Alfred was getting more and more annoyed. Firstly, his wrist was starting to hurt.

"I am going to try something," Yao had told him not long after they had entered the city. He looked around for a few seconds before his face brightened in discovery. "Look over there," he said, and pointed to a first-story townhouse window.

Alfred looked as he was told and was met with the sight of a particularly large pair of sewing shears on the windowsill. Abruptly, he jumped back, a curse exploding from his mouth. His muscles contracted as if his true form was making sure it was hidden.

Then, Yao seized his wrist and jabbed his thumb into a spot on the underside just below his hand.

"What are you trying to do?"

"There is a pressure point here," Yao explained. "It will help you relax and your energy to flow better."

"I'm fine," he argued. And slowly, his little retort became accurate. He turned his eyes back to the shears, but the anxiety associated with them seemed muted and distant. Of course, he still didn't want to go near them.

"Did you see and feel where I was pressing? That is not the only pair of scissors in this city. If you see some, press in that spot and try to relax. Don't react to what you see. Count backwards from ten and breathe."

The scissors really were everywhere. Alfred spotted them on windowsills, on nightstands, hanging from door frames, on the belts of the city guards, and in the hands of girls sewing on balconies. He could hear them faintly snipping. Each time, he speedily averted his gaze and pressed on his wrist. He pressed until he could feel the constricted veins pumping and his hand tingled with numbness. True, he felt much less anxious, but it was getting too repetitive. After an hour, his hand was throbbing.

Francis was not helping. There seemed to be a deeply yet carelessly stifled fear in him about confronting Alfred's discomfort. He never once said anything even furtive about you-know-what. His position, as he saw it, was to proudly lead Alfred and Yao around the city, talking endlessly about the people, the flowers, the buildings, the history, et cetera. Alfred thought he was starting to sound a bit vain about how much he loved the place. He was certainly tossing his platinum hair a lot more often and moving suavely through the sights and sounds.

"Hey, Francy," he interrupted in the middle of Francis' statistics pertaining to single women in bistros, "do you think it's gonna get less cloudy?"

Francis cocked an eyebrow. He looked up into the sky. "I don't believe so. It's not the warmest today, but I don't think the clouds will leave us anytime soon."

"Do you think it'll be sunnier soon?"

"Why are you interested?"

Alfred sidled up to Francis and cupped a hand around his mouth. "Do you know what I mean by 'sunny weather?' It's…" he looked around wildly. "It means it's okay to talk about you-know-what." He pointed down to Francis' hip where his own scissors were hanging. Yao had taken the scissors Alfred held earlier and put them in his pocket so the handles peeked out.

Francis seemed peeved. "It will not get sunny while we are here," he said warningly. Though he realized that Alfred's hand was trembling and pulled the two others quickly in between two apartment buildings. "Are you feeling all right? Is it too much for you?" His countenance lost all of his suave nature, and he looked genuinely concerned for once that morning.

"Nothing's too much for me. I wanna find our guys and know what they're planning. I don't wanna rest until we do."

"What do you need to talk about, then?" Francis asked. "I wish I could control this city, but the wards are in place for a reason. You're the only… good you-know-what I've ever met."

"I'm not a perfect angel. But is there somewhere where there aren't so many wards?"

"The center of town did not have so many when I was here last," Yao offered. "Near the fountain."

"Ah, the fountain. I do need to show you two the fountain. A magnifique place for spreading love and beauty."

"That sounds perfect. Another thing. Is there food near this fountain?"

"You aren't thinking of stealing, are you?" Yao snapped.

"Of course not. Why'd I do that when everyone in this city's crazy paranoid? I saw a baby carriage with nails in it. Right where the baby could roll over and hurt herself. Geez, do these people think someone like me is going to swoop in and take their kids while they're out on the street in broad daylight?"

Francis thrust his hand over Alfred's mouth. "Don't speak anymore. You have said too much, and it will protect you to keep these thoughts to yourself. Please, Alfred."

