“Different? How?”
“Mayhaps you had trouble sleeping? If that was the case, and there was something about your suite that wasn’t to your liking—”
“No, it was the opposite, actually. It was good to have some time to myself, and I slept so deeply, it was like, one second it was dusk, the next it was dawn.” Ori yawned.
“Very well, then I can only hope your remaining stay is as restful.” Poppy smiled.
Ori was silent for a moment, unsure whether to agree or not. He had his goals, and so did they, but what was their timescale? Freya’s lifespan put a hard limit on the amount of rest Ori could indulge in. His time in this realm was limited, and every moment counted. He needed to stay focused, balancing the need for rest with the urgency of his mission.
“Actually, I’m planning to hit the books hard and learn the late Queen’s craft in a few days, if possible,” Ori said.
“Oh my… I would be very interested to see if your ‘hitting the books hard’ method of study can accomplish such a feat more effectively than the elven method,” Poppy said, her sly smile growing.
“You’ve got elven book magic that lets you learn stuff faster?” Ori asked, confused.
“Oh, I’m sure some High Elven scholar somewhere has that. I was simply referring to reading books, as opposed to hitting them.”
“Ha, and here I was under the impression handmaidens didn’t make jokes. Silly me.”
“Silly you indeed.” Poppy laughed.
Ori’s attention snagged on her bright red lips as she smiled at him over her shoulder. Her dancer’s grace was evident in the way her long brown hair bounced as it cascaded over pale skin, dotted with freckles that concentrated over a nose pierced by a silver nose ring. That air of normalcy, set against the stuffy formality around him, only sharpened her appeal, in the same way the girl next door’s charm often lay in her perceived attainability. A raised eyebrow reminded him he was staring.
“Sorry,” Ori chuckled. “What is a handmaiden anyway?” He accepted the barb and pressed on. “You’re not just a maid, are you? Or is it like you’re the handmaiden? A special title that means secret fixer or spymaster all rolled into one?”
Poppy giggled, then considered his question with a slight tilt of her head. “There are handmaidens known to have been as you say. Though for me, I’m mostly what you see.”
“Just exactly what a secret spymaster would say,” Ori prodded, comfortable enough to do so by her easygoing demeanour. On the surface, he was joking, but something about the fact she was Sovereign rank pushed him to find out more.
“Ha. If you say so.” She gave him a dubious glance just short of a full eye roll. “Like every heir, Mistress Anoriel, as she was known back then, was assigned a handmaiden. We’re often girls of the same age who grow up together and become playmates through childhood. While I was always destined to be her servant, taking turns serving one another through adolescence brought us up right, with mutual respect and trust.”
As she spoke, Poppy opened the door to the drafting room, its perpetually dusty, just-worked-in state unchanged since dusk. There was a lot to unpack, but Ori left the judgment and questions behind.
“Thanks,” Ori said as he walked inside. His eyes travelled across the room, unsure where to begin. “Sounds like you treat each other like sisters, more than a master-servant relationship?”
“That’s right. We know each other’s minds quite well, I should think.”
“But…” Ori began, then thought better of it. “Actually, it doesn’t matter.”
“Go on. I suspect I know what you’re about to say, and I promise not to take offence.”
“Well, it’s that you seem very different.”
“I talk funny, you mean?”
“No, she does,” Ori countered.
“She is who she is. A Queen. One who safeguards the hopes and security of billions. It’s a burden and responsibility I wouldn’t wish on anyone.” Poppy’s tone stayed calm, but her eyes hardened. “As her bridge between the common and the gentry, I have certain allowances in how I speak. Mistress doesn’t. However… It’s hard to explain. There’s a lot more to her, so much more. Her crafts, her song… If you could hear her sing, it’s free and full of yearning, hope, and beauty, equal to the highest bards of our race. I would not judge her too harshly on only what you’ve seen. It’s merely a glimpse of how special she is.”
It came out earnest and oddly defensive, despite her earlier promise not to take offence.
“I apologise if I offended.”
“I… you didn’t offend me.” Poppy’s jaw tightened. “I guess we didn’t make the finest impressions, did we?” Frustration crept into her voice.
“Honestly, I’ve had worse.” Ori laughed, though it came out strained as intrusive memories of his first true summoning clouded his thoughts.
