Last Lord of the Fey (Progression Fantasy)

Tristan stood with arms crossed, watching as the dryads began to mingle with one another, speaking in quiet, calm voices.

Felicity spoke. "How long are we going to wait?" The moment the words left her mouth, every pair of eyes locked onto her. "C-r-e-e-p-y," she whispered.

Tristan cleared his throat. "Please speak among yourselves and decide upon one to present you as leader."

The different, smaller groups all conglomerated, and finally one dryad walked out of the cluster. "This one will serve. This one may be called Willow."

"I am Tristan Winterbloom, the lord of the Fey Realm and its ruler. Welcome to life. You are the dryads. Tell me what you know, and what your purpose is."

"Our purpose is to ward the edges of the Fey Realm. To provide calm, collected knowledge. Observe and report. Strike when necessary. We will be our own people under your control. Was this one's answer satisfactory?"

"Yes."

Felicity interrupted, "Why call yourself "this one" instead of just saying "my?""

"This one is but one of many," Willow replied. "Is it the wish of Lord Tristan to have this one speak in such a way?"

"You speak how you wish," Tristan replied. "I would ask you to sprout your wings and join me as we assemble the Fey Court. There is much to discuss."

"This mountain . . . it is ours?"

"The Sunlit Summit. Though, I imagine you will be along the edges of the realm." He glanced past Willow, to the others. "In pairs, at all times. Your task for the time being, once you are settled, is to begin probing for Lost Realms." He grinned. "And we'll make sure we have a party to celebrate your awakening."

Willow dipped her head, and her sister dryads grew glittering, flowery wings as they flew off in pairs toward the edges of the realm. Willow sprouted wings as well. "Ready to go, my lord."

Tristan manifested his own pair and flew toward the Queen's Wood. He flapped to gain enough height to run his hand along the underside of a cloud. He could push his hand through the wet surface, and then eventually his arm met a solid piece. This should stop any complaints about those people who don't want to live in the tree houses. We can build them houses up here. Best view around.

They landed at the base of the Queen's Wood, and conversation stopped as people turned to look at the new arrival. Tristan raised his voice, infusing it with the realm's power. "The dryads have reawakened. Fey Court, attend me in the chamber."

Krik had used essence-weaving to expand the table and add more chairs. Tristan sat at the head of the now-longer table, sipping from a mug of clearcool. He scanned across the participants in the meeting. Felicity was seated to his left, just a bit behind his chair in her Elfanoid form, with The Matriarch at his left-hand proper. Then Krik, Willow, and Prish at the far end of the table. To his right was Thallia, then Dorni, then Beatrice. At the back of the room, near the doors set further from Tristan given the expansion, were another set of chairs. Grandfather Hurvun was seated there, as was the very timid looking Rel'nasha.

"I call this Fey Court to order," Tristan said in Elvish. "Ambassador Rel'nasha, you understand me, yes?"

"I do, Lord Winterbloom."

Good. The changes to the realm have already taken hold in the newly grafted section. "First," Tristan said. "I feel that I should explain why I chose the course of action I did."

"Please, do," Hurvun said from the peanut gallery.

Tristan suppressed a smirk. "I do not want to be like my forebear. We are not genocidal maniacs, no offense to them."

None taken, Zeltana quipped.

"I did not wish to see a whole Heritage, and who-knows how many species, die. Their realm would be Lost—"

The Matriarch interrupted, and her voice was calm but filled with slight frustration. "After decades, perhaps. The decision was rash."

"Regardless, I made my choice." Tristan leaned forward and set his mug down. He tented his hands, resting his elbows on the table. "Now . . . I have a plan, and I want this council to provide input. Ambassador Rel'nasha, I would ask you to contribute when you desire." He cleared his throat. "My plan is to have the ambassador here experience all there is to experience of the Fey Realm and its culture. Then, in a week's time, we return her to her enclave, and rotate her out with another of their leadership group, The Coven. Ambassador, would you be willing to testify to your people the truth of your experience here as our guest?"

She stood up and spoke calmly, but there was a hint of curiosity to her voice. "I will be forthright about my experiences. I would ask some questions of my own if I may."

"Of course."

"How are you above your Realm Protector in status?"

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Tristan looked at The Matriarch, and she replied for him. "Well, little one, it is part of my very being. Originally, an Elf was the Realm Protector. She passed the mantle to me, and I have held the role faithfully ever since. However, the Winterbloom bloodline, Lord Tristan's bloodline, created us. And we are bound to the bloodline." She glanced at Tristan. "Logos has theorized that the relationship there is unique, but does not have enough information, as those are generally closely guarded secrets, and we do not have enough of a sample size to come to a conclusion."

Rel'nasha dipped her head respectfully. "Thank you. I had another question. You have other Heritages here that don't look like they belong."

Tristan replied to that. "I allow new arrivals to become permanent residents if they desire. The realm is open to The Mortal Realm, and an inter-realm marketplace, one week each Season. This provides a chance for applicants to be interviewed, and possibly accepted to reside here."

"What is the intent behind that?" the ambassador asked.

"This realm's bounties should not be isolated and locked away. This place . . . it can be a paradise. Through my will, it can be filled with bliss, wonder, whimsy, and delight." Tristan leaned back in his chair and felt Felicity's hand on his now unarmored arm. He reached over and squeezed gently with his right hand. "Any further questions may be directed to my Courtiers. But, for the moment, I would ask you to depart to your quarters." Tristan nodded to the fairy dragons who were perched just above the main set of doors. One of them flew down and opened the door, and the other led Rel'nasha out. Once the doors closed, the room erupted in conversation.

