apparently, this particular fae was weak to compliments.

"Do you have a theme song?"

"I t-toll the bell of certain death t-t-thrice to announce my a-arrival, as is custom." As if to make an example, she easily pulled a chest-sized bronze bell out of her much-too-small knapsack and rapped it once with her armored knuckles. We walked in silence, the gong petering out over the course of two minutes.

"Oooh, I can still feel that in my bones. Creepy. Also, nice gnome backpack." Silica perked up.

"You know about them?"

"Oh, I gnome all about them." A long, awkward silence passed. After nearly two miles, she suddenly turned to me, a frown etched on her forehead.

"A-are you sure you're not an overgrown p-pixie?"

"Sam is fully grown, while I am still in my growth spurt," Parsnip said proudly.

"At the current rate, I will reach mountain size in ten years." Eventually, we came across a small chimney jutting out of a moss-overgrown hill at the roadside. The small furred elvenoid creature sitting on a chair in the front had its hairy legs perched on a second chair, mouth puffing pipe-smoke into obscene shapes and scenes of debauchery. Silica walked up next to him and just stood there in silence before the elvenoid noticed her with a shriek.

"Earth and stone, shit, at least say something woman. How long have you been standing there?"

"Not too long," she replied in her intense voice.

"I require a teleportation. To the c-capital."

"For three? No can do, miss willow tree. Haven't 'cha heard, there's a famine about. We've only got capacity for critical goods, members of the verdant court, and officials on urgent business."

"I am an official."

"Yeah? Wearing armor and waving around a sword makes you a huntress or a soldier. What kinda official are you supposed to be?" Out of a roiling mist, her deer-skull helmet appeared on her head.

"Peacebringer." The elvenoid gulped audibly.

"A-and your business, madame?" She blinked, probably weighing the annoyance of a giant bird nesting in her backyard against abusing her privileges.

"Urgent," she finally said.

"R-right. I-I mean, of course madame peacebringer. Lemme just spin 'er up for you." The elvenoid figure stood up swiftly, then walked over to a hobbit-hole-esque door and spun it in its frame. Round and round and round the door went. Then with a hefty effort, he heaved it open. The world behind it spun for a moment before settling on a distant palace bathed in the red of an evening sun. It was morning where we were. Suddenly I was glad that fae also had teleportation infrastructure.

If anything, their world was bathed in magic long before Earth was, so they likely had it even longer than we did. He gestured for Silica to pass through, but stopped me when I tried to follow.

"You are not an official. Pay the fee, chump, for you and that… is that a giant bug?" Parsnip waved enthusiastically. I gave the guy an awkward look.

"I, er, don't have any local money?"

"Then barter for something. Your tongue, hypothetical firstborn, something tangible." He nodded towards my Lucky 7.

"That thing looks valuable enough."

"Absolutely not." This revolver was my baby. Through thick and thin, it was there with me. Also, it was hella expensive and eminently useful. No trading that. What am I willing to give up for this journey? Wait… I groaned, and sighed in defeat. There was one present I had been planning to keep for emergencies. I unfurled a pack in my knapsack, presenting a cut of purple honeycomb. The elvenoid's eyes goggled at it, his tongue making a hissing sound through too-sharp teeth.

"Wasp honey." I nodded. Wasps didn't make honey, normally. The parasitic wasps certainly didn't. When their grubs ate their way through a host body, they did so with gusto and utmost speed, but not efficiency. The trails they left inside their victim's body were coated with a purple waste product that transformed the surrounding tissue into a sickly sweet, fermented meaty good. It tasted a bit like grape soda with a fizzy aftertaste of venison.

And if Rico was a good measuring stick, then fae loved two things: sweets, and bloody meat.

"Noo, not the purple honey," Parsnip groaned.

"It is too good for this hairy rat."

"I am not a rat."

"And I am not a bug." Parsnip raised her chin.

"I am a huntress. I am Parsnip." I broke off a quarter.

"Will this be enough for the return trip?"

"Twice that. I need to make a deal with the guy on the other side."

"Grumble grumble," I grumble grumbled. Where was my subsidized public teleportation transport when I needed it?

"Wish I could pay in soulcoin."

"You w-would pay someone's soul for c-convenient transportation?" Silica just stared at me.

"Is that… not normal?"

"You would be overpaying for even one of your soul-like coins. Souls are high value goods," she said with utter confidence.

