B4 – Chapter 19: Different perspectives

Within thirty minutes the Fey Court had assembled. Tristan sat at the head of the table, with Felicity perched atop his chair’s back, her long tail dangling down next to his head and occasionally flicking into his ear to his minor irritation. The Matriarch sat to his left, with Dorothy next to her, and Krik seated next along that side. Prish stood at the far end, the table’s length on that side accommodating his horse shape. To Tristan’s right was Thallia, then Dorni, and Grandfather Hurvun.

Thallia spoke once all had settled and the doors shut. “Lord Tristan has informed me of several developments…” she spent the next five minutes providing the same information Tristan had told her, but in a much more elegant and streamlined fashion. Tristan was quite impressed with her ability to take his somewhat scattered informing events and consolidate them in such a proficient manner. She concluded with, “…I believe it is prudent to consider our role in the affairs of other realms more closely. Hence this meeting.” She sat and glanced to Tristan.

He took that as a cue to speak, and cleared his throat before starting. “I do not want to overtly involve the Fey Realm in affairs of other realms. I don’t seek isolation, and I do not want to do what my forebear did. Zeltana was a warmonger – I will not be that.” He glanced across the table’s occupants. “Thallia has suggested that you all should have some input and provide some insight. I am here to listen. My mind is open, and my ears are keen.” He looked to The Matriarch. “You first.”

She put a hand to her chin and stared at the table for a few seconds, her face inscrutable. When she spoke, it was with a comforting, almost motherly tone. “You have done well thus far in your decision-making for the realm. My instinct is to trust your instincts. Finish your business in the Demon Realm, unseal the remainder of the Fey Realm, and attend to matters here at home. Better to not be involved with other realms outside of desired trade and relations. To that note, specifically, I’ve been . . . well, I have found a romantic interest with another Realm Protector.”

At that everyone perked up slightly in surprise, with Thallia exclaiming, “What?!” in an enthusiastic, gossip-monger way.

The Matriarch nodded. “I cannot leave this place, and those in my relative tier of power and longevity find difficulty in finding equal partners.” She grinned and looked at Tristan with a beaming face. “Logos and I have begun an excellent relationship.”

Tristan felt very happy for her, and put a hand on hers. “Good for you. But Realm Protectors cannot leave their realm.”

“True. But he and I have spent quite a long amount of time in my mind, as when I fall into deep thought or meditate near the astrologer’s glass, he can visit.” She smiled softly. “We have a close ally who guards the knowledge of all creatures. He has promised to warn me of threats to the Fey Realm, as long as it does not compromise his role and position.”

“Fortuitous,” Krik replied. “You have acquired the ultimate asset in intelligence gathering.”

The Matriarch leaned back in her chair and twiddled with her thumbs. “Anyways…that is beside the point. Pursuing relations with realms we want to grow closer to is going to be valuable. But I believe in isolation and a homeward focus, rather than getting involved in affairs elsewhere.” Her voice was calm and resolute, but there was an underlying sense of eagerness there.

“Thank you for your insight,” Tristan replied. “Dorothy? You’re next.”

The Sheepkin Demihuman rubbed her temples as if massaging away a headache. “I believe that we should foster relations as widely as possible. Make the Fey Realm a haven for the wayward, or those who have no place to belong. Strengthen who we are. To use an analogy, the species here in the Fey Realm are like several threads. But they are all the same hues. Other species, other heritages, they would bring other colors of thread into this place. We could weave a tapestry of creativity, ingenuity, and welcoming here. Again, using that analogy.” She lowered her hands and looked at Tristan with a soft gaze. “We should open wide the gates once the Demon Realm threat is dealt with.”

“I appreciate your openness,” Tristan said. But I really don’t agree with you. “Krik?” he asked.

The Spriggan warmaster stood up, clasped his hands behind his back as the wooden pauldrons built into his form creaked and groaned like boughs swaying in a heavy tempest. “Lord Tristan, I have pushed for a defensive strategy, and I still do. I am in agreement with The Matriarch. We should focus on fortifying our domain, and then slowly expand – only into Lost Realms as per your desires. Creation of new species can add to this “tapestry” to use Dorothy’s analogy.” He dipped his head to the Sheepkin who was tiny compared to his massive bulk. “If necessary, though, our forces must stand ready to sally forth and destroy those who might threaten us.” He sat back down.

Tristan pondered the last of what he said. There is a possibility that future threats will arise, and we will need to go out and deal with them. But not as conquerors, never that. Peacekeepers, perhaps. He kept his lips taut and inclined his chin to Krik. “Your tactical mindset is much appreciated.” He shifted his gaze to Prish. “Your turn.”

The Unicorn huffed. “Cultural exposure is important if we are to prevent stagnation. The ground racing beneath our hooves- erm, sorry, feet for all of you. The wind blowing through our manes. Once the Demon Realm threat is dealt with, we should focus not on expansion, or isolation, but rather exploration. Let your groups of envoys with a small excursion force map out new places.” He nudged his head toward Krik, and then The Matriarch. “We gradually expand the Fey Realm by grafting Lost Realms.”

Tristan dipped his head in a slight bow. “Thank you for your part. Grandfather?”

