Thank you for being patient for this next chapter. I had a lot of fun writing it.

And sorry for the slow plot buildup - the real action should start next chapter.

(Reviews help me update faster.)

Trouble cleared his throat nervously. He hated being unsure, but considering their current situation, he had no choice but to depend on the Commander's final say. He really did have no idea what to do. No one had ever taught them how to deal with some crazy boy genius back at the Academy. "Errrhm…so, where to next, Commander?"

Once again, the boy had them cornered.

Root cocked an eyebrow. "Where was it you said, Mud Boy? Murmansk?"

The boy nodded. "We should really start moving, unless you want to wait for my mother to return."

Mother? "What about your mother?" Trouble asked. Admittedly, they had not given much thought about the Mud Boy's parents. But Trouble supposed he had to come from somewhere...Although the theory that the Mud Boy was not really an living human at all but actually a robot made by aliens from outer space didn't seem too far-fetched at this point. Maybe the large one was some sort of intergalactic troll. Just because fairies lived underground didn't mean that they never dreamed about unidentified flying objects in the sky.

All right, maybe that was just Trouble Kelp, but still...

"Oh, nothing. I suppose I was partially lying about the troll, because she was the main person involved in incapacitating it," the boy said with a smirk.

D'Arvit.

So this kid had a crazy badass mother as well as an inhumanely tall bodyguard? This was not fair.

Commander Root was fuming. "I suppose we should get moving, then."

Holly, on the other hand, was shocked. But she refused to let go of this. How could Commander Root and Captain Kelp just agree like that?

"What if this is just all another big lie? We don't even know who you are!" she pointed out.

The Mud Boy stared at her. Was it just her, or did he have a terrible habit of staring at people? Because whatever it was, it was creepy. He had those type of eyes that just bored into you. If there was some sort of contest for staring, he would win, hands down. In fact, he'd probably sweep the even. A gold medal for one eye and a silver medal for the other.

"I will tell you when I see fit," the Mud Boy hissed. "If you help me rescue my father, I will let you go, return the (probably fake) blueprints and some of your confiscated equipment, and pretend that this never happened."

(It was quite unfortunate that Holly was too angry to notice the little loophole - that the boy had simply said some, not all, of the confiscated equipment.)

She glared at him. The blueprints were useless – Foaly had told her that. But the freedom of Commander Root and Captain Kelp was just as important – and the Mud Boy probably knew about their plot anyway.

"Will you keep the People a secret?" she asked suspiciously.

His chin went up indignantly. "I have no reason to divulge this information."

"And if there comes time for a reason, what will you do?" she snapped.

"What reason is there? Everything I know that the world doesn't is an advantage to me. I am a 'greedy Mud Man', surely you know that," he said mockingly, throwing the People's own quote back at them, earning an exasperated groan from Root, Trouble, and Foaly over the intercom.

"We still want insurance," Holly insisted. She had been on the job for long enough to know about people like that Mud Boy. "You have to give us a secret in exchange – a big enough secret that we will keep to ensure you keep your end of the bargain. After what you've done, or tried to do at least, how can we trust you?"

"Fair enough. But I can't tell you – I must show you, when we get to Murmansk. Time is of essence," he said. "We must move now; every second we spend in foolish conversation is another second my father is freezing in the arctic. Shall we make this deal?"

And for the first time in centuries, a fairy and a human shook hands.

Albeit tentatively.

Very, very tentatively.

Artemis felt that he was sacrificing a bit much on his part of the agreement – but anything to get the fairies to cooperate with finding his father.

Then again, the fairies had also been extremely helpful, even donating some of their other equipment. He would have to research the moon belt and the cam-foil later. Even though there were spells that could pretty much accomplish the same thing, it was still helpful, especially in the case when he couldn't use magic, or when magic was useless against a greater enemy. Hopefully he wouldn't experience any of that anytime soon.

He had to admit, he definitely could not do this on his own. If they were Death Eaters from another age, then he would have to be extremely careful. If it was just the Mafiya (which he doubted) then things would be slightly easier, but not by much.

There was a slight twinge of…what was it? Remorse? in his heart, but he brushed it aside. Everything was for his father. He could always keep up his studies another time. Now, there was no need for much more thinking. Artemis buried his head in his hands, and tried his best to construct a plan, any type of plan, that would be useful when they would confront their enemies.

In the currently turbulent state of his mind (When had he sunk so low to have allowed something as simple as shock consume his mind? He had always regarded these disorders to be for those of weaker mentality…), however, he could draw nothing but blanks.

Calm yourself. You are a genius. Think clearly and don't let your mind wander.

Not that saying so to himself helped. Artemis tried his best to think, but he kept running in circles, ending back up at his family…and Father.

His mother would probably be home by now…how would she react if she saw that he was missing? As was Butler? What if he was killed in this pursuit and never got a chance to tell her good-bye?

No, no Artemis! Don't think about idiotic "what ifs." If you actually think of a PLAN instead, then none of what you fear may happen will happen.

"How are you feeling, sir?" Butler asked. Quite conveniently, the man knew the signs of when his mind was acting up well enough to distract him.

They were currently aboard a fairy vessel heading to Murmansk with Commander Root, Captain Kelp, and Captain Short. After more screeching from Foaly the centaur, they LEP had finally relented and allowed Artemis and Butler access. Artemis took note of the technology and structure of the lava craft. It was quite ingenious, actually – shaped aerodynamically like a tear, it operated on subterranean energy alone.