"Nobody sells their soul for anything anymore."

"Huh. But… The Academy says that teleportation at one soulcoin is subsidized." I shrugged.

"Eh. Guess our teleportation tech is less efficient. We only developed it like fifty years ago." Her squint dissolved into a quizzical expression, and a few muttered words that were untranslatable for the system. I still didn't have access to revival or the shop, and my soulcoin count was thereby purely digital. The fae and Earth were at peace, but we weren't all buddy-buddy. Allowing for Custodian infrastructure to be built on their home planet would've probably been a serious security risk.

Did I mention that their world was pretty? There was something in the air that made the colors of faeworld pop. Maybe it was a mix of the light of its parent star coupled with which wavelengths made it through the atmosphere, but even then the fae took great pains to decorate every place they lived in. Past the teleportation gate was a city somewhere between solarpunk and a medieval fairy tale — duh, it was fae world after all. The pictures we'd gotten in Cultures of the Worlds didn't do it justice.

In this cobblestone metropolis every house was decorated in flowers growing in garlands of natural vines or planterboxes set into the walls. Roofs swerved from one tip to the next, proportions exaggerated and ending in little gargoyles pulling faces at the crowds below. The air was abuzz with the wingbeat of pixies, animals, and the cries of merchants selling bulk goods for minor favors of the well-to-do.

Past Silica's shoulder, the city rose and fell in waves until a towering castle on a half-mile-high hill rose on craggy peaks. The hill was hollowed out on the left side, a hole large enough to nearly fit the Burj Khalifa running cleanly from this side to the other. I shivered, reminded of the ridiculous laser of the giant murderbot that had nearly vaporized me and all my belongings on the way to Hill 43. Maybe the dips in the terrain weren't all natural either, some looking awfully much like impact craters.

A world that was older than ours implied that it had been in conflict with the other worlds for that much longer as well.

"Ooh!" Parsnip ooh'd.

"What's that metal thing up in the air?" I squinted at the thing she was pointing at.

"That's a bomb."

"Nuclear bomb #13, s-specifically," Silica said, barely giving it a glance.

"It is frozen in time. No need to p-pay it any heed." My blood froze.

"I… I'm afraid to ask, but did we nuke faeworld?"

"Oh yes, it was quite a convincing end to the phoney w-war. Toppled the previous dynasty it d-did." Silica nodded.

"Weighed against all the i-incursions of the fae into human lands since the start of time, only e-eleven bombs were required to even the scales and enact a traditional ceasefire. #12 was caught m-mid-explosion. Now it is known as the second s-star of Brambletown. Residents never have to worry about cleaning snow since it all just m-melts."

"Uh-huh." I tried not to feel bad and ask where the other eleven bombs fell. That was five times the force that was deployed against Japan in the second world war. More, likely, since the first atomic bombs were among some of the smaller ones. Wait, one moment. So, fae magic has the power to freeze a nuclear bomb as long as the ceasefire is in effect. The moment the war turns hot again, Brambletown and the capital of the Verdant Court gets vaporized.

Earth is on the defensive, and thereby not in any state for offensive maneuvers. Which means the fae themselves would have to make the first provocation. But they're also split between verdant and crimson fae countries, neither of which like the other particularly much. Souls are valuable to the fae beyond measure, and earth is currently flush with them as we steal them from other invading forces.

Weakening the Custodians via the Pactmaker would benefit the both parties, but it would benefit the crimson fae doubly to incite an incident that causes war to break out, neatly flattening the capital of their greener rivals and opening earth back up for plunder and other fae shenanigans. Which means… Lost in thought, I only noticed that we were climbing up a steadily steepening incline after half an hour. I asked, craning my neck so far up I nearly missed bumped into a throng of wildly howling fae.

It looked like a market square had suddenly collectively decided to get stomach cramps, and was busy crawling along the floor, clutching themselves and shivering in place.

"They are paying off their lord's d-debt. Someone up high must've been lethally p-poisoned." She scrunched her nose.

"Do not accept any offered drink. I-in fact, if anyone pushes something into your hands, give it to the next best decorative plant."

"Cool. Cool, cool. Cool."

"Can I drink funny drinks?" Parsnip asked.

"It is dreadfully hot."

"Absolutely not." I looked up at the ridiculously steep hill.

"Are we just expected to climb that hill to the castle on foot?"

"Yes," Silica said matter-of-factly, stepping over wheezing, moaning, and crying fae replete with sweat.

