[Shield us both from prying eyes]

  [Wrapped in shadows, shades and lies]

  [See us walk with ease and peace]

  [Until all watchful gazes cease]

  I cast no performative powder, or display of dust, instead just asking the essence to do what needs be done. The world knows the situation as well as or better than we do and so it does what’s required alongside my request.

  In short order, Ayre and I both are momentarily wrapped in sparkling golden auras that fully obscure both of us from view for a few moments. The air in the room is whipped into a frenzy of motes of golden essence alongside causing some nearby bits and bobs of our stuff to fall off the beds and tables with a small clatter.

  Through the surrounding aura, I see Ayre floating just a few inches off the ground looking terribly discomforted until she’s set down, whereupon she stares daggers at me. “I notice that the glamor spell never lifts *you off the ground and spins you around, Lilly.”

  I always try to glamor her as something different while maintaining a certain amount of “Ayre-ness” in her guise. This time, she’s sitting somewhere in the visual area between a sidhe and an elf, looking notably more frail and waifish compared to her normal, more full figured, build. More angular, sharp, features, and quite beautiful, I think. Long traditionally red hair with curls and a simple, warm looking, winter dress with a scale pattern embedded in it. Mostly coppery in tone, but with various teal and blue patterns breaking up the larger sections of scales. Also a nice white scarf.

  I, however, remain more or less as I always do — it’s hard to improve on anything, really, and all that *needs* changing is hiding my wings — but I take the small opportunity to change up my outfit into something cozy looking with a nice warm hat. Warm reds and oranges offset with burgundy and gold detailing on both dress and hat. I adjust the hat — a cute floppy bonnet with a puffball on top that is just ever so slightly glowing.

  “Well, that’s because it always takes more effort to fix you up. You’ve got a lot more…you than I do.” I pause for effect, getting an unamused look from Ayre as I trace her curves with my hands and wink, “You look great though. Bit less exotic, I suppose, but still nice.”

  “Thanks, Lil, let’s get moving. While I doubt anything too bad has happened, I’d rather not wait for that to change.” She pauses as she turns for the door. “We should probably split up. Cover more ground, talk to more people, and then meet in the town square every thirty or so minutes until we find something of note?”

  I nod emphatically, “That’s a great idea! Most people would probably be intimidated if both of us walked up to them at the same time anyways. Seems like the sort of thing that would precede you getting pickpocketed or something.” I don’t mention to Ayre that her being around would probably distract the people I intend to talk to.

  She gives a single, firm, nod and unlocks the door, heading out with a determined gait. I sigh. She really has no idea how to put on an act. Looking like a delicate noblewoman out on the town but walking like someone who trudges through the woods every day.

  Pretty. Smart. Likeable. Not “delicate” in even the loosest sense of the word, though.

  While waiting, I call upon my normal incantation to see the connections between people. I see Ayre and I’s perfectly clearly, but the one I share with Olly is seemingly not present. Magic can obscure these things, and the town is super full of people, so the usefulness of the effect is limited here by default. Ayre has a much stronger connection with him…if I’d been thinking we might have tried that first… But such is life, we’ll meet up later.

  I wait about a minute for her to get out of the building while looking out the window for good candidates. Or Olly. It would be really nice if I could just spot Olly from here. But after a couple more minutes, I give up on that particular plan and head out into the town square, and am instantly reminded that most people are taller than me and how deeply inconvenient that will be for this little endeavor.

  I could go and shift my shape again, being slightly taller wouldn’t be a big essence expenditure….but I like being this height…

  I agonize over the decision for a little while, walking in vague circles as I do. During one of my thoughtful thought-full loops, though, some incredibly crass and rude individual just bowls into me, knocking me down.

  Looking up at them, I see what I can only reasonably describe as a scowling building looking down at me with derision. At me! With derision! “Watch where you’re walking, you oaf.”

  The oaf looks down at me, now with contempt. Just steadily working themselves up the ladder of my “Disliked Persons” list. But I take them in, really looking at them to commit them to memory so when I write about this earlier, I can recount them in accurate detail. Down to the evil mustache they definitely have.

  They’re otherwise unremarkable aside from size. Bald, face and head covered in essence tattoos that glow with what’s probably air essence A breastplate, and some traveling clothes, and they’re carrying some big lumpy burlap sack on their back.

  “Excuse my oversized and undermannered friend here, Miss. Turin was raised not even in a barn, but probably in a sty.” A cute little Lapin steps from behind the oaf, though, extending a hand to me with an apologetic face. I take their hand gently, and they lift me up, putting their free hand behind my back to support me more completely.

  “I have some close friends I could accuse of the same. I won’t judge you too harshly. Thank you for the assistance.” I give the very polite rabbit eared gentleman the warmest smile I can, and it has the desired effect. He immediately turns away, hiding his face while muttering something about how it’s no problem.

  “‘Aya, sorry little miss. Anyone who can make Vari react like that is good in my book.” The man's mien changes to friendly with a speed that makes me almost suspicious. Disregarding that I know my mood can change that fast, he doesn’t give me the impression of being a smiley individual. But being nice costs nothing. “Got a lot on my mind today, wasn’t payin’ attention.”

