The sun beat down on the grassy plains, but here, at the edge of the forest, things were a bit more tolerable. More than adequate shade could be found beneath the towering branches of magnificent trees and refreshing breezes ruffled through their leaves. With all the greenery around, it was sometimes possible to forget that summer was still at its height.
Filanas du Arba, lately resident on the Isle of Fancy and now wandering as only bards are capable of wandering, leaned back with a sigh against the most comfortable tree that he could find. Yes, this was the life.
It was true that he was no longer exactly welcome in his homeland. Might be a few years before he could show his face in Quellini again, too. He even had caused a bit of a furor in the great city of Aversol the other week, quite by accident. I mean, who would have thought that the duchess carried a knife?
And so he sat, his lyre resting at his side while he lost himself in thought. Things never were as bad as they seemed. He’d spend some time in the small towns and their charming taverns, cooling his heels while the angry parents and spouses and fiancés gave up on the idea of thrashing him. He was still young; there were many years yet for him to build his legend, write a few songs, seduce a few rich nobles...
Hopefully not the ones with knife-wielding chaperones. That was a lesson he’d learnt through personal experience, along with “nekos will do anything if you scratch their ears just right” and “if you encounter dark elves, just fucking run.”
Not everyone took quite such a carefree attitude towards these matters. Filanas thought it was a damned shame.
This really was a comfortable little clearing. Filanas stretched out, yawning languorously...then, suddenly alert, sat upright.
He wasn’t a woodsman of any particular experience, but he was pretty sure that he was being watched.
“Hello?” One hand reached out to touch his lyre. Whether he meant to secure its safety or use it as a makeshift club, even he couldn’t tell. “Is anyone there?”
Even the birds went quiet for a second. Then there was a rustle from a stand of trees just across from him.
“You know,” the stranger said, “I don’t get many visitors.”
This was one of the fae, Filanas knew, that were peculiar to this forest. The iridescent wings said as much. While a skilled harpy might soar through the treetops with ease, everyone knew that the fae were blessed with an innate connection to the natural world. They swam through the trees, it was said, like a fish swims through water. True, some fae were dangerous. The people of the frozen north described creatures of horror, ice-monsters with fickle tempers and too many sharp edges that stalked the wastes. In these sunny lands, though?
“Human,” the fae said, “you’re in my forest.”
Filanas du Arba did some quick mental calculations. He had never not chosen the most outrageous path, and he wasn’t about to stop now.
“No,” he said, “I’m not.”
The fae blinked. “What?”
“I said, I’m not in your forest.” Filanas pointed an arm lazily back along the path. “The nearest village is just over there. This right here is new growth. The farmers come along and clear out all the small trees every decade or so, which lets the light in and promotes the forest’s overall health.” Fire was used sometimes, especially when new fields were being carved from the woods, but while it might enrich the soil nobody forgot that fire was a dangerous beast in its own right. By imperial decree, most of the forest clearances were done with handaxe and saw.
“You-”
“Actually,” Filanas said, “even if this were truly your forest, how would I know who you are?”
The fae glowered at him. “There are some who call me the Prince.”
“Ah, I did not know that you were highborn.” And, evidently, the Prince of a very marginal patch of forest. “Would you care to sit? I confess that I know little of the etiquette in these situations.”
“Typically,” the Prince said stiffly, “you would be expected to stand in my presence but I shall overlook this transgression.” He floated over on his gossamer wings and settled to the ground, just slightly too close for comfort. As a royal pretender, Filanas thought, the Prince was no doubt trying to intimidate him a little bit, cast a haughty eye over the uppity commoner, that sort of thing.
It didn’t work. For one thing, the Prince was, like most fae, of rather a more slight build than most humans. Even seated, he was about a head shorter than Filanas. Very few people are able to project dignity while glaring
up
at someone. For the Prince, who was already possessed of delicate features...
Well, Filanas actually found it kind of cute.
“So,” the Prince abruptly began, “what brings a lone human into my realm?”
Filanas shrugged, smiling. “I suppose it’s just nice, here. Easier to relax. I needed to get away from people for a little while.”
“And that gives you the right to invade another’s domains?” the Prince demanded.
“Oh, no, it most certainly does not,” Filanas said, placatingly. “I apologize for my misunderstanding. I simply was not aware that this little glade was part of your, uh, principality.”
The Prince humphed. “Well, that’s certainly not an excuse.” He looked over the human with hardly concealed disdain. “What sort of a human are you, then, to be so careless?”
Filanas bowed, or made a casual effort to do so while remaining comfortably seated. “My name is Filanas du Arba. I confess that sometimes I don’t pay attention to myself, such are my wanderings. Usually I’m thinking about the music that I play.” He also thought of other things, but this was not the time to describe his sexcapades. “You see, I am a bard.”
“A bard?” The fae’s eyes travelled down to where the well-worn lyre lay next to Filanas. His eyes widened. “Oh. Oh no.”
“Hm?” Filanas picked up his lyre. “I’m not the best in the world,” not yet, “but I think I’m a decent hand at this sort of thing.” He looked over at the Prince. “Would you like to hear me play?”
“W-wait!” The Prince’s hand had shot out, as if imploring him to stop. He was trembling slightly.
“Are you alright?”
“I, uh, yeah,” the lithe fae stammered, “I’m fine.”
Filanas stared for a moment, surprised by the Prince’s suddenly flustered expression. “Do you not want me to play?”