"If you c-cannot make the climb, you have no place in the Verdant Court." Uhhh…

"Silica. What happens if we accidentally bump into, say, the king of the Verdant Court?"

"If we a-are unlucky, he will turn you into a fruit-giving tree for a century or two. A mild punishment for Lèse-majesté. He is king of the better h-half, and he is himself therefore better." Haha. This is like visiting the US on a trip and suddenly walking up into the white house. Except the president is a nigh-immortal godking. No pressure Sam. All you have to do is leave a good impression. And don't bump into the king. And don't drink anything.

"Ooh, perhaps he has a cool weapon I can, er, borrow," Parsnip said. I sighed, shoulders sagging wearily.

"I just wanted to learn how to speak with birds."

"Don't w-worry. We are only here to v-visit the royal library. It i-is just a s-small t-trip. I hope." Up ahead, the crowd of people slowly staggered back to their feet. The first market cry was a sign that all was back to normal. As we continued our trek, we arrived in front of a gate guarded by a spindly woman with a fan hiding her grin, and a haughty raised eyebrow. Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

"Passage to the Verdant Court requires passage through guardians like my humble self," she declared, "I am a guardian of the path, and only the worthy may tread it. Those who fail shall suffer seven days of bowel pains. Worthy thou art if thou can answer me these riddles three…" +++ Addy grant me strength. I thought climbing ten miles of sheer cliff was bad. But I can't use [Sticky] to stick to stairs.

We were halfway there, I sincerely hoped; we'd passed a layer of thorny roses, across a bridge of wobbling stone, and through a tiny forest of carnal illusions that left the both of us blushing and Parsnip asking some very embarrassing questions.

"What was that nymph doing with that satyr's…"

"I d-don't know. A-and I d-don't want to know." Her grin and clacking laughter told me she knew very well and was just winding Silica up. The bratty bug. The way ahead was clear at least. No sign of magical bullshittery. A green goblin-ish creature jumped out from behind a brambly bush.

"What's green, ugly, and always eats all the tasty shrimp at parties before you can have a bite?"

"Your mother," Silica huffed, giving the creature the boot.

"Correeect!" it cried as it fell off the side.

"W-was that really necessary?" I huffed.

"The servants of the Verdant Court are hardy due to their vows to the king. They are tough as bones, long-lived, and worst for us: eternally bored," Silica huffed back. At least she was also starting to show signs of exertion too. It had been hours since we started the climb. The only path up was laid like a knotted snake, and at every corner signs warned of the fate that befell those who tried to cheat and cut in line. No doubt it led past as many servants as possible to spread the fun around.

"You know how in video games they have mandatory cutscenes right after an introductory cutscene, only for it to be followed with another short movie-length cutscene? They're barely games anymore, just movies where you press a button every now and again."

"What's a video game?" Parsnip and Silica asked as one.

"I vote to skip this scene. Skip. Skip!"

"T-that's not how this w-works. You h-have to climb."

"Skip! Skip!" +++ I wasn't a puddle of sweat and tears when I heaved my tired body over the last step. Instead, I was a dough that someone had rolled up a hill, then tossed down a flight of stairs, then rolled back up again. It didn't make any sense for me to be this tired. I had three-hundred-something in Body! But the climb, which should have only taken a few hours, had dragged on and on. I had to carry Parsnip half the way to ensure she didn't die of heat exhaustion. But we were here. Finally, we were here.

I looked up, groaning to see there was still one more flight of three steps on the way to the fairytale castle now looming over us, with thorny growths thick as a person growing out of towers and into windows.

"It doesn't make sense. How long were we climbing for?" Silica brushed her clothes down. She had switched out of her armor half way through, electing to store it in her gnome backpack. That left her in a robe fastened by a belt and some strings, its off-white color rather austere compared to the other fae courtiers, which decorated themselves with feathers, brightly colored leaves, and bits of forest growth.

"Oh, maybe seven days."" Seven days?!"

"M-maybe eight? I w-wasn't keeping track." She lifted her head tiredly, eyes roaming over the two attendants prancing towards us. They wore bright smiles with all the necessary accessories.

"A guest, a guest!" one said in a weedy voice.

"Two indeed," added the other in a rough baritone like scratching skin over bark.

"A peacebringer and a soulstealer. What a lovely pair you make."