Hurvun cleared his throat and spoke with his gruff voice. “You lot are talking about bigger picture. Tristan wanted advice on the more immediate affairs – this double crossing a Demon Lord to give the Mortal Realm and this Empire of Dorcelli a better chance at dominating everything.” He shifted his gaze to Tristan and their eyes locked. His tone was firm, and while not commanding, definitely reminded Tristan of his grandfather’s lessons. “A Demon consolidating control over The Mortal Realm through a proxy ruler means that eventually, maybe in millennia long after I’m in the ground, they will gain strength and unity enough to want to invade other realms. You don’t want to, son, I understand. But most rulers do not have your temperament. They are arrogant bastards through and through.”

He coughed for a moment, leaning forward, and Tristan almost made to get up and help him, but his grandfather instead grabbed a cup of clearcool and slurped it down. “Now,” he said wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I think that double-crossing a Demon is just fine. Make sure that this empress doesn’t have an eternal empire existing after her death. Every ruler dies given time, and her kingdoms will fracture and crack. When that happens, well, you need not fear the Mortal Realm being allied in purpose and unified in a conquest of all other realms. You want safety for the Fey Realm? Go forth with your plan. Warn this empress. I would say, in this whole Demon Realm business, you should try and set up a different Demon Lord as the new Realm Protector. Someone who is more like your temperament.”

Hurvun sat down and Tristan carefully pondered his words before replying. “I have only met two of the Demon Lords that rule the Houses thus far. Debera Dalphatroux seems like she would be willing to work with other realms, and Clova Parslile is out of the question. Philippe Tousles appears to have a soft spot for those of other heritages – he might be a better fit once I get the measure of him. I doubt that Stramal Alphinaud as a military-focused man would be like Krik, here, and focus on strengthening defenses.” He shifted his gaze over to Krik as he mentioned this, then brought his eyes back to his grandfather, who was staring back intently. “I won’t know how much pull I have in the whole process until the Demon King Duberceix lies dead. The Demon Houses will vote on a successor, or descend to infighting to determine the next ruler.”

Hurvun replied. “Why not let them?”

“The two Demon Houses that have military power are the most likely to take the throne in a full-on fight. I would normally say that the essence-weaver Parslile house would be in contest, but their numbers were decimated by what I saved them from. A military-focused Realm Protector? That will lead to conflict.” Tristan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. Letting go, he looked at Dorni. “Your thoughts?”

The Gnome, inscrutable and with a stony face, cracked a grin. “I am satisfied with what we are currently doing. The Seasonal market could use an increase in frequency. Other than that? Speaking specifically to this whole Demon Realm and warning this empress business? Just do what you plan on doing. Sounds reasonable to me. Plus, you can leverage your warning for favors.” He shrugged. “Not sure what type of favors would be of use…maybe get a bit of revenge on Bhant once her empire conquers it?”

The author’s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Tristan initially bristled at the idea. He was not a vengeful person by nature, and despite how the Kingdom of Bhant treated him once his heritage manifested, he did not have any ill will toward anyone there. Except for Gisele. His sister who pinned dozens of deaths on him. Thinking of her being cast down from nobility gave him a grim sense of delight and satisfaction. But she was with child and doubtless has given birth to them by now. They did nothing to wrong me. Hurting her would hurt them. And they are my nieces and nephews. If anything, I would want to expose her, and them, to the wonders of the Fey Realm. Try and convince Gisele to drop her bigotry. Maybe try and get things back toward how they were before I became a half-breed. When we got along. He had a lot of good memories where he, Bertram, and Gisele would play together. It wasn’t until his heritage came to the forefront that she shunned him, and he pranked her with Bertram as a way to get back at her.

“Thank you for your feedback,” Tristan said. “Thallia? You’re last. What say you?”

She looked somewhat exasperated as she looked at The Matriarch, then Krik, and finally Tristan. “The diplomatic corps of envoys you have put me in charge of have been making steady progress in diplomatic relations. I’m aligned with Dorothy; we should foster relations with other realms and be more open. One part I disagree with, however, is this idea of having Humans or Demihumans in charge of the Mortal Realm. Why should the Demon Realm get a claim through marriage?” She gestured to Tristan. “You’re the Lord of the Fey Realm. This Empress seeks to rule the whole Mortal Realm. If anything, you should be taking her hand in a diplomatic marriage. Tie together the power of the largest and most populous Realm with the whimsy and wonder of the Fey Realm. Make us strong. Strong enough that we will resist any attempt from another realm to curtail our power and reach.”

Felicity’s tail, dangling loosely next to Tristan with the occasional flick, curled around his ear in a near-possessive grip. “Hey! I told you, watery tart, Tristan’s mine!”

Thallia’s face grew taut and the lines of her lips dipped into a subtle frown. “Lord Tristan…I know you and Felicity are lovers…but consider it. An alliance cemented through marriage, and with a long-lived ruler at the helm. You don’t even have to live there! Just marry the empress, give her a child of your bloodline, and then provide logistical and military support while the child is advised by your chosen servants.”

Tristan wanted to curse at Thallia, stand up, and throw her out of the room. But he did not. Instead, he took in a deep breath and reached a hand up to scratch Felicity’s side. He could feel how tense she was under his hand, and he tried to convey through his touch that he would not go with Thallia’s plan. But, the more he thought on what the nymph said, and the words lingered in his ears, the more it made sense to him; seeming to tap into his base sense of altruism blended with the greed of the dragon crucibles that had slightly altered his drive. I could improve the lives of every single person across the Mortal Realm. If the Empire of Dorcelli ruled the whole world, they would fall apart once Empress Naomi dies. Fall to infighting. But with someone who has Elf heritage on the throne? That would ensure a long, prosperous line of rulers. A stable empire that could last for millennia, with a strong ally in the Fey Realm.