Poppy’s expression went neutral, a million miles from her earlier levity, and it poured cold water over his remaining attempts to lighten the mood. “Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head. “You get that look my da used to get when he was faking his smile.” Her eyes softened, then she looked away. “That was inappropriate of me to say. I apologise for being so familiar.” Her tone turned formal and distant. “I was given instructions by Mistress Anoriel. She said Varma’s journals might be the best place to start.” Poppy gestured to four or five well-worn notebooks on the edge of the furthest shelf. “Would you be lunching here or in the tea room, sir?”
“Here, please, and just call me Ori.”
“Very well. Unless there is anything else, Ori, I will be just down the hall if you need anything.” With that, Poppy glided out of the room.
“Fuck’sake,” Ori sighed, scratching the back of his head.
He spent a few silent minutes brooding where he stood. He knew he shouldn’t have said it. Anything about the Queen would be sensitive to her handmaiden. By basically saying the Queen talked funny, it was no surprise Poppy had got defensive, especially given the likely circumstances of his summoning and her uncertain future.
Beyond that, though, was a surprising sense of loss. Had he liked her smile, their chemistry, those brief but pleasant interactions, so much that losing them felt like another hole? Was he just lonely and missing Sera? Or was he simply overwhelmed?
He exhaled and, with surprising effort, tore his mind away from the spiral.
“Not like I had time for drama anyway,” Ori said into the silence, overwhelmed and somewhat intimidated by the space. He took the pile of journals, sat in the armchair closest to the bookshelves, and began to read.
The first one was incomprehensible. The words were ones he could understand, but they were broken into lines that read like song or poetry, each stanza more esoteric than the last. Realising it must be an elven song journal, Ori tossed it back onto the desk as if it were on fire. He had no interest in even the chance of being lobotomised by elven song in written form.
The next journal seemed to be a continuation of another, and as Ori sorted them into the right order, three of the four remaining books appeared to be from Harriet’s grandmother, Queen Varma, while the last was from someone whose name he didn’t recognise.
‘Ugh, today was just dreadful. Mother insisted I spend the entire afternoon in her dusty old workshop. I swear, I’ve all but burned off all my nose hairs due to the fumes from the Aether and reagents. It’s a wonder Mother doesn’t reek of the stuff, given how ghastly it all is. Also, I mean? Who cares about the proper alignment of an aether-doped crystal, or the correct formula for this or that enchantment? It’s all so dull.
And then there’s the matter of the upcoming Midsummers. Should I not be selecting gowns, practising dance, and not cooped up in a workshop? How am I meant to catch the eye of the well-liked and well-endowed Regent of Thornswood?’
A.
Ori laughed in second-hand, scandalised embarrassment. Given the date and the references to a mother, he suspected this Arabella, the journal’s author, was Harriet’s mother, Queen Iris, with Arabella being one of her birth names. The language was different, and the intimacy of it made him want to put it aside as too private. But before he did, he skimmed for anything relevant.
‘Spirits. My mother is a complete witch. Had she started me on Hercher’s Split Mind technique from the start, and Gorren’s Introduction to Enchanting, most of this nonsense would have taken far less time. Months. Months I’ve wasted without the proper foundation. I still hate it, but this wandsmithing business is far less odious and wasteful than it was before…’
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
‘I’m starting to see some wisdom in Mother’s attempts at force-feeding me these lessons, though I’d rather die than admit that to her face. From the magic of our song, how and why Queens are named, and even the Library of Fate itself, I now see enchanting parallels across all of Fate. Gorren’s book was great. Ghista’s Advanced Lectures was even better, though I suspect I wouldn’t have appreciated one without the other.’
“Bingo.”
Ori silently thanked the notes left behind by the young, as then, princess and searched the bookshelves for the mentioned texts.
Minutes later, two large printed textbooks and a smaller scroll sat on the desk in front of him.
Gorren’s Introduction to Enchanting.
Advanced Lectures: Enchanting Techniques and Cyclics, by Ghista.
Hercher’s Split Mind Technique.
Ori began with Introduction to Enchanting.
‘Foreword from the Author: To the dedicated reader,
In this comprehensive volume, Introduction to Enchanting, I invite you to the complex and intensely rewarding realm of Enchanting. This book aims to provide a foundational understanding of the paracausal and material aspects necessary for becoming a journeyman enchanter, as well as providing a platform for future specialisation. As an author and Arch Enchanter myself, my goal is to offer a resource that covers both basic principles and the foundation for advanced techniques.
To put it simply, while the mundane and paracausal energies, along with their associated affinities, bring substance to Fate, enchantments are its engine. Through these hidden inspirations, we have forged a disciplined craft that involves imbuing physical items with these energies in a process that includes several key stages:
Shaping: The creation of the initial physical form of the item to be enchanted.