"We need to get you two into a dress. Oh yes, a dress." The first one yanked me by an arm, measuring it with a bit of knotted string.

"My god, there is meat on this girl. Look at those guns." I turned to Silica, whispering.

"What is happening?" But Silica was more blank-faced than usual.

"There's a b-ball ongoing. How d-dreadful."

"What does that have to do with us? We're here for the library, not for a ball."

"B-because a b-ball is an invitation to all who make it this far, and s-sn-snubbing the verdant king's generosity is… i-ill-advised."

"It would be quite rude," one of the attendants noted.

"And rude guests take the short way down."

"Short? Do you have a slide or something around here?" The attendant thumbed towards the cliff. Ah. Well. I groaned theatrically.

"At least make it a cute dress." We were whisked away shortly thereafter, guided in through the pompous main doors, but diverted into a changing room on the right. It was filled with heaps and stacks of clothes in every color, carefully managed by a neurotic-looking goblin… woman… thing. She was blue and had three eyes, three arms, and three legs. They were sort of arranged like the spokes in a cartwheel.

"What's your seven sizes?" she crowed.

"I. Uh. Only know three."

"Feh. I wasn't asking you, doll." The attendant that had taken my measurements whispered something into her ear. Her eyes widened moderately before focusing on the both of us.

"The tall one gets the black-and-white treatment, as befits her station. The Asvexian creature deserves something that changes color. The bouncy one gets something shoulderless. I think we still have something nice from last year that'll do the trick nicely." Feeling called out, I stopped stepping from one foot to the other. The stillness on Silica's face would have betrayed nothing but a tense ease, if one couldn't see her hands kneading each other behind her back.

If anything, our shared discomfort reassured me more than any stoic poise ever could have. The dresses arrived. Hers was a white blouse and black skirt with combo of fine buttons and a black bow set at a small angle to her neck. It highlighted her face and her long legs. It was oddly cutesy for someone who imprisoned people in animal bodies for a living. Maybe an intentional snub. Maybe the goblin was playing a prank. Parsnip meanwhile…

"What is a dress? I don't need a dress," Parsnip said.

"It's for dancing."

"I can already dance. I don't need to be clothed to show my skill."

"Parsnip, please just try it on."

"Fine, but if I don't like it—" The bug shivered as the goblin attendant gave her a hat. It was a floppy green christmas elf hat. The moment it touched her head, flowers appeared around her neck, wreathing her body in tastefully hooped and knitted garlands. She took one look down at herself, her finger poking straight through the petals.

"I look the way spring smells. This is acceptable."

"Illusory dresses are so last summer," Silica muttered.

"You serious? You'd make bank selling these to earth."

"Eh," said the attendant.

"Not my problem. I just give these away. Now you, many-armed girl." Mine was… an odd one. It was sleeveless as advertised, but with two loops that fit around my arms on the side for aesthetic reasons. The front was ruffled, a dark base color intercut with hints of red flowers and green vines, but the rest…

"It's a bit short," I noted. I couldn't stop from fiddling with the skirt that went wide too quickly, stopping above my knees, nor the way the top pushed my boobs up a couple inches.

"I could've rocked a 'femme fatale' sorta deal, but it's less that and more 'black widow' or 'evil villainess in an otome game'." The goblin grumped.

"Any additional concerns, oh miss prim and proper?"

"I positively cannot do a backflip in this." She snipped her fingers. The dress came alive. With a suddenness, the dress shot down to drag past my ankles, the arm-loop expanding into dark silky gloves. Something looped up and around my right ear, and when I went to touch it, I found a fake rose in the red of coagulated blood. I didn't look any less evil, and the fabric had expanded to include a neckholder with a heart-shaped boob window, but somehow… I felt better.

Like the evil was so exaggerated, so over the top that it transcended the idea of clothing and jumped into the realm of costumes. I can rock a costume. The fae didn't have mirrors. Some superstition around them stealing souls or reflections swapping places with the real one. I snapped my own fingers to create a body double, then made her do some poses. Proud, friendly, evil-laugh-with-pinky-extended.

"It also has an even shorter form, though I recommend not trying it out in polite company. Long, short, extra-short, that's what this dress can do."

"It's lovely." I was already dreading the moment when I had to part with it. I turned to the goblin, clasping her hands in all of mine.

"I love it. Can I buy this off of you?" She made a sound like someone swallowing a rat.

