Last Lord of the Fey (Progression Fantasy)

"What do you mean?" Onyx asked as he clomped down with a hoof onto the dirt. "They killed some of ours."

"We killed some of theirs," Tristan replied. "We just need to stop their Realm Protector from trying to graft more of the Fey Realm so The Matriarch can seal us off once more." He glanced at Bertram. "Why don't you explain the idea behind it."

"My pleasure." Bertram hefted his sword on his shoulder. "A dragon finds a cave. A cave with something inside it. That dragon won't go in, ripping and tearing. Instead, it prods. It provokes. It tries to get the thing to come out. If it cannot, then there are two options. Smoke them out with whatever spell type at their disposal, or go in." He gestured to the trees. "Notice something about the sky?"

Felicity looked up, and dropped her invisibility. "No light. It's pitch black."

"Exactly," Tristan said. "Who said that every realm progresses the same when it comes to innovation? If they never needed light sources, they would never invent fire." He pointed to the now blasted battlefield. "This is proof enough, for me. Why would a Realm Protector knowingly create species that have such a potent weakness?"

"Tristan just challenged them," Onyx said. "He made a statement."

"Correct," Tristan replied, happy that others were catching on. "Their whole realm has these trees. I could, Hells, anyone could just throw a torch into the forest and reduce this whole place to ashes. With that one spell, I just showed any of their scouts left behind to monitor us that we can destroy them utterly."

"They're forced to come and face the threat," Betram replied. "Just like smoking a creature out of a cave." He looked at Tristan and raised an appraising eyebrow. "Have you been employing dragon tactics in every fight?"

"Just the ones that are large scale conflicts," Tristan replied. "It works well enough – they can fight armies on their own. Why not employ their skillset? Plus, it's not like we were students of warfare."

"Fair enough." Bertram walked through the wooden gates, but Tristan stayed put.

Felicity spoke. "What are we waiting for?"

"Their response." Tristan wasn't waiting for long, as not thirty seconds passed before one of the inhabitants of The Witchwood emerged from the tree line, removed arrows from their quiver, and stabbed them down into the blackened loam before retreating. "I would bet they are saying "don't cross this line and we won't cross it." It is a risk, giving them time to plan. But, a risk worth taking if we can avoid wholesale destruction."

"Couldn't their Realm Protector just change the realm like you did? Remove the flammability?"

"Realm Protectors cannot do what I can, for some reason. I can always use smoke elementalism while in the Fey Realm, and send it through the rift in an endless stream. Literally smoke them out. The same with water elementalism. That would avoid even more bloodshed." He turned to the gate and went through it. Spriggan lowered the massive, wooden door behind him.

Krik was rapidly setting up the staging ground that led back into the Fey Realm. The remnants of the Daylight Dell had been turned into an adamant wood fortress; clearly demarcating the split between claimed land and what was theirs. The enormous spriggan still covered the far end of the ravine, and the one up above had stayed put. The Matriarch shouted down from above. "How goes it?"

"We're trying a new tactic," Tristan shouted back. He turned to Krik and addressed the Warmaster. "Keep building up the gates and front wall—"

"Lord Tristan!" one of the fairy dragons atop the new fortification shouted. "There's people gathering on the field!"

"Onyx, back through the gate. We will attempt to speak to them." He wheeled around with Onyx and went back through the gates; raised just enough to allow him through.

The tree line was filled with the inhabitants of The Witchwood, all of whom had weapons that were not pointed at Tristan or raised to fire. He rode out halfway between the fortification and the tree line. He kept his sword lowered at his side, but still in his hand. Raising his voice, he spoke first in Elvish, and then cycled through all of the languages he was fluent in. "I am Tristan Winterbloom! Lord of the Fey Realm! You grafted a sealed part of my realm. I would speak with your leader to avoid further bloodshed."

As he cycled to Dragon's Tongue, there was chatter among the inhabitants. One of their number; a tall, lanky woman covered in the leather-wood plates and holding a massive staff tipped with bladed leaves, rode forward from the tree line atop a sinuous, bark-covered serpent that left behind a crimson trail of sap. She stopped a hundred feet away from him. "You speak the tongue of the invaders. We killed them, too."

"I am fluent in many languages," Tristan shouted back. "I can destroy your realm if I desire, through fire and smoke." He kept the flooding with water elementalism to himself, not wanting to reveal every possible win condition at his disposal. He also felt something in his chest. A weird tingling sensation.

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"I am the Realm Protector, Oma'yasha. Firstborn of the Coven. You speak with the voice of yours?"

"I rule the Fey Realm," Tristan replied. "I am above the Realm Protector in authority."

She hissed, and her tongue flickered out – a serpentine tongue with a fork in the tip. "Then if you die, your realm falters and is ours for the taking."

Tristan allowed his helmet to recede and smiled. "I'd like to avoid excessive bloodshed. My proposal is that we duel. One on one. Your champion against me."

"You seek to graft and enslave us by only killing one of us?"

"No." Tristan replied, his smile vanishing. "I want you to stop trying to graft the Fey Realm, that I may have my Realm Protector cut us off from one another. If my champion wins, you cease your efforts and let us excise your incursion. If your champion wins, well, I will be dead, and without me, the Fey Realm will be far easier to invade."

She turned away from him. "I will discuss with my heritage's leaders." She rode her weird, wood serpent into the tree line.

