The man that sits before me must be less than thirty, but he acts like an undisputed ruler. His demeanor is far too relaxed, as if he has some infallible defense. It’s the sort of attitude that begs for correction, that dares you to try. Arrogant.

And yet, it wouldn’t serve me or my purpose to make him feel his mortality.

So, I breathe in, then out, and I wait.

Not without putting just a tad too much magic into the barrier first though. The excess sparks over it; undirected, it twists to follow the patterns of the minor leyline flow in the air. To some it was a beautiful smearing line of iridescence dancing along the mostly transparent walls, but to those who were already cowering the display must have seemed like a starving snake curling around its next meal. A reminder that Magis are not to be trifled with.

“Now, now, no need to make a fuss.” He leans back, taking a slow sip from his glass. The way his eyes remain focused on me are the only sign that he feels threatened. “To what do I owe the honor of a Magis visit?” He asks as if I didn’t already tell him exactly what I wanted when I slapped the photo down. I raise an eyebrow at him, gesturing with my hand flippantly.

Best to pretend I don’t care and keep my composure; if he spotted any weakness, he would surely turn it against me as the waves turn against the shore. For now, it’s better that he thinks I’m an official inquisitor or some other such person; as far as he knows I’m here out of obligation, which is partially true, and all my aggression can be attributed to being on opposite sides of the law.

I slide the photo towards him, so it sits beneath his nose. When he decides that I probably won’t kill him he looks down finally. He scoffs.

“You interrupt my meal to show me a picture of rocks?” So, he doesn’t recognize them, hmm.

“Not ‘rocks’, fairy-stones. Pulse-stones to be more specific.”

He looks more intrigued now, lifting the picture to inspect it closer. Anyone with enough familiarity with fae materials would know how unusual that quantity of pulse-stones was to find all in one place. He brings his free hand to rest at his chin, lightly scratching over the faint stubble there. Then he drops the photo and brings both hands to a tent in front of him.

“And what is it that your esteemed self wants me to do about this? Whatever this is.” He asks mockingly, unconvinced that this should be any concern of his. “Unless you’re making an offer?” I glower at him. “No? Too bad.”

“These stones were confiscated from your auction house.” Finally, an appropriate amount of shock leaks onto his face. “An operation this big and you mean to tell me that it happened right under your nose?” I lean over the table, stopping a foot away, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. Actually, maybe I’m too close. But I can’t be the one to back away first in this battle of wills.

His expression slowly morphs into anger as he thinks through the implications of what I’d said. The Gruid family is his, and much like a child he doesn’t like it when other people play with his toys. He brings his right hand up to drag it through wild snowy-white hair, interrupted only by a single dyed red strand curling loosely towards the back of his head from his temple.

“Which auction house did you say this was?” His voice was several degrees cooler, although a sharp smile pulled up the corners of his mouth and eyes.

“Edelweiss.”

I step back, letting the barrier unwind. My business here is complete. The Gruid family will take care of everything else internally. All I had to do was make a checkup call sometime down the line to tie up any loose threads. After all, I have a different task that requires my attention. I’ve wasted too much time in Golden Port.

At the center of the room, I bow sarcastically.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” I laugh to myself, and then, just because I can, I blitz through the Gruid family’s anti-teleport wards as a parting warning and flourish.

The headache I have to nurse immediately after almost makes me regret my life choices. Almost. Let’s just say there’s a very good reason why most Magis don’t break spells via brute magical force very often.

‘Contractor, if you were going to do such a thing, why did you not let me help you?’ My will-o-wisp chided softly, stretching out a tiny green hand to pat the side of my head.

“I know, you would have prevented the recoil, but I’d rather people like that not know that you exist. It’s safer for you that way.” I close my eyes, blocking out what little light remained in the room I’d rented. The blackout curtains were doing a great job, but having a wisp beside you can have its drawbacks. Still, the soothing coolness of her body more than made up for the unwanted light that emanated from her flame.