"Pah. Keep the dresses. It's the masterwork of some faroff master of bla bla bla — we get too many donated per day by these folk who hope the verdant king gives enough about a dress to extend a favor. These're barely good enough to wipe his ass with. So git, both of you. Do me a favor and don't tear them until you're out of my sight." Addy is going to go crazy over this. It took moments, and then we were dressed and hurriedly pushed through a set of doors into a massive ballroom.

The ballroom exploded into a murmur, stuffed with people dancing, eating, carousing. The ceiling was styled like the canopy of a forest, with tree branches growing out of stone walls and a carpet of green, orange, and red leaves running up the walls and all along the top. It was a fall-themed dance, or so I assumed, and while I somewhat fit in if I kept to the shadows, Silica stuck out like a raven in a cage of cockatiels, and Parsnip…

"Oooh, they have food there. Let us grab as many bowls as we can and make off with them!"

"We will not do that," I said, yoinking her back by her scruff.

"We are going to fit in. We are going to get to the library and learn bird language. And then we're going to go home, my home." I couldn't help but fiddle with the dress as we went, but for different reasons now. It fit, snugly, and I felt the kind of connection to it that a girl only ever feels once in a lifetime of thrifting. The music had long since started, and the ball room was alive with dancing, twirling, twisting figures. I gulped. Not the sort of difficult terrain I was accustomed with.

I leaned over to Silica.

"Any tips?"

"I-I'm not a g-good dancer."

"I meant for the ball."

"Don't accept any challenges." Her hand wrapped tightly around mine.

"Stay close. And whatever you do, d-don't dance." Awww, but my dress needs to be christened with a dance. And I practiced my dance moves so hard!

"Very well. I shall simply practice my evil villainess lines. Get out of my sight, peasant. You aren't even good enough to lick my toes. O-ho-ho-ho!" Silica gave me a good long stare.

"You are so very weird."

"Weird and fabulous." I twirled in place.

"So, where's this royal library you were speaking of?"

"Right t-through there." She pointed at a door all the way at the other end of the ball. There was a sea of people between us, shifting, moving with grace and swiftness that would've barely fit a Custodian-only party. I tapped my foot. One two three, One two two, one two three.

"Silica." The morose fae woman turned to me.

"Dance with me."

"W-what?"

"I know the rhythm. It's a waltz. Not sure if they took inspiration from earth or the other way around. Either way, if we dance our way through there looking like a normal pair, nobody'll bother us."

"That's an i-i-insane idea. Nobody'll ever see us and think that we are a n-normal pairing."

"Why not?" Her expression implied that it was obvious.

"Because we're both girls?"

"Because you are obviously not fae and have eight arms and six eyes!" The dance music failed to drown out the silence that reigned supreme for a while. Somewhere in my chest, my heart made a little crik sound. Still the awkward one, still the weird one being left out. No. I grabbed her hand, and Parsnip's.

"Let's dance anyways. If we're gonna be weird, better to lean into it and make it appear intentional."

"W-what? No, we will w-walk, a-and if anybody makes trouble, I'll challenge them to a—" I grabbed her hands and looked her in the eyes.

"Dance. Please." Silica was anything but stuttery in following my moves on the ballroom floor. She moved with the grace of a naturalborn dancer, like all the fae around us. Not too sure what was up with that, but hey, maybe dancing was their football. Or something.

"This is going a lot better than I expected," I noted.

"I have never danced with two people tied to my hands," Parsnip said.

"The restriction is challenging. I demand more twirls!"

"There are three men and two women moving towards us," Silica hissed.

"They think they are being stealthy, hopping from one food table to the next while barely taking a bite."

"Then we shall dance in a different direction. That way!" I twirled, maneuvering Silica and Parsnip after me. I made myself look roughly like the other two in turn, releasing body doubles that continued their triple dance in two directions. We were still on course for the distant library door, if making a bit of a swerve. The two woman were gunning it for each of my two trios of illusions, but the three men came straight towards us. And I couldn't make more sets of three body doubles and keep on dancing.

"They're catching up."

"Then we shall dance faster."

"Yes, ye-hes!"

"I don't think I can do any—" It all happened quickly then. A small something with the sheen of invisibility practically threw itself between our legs. It missed Parsnip by inches. I stepped out of the way. Silica reflexively kicked it with full force, sending a small orange gremlin of sorts cannonballing at the back of a monk-like person wearing a fox-fur hood.