  “It’s quite alright, mistakes happen. I know how bad it can be when you’ve got things on your mind.” I decide to take a chance with these two, since I’m already here, “Besides, I wasn’t paying much attention myself. I have been searching for my retainer for a little while after I lost him. You wouldn’t happen to have seen him? Likes to wear an oversized cloak, messy brown hair that he really could stand to comb a little more often. Maybe a head taller than me.”

  Both of them look at one another and the lapin blanches. “I…I can’t say so, no, Miss. But we really do have to be going. If we see your man, we’ll send him here to the square. Thanks, and sorry again.” I perk up. He lied. Fae don’t lie and can’t be lied to. Our essence, the essence of the world itself, is acutely aware of the intent of those around it. And his intent was the *lie. But about what? Not seeing Olly? Not being sorry?

  He pushes on the larger man, prodding him like a draft animal — which, being honest isn’t too far from the mark. I watch them go, trying to figure out why someone would lie about something as simple and mundane as that. I know other mortals lie a lot, often to protect others — they call it a “white lie”, which is a bit like fibbing but entirely different — but this feels weird.

  I chalk it up to strange cultures outside the lands of the fae, and resolve to ask Ayre about it later. In the meantime, though, I have to probe more people. Luckily, it’s easy to find out quickly, and most of the people I talk to seem to delight in answering my questions.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  A few of them make…unsavory comments that I brush off as politely as I can. I’m not *that kind of princess. I can’t be falling for just any random person when I’ve just met them. That’s something that needs to be worked up to for…well, probably years, right? Certainly not after one conversation and a single compliment from someone winsome.

  But as I make my way around, I eventually come upon a gray furred canid beastkyn who claims to have seen, spoken to even, Olly, and sent him off to visit a… park. He claimed Olly seemed chipper, but had an off-feeling about him for some reason.

  After he points me in the right direction, I thank him and set off in that direction and quickly find myself deep in back alleys. The paths I walk along are winding, and heavily shaded, adding an uncomfortable chill to the air. It’s the exact sort of place that I’d probably write someone getting jumped by criminals in. So far out of the way, and beyond the worst of the noise of the city. Perfect for ne’er-do-wells to be skulking and slinking!

  As I walk, I imagine fights playing out, dancing and spinning to the side of fatal blows with ease and grace. Confounding criminals and decrying dastards with word and wit and agile acrobatics! The things of one-sided fights against a clearly confident and superior foe who makes clever one-liner jokes throughout as the enemies come charging in one by one. Everyone understands the importance of such things and usually respects it, I believe.

  But the distraction really is just that, and I know it. Eventually, the phantasms of my mind grow less excited to be committing crimes, and I’m left with the emotion I’m really trying to not think about. Worry. Responsibility, maybe. If I hadn’t flinched away, Olly wouldn’t have left and sought this place out.

  I need to be stronger for him and Ayre. I’m the one who's supposed to never be surprised. “Ah, my friend with a terrible curse got mad and scared me”. Ridiculous, I’ve known that was a possibility forever, but I still reacted like a coward.

  I sigh as I break out into the most delightful place, suddenly ripping my head away from dour thoughts and into the realm of whimsy once again.

  It’s a veritable forest of foreign plants and out of season blooms! But as I take it in, I hear a sharp voice demand, “What do you want? Can’t you all just leave me and my grove alone?” The voice sounds wounded, and when I turn, I see the speaker. Narrowing my eyes to take them in. Lightly green tinged skin, gray hair, and a figure I’m pretty instantly jealous of.

  They look outright distraught, and as I look closer, I realize why. Many plants are trampled, and ground torn up all over. “Hi, uh, sorry to bother. I needn’t stay long, my friend might have come here seeking solace and rest?” I pause for a moment, starting to draw a couple of worrying connections. “What happened? Can I help at all?” I don’t like seeing people looking so sad. Even with Olly in mind, I can’t just not offer.

  Their face flashes from distress to anger, and they storm over towards me holding a rather menacing looking pair of shears. Trying to exercise my restraint, I almost don’t flinch. “Brown haired boy? Kinda clueless?”

  “Yeah that’s a go-”

  “I left him here because he “was seeking a place to relax after some stress with his travel companions” — you being one of them, I presume — and he tore up my grove!” They turn away, all but stomping towards the grove, though they arrest their stomps immediately before setting foot past the threshold. “Look at all of this! The Yrien roses took a year and a half to coax into a vibrant life. I had *just* gotten these bladegrass tufts to grow despite the coming of winter!” As they walk, I notice they’ve got a couple large bruises showing from just beneath their outer coat. I eye them curiously.

  They walk about, pointing at the various plants that appear to have been damaged or killed outright. None that were absorbed though, so that means Olly probably didn’t lose control of himself here. I keep looking while walking after them. It seems rude to walk away or interrupt them. They *are* going to great lengths to tell me about everything, after all.