"I'm just saying it's stupid. They think I'm stupid."

Francis refused to listen, and Alfred stewed in fresh anxiety and annoyance when he brought them down street after street talking about this or that. To the changeling, it was all tedious trivia, and he was much too distracted to listen intently. The heavenly scent of food made his stomach groan. He eyed fresh bread and rich cheese and creamy sweet pastries. Crêpes were popular this time of day, filled with fruit and drizzled with chocolate and sugary glaze.

"I'm getting really hungry," he complained aloud when Francis finished up a speech about the headquarters for the Élan Company, where he used to work.

"We would sail all the way to the Northern Wilds, and then we would have to portage many hundreds of kilometers until we came to the forested, lake-filled Sunset Country, where Dinsmoor is. Alfred, you know where that is."

"Yeah, the giant moose-people make good maple syrup. Something that would be really tasty right now, along with some other food. I need to put something in my face-hole. Let's get to this fountain or wherever." He pressed hard on his wrist as some guards strode by in unison. The two of them were armed with more than scissors. He could smell them. They had bad-smelling herbs in their pockets. Alfred drew back and bit down on the inside of his lip. He had woken that morning with fresh, swollen cuts there. No doubt he'd changed in his sleep. One of the guards eyed him skeptically before continuing.

"If you are so insistent," Francis said with a flourish of his hand, "we will go to the fountain. However, I believe if it is good food you are searching for, we really must go to Marie."

"Marie?"

Marie, as it turned out, was a patisserie situated a few streets down through yet more accursed residential area. Alfred fancied himself as a gentleman constantly clutching his wrist with the other hand. Yao told him to stop pressing so hard and so often. He removed his gloves, and the tingling hand was much paler in comparison to the other.

"Should I press on the other wrist?"

"It will not work as well," Yao said.

"Here, Alfred," Francis said as he gestured for his companion to enter the patisserie. "You can have anything you'd like."

Alfred took this to mean he could also have as much as he liked, and this led to the trio sitting on a nearby bench nearly half an hour later while he continued devouring cake with a wide smile. He bit into a large éclair and wiped filling from his lips. Alfred could easily feel his strength returning and his mood improving. With renewed confidence, he started pondering his quarry. It was possible that Feliciano let his guard down here in the city because of the salt ring. Maybe he danced around with his wings and person and quest clearly visible.

"Is that who I think it is?" Came a woman's voice. Alfred turned upward to see a girl about his apparent age standing behind the bench and looking down at Sir Francis. Her golden hair was almost curly and held out of her face by a bright green ribbon. There were lines in her face from smiling, but at this time, her expression was nearly the opposite. She looked worried and almost relieved to find whom she was looking for. Alfred saw the apprehension in her forest-green eyes. She clutched the back of the bench with manicured hands. She was not expecting an answer.

"Lady Emma, bonjour," Francis said. He stood up and took her hand to kiss. She looked at him with greater relief.

"Sir Francis, I have been waiting for you to return here."

"I heard of your plight, Lady Emma. You have been attacked again."

"Yes!" She exclaimed with fervor. "I almost had a hen stolen, and so many eggs taken! And I saw the creature. It was hideous. Like a scrawny white goblin with these hollow black eyes." She held her fingers up to mime just how large the creature's eyes were. "And razor-sharp teeth that were crooked in some places. Sir Francis, I demand extra attention to my bakery in the north. People come from miles away to taste my waffles, and my hens, my precious hens don't deserve this. You are a man of love and kindness, Sir Francis. Surely, you must not stand for this." Then, somewhat snidely, she said, "I was thinking of reporting you for negligence the last time you failed to provide proper attention."

"I'm going to… take a walk," Alfred said, though Francis did not seem to notice. He carried his last slice of cake with him as he walked away from the bench, taking maw-sized bites out of the warm moistness.