The impact sent the man's head slamming face first into a punch bowl of sorts, and the gremlin summersaulting into the ceiling, where he thumped into a pile of leaves before falling down right upon us.

"Oh no," Silica squeaked in horror.

"Nice kick," I noted after catching the gremlin. He coughed and groaned twice, but the moment he cracked open his eyes he suddenly went limp, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

"Halt!" Our pursuers had arrived. They looked like a classic posse of fae elves. You had the tall haughty one, the medium sized thoughtful one, and a small, angry one with a head as purple as grapejuice.

"You killed my servant!" he cried, jabbing a finger at me.

"I demand satisfaction. A life for a life!"

"He still has a pulse," I noted.

"And I wasn't the one who kicked him."

"Lies. Deceit. He could die any minute now. And if he doesn't, he is likely crippled for life. An arm for an arm!"

"Pretty sure he didn't even break a bone, just bruised." I jabbed the gremlin in the chest, eliciting a jerk and a 'gah, fuck!'. The gremlin, now very alive, peered into the assembled crowd for a moment before pretending to go limp again.

"See? He's just acting, and not very good at that."

"You have bruised my servant," the fae gnashed out." Bruises are best shared." I blinked at him, watched the fae magic float through the air and wash off of me. Everything I said was true, and truth held power here. I looked to the irate elf, then his compatriots, then back to him. Either he was a naturally easy to anger fellow, or he was being manipulated, magically or otherwise. I held up a hand to stop him.

"I don't even know who you are. Don't you think bothering a person without first introducing yourself is rude?"""You can call me Baron Redfinger," he gnashed through his teeth.

"Perhaps a milord would be appropriate." It wasn't his real name of course, real names having power too and all that, but he was unlikely to lie about his rank in front of so many others who could easily disprove his claim with a single verbal jab. So, a baron then. What did Cultures of the Worlds say about fae nobility again… I snapped my fingers.

"You're the lowest of the milords. Which means you're the most expendable non-servant in this court. That implies someone of a higher rank is sending you as a test, challenge, what have you — unless you are a particularly dull social climber. You don't look particularly dull; then again, risking the life of such a loyal servant just to talk to me can't be all that worthwhile." Nyohoho, he looks so angry. I didn't lie though, just fronted some uncomfortable truths.

Truly, I am the most devious of villainous magical girls. Villain magical girls. Hmmm… His cherry-red head turned so crimson I was afraid I was going to have to mop the remains off the floor after it burst.

"I demand satisfaction. You have bruised—" I raised a pinky to my mouth and feigned a decadent laugh.

"Am I to understand that you want to dance with me? The only way you are ever inflicting any bruises on me is by clumsily stepping on my toes, sorry." Before he could respond, the thoughtful middle fae stepped in front of him.

"A thousand apologies demoiselle…?"

"Call me Trigger Happy." His feathery headband moved. It was alive, as was the rest of his jewelry and parts of his clothes. The man was dressed in obedient decorative animals.

"Of course. Demoiselle Happy, you have made a most grave error in appearing before one as I, wearing the dress that was stolen from my sister." … what? A setup?

"Furthermore, your presence constitutes a breach of the peace of '81. The phony war ended in tragedy and mutually assured respect of autonomy between Earth and Fairyworld. This includes not testing new weapons within sovereign territory. And what are you doing but a weapon testing my patience?"

"... what?"

"You are in breach of the peace treaty," he said in a clipped tone.

"War is inevitable, and it is your fault. Perhaps you might be willing to fight me in a duel to prevent this."

"And if I don't?" We were gathering onlookers. No way to sneak my way out of this.

"Then we shall all perish together." He made a wide flourish, eliciting a gasp.

"And faeworld will have cause to do war with you once more. Some of us may die—" the baron blanched "—but as those of noble blood we share our lives with those of our subjects. We will rise again, and for this wrong, our vengeance will last a thousand, thousand years."

"Alright. I'll fight you. What happens if I lose?"

"Then I shall take you as prisoner, and my wife. I've always wanted an exotic pet for my collection."

"How undeniably gallant," I deadpanned. Mentally, I'd just upgraded him from annoyance to threat. Truthfully, he was nothing but a creep. And I was basically unarmed. My backpack was where I left it in the changing room. The dress was not an armor, and even with my Lucky 7 at my side, I didn't have any ammo for it. This was a problem, and not just due to my lack of equipment.

