Arthurian Cultivation

"I’m pleased we could offer such entertainment," I said, slowly rising from my bow, and the fae grinned in delight. My fellow humans were all in various states of fear and disbelief. The most proactive was Gawain, diving on Arthur and clamping a hand over his mouth. Kay, the Inquisitor, let out a scared squeak.

"You did say that after you died, we could have a chat, but I wasn’t anticipating you making it a group discussion! You’re definitely an Artoss, and here I was imagining I was just going to have to nanny some overstuffed chick." He looked at the rest of the group, whose eyes were jumping between us, smartly remaining silent. "No one going to introduce themselves?"

The whole group flinched as the shark-like teeth flashed. I remembered Ursul's warning about not flaunting my name; while I could share it without fear, it wouldn't do to tempt the fae with a mystery. Still, as he mentioned Artoss, my questions about the fae grew. That he could use the Artoss name was an oddity, as was his implied mission.

"Would you care to tell us how we can address you first, honoured wanderer?"

"No one going to bite? Fine, fine. You’d be surprised how often that works; you humans do love bandying about your names. Especially you, Taliesin Artoss." The fae looked at me hungrily. It was a different kind of hunger from the ‘Harkley stare,’ one that sought to wring everything from me. The last time I’d seen a face like this was in the eyes of children demanding another song when I’d played for the caravans.

The other cultivators, having just recovered from the fae's sudden appearance, now all stared dumbfounded at me. Kay, in particular, looked like she was really regretting her choices. The exceptions were Lance and Sephy. We’d been through this with Lance already, and Sephy had twigged it earlier when I mentioned I was given my name. She still sent me a worried glance which—don’t get distracted. Focus on the eldritch being from beyond the realms of man.

"It seems you have the advantage of me; you have something to call me, but I have nothing to address you by. Perhaps after introductions, we can trad—share stories." I caught myself; given our company, even mentioning the idea of trade was a terrible idea.

"If it will make them all relax, fine. You may call me Mercury. Named so for my nature." He moved a step towards me, and behind him, his form left trails of molten silver. "I’ve been looking for you, following some lead from a gussied-up whelp of an Artoss. Imagine my surprise when I find two dead Inquisitors. That was when it seemed you might be interesting. And my, oh my, did you deliver! When I followed your trail, I found corpses galore and a bear even I wouldn’t want to cuddle up to. Finally, I catch up with you in this lovely place, and your face is all wrong, and you’ve got a strange name."

Mercury, true to his namesake, seemed to flow and bounce with each step, his body unable to decide if it was water or solid. "What an odd, odd person you are. I couldn’t be sure, so I had to watch. It seemed to be you, yet most vexatiously, you never clearly said who you were. You did not lie, yet you never told the truth I needed to hear. You made no sense. Until your latest trick, that is—then everything was in harmony. You were a fun puzzle to solve, but now I know you are who I seek."

"And now you have found me?"

"Do not look so worried. I feel I should've proven my goodwill by handling that uppity cloud and the one that got away."

"That was you?" Lance spoke, and I saw Kay next to her start to tremble as Mercury turned his attention to her. She paused, exploring the words; I could practically see her pulling on training from her mother, patting Gring to keep both herself and the pegasus calm. Gring was staring as hard as the rest of them.

"You may call me Dreamer. I appreciate your intervention."

"Another who will speak! This is rare. I did hear the implication you’d spoken to grander souls than I; it seems true. I can sense her magic upon you. Seems to have done some good; most at your point in their stories would be utterly tongue-tied around me." The fae sloshed over to Lance, who managed not to flinch as he examined her.

"You slew Waltz—that is good news. Though I'm not sure what we could’ve done to deserve such aid." I dragged the fae’s attention back to me. I needed him to explain what he was doing here. Fae didn't act without reason, even if that reason made no sense to a human. The fae didn’t move away, instead looking down at the shivering Inquisitor, still on one knee.

"I never said I killed him. In fact, I am teaching him. I understand he claims to be an authority on torture; I wish to show him just how wrong he is." I shuddered. That was a fate I wouldn’t wish on even Astor.