It wasn't that he felt sorry for Lady Emma. He really did. He hated to hear that a dark creature was making life hard for someone. It stained and tarnished his kind's reputation even further. Changelings stole children. They tore families apart. They made people feel sad and stupid.

No, what bothered Alfred was that he had lived like the "scrawny white goblin" had. He had felt that way once, a very long time ago. He had become so desperate and hungry and weak that irrational thought and instinct took over.

There were two. One was very happy and laughed, and the other one cried. The one who cried was very beautiful, but the one who laughed was also beautiful because he looked just like the one who cried. And the one who cried had to...

"No!" Alfred forced as he ground through the crust of the bread. "I'm not thinking about that right now. I'm a hero, and my mission is to find Feliciano and the dog-man and that spirit dude, not to make myself feel terrible. Come on, Alfie, pull yourself together." He bit hungrily into the last bit of cake and wiped its chocolatey crumbs from his hands. His quarry had to be around here somewhere, and the first place he thought of to look was that fountain.

"What were the clues again?" Kiku asked as the trio approached the fountain. Feliciano had bought a canvas earlier, and he had brought paints from his home in Allegria. He was going to find the prettiest girl he saw and paint a picture of her. He just hoped she wouldn't be hard to find, as many of the girls he'd already seen were very, very beautiful.

With this question, Feliciano was taken back to a time and place where he could only remember happiness. He was very young, five or six, and he was sitting on the fountain. No, he wasn't sitting on the fountain. He was sitting on his grandfather's leg, and his grandfather was sitting on the fountain.

Roma guided Feliciano's hand as he held a paintbrush. The brush glided over the canvas, leaving a streak of color in its wake. It went from blank and white to a picture full of life and emotion. The picture was of a woman. Its model sat in a chair not too far away from where the tiny fairy and his grandpa sat. She held her head high, and her eyes twinkled.

"Smile, per favore." Feliciano said in his squeaky voice.

The woman blushed, but she brought the corners of her lips up, and Feliciano studied her intently before dipping his brush in the paint again and bringing it up to paint the subject's lips all by himself. They were a rosy color, and he made them plump but soft. Kissable. His grandpa liked to kiss pretty ladies. He hoped he could kiss one someday, too.

Another memory floated by. Feliciano and Roma were walking in the vineyard of Roma Villa. Feliciano was furtively picking grapes and eating them or stuffing them into the folds of his toga. His little wings fluttered as he tried to keep up with his grandpa's long strides. The sun was just rising, and the little fairy was still tired. He didn't think he'd ever get used to waking up early, or getting up at all for that matter. Sleep was fantastico. His brother agreed.

"I wanted to get you up early to tell you something, Feliciano," Roma said. His voice was the most musical voice he'd ever heard, and Feliciano knew he'd inherited his ability to sing. Sometimes, as he was slowly discovering, his singing could do more than just make people happy.

"What is it, Nonno?"

"I've hidden a treasure for you. A fantastic treasure. A treasure beyond your wildest imagination. Powerful and magical."

"You have? Where is it?"

"You have to find it. I won't tell you where it is." Roma smiled, and his eyes crinkled mischievously. His wings were a bright scarlet flecked with gold. They were torn in many places, so he couldn't fly very well anymore, but Feliciano thought they were still very pretty.

"Can you give me some clues?"

Roma nodded. He bent down to the boy's level so amber-gold eyes met a deep honey-brown.

"My treasure is something you will find if you follow your heart. Be strong in what you believe in. I've hidden it in a place that is very special to you, near a place where you do one of your favorite things. Where you do something you love."

"I love a lot of different things. It sounds hard," the little fairy said. His face twisted in concern.

"It won't be so hard if you believe in magic."

"But I do believe in magic."

"Then find it," Roma said. "If you can find magic, and you can desire for yourself what your heart desires, then you'll find my treasure. You'll know when you've found it. You know where it is." He rustled his fingers through Feliciano's auburn hair and straightened the laurel branch clip. The boy was even more confused, and even now as an adult, he still didn't entirely know what his grandfather had meant.