Fairy technology was quite useful when one was not yet old enough to Apparate.

Back to Butler's question. "A bit stressed, but otherwise reasonably well," he answered truthfully, but choosing his words wisely to appease his somewhat overly protective bodyguard nonetheless.

If all went well, their group of five (plus the disembodied presence of the centaur technician, whose voice was accompanying them as central backup and advice) would arrive in Murmansk by nightfall. It was the full moon, too.

Everything was simple thus far – they would disembark, in a rather isolated area, where the fairies could perform their Ritual. Then, they would look for his father, rescue him, and bring him back to Ireland. Afterwards, he would return the blueprints and whatever else it was that he promised.

It was a foolproof outline, really – the middle part about finding and rescuing his father needed some more detail and fine adjustment, but otherwise…

The real question was when he would tell the People about the wizards. He had promised them insurance against their secret, and they would potentially be going up against magical humans anyway. They would be useless if they were caught unaware. And besides, Artemis felt that he didn't have the heart to cheat them for some reason. He had the potential to break his part of the agreement, and yet his conscience would not let him. The People did not break their promises – and their promise was to rescue his father.

It was his father. All of it, for him.

Besides, the fairies weren't exactly that terrible.

"Hey, Mud Boy. I've got a question," Captain Kelp yelled.

Insulting, maybe, but not terrible.

"Yes?" the Mud Boy said.

Trouble Kelp was still rather miffed at being captured by this brat and being forced to go on a rescue mission in Russia, of all places. He would have gone anywhere else, but Murmansk?

Five things he hated about Murmansk:

1. It was cold.

2. It was cold.

3. There was radiation everywhere. That meant that the fairies couldn't shield properly, even if they could complete their Ritual (the Mud Brat had promised them that they could complete their Ritual once they disembarked - obviously, for him: he "needed" them to be at full potential for his plans to work, but there was nothing like using your own magic) because the radiation suits got in the way.

4. The Mud Brat's father was there.

5. Repeat numbers 1 and 2.

Speaking of number 4…

"Your father, Mud Boy. Is he anything like you?" Trouble Kelp asked sullenly.

The Mud Boy looked a bit surprised. Point for him, then. Trouble whooped silently on the inside.

"That's a strange question. Why do you ask?" the Mud Boy said in return, cautiously.

"Well, you're no friend to the People," Trouble challenged. "What if he turns up just like you? What if he wants to destroy us and steal our things too?"

It took the Mud Boy forever to answer.

He finally choked out, "My father is a noble man. The idea of harming another creature would be…repugnant to him. He was a p- was born into high status, but was always fair to those of…lesser station…even though it meant isolation and disdain from his social class as well."

What was he about to call his father, anyway? Trouble noticed that he was about to say "p" something, but bit his lip right after, seeming a bit angry at himself for that slip of tongue. He didn't press, though, because there were more important things to discuss at hand.

"Yeah?" Trouble asked. "So what happened to you, Mud Boy?"

Again, he is silent for an unusually long time.

"If you are talking about what I just did…it was a mistake on my part. I never meant for you to be in any danger – I suppose I underestimated what the People would do to get you out – I was simply threatening to keep you imprisoned indefinitely to get the blueprints that I wanted. I was going to use them to save my father – but I guess it's useless now, huh?"

Was this actually sincerity from the Mud Brat? Trouble decided to save his judgment for later.

"What's so special about these Mud Men that you actually have to steal fairy technology to defeat? Can't you just hire some sort of hit team – or whatever it is that you Mud Men do?"

The boy sighed. "Not exactly. I am not sure about the nature of the organization that kidnapped by father – and I thought to be better safe than sorry."

"Why is your father even stuck there in the first place?"

"I don't know the full details." With that, the Mud Boy looked angry and quickly turned away.

Trouble knew that the Mud Boy knew more than he was letting on, but he decided to drop the matter for the time being. It wasn't as if the Mud Boy was going to say any more than he just did – in fact, he probably showed more sincerity in that one conversation than he had for however long he had lived up until this point.

As for his father...well, considering how this kid had been raised, he probably wasn't any better. The kid just didn't want to believe it. But that wasn't Trouble Kelp's problem. It wasn't his job to get in the way of some crazy genius Mud Brat's delusions.

Trouble observed the Mud Boy carefully. There was no doubt that he was still very young - even for a Mud Man. His age would have been more obvious, if it hadn't been for the permanently thoughtful - no, not thoughtful; more like devious or plotting - look in his eyes. His eyes had dark circles underneath them from staying up too late - most likely because he was busy making more of his evil plans. And when he wasn't smiling creepily his lips were locked in a perpetual frown.

The boy looked more like an old, grouchy, middle-aged corporate executive stuck in a child's body than an actual child his age.

Speaking of which...

"How old are you, anyway?" Trouble finally broke the silence, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He seemed uncomfortable answering, again. Finally, he muttered something under his breath. " 'h tern elf n set 'mr."

"What was that, Mud Boy?" Commander Root asked.

"I said, I turn twelve in September."

Twelve. That Mud Boy was twelve – no, not even. It was still summer.

The kid was still eleven.

Eleven!

That was an infant, even for Mud Men. All right, maybe not, but he was still a lot younger than expected. Trouble had been pushing for maybe a teenager. Or a young adult. A very short one, but then again, it wasn't as if the fairies could judge.

"They're starting younger and younger each time," the commander growled under his breath.