"As to your questions, Divine cultivators… I so, so loathe them. It is lucky none are in our company." He smiled at Kay, his mouth too wide, and his teeth too sharp. The Knight slumped to the ground in relief. I couldn't blame her; getting the wrong kind of attention from Mercury would’ve been a fate worse than death.

The fae was clearly having a great time toying with us. I wasn’t so naive as to relax, but I did feel a sense of comfort; I’d trained for this. Whenever I dealt with those above me, I sought to be entertaining. It was how I'd handled the Lady, Miss Peaches, and even Ursul to an extent. We were entirely in the palm of Mercury's hand here, and if I could glitter and shine just a bit, he’d be that little less inclined to crush us.

What I knew of the fae’s power was that it didn't follow the same rules as cultivators; as such, this fae was not limited to Iron as all else in this pocket realm was. For them, there was no Iron rank to be limited to. We used Glamour; they made it! Steel and Mithril ranks could fight them, and as the small reliquary from Miss Peaches proved, even kill them. At Iron Rank, we might as well be toy soldiers for all the threat we posed. We could only entertain and hope there were no tantrums.

"Why am I here? Well, I owed your Uncle Pel a favour. He asked me to find and protect you, and ideally let him know of your whereabouts so he could come and say hello." Mercury looked like he was about to say more before pouting. "He did also have a message."

"Uncle Pel?" I flinched, crawling through the broad list of Harkleys.

"New head of the Artoss family," Sephy whispered, speaking up for the first time. I was an idiot; I'd forgotten I had another side to my family.

"Why don't we chat more? You could introduce me to everyone?" Mercury asked. He looked uncomfortable; my mind raced. Why was the fae dithering here? Mention of my uncle had done little to reassure me. Instinctively, I was on my guard; with the exception of my mother, family had never meant anything good. As I fumbled around trying to work out what to say next, Mercury continued his hunt for entertainment.

"I'd love to know more about Dreamer here and her imitation. They both have the blessing of a certain Lady, one fresh, one old." Lance didn't react to the provocation, but sadly, the same couldn't be said for her imitation.

"I'm no imitation; I'm the mpf—" Gawain had foolishly eased his grip on Arthur, the Prince's voice haughty to the extreme. Bors came to the rescue, clamping his hand over the man's face. He grinned awkwardly at us as the Prince flailed in his arms. Mercury's grin was back as he moved in, sensing weakness. Sensing entertainment.

"Mercury, I wish to receive the message from my uncle."

"Boo, that's no fun. Pel's message was something about you and your mum. Gwendolyn is a nice name, by the way. He wants to do that human thing, apologising, I think it is called. Told me to keep an eye on you and your friends, which, I shall admit, was somewhat entertaining."

"He wants to meet you, says you’re not going to be forced into anything, so don’t worry about that. There's more, but you’ll figure it out. Something about the Chox, but with me around, I'm sure you’ll handle it." He grinned, celebrating a win at a game only he was playing. This is like when the Harkleys used to toy with me, so it was nothing new.

The idea of an apology made me feel unsettled. I had never thought about being an Artoss much; the family had next to no presence on Albion, and the Harkleys didn't bring it up. With Regus dead, I’d assumed any true claim to that heritage would die with him.

I didn't know how to feel about meeting this Mithril patriarch. Getting the attention of such a powerful person was something I would normally avoid, but in this case, running would only increase his interest. Was Mercury here to drag me before him? Did I have a choice? Especially now that he’d confirmed the Chox were hunting me. I knew of their appearance in Fosburg, but this only confirmed the threat. My mind churned. I just wished I had the whole message, not this garbled mess the fae had decided to share.

I frowned. If this Uncle Pel had compelled a fae to help him, would he allow this? He must've known his words would be twisted and spun. I looked at the messenger, who was still grinning. The fae were powerful, but if they had one great weakness, it was their arrogance. I played back the conversation; there was something I was missing.

I settled as realisation dawned. This fae wasn't the Lady, and I'd handled myself far better before her than I did before this mere shadow of her power. If we were toy soldiers before him, then he was but a petulant child, being forced to do something he didn't care for. But I’d forgotten that he knew we weren’t his to break.