Infusion: The introduction of catalysts or reagents into the item in preparation for enchantment.
Inscribing: The application of intent via paracausal energies infused into spell language using specific mediums, like spirit ink or exotic metals.
Refinement: The removal of impurities from the item to enhance its magical receptiveness.
Quickening: Activating and stabilising the enchantments within the item by the investiture of paracausal energy and intent.
Naming: The bestowal of a name upon the artefact, which can greatly enhance power and reaffirm purpose.
Bonding: Establishing a connection between the artefact and its user or something greater, further enhancing its abilities and aligning it with the user’s essence.
Enchanting requires a deep understanding of both the physical materials and the paracausal elements involved. The skill and proficiency of the enchanter play a crucial role in determining the complexity and power of the enchantments that can be applied. The process is also governed by various limitations and risks, particularly when dealing with higher-level enchantments or more complex items.
We’ll start with an overview of Skill Ranks, detailing the progression from Apprentice to Prime, and the competencies required at each level.
Thereafter, a significant amount of this book will be devoted to the mechanics of enchanting, including shaping, infusion, enchantment application, refinement, and quickening. Each stage is essential, may occur in any order multiple times throughout the enchanting process, and requires a thorough understanding of thaumaturgical principles.
This book also addresses the limitations and risks in enchanting, and the challenges and dangers of this profession, especially with high-level enchantments and rare materials. Understanding these aspects is crucial for any practitioner.
Item classification, from Mortal to Transcendent, is discussed, providing insight into the power and complexity of potential enchantments. Additionally, the book explores the ethical considerations and personal, professional, and societal impacts of enchanting, emphasising the responsibility of enchanters in their craft and your personal development as a crafter…’
“Rar. Let’s go.” Ori was buzzing.
After reading just the first chapter, he felt as if this was exactly what he was looking for. In addition, what little knowledge Freya had on enchanting and magic seemed to reinforce his learning, forming a strange feedback loop that accelerated comprehension.
He continued reading, heedless of the rise and fall of the sun, until a knock at the door pulled him out of his fugue state.
“Come in!” Ori called.
To his surprise, instead of Poppy, Harriet entered in a flowing swirl of fabric. He froze. The harsh light of the drafting room did little to mar her shockingly intense beauty. Ori had previously attributed most of the stress he’d felt upon their initial encounter to the very real power disparity between them and his uncertainty. Although there was now familiarity and a promise of hospitality between them, those promises did little to slow his racing heart.
“Greetings, High Duelist. Or would you prefer to be addressed by another title?” Harriet said. She stood only a few paces into the room, hands together in a pensive clasp, as if used to holding a clutch bag or purse, Ori realised.
His eyes took her in, the wild navy-blue hair, the large, intensely blue eyes that seemed to shine and darken at once. She had a stunning face with a slight cleft in her chin. His gaze dipped to the vast cleavage of pale skin, the exposed shoulders draped in olive-green layers of overlapping lace and gold filigree, suspended by the thinnest spaghetti straps. He stood, mouth dry and suddenly embarrassed, only then realising how long he’d been staring.
“Ori is fine. And sorry, it was rude of me to stare.”
“On the contrary, Ori, it heartens me to know that tales of the effect our visage has on humans are not exaggerated.” Harriet smiled.
Ori decided against prying into that detail and refocused. “And you? Is Queen the best way to address you? Or would you prefer Your Majesty, or Your Highness?”
“In informal settings like this, please call me Harriet. May I sit down?”
“Of course.” Ori sat back down in the chair by the desk as Harriet took the armchair he’d used earlier. “I was half expecting to see Poppy for lunch. Did I upset her even worse than I thought?”
“It is not your fault. She told me what you discussed, and I felt the need to come in person to smooth things over. She bears you no ill feeling, quite the contrary. She’s upset with herself for reasons hard to articulate without song.”
“Alright,” Ori said, not understanding anything at all. He gestured at the books. “From what I’ve read so far, words are power and enchanting uses these words, or the roots of them, as a kind of lower-level language that’s closer to what the author calls the engines of Fate. Meanwhile, from what I understand, elven song is the opposite. It’s like a higher-level language used to better convey meaning. Anyway, that’s just my rudimentary understanding as of right now.” He cut himself off before he started rambling.
