Chapter 2 – Faery 2
Deep within the mountain of Nibelung, a red-haired fairy forged a sword.
On an anvil made of stone – out of the mountain heart itself – for no iron tools of mortal man could withstand the process.
With a fire that burned the very air –a ring of golden-red flames that had no fuel, bar the power of the fae that fed it– for no furnace could reach the temperatures needed.
His hammer struck the white-hot blade again and again, each strike releasing a shower of sparks. With each strike, the room's walls and ceiling –an interlocking array of metal plates– shifted and changed, the edges drawing inscrutable patterns.
The fairy paid it no heed. His blazing golden eyes focused on the blade. He didn't care for the heat, even when his clothes burned away on him, exposing his spotless skin. No fire could harm him in his forge. Not even the blade's heat, the white glow shining through between his fingers, as he held it in place.
He kept hammering, his technique flawless, honed to perfection, slightly changing the shape of the short sword.
But the more important part was invisible, even to fairy eyes. With each blow, he imbued meaning into the blade, a concept integral to every sword.
To sever. To cut. Through anything.
The purpose of every edged weapon, a simple yet unobtainable goal. But the fairy pressed on. He layered it countless times, each repetition empowering and imprinting the idea in the metal, changing it in a way few could even perceive.
He didn't know how long it took, lost in his work, but after another strike of his hammer, identical to any other, he knew the sword was ready.
The fae changed his Perspective, and the countless metal plates that made the walls of his forge folded on themselves and rushed into the white-hot weapon, a silent whirlwind of steel that somehow left even air undisturbed. When the last plate disappeared, the world shifted, and the short blade turned into a giant sword, long as the fairy was tall. The walls of the now much smaller forge again a rough rock.
Shirou blinked twice, focusing his thoughts. The ring of fire slowly dissipated with a quiet hiss as he stopped fueling it with his power.
He inspected his latest attempt at recreating Midjinior. From the outward appearance, it was a perfect replica, down to the tiniest of detail. But, as he learned over the years, that was the easiest part.
Midjinior was a relatively simple sword, as far as a fairy-made weapon ever was. With just an ability, to what would appear at first glance, cut through any defense with a single strike. But there was more to it. It could cut through armor but also magic and spiritual beings. Yet it wasn't the ultimate weapon. While it worked fine against material protections, when it cut magic in half, it didn't actually disturb it. So you could slash at a fireball, and instead of being hit with a destructive ball of flames, you would be hit with two halves of a still functional fireball. And while it could cut through any armor, it still acted like a simple sharp sword when it struck whatever that armor protected. In that regard, it was a failure, even if the effect itself was miraculous.
Shirou suspected that's what it indeed was. A failed attempt by Bihev at forging a sword that can cut anything. But a failed product of a master smith that practiced his craft for thousands of years was still something Shirou struggled to replicate, even after all these years.
And it was years now. Many, many years. Shirou lost count after the first century.
At first, he hoped to recreate Midjinior by using his magecraft. He knew it was theoretically possible. His father didn't teach him much, but even what little he knew should be enough. Back then, he already knew the first step: Structural Grasping, and the theory for the next ones.
After Structural Grasping came Reinforcement, the magecraft to enhance existing aspects of an object, even the caster himself. To strengthen it to the utmost limit. It relied on the previous step, as simply pumping more magical energy into something without understanding it or knowing where to put all that energy only resulted in a failure—usually an explosive one.
The third step was Alteration, a spell that changed an object's structure, reshaping it. It required the mastery of the previous two steps even to attempt.
Last came Projection, a magecraft that created objects out of pure magical energy. An empty shell filled with prana. But with enough information, with mastery of the preceding steps, it was possible to create objects almost indistinguishable from the originals.
Shirou hoped to go even beyond that. Create a fifth step, a magecraft that could create a perfect copy.
And he did. It took him a decade, but he managed to master all four steps. With his Magic Circuits replaced by Fairy Patterns, as he learned in time, his control over his magical energy improved drastically, as did his reserves. After another five years, he formed his original magecraft, Tracing. A spell derived from Projection, named after his Aria.
It relied on his ability to remember bladed weapons perfectly and was restricted to such, but it worked.
The problem was that he couldn't record Midjinior in his memory anymore.
Whatever Bihev did with that red gem back then robbed Shirou of that ability. Or, to be more precise, he couldn't record weapons he did not own. It still worked on his own creations but not on Bihev's. As he said that day, Shirou couldn't 'steal' from him anymore.
It took him years to even notice. At first, he didn't know what triggered that ability. Then, he focused on mastering his magecraft and developing Tracing. Only when he tried to actually use it on Midjinior he learned that little tidbit.
Just thinking about it still pissed him off. The less said about his state immediately after, the better. If not for Dienu and Tile, he would still be wallowing in self-pity.
After that failure, Shirou picked up the hammer. He may have failed to recreate Midjinior with his magecraft, but he didn't give up. He just had to forge that blade with his hands if his magic didn't work.
He learned the basics from other Dwarves in Nibelung. They didn't mind him snooping around and observing as they worked. Some even taught him a thing or two. It took him years, even if they claimed he had talent, to forge the simplest of swords, but he had no other option.
He tried sneaking away only once. He barely made it to the forest before Bihev was on him, appearing out of thin air and teleporting them both back. He cast a curse on Shirou after that, one that teleported him back to his forge if he strayed too far from Nibelung.
Sighing, Shirou took the sword and left his small forge. Despite his size, he carried