‘I can protect myself, Magis. You need not worry for me so.’ She sounded like she was pouting.

“I know, but let me anyway.” I reached for her blindly, patting her head gently, the way my teachers once did for me.

Tomorrow we would chase down another lead, but for today I needed to rest. I had used too much magic recently; and while I could harvest some from the leylines in a pinch, it was far less of a hassle to recover naturally.

Once again, I begrudged my past self for getting lost in the woods. I could be at home right now, sleeping! Or writing. Or literally anything else. Note to self: Don’t run errands for fairies. Especially the time-sensitive ones.

Ok, fine. I may have a teensy tiny itsy-bitsy confession to make.

I knew from the beginning that Golden Port would likely be a bust, but I still went there anyway. Why? You ask, probably horrified that I would do such a thing.

Well… because my only other lead is from the fairies themselves. The queen had mentioned The Hounds of the Dark Army in passing when she foisted this gig on me. Obviously, that means coming into contact with various inhabitants of the Forsaken Lands, and potentially His Great and Mighty Dorkness. All things I’d rather avoid.

I was hopeful that they’d simply ransacked the burrow for fun and sold the stone for some quick money, but no dice. Unfortunately, that means they took the fairy-stone for the other reason, and not money, which is much more troublesome. Assuming it really was them, as the fairies believed.

I shivered, suddenly feeling like someone was watching me.

Ugh, open roads have a way of making one feel so exposed. My senses didn’t turn up any particularly strong magical people or creatures around. Whatever. I kick a pebble aside half-heartedly.

The worst part of all this is that there aren’t any gates to the Forsaken Lands, I have to go on foot or by airship. Teleporting myself that far would run me right out of magic, and I couldn’t risk that in a place where I was literally wanted dead. I have too many books to live for.

Then again, I’d probably get there faster if I let them catch me… Nah, I wasn’t that tired. Yet.

But first, I’d look for any recent traces of them in Arkos. If I was uncharacteristically lucky, I might find the responsible party without chasing them all the way back to their homeland. Here’s hoping that they’re still on this side of the mountain range.

Either way, I’m heading north. The gates of Golden Port could take us as far as the Teleost Lake encampment where the northern nomadic tribes gathered intermittently. Despite its permanent occupants being relatively few in number, you can trust there to be around ten-thousand people visiting on any given day; thus, it’s an excellent place to gather information if one is sociable enough. Not that I am, but I have my ways. Teleost is also a great place to hide in plain sight amongst all the foot traffic, and so is about as close as you can get to the Forsaken Lands without being easily noticed. Plus, it’s right along the northern edge of the Great Forest; the closest major thoroughfare to where my miniature taskmaster resides.

Any settlements further north than that are small, and comprised mostly of a mix of criminals, frontiersmen, adventurers, weirdos, and sometimes people of the Forsaken. Notably, the Harpy’s Nest fortress is where Arkos sends any knights, soldiers, guards, etc. that cause “trouble”, as they call it. To some, it’s practically a den of thugs; I’ve also heard that it’s where they send eyesores for discipline. However, the only real consistent detail is that the people they send there don’t come back.

Well, I don’t have any reason to visit there myself, so… not my problem.

But I’ve digressed. Anyway, the plan is as follows: search for information in Teleost, and if I don’t find any, then I’ll look for a Sky Tribe ship that’s willing to take a passenger over the mountains. But before I can go to Teleost, I have to get to the stupid gate. While most of Golden Port’s gates exist in the center of the city in the place they call The Wharf, those gates are really just the biggest. They lead to major cities all over, including several in foreign countries and even one to the Beast-kin continent.

On the other hand, the gate to Teleost Lake is further out. Perhaps to prevent invasion from the Forsaken Lands, the gate I need is outside the city proper. In fact, it’s almost a day away on foot. At least the road is well-maintained. Small mercies, I suppose.