I drew myself up to my full height and asked Mercury, "I appreciate the words, but is that the message he gave you for me?"

"You’re no fun. He gave me this letter; it’s basically what I said, though. What will you trade for it?"

"Is it yours to trade with?"

"No, you vexatious bard! 'Tis a gift for thee from thine uncle." He sighed and threw the letter at me, his expression a petulant pout. "Have the boring thing that nails down his words. The rest of you polish your boots or whatever it is that you do. We must leave this place now so I can return to my halls. If I cannot draw entertainment from you, I will seek to make my time with such dullards short."

As the others set about gathering themselves, I examined the letter. The envelope was trimmed with gold and bore a heavy wax seal, the heraldry of the Artoss embossed within it. The central feature was a two-headed feline, one head belonging to an innocent-looking house cat that licked a paw, the other to a snarling Gloom Tiger.

There was no name printed on the front. It just read Son of Gwendolyn. That relaxed me; it didn’t name me, didn’t claim me as an Artoss. It recognised the one connection I actually valued. Some manner of glamour clearly activated as I broke the seal, and I spotted runes built into the wax. Opening it up, I found letters flowing in reddish ink on the pale paper.

"I hope this message reaches you safely and Mercury hasn't been overly taxing. First, ignore anything he's said that might contradict this; he has been tasked with keeping you and those you travel with safe and reporting your location to me. Be wary of him, and do what you can to avoid engaging with him.

Your family has failed you and your mother. It is a failure that we will never be able to make up, yet I am dedicated to doing what I can to make some form of amends. Mercury nor I will force you to do anything. You will not be held hostage as you were. However, there are things I must tell you. Others have their eye on you, including the Chox. We shall meet, we shall talk, and I will demand nothing beyond that.

Finally, I've heard of your achievements, and know that I am deeply proud, as I know your mother would be too.

Your Uncle Pel."

I could hardly process the words. They didn’t feel real. I read it again and then called over Sephy.

"Your thoughts."

"The ink is infused with powdered iron, and the seal is proof against tampering. I think this is legitimate." She looked over the paper with a practised eye.

"You think he really just wants to talk?"

"He’s known to be trying to set things right. He’s powerful and dangerous. The Artoss as a whole have been stirring up all kinds of trouble across Euross. I imagine he’ll want you to come visit his holdings, and I don’t like that bit about the Chox—you aren’t still engaged, are you?"

"I can’t be! I mean, it was a sham. They’re the ones saying Regus is dead. Besides, isn’t it till death do us part? I’m twice removed at this point." I paused. "By the Sidhe, they are totally going to hold this over my head somehow, aren’t they?"

"If you were a lone actor? Maybe. But if you had the Artoss backing you? Then I doubt they’d push it. Look, you’re going to have to speak to him no matter what. We can talk about strategy until then."

"I’d like that." I smiled; Sephy’s company was a silver lining that outshone the gloomy cloud it contained.

I turned to see the others lined up, ready to move out. Mercury lazed on one of the holly bushes, which had formed itself into a throne for him.

"Besides, I think my family would be more understanding if you had a title," I heard Sephy muttering behind me.

"What was that?" I snapped my head around. She grinned but didn’t answer.

"Shall we go? You have an appointment to keep." Mercury whispered in my ear, and it took everything I had not to jump. He scowled at me for ruining his fun. He took a couple of steps to stand before us and then clapped his hands together. "'Tis time to return you to your weak realm of iron and order. Try to stay still."

We nodded, unsure of what was to come. The fae whistled. It was a noise unlike anything else: the howl of storms, the whistle of wind on chimneys, the hiss of sands, and the roar of waves whipped into foam. The air became heavy with glamour, so dense and complex it made me choke. I felt no wind, yet from the forest descended a squall of giant autumn leaves dancing in a gale. Thousands of them surrounded us, wrapping around us. Gring and Archimedes panicked first. I lost my cool when one wrapped round my throat, and I sought to tear at it but couldn’t move. I heard Mercury’s laughter.

A leaf came at my face, then all was black and silence.