“No, your understanding is quite insightful,” Harriet said honestly, then sighed. “Poppy is special. While she appears Silvan, she is actually of mixed Moon Elf and Var’drow heritage. You may even have sensed her void affinity.”
Ori tilted his head. “Maybe?” He thought back to their introductions in the library.
“Yes. Well, the Var’drow are… different from most High Elves. More fae-like in spirit. While she does well to control those more temperamental aspects of herself normally, something about you is bringing them to the forefront.”
“Really? I mean, what does that mean exactly? Am I making her sick?”
“No. It’s nothing like that.” Harriet hesitated. “It’s… if I am to be honest with you, something within me is reacting to your presence, too.”
Ori’s heart jumped.
For a long moment, he couldn’t think, his mind awash with conflicting emotions. It wasn’t until he focused that his cold edge of survival let logic return. Why was she being so nice to him?
Memories of Mel’s seduction on the drizzly streets of south London brought a sick dread crawling over him, one he struggled to repress. His heart hardened, and reason returned to the same conclusion. She needed something from him, likely his unique affinity, and she was fishing. A large part of him wanted to simply show her his magic and be done with it, but it was too much risk for too little gain. He wanted more information on how they planned to use it, so he could be better prepared in future. He also needed time. So, despite how undeniably attractive the elven queen was, he’d promised himself not to play the hero until they explicitly asked him.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you told me what you were after?” Ori asked. His guard rose, his posture turning cagey.
Harriet leaned back, sensing the shift. Her eyes scrutinised him. “I can’t. Or more accurately, I will not.”
“Why?” Ori didn’t hide his disappointment.
“A better question would be, how should we bridge this impasse?” Harriet said smoothly.
“And how would you suggest we do that?”
“Build trust. Mutual rapport.”
“And you believe that when we can trust each other, you’ll be able to tell me how I can help you?” Ori asked, doubt creeping into his voice.
“It is my earnest hope that by such time we’d have already accomplished that much together,” Harriet said.
“So, just to be clear, you know how I could help you, but can’t tell me, for reasons you’re unwilling to say?”
“Indeed. I would add that attempting to learn the reason before trust is established would be detrimental to our relationship.”
“For reasons you’re also unwilling to say?”
“Yes.” Harriet’s voice sharpened. “Ori, please understand that I, at this moment in time, would rather die than reveal to you your purpose as a summons.”
Her eyes were hard, while a flush reddened the cleavage that rose and fell noticeably faster than before.
“So I don’t ask, you won’t tell. Not until we trust each other?”
“At the very least, yes.”
Ori’s posture collapsed as he exhaled, suddenly exhausted. “I can’t stay here indefinitely. There is someone I need to—”
“I understand. Whenever you feel you must leave, you may do so with my blessing.”
Ori shook his head at her fatalism, wondering if anything he could say or do would change her course. “And Poppy?” he asked.
“It will be difficult to reassign her, as…”
“No. I liked her company, and I’d like things to go back to how things were if possible.” Ori held up a hand. “If there’s a problem with her, or something. Is there anything I should do, or watch out for?”
“It’s not as if either of you are in danger. The conflict is more internal and emotional than anything else, and I’m not sure whether more exposure would help or hurt. My advice? Be understanding.”
“Alright,” Ori said after a long moment. “That I can do. Now, about the trust part. How do you see us building it?”
“Well, I suspect you’ll be spending most of your time in these workshops, yes?” Ori nodded. “After my duties, I’ll come and find you here, and we can… talk. Discuss our crafts, our histories, anything. The more we understand each other, I believe the stronger our trust will grow.”
The idea of spending time with the devastatingly beautiful elven queen in such an informal setting was both intriguing and daunting. He struggled to find anything wrong with the arrangement and, if he was honest, part of him simply wanted to enjoy her attention while peeling back the layers of this strange, enigmatic ruler.
“That sounds reasonable,” he said cautiously.
Harriet smiled, genuine warmth in her expression. “I’m glad you think so. And Ori, I want you to feel free to ask questions about our culture, our magic, anything that piques your curiosity. The only off-limits topic, for now, is the reason behind your summoning.”
“Fair enough. Do you have any questions you want to ask about me?”
“Far too many.” Her smile faded into something bright with curiosity. “But the most pressing question I have right now is, why enchanting? Why learn it here and now? I am the Queen of the Lunaesidhe. Very little is beyond my means, even artefacts of a similar or greater value. If I’m not mistaken, there’s more to this than it seems, and if you’re willing, I would know the story behind it.”
Would you like to see more character images?