  Deep impressions in the ground where it looks like someone fell over or slammed down. The depressions look about Olly sized, maybe. But I think most of the people I’ve seen are Olly sized, so that’s not really a great metric. But I don’t really see many signs of anyone Olly’s size walking around or away from those impressions. And looking closer at them, I see drops of blood coagulating some sand. A fact which gives me quite a *lot more alarm.

  Idly, and without thinking, I cut them off, “Are you sure my friend did this?”

  They turn around and glare, “I suppose it could have been someone else, but he was the last one I saw here who stayed after I left.” They hesitate, looking me in the eyes directly and holding for a few seconds before asking, “Would your friend have done this?”

  Somewhat surprised by the turn of conversation and the very direct question, I answer equally directly. “Not if he had any say in the matter.” I let it hang in the air for a moment and see their face shift from angry to neutral and carrying on into a more placid sort of serenity. I press on. “I think there might be some foul play here. There’s blood in the sand, if you didn’t notice.”

  They look down with a bit of shock and pale. “I… I didn’t notice that. I was focused on the rest of everything.” Their voice comes out embarrassed, “Please, feel free to do what you need, just please don’t hurt my grove.” Their posture turns a little tense at the request.

  “I would never do so. You have my word on that.” They visibly relax as I start to pick around for specific details that might help. Idly, I ask, “How…was he?” I’ve been dutifully ignoring the feeling of guilt this entire time, but as I pick through the depressions and signs of fighting and blood only being around the grounded figure, it returns in full force. I just really hope he’s okay.

  “Professional opinion? He definitely wasn’t a tree.” I look over and see them shrug, “I’m no good with people. People treat the sidhe as outsiders, so I’ve never felt terribly inclined to learn how to deal with people. If I had to guess, he was pretty messed up, though. Not one single bit of any nature-bearing essence in him, so coming to relax here struck me as odd. People who seek solace in nature usually have signs of it.”

  I kneel next to what, I think, must be the “last” location. There’s no sign of boot prints leading away from it that would indicate whoever had landed here stood up. Plenty of other imprints, but nothing like Olly. “I appreciate your thoughts regardless.” I say distractedly, trying to assemble the pieces of the scene.

  They wander over and peer over my shoulder curiously. “So, he your boyfriend or something? Asking for a friend.”

  I choke, caught totally off guard. “What? No, of…of course not. We’re not anything like that. Just companions. Traveling companions. All three of us in our group.” I feel an embarrassed blush coming to my cheeks, so I turn around and gesture at the ground. “These footprints are huge. I’ve never seen someone with feet that big.”

  The lean in, “Oh.” The tone they say it with, terminating the word sharply with a slight gasp sets me on edge instantly.

  “Oh? Oh what?” I stand and face them sharply.

  “I…really don’t want to get involved, actually.” They back up a few steps, suddenly looking uncertain and scared. That makes my own fears *infinitely* worse.

  “You can’t just say “Oh.” and then not give me anything. Please, he has more than enough problems going on without this being added to it. I will do everything in my power to ensure this doesn’t come back to you. Please.” The tone of pleading is entirely unbecoming of my station, but it’s not quite so bad since they’re a descendant of the fae. I need to know.

  They look everywhere but at me. “I believe you, but the fact that this happened here already has me more close to this than I’d ever want to be.”

  “Just give me a name! A title! Any piece of identifying information! If something happens to him, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. This is all my fault anyways — I need to try to fix it.” They eye the alleyway that leads out of here, so I step directly in front of them. “Do you want me to beg? Debase myself to prove my intentions? If he’s in serious danger, I need to go get help as soon as possible.”

  “Alright, alright. Please, just don’t let them know I was involved in an-”

  “I have already given you my word. If there’s anything I can do about it, no harm will befall you over this. If it does, I will do everything in my power to make it right. I promise you.” I know how close I’m getting to certain verbiage that will carry implications, but I can’t let this chance by.

  But, gratefully, they give in. “Okay. I get it. There’s a criminal group in town that have been a big problem for a while. Handful of titanfolk, led by a “Turin”. They’re apparently smugglers of some kind, but I don’t know much more beyond that. As far as I know there’s three of them, and some lapin beastkyn working with them. I don’t know what they smuggle though, I’ve just seen them along the riverfront before.”

  “Okay, any names? That’s enough to sta-” I pause, remembering the people I ran into earlier with widening eyes and my breath catching. They had a big lumpy burlap sack and reacted to my question and lied. “Oh. Oh no. No no no. I have to find Ayre.” Without another word, I spin on my heel and raise a hand and my voice.

  [Seeker, bound by path nor chain,]

  [Through wood and wave, through storm and plain.]

  [Please bring me to my friend again.]

  A golden welt of Elysia coalesces in my hand and I toss it into the air as I work from a walk and into a run. The essence streaks off away, always staying within line of sight for me to follow it.

  Now I just need to find Ayre, and we can lead a daring rescue! Once we find them. It’ll be easy. Probably.