"Find magic. Desire what my heart desires. Be strong in what I believe." Feliciano told Kiku. "It's near a place where I do one of my favorite things and in a place that is special to me."

"So you believe painting will help you find it?" Ludwig asked.

"It's a good place to start. I did like painting here a lot, and I remember painting with Grandpa so vividly. I guess I desire to paint really beautiful pictures. There's nothing magic about it, though." He set up his easel near the fountain and dabbed paint around on a wooden pallet with his brush. His skilled fingers moved with years of practice and devotion to art. "Now I just need to find someone to paint. I hope a really pretty lady comes soon. I'd really like to paint a really pretty lady. Hey, she's pretty. Look over there!"

The lady in question was kissing another man, so Ludwig dismissed this prospect.

Feliciano put his pallet down and stood. He walked around and tried to find the perfect subject. Normally, there was something that just jumped out at him. He would think to himself immediately that a pretty face in real life would be much prettier on a canvas hanging on a wall. He flitted his wings and looked from young lady to young lady, from minx to chit, from model to waitress to seamstress. His eyes darted all over the place, and yet he couldn't decide who to paint.

"Hey, are you a painter?"

Feliciano looked. It was a very handsome yet dorky young man with eyes as blue as the midsummer sky behind his glasses.

"Ehm, yes, I'm a painter. I'm looking for someone to paint. A pretty lady."

The man's eyes sparkled. "Well, I'm no pretty lady, but you can paint me if you want. What's your name? I'm Alf—Alphonse. Alphonse of Scintillatia."

"Scintillatia? You do sound foreign. I'm Feliciano of the House of Roma in Allegria. Nice to meet you, Alphonse. Hm, you know, I really haven't painted a man in a while. I could use a bit of practice. Come over to the fountain and I'll get some more colors ready. I really like your eyes. They remind me of taking a siesta on a bright sunny day."

"Descriptive," Alphonse said.

"Ah, thanks. It's just my artistic talent."

"I like your wings. I wish I could fly."

Feliciano looked at the man's rounded ears. "Ah, you're human. Flying is super fun, but it does take a bit of practice before you can be good at it."

"I believe you."

"Hey! Hey, Doggie! I found who I'm going to paint." Feliciano led the man back to the fountain where Ludwig and Kiku were sitting. Kiku had turned invisible, so his only presence was marked by his voice and a faint shimmering in the air so his location could be seen.

"I thought you said you were going to paint a woman," Ludwig said.

"Yes, but I also haven't painted a man in a while, and he's okay with me painting him."

"Friends of yours?" Alphonse asked.

"Yeah, this is Doggie, and that's… well, you can't see him, but his name is Kiku."

"Great to meet you, Doggie. That's a wonderful nickname you've got there. I'm Alphonse." Alphonse grinned brightly and offered his hand. Ludwig shook it, but his face had turned pink from the compliment.

Feliciano took a chair from a nearby café and set it up near the fountain. He offered it to his subject, and the subject sat. Alphonse eyed the painter up and down before clutching his wrist and wincing.

"Are you hurt?" The fairy asked.

"No. My wrist's been bugging me lately. It's nothing."

Feliciano furrowed his brow. The man's eyes were downcast, and he kept squeezing his thumb into his wrist. "Let it have some blood. It will feel better if you don't squeeze it so much."

Alphonse's eyes snapped up. "Oh, sorry, bad habit. Now, let's get to painting."

He started with simple wide strokes to cover the canvas in a base coat. He'd decided to use blue to complement his subject's eyes. He covered the canvas in in a blanket of blue, and when it dried, he made small, light lines with a tiny brush and started painting the face and shoulders of the subject before him. Alphonse, unfortunately, was not the best at sitting still. He kept jerking around, and his eyes wandered to different people. He started pressing forcibly on his wrist every so often, and after pressing for about a minute, he would return his gaze respectfully to the painter.