Felicity grabbed Tristan's chin and shook him, speaking in Elvish. "Are you crazy? You're going to fight them one on one?"

"I beat Zeltana in practice fights in my inner world, with restrictions. She was stronger than a Realm Protector. Hell, my grandfather, without a bloodline or essence-weaving, killed a fucking arch dragon. I'll be fine." Tristan made sure to smile fondly. "I'll always survive to come back to you. Now . . . go tell my forces to be ready to rescue me if things look dire."

Felicity cocked her head sideways. "You're not going to honor your word?"

"If there is one thing I have learned from my time in the Fey Realm, it's that Elves and the species there are natural tricksters. Hells, I'm the one who proposed that we put a fairy dragon "brother" of mine into a sham marriage with an empress." He poked her forehead with his fingertip. "You should've seen this coming."

Felicity cackled. "Oh yeah, you're being tricky. I like it! As long as you don't trick me."

"Just a prank or two. Now, go tell them." She lifted off, and Tristan leaned over to whisper to Onyx. "When their champion comes forth, if they accept, you are going to be close. Within a hundred feet. If I fall, and it looks like I am about to die, you intervene. Protect me, and then rescue me."

"I will do so."

Tristan looked up as Oma'yasha returned. She dismounted about two-hundred feet away and approached on foot until she was fifty feet away. She spoke in Dragon's Tongue. "I accept your challenge and terms."

Tristan dismounted, Onyx rode back and waited, and the lord of the Fey Realm turned to face the Realm Protector of The Witchwood. "Terms of engagement?"

"None." She raised her staff, and Tristan willed his helmet to re-emerge. She began speaking in some language Tristan couldn't understand, but was disharmonious and high-pitched. The familiar feeling of a hex falling on him caused nausea.

But, he spun his crucible and activated one of the scales on his cloak for Good Luck, and another for Stolen Fortune. The nausea instantly vanished, and he saw a faint, near-imperceptible silver mist wrap and coil around Oma'yasha's neck. Her eyes went wide with fury, and Tristan grinned under his helm. He ran forward, and she twirled her bladed staff as she waited for the inevitable clash.

Tristan took measure of his crucible's remaining capacity. Over half left. He reactivated Elemental Imbuement – Multi on his sword, igniting the weapon with ice and lightning. He retrieved his new dagger and ignited it with the same artificed spell; instead choosing fire and lightning. Chopping down with the sword, the bladed staff of the Realm Protector darted up to block. At the same time, she pushed forward to meet his strike, bringing the bottom of the quarterstaff toward his inner thigh. Tristan deftly blocked with the dagger.

Then, she exploded with a purple light. Tristan felt that nausea come on even stronger than before, and he took a step back. Wish I had found a hex dragon and drunk its blood. Enchantment spells probably won't work, but it's worth trying. He activated a scale on the cloak for the First Order Command spell, and shouted, "Kneel!" but the Realm Protector remained standing. Figured as much.

She unleashed a terrifying combination of attacks that, in his nauseated and off-balance state, Tristan struggled to keep up with. The staff battered him, some of the leaves carved gaps into his armor, and he felt lethargy sweep through him as some weapon enhancing spell inflicted him with another hex. He slowed even further, and she took advantage of that opening to try and go in for a devastating strike.

But, that was a feint. He spun his crucible full-speed and his natural, fortune-capable essence gushed through his body and wiped away all of the permeating hexes. He met her blow with the sword, and stabbed deep into her stomach with the dagger; sending a blaze of flame into her torso as lightning coursed through her body. She let out a scream and staggered backward.

But Tristan wasn't about to let up. He pushed the assault, stabbing with the dagger, chopping with the blade, doing everything he could to try and take her down. She was no match for him in martial might, and she threw more hexes upon him as purple waves washed across his body. Yet he remained unaffected thanks to his crucible's innate ties to fortune – the counter to all hexes.

Oma'yasha let out a scream of hatred, and waves of sound elementalism battered at Tristan, sending him skidding back across the baked and scorched earth. He lost all sense of hearing as his heightened senses were overwhelmed. A massive headache set in, and he directed some of the essence flow to his belt holding Cure Wounds. Two uses were enough to fix his ears, and then he could hear her chanting voice.

Her body shifted and distorted, growing in size until she resembled something Tristan was very familiar with. He grinned as he saw her transform into a serpentine dragon. Very similar to the demon dragon he had fought, but instead of hide she had black, wooden-panel-like scales. Deep purple skin surged beneath the wood, and she sprouted two enormous wings. Oddly enough, she did not have any claws, but the reason for that quickly became apparent. Trees from the forest behind her flew to cover her in a titanic coat of wooden armor, oozing the crimson sap. Those same trees, with their broad branches and leaves, covered her entire body like a porcupine made of razors.

That tingling tickle in his chest from their first meeting erupted into a full-blown hunt-urge. Tristan felt the saliva running out of the corner of his mouth as he saw prey before him. A dragon. An arch dragon. The ruler of the realm. Prey like what his grandfather had slain with his adventuring party. The thrumming of his heart in his chest was like a war drum, urging him on to fight.

Oma'yasha let out a shriek then spoke in Dragon's Tongue. "You will die here!"

Tristan let out a laugh. A new type of dragon. A new spell type. Spell type resistance. Everything he could have asked for. He shouted, filled with confidence. "I am a dragonslayer, and you will just be another I consume."