"That was well played," The Matriarch said.

"Can't believe a whole new Heritage was added to the Fey Realm, just like that," Dorni commented.

"They looked sickly. Do we need to heal her?" Prish asked.

Krik spoke in hushed tones with Willow, and she replied in kind. Tristan couldn't make out their words thanks to the other voices overlapping one another.

Thallia spoke, and her voice cut through the rest and quieted them. "Lord Tristan made a play for power. A reasonable one, given his moral stance and desires." She looked across the table at Willow. "I will set my emissary group to working on relations and, eventually, hopefully, integrating this new part of the realm more fully . . . You said your name is Willow."

"This one is named that," Willow replied.

"I would ask that you assign some of your fellow dryads to my emissary groups. Being able to realmwalk the group to and from their destinations will allow us to circumvent reliance on the inter-realm market.

"This one will convey your request to volunteers."

Thallia then looked at Tristan. "Outside of that little detail," she sat down. "I heard you wanted to plan a party?"

Tristan nodded and nodded his head to Felicity. "The court jester will be adopting a new role. Party planner." He looked over at Felicity and gave her a little kiss on the lips. "Go get things planned out," he whispered.

She was practically buzzing with excitement and shifted into her small, fairy dragon form before flying to the doors, yanking them open, and slamming them shut behind her in the rush.

"Having the fairy dragon plan a party?" Dorni grumbled out. "Seems foolhardy."

"You'll still be in charge of food and drink," Tristan replied.

Hurvun walked around the table and sat behind Tristan in Felicity's now-vacant chair. "You would've done your mother proud, son. Only having to kill a handful of defenders, and saving a whole realm?" He patted Tristan on the bicep. "Good for you."

"I also killed an arch dragon," Tristan replied.

"Bring me any blood?"

Tristan shook his head. "I didn't think of that . . . in fact I've never stored blood from my kills. It just never crossed my mind."

"In the haze of post-consumption? I don't blame you. But think about your grandfather every once in a while. If not me, then think about the little tyke of a nephew you'll have soon enough. Or maybe a future child of yours."

"He makes valid points," The Matriarch said. "Dorni, would you please prepare some vacuum-tight vials for Lord Tristan to use in the future?"

"We'll get on it." Dorni took out a small notepad and a pen, scribbling a note.

Tristan felt his cheeks go flush as he realized just how much blood he had wasted. Blood that could have been given to his grandfather, brother, future nephew, his own child if he decided to have one. "I apologize for my lack of foresight," Tristan muttered.

"Don't feel too bad," Hurvun said. "I only ever stored a vial of that arch-dragon's blood. And it wasn't even me that did that – it was that camp slut. She sold it to me for a fortune after the fact. "

"A camp what?" Prish asked.

Hurvun chuckled. "You're too innocent, Prish."

Tristan sighed and tried to push the crude language from his mind. "Now . . . we have the dryads. They can probe for Lost Realms we can graft. We were preparing to stage a fake invasion but very real offensive force. Now, we don't need to worry about going through another realm and taking a detour." He looked at Willow. "What is the requirement for realmwalking to a place you have not visited?"

"This one needs intimate knowledge of the destination."

Tristan nodded. "Thallia?"

"I have it handled." She stood up. "Come, Willow, I will explain everything you should need." Thallia then glanced at Tristan. "I do not believe I am needed when it comes to the actual planning of this faux war." She departed with Willow in tow.

Prish shook his mane. "I would say we hold off until this new enclave is fully incorporated."

"That could take a long time," Krik said, his rumbling voice echoing through the larger chamber.

"Holding off until we graft a Lost Realm or two would not be a bad idea," Prish replied.

The Matriarch nodded. "I agree."

"As do I," Dorni said.

Tristan stood up. "Very well. Tonight, we celebrate the creation and return of the dryads. Tomorrow, they set to work probing for Lost Realms that can be grafted." He glanced at The Matriarch. "The changes wrought by grafting – do those persist no matter where we go?"

"They do," she replied. "Speaking with animals from this recent Witchwood grafting, the spell type of rejuvenation, higher quality crafting, and disease immunity. The only things that do not leave are changes to the realm itself, such as being able to build upon clouds. You can't just build on clouds in The Mortal Realm, because the properties of clouds in this realm are what is affected." She frowned. "I do not think flight will work in other realms, as you worded that change to be while they are here."

"Then we will graft Lost Realms to empower our forces, while Thallia's emissary cohorts continue to coordinate the Demon Realm uprising and try to broker alliances and partial grafting with other realms." He looked over to Dorni. "As a show of good faith, I'd like you and the gnomes to make some gear that the Witchkin may use. Speak to the ambassador as to what would be appropriate, but I think it would be a solid gesture towards building rapport."

"I'll coordinate with her and Thallia." Dorni jotted more notes.

Tristan nodded. "Anything else?" Silence answered him. "Krik, I wanted to commend your work with coordinating the recent assault."

"It is my job, forest father."

"Still, it deserves to be lauded. Now, each to their tasks. I shall be on the top boughs until the party begins." Tristan left and headed up the central spire.