At last, Feliciano got to finishing the tiny details. He painted the sun's light glinting off the subject's golden hair and the cheerful sparkle in those youthful eyes and the little chip in his left ear that held a strange air of mystery. Feliciano smiled wider and wider as he compared his painting with the real man. Ludwig watched him intently over his shoulder. He finished with the littlest strokes. Just dots of light and shadow perfecting the overall mood of the piece. His subject hadn't held his pose throughout the painting, but Feliciano still managed to make him look confident and hopeful.

He took the smallest brush and signed his name in the lower corner. "There. I finished. You can come and see it now."

"You are? Hey, that's great!" The one called Alphonse came to have a look. When he saw the finished piece, he grinned and started laughing. "I love it! I love how strong I look."

"You seem to have an air of strength around you. You can't sit still for very long. I bet you'd rather be getting into some action," the fairy said. "I should leave it to dry for a few minutes, but then you can have it as a gift."

"Really? Thanks so much! You're an amazing artist. It didn't even take you that long."

"Grazie!"

"You can paint and sing," Ludwig noted.

Alphonse sat down on the fountain next to Feliciano. "You wouldn't mind if I joined you for a late lunch, would you? I haven't got much to do today. I'm just exploring the city. My brother and I are visiting family here in Amotoile, and I don't know the place too well."

Feliciano looked back at the young man. He was getting a little peckish. "Sì, I can show you a really nice place where we can visit. I know this city very well. Doesn't that sound nice, Doggie? Then we can learn about Scintillatia. I've never been there before. Is it really nice?"

"It's very nice," Alphonse replied. "I'll tell you all about it."

Too. Easy.

Ludwig seemed to be paying special attention to Alfred's character, but Feliciano completely trusted him. The fairy needn't call "Alphonse" a liar. All Alfred had to do was get friendly enough where Feliciano could reveal some interesting information. He'd already overheard the part about the clues Feliciano had to find the amulet. An idea dawned on Alfred. What if he found the amulet first? What if the Mercs had it in their possession? Then the dark wizard definitely wouldn't get it. However, there was a flaw. Feliciano wouldn't get it either, and if the Mercs gave it back to him, chances were, he'd give it right to the dog-man.

So the task was simple yet difficult. Convince Feliciano that Ludwig was lying to him and drill it forcefully into his head that it was a very bad thing to give him the amulet. The problem was getting Feliciano alone to talk about it and then making sure he would actually listen. Perhaps if he got drunk? That was an interesting idea, but then he wouldn't be in his right mind to understand.

"This is the place I used to love," Feliciano said. He pulled Alfred's wrist as they strode toward a bistro. Alfred jerked his wrist away quickly. There was a pair of gleaming scissors hanging from the door frame. He pressed down, and immediately his wrist started pulsing with pain. He didn't want to go into this place. He couldn't. There was danger in there. Those people didn't want him. They wanted to keep him out, and he was happy to stay out.

Stop, Alfred told himself. Stop it. It's not dangerous. You don't wanna swap with anyone in there. It's just freakin' scissors. He pictured Arthur's glare and heard his companion's voice. "You can't control yourself over a stupid pair of scissors!" Willing to prove Arthur wrong, Alfred plunged into the dangerous waters of the bistro straight after his new friend.

The scissors were just the beginning. Immediately after entering and sitting down, Alfred coughed. There was a noxious scent in the air. It was the same herbs the guards from earlier had been wearing. He looked to see a different set of guards all sitting around a table playing cards and sipping wine. They were completely oblivious to the stench. To them, the herbs probably smelled lovely. They probably welcomed a chance to wear cologne in their pockets to attract possible dates. There did seem to be a lot of people interested in that activity around this city. He must have seen at least a hundred couples holding hands.

"You look funny," Feliciano said. "Is something wrong?"