"A moment to prepare, if you would." I curtsied, and turned to Silica.

"So, why's he so confident he can beat me?"

"W-well, you're only allowed the weapons on your person." Which we had been relieved of at the entry, but not him. The creep was allowed to carry his own blade.

"And secondly, he can, er, how do you say… buff himself to stupid levels?"

"Really? How's that work?"

"He is a count. He quite literally owns a contract with the people born on his soil. He can borrow their toughness, making him strong as stone, while their bones become a percentile of a percentile weaker for the time. He most certainly can and will win against you, not least because lethal blows will be deflected onto his people as well. He and his courtiers are constantly borrowing constitution, making them age much, much slower." I rubbed my eyes and managed not to scream into my hands.

Immortal godkings and peasants being metaphysically tithed of their stats. How unpleasant. I was supposed to fight him, in melee, without my weapons and without trying to kill him, while he had a sword and could do what he wanted with me? What a fucked up system. Even more than absorbing the souls of your enemies and using them to buy sweets and stylish outfits. I looked at the man again. He seemed quite unbothered by this. It was a setup. He wanted a spider girl shaped addition to his collection.

"Any way out?"

"He won't fight h-himself, it would be poor form since you aren't of noble b-blood. But his retainers are all Yeofae with a small castle or hamlet u-under their control."

"About as many people as you have in your prison forest?"

"I-it works a bit different for me. They can only take a percentage, as decreed by their pedigree. I may take it all, down to the last drop of blood." She looked a bit awkward as she said the next part.

"I am a Peacebringer after all."

"Nothing wrong with that." A plan was beginning to form in my mind.

"Though, er, please don't kill anyone imprisoned for stealing food during a famine?"

"Are you two quite done saying your goodbyes? I name my second, my elder cousin Thistle," said middle fae, as expected, inclining his head to the tall haughty one who stepped forward." I imbue this body with a tenth the strength of all the people of Ksanthippe." His muscles bulged, the act of pulling out a rapier alone tearing his sleeves. My system noted that Ksanthippe translate roughly to 'Homes built in the dirt', or alternatively, mudville." I imbue this tool with the sharpness of two dozen kitchen knives."

The rapier sheened in the air, vibrating almost imperceptively. I blinked at it, then at him.

"Seems a little unfair, don't you think?"

"Fair is a human concept," he shot back.

"You find yourself before the law of the verdant court. Fight me." As if.

"I name my second, my benefactor and friend, the white rook." I gave a pointed look to Silica, who seemed surprised, shocked, taken aback, and all the other synonyms at once. Robotically, she took a step forward, bowed with an elegant flourish to the challenger. The tall fae raised an eyebrow." This shivering twig is your second? A fitting mirror image to your lack of competence. Any last wooo—!?" His final word remained stuck in his throat as Silica pulled a blade out of her kneesock. And pulled and pulled.

It was the giant lance she had planned on using to pierce Mama Bird's feathers. How the heck did she fit it all in there!? It was still vibrating with the power to slay a giant metal bird. The fae's eyes were wide. Inwardly, I was creasing.

She grabbed the lance in one hand, slashed it across the air. The ring of onlookers took a collective five steps backwards.

"I c-challenge y-you t-to a, a, a — ah, to hell with it. Die." In a moment, everything fell apart. The other two fae, recognizing the threat, pulled steel in blatant disregard of dueling rules. Swords were pulled, blades flashed. Moments before they collided, the air turned to molasses, then turned so heavy that standing alone became difficult. One assailant struggled, taking one step before falling to a knee."

I borrow the strength of a hundred menial servants —" as he spoke, the pressure seemed to coalesce around him before pressing him cheek-first into the ground. There were gasps and tittering laughter.

"Caspar!" A clear voice cut through the commotion around us. An awfully normal, blonde-haired woman walked past the prostrate courtier, her heels clicking with every step.

"What did I say about sending your goons to harass people? It's rude, and worse than that, it's cliche." She looked like a mix of snake, eagle, lion, and human, with a mane of hair sewn with small flowers, hooked claws on scaled limbs delicately clasping a glass of wine, and a snake as a tail that seemed to take in the room with lazy disinterest. She was a predator that made the men and women with the power of a thousand fae look like kittens. With a sudden pause, the woman turned to me and grinned.

"Oh. Heya, friend." [Custodian Pauline, Discordant Noise, Lvl 99]