"No, sorry. It's just this thing with my wrist. It's been hurting a lot lately."

"Let me see it."

"Oh, um, it's really nothing you could cure. I have to drink a special medicine for it. It's made by fairies."

"Nonsense," Feliciano said. "Let me at least have a look. I'm a fairy, and I know some healing magic. Where does it hurt?"

Without much choice, Alfred offered his hand. Feliciano took it in his delicate hands and slipped off the glove. Alfred could see the scissors hanging at the fairy's waist and looked upward. Damn his irrational weakness. This was not a good city to pick the quarry's brains in.

Feliciano flexed Alfred's fingers and kneaded his wrist. He scrutinized the skin and veins closely. The spindly, soft fingers felt strange. Just a few nights ago, Alfred had possessed them. "I think your bad habit is making it hurt even more. You need to stop squeezing it. Then drink that medicine."

I know, I know, Alfred though annoyedly. Yao had told him the same thing. But Yao didn't know, and he couldn't tell Feliciano. No one could really understand how much it bothered him to see the scissors and iron nails everywhere. They thought it was just some joke. They couldn't understand the feeling of being almost physically pushed away from a place as if going near would cause inescapable terror. Alfred was a brave man, and the wards still gave him the heebie-jeebies. It was happening even now. The scent of the herbs was acting like a wall. It was enough to make his stomach churn. If he went near the guards, he would surely pass out from the poisonous fumes. He shivered to think how potent the smell would be if he had the heightened senses of his true form.

He started twitching in a matter of minutes. The scent wouldn't go away. It wasn't like getting used to the scent of a house. The herbs were intended to smell bad to him and remain in his psyche. So he would leave. So he wouldn't meddle. Alfred massaged his temples. Fresh air was what he needed. Fresh, heavenly, odorless oxygen.

"I think we should sit outside," he suddenly said.

"It's cold today," Ludwig said, cocking an eyebrow.

"It was cold this morning, but it's nicer now. I'm sure of it. Look, the sun's out." He pointed through the window at the shining sun peeking from behind a cloud. "Besides, it should be quieter out there, and I like watching the pigeons."

"Pigeons?" Feliciano said. He looked out the window. A large, blue-headed pigeon was strutting around just outside, pecking at bread crumbs. "Oh, lovely! We should sit outside, Doggie. I want to watch the pigeons too."

So they went to sit outside, and ate, and Alfred had to hold himself steady when the fresh air made him want to burst with joy. His head cleared, and he suddenly felt more alive than ever. Perhaps it was partly the result of the pressure point, and his energy was flowing nicely and effectively.

Alfred sat and admired the painting. He couldn't dare bring himself to be malevolent or untrustworthy to Feliciano now. The painting was fantastic at showing the strong lines of his face and the brightness of his eyes. It was a perfect likeness, and even though he would've preferred the man on the canvas to be a fairy, it was still the same handsome face he'd learned to love and live with. It was almost as if choosing Matthew to copy all those years ago was from a good taste in forms. Alfred furrowed his brow. He hadn't really chosen Matthew. Matthew was just the only one there. It was like fate had chosen Matthew. And fate couldn't have chosen a more striking model for his facade.

"You really like it?" The fairy asked.

"It's great. Thanks again."

"So, how far away is this 'Scintillatia?'" Ludwig asked.

"It's across the Great Sea. My brother and I came here on a ferry. I go to a school called Vernon Hall, and my brother's a timberman's apprentice. He does a lot of work up in the Northern Wilds, so I don't see him that often. It was his idea to come and visit our relatives here. We've been bonding. So, what are you here for? You two aren't from Amotoile."

"We're looking for a treasure," Feliciano said excitedly.

"Really?" Alfred feigned the same amount of excited interest.

"Sì! It's a magic amulet."

"A magic amulet that belonged to Feliciano's grandfather and he has inherited," Ludwig explained. His gaze was serious as he said it, as if warding off any possible interest in snatching another man's treasure.

"And that I'm giving to Doggie out of the goodness of my heart because I agreed," Feliciano said.

"I also remember Feliciano agreeing that he will give Doggie-san the amulet," came a disembodied voice. Alfred glanced around, and when he saw the faint distortion in the air near him, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Holy shit! Ghost!" Alfred scooted away from the table shaking. His exclamation brought an uncomfortable bout of attention, and the bustle of outdoor Amotoile hushed itself for a few seconds before continuing.

"Twice in a day," Ludwig murmured.

"I apologize," the shimmer said. "Please accept my apology. I did not know that you had a fear of spirits. However, you are never indebted to a dishonorable spirit, and so if you are not willing to accept at this time, that is also acceptable."

Alfred smiled nervously. "No need to get all fancy, dude. I accept. I was just a little startled by you. I forgot you were there. So anyway, where were we?" He brought his seat back to the table and looked to the fairy.

"We are here looking for a magic amulet that can grant wishes. It did belong to my Grandpa Roma, but I have decided and agreed to give the amulet to Doggie out of the goodness of my heart."

There was something peculiar about the way he said it. Alfred could tell. He peered into Feliciano's eyes. They seemed… dark and distant. Not his own. His voice was almost uncertain that he actually believed what he said. And he'd worded it the same way he had earlier. The fact that the spirit said something similar was uncanny.

Even so, Alfred still had to make himself play along. "Goodness of your heart? Hey, you're a really nice guy. I'd love it if someone wanted to give that kind of treasure to me. You must be really trusting friends."

Ludwig seemed taken aback. His icy eyes widened. "Yes. It's a transaction of trust. We are good friends, and it was a good agreement."

"Now we just have to figure out how to find it," Feliciano said.

"What does it look like?"

Feliciano stopped moving. "I never thought about that. What does it look like? What would Grandpa's amulet look like?"

"I've seen some magic amulets before. My brother has them in his collection," Ludwig said. "They're usually small and have some sort of edge around them made of a precious metal."

"Gold!" The fairy exclaimed. "Grandpa loved gold. Fairy gold."

"The wand does have a golden engraving it it. Perhaps the stone within the gold edging is a deep red to match the wand."

"Veh, that makes sense. We Allegrians wouldn't need the wand, but I still think if we did want to use it, it would have to match. Aesthetic is important."

"Where are you going to find fairy gold in Amotoile?" Alfred asked. "This place isn't that into fairies of any kind." I should know.

"The clues. The clues. Follow my heart. Desire what my heart desires. Have strength in what I believe. Find magic." Feliciano recited them again. He screwed up his face in contemplation. "I'm in a place that's special to me, and I'm doing what I love to do. What do the other parts have to do with it? They're so abstract."

"Well, I guess you loved painting this. And you desired that I be your subject to paint. And, um, you believed that it's a good painting and that you're a good painter…?"

"I desired to make a good painting, and I do believe that I am a good painter, but here's nothing magical about the painting. I mean, metaphorically, maybe, yes, but that wasn't Grandpa's style. He meant finding real magic."

"Your singing talent," Ludwig said. "That's real magic. Perhaps this thing you love to do isn't painting, but singing."

Feliciano thought about this for a moment. Then, he jumped up, and his wings shot up and started whizzing. "There's a magic song I know that Grandpa taught me. It makes lost things found! Maybe if I sing and I pour my heart into it and I desire the amulet, I'll be able to make the amulet appear! We have to go back to the fountain. That's the special place!"

"We must go there soon, then!"

"At sunset! We have to do it at sunset! That's my favorite time of day to sing! And that's when Grandpa would sing to me!"

"At… sunset?" Alfred murmured. What he said louder was, "I'd love to come and watch you sing."

"You should come. I'll make it a public performance at the fountain.

"I'll make sure to come," Alfred said. "You bet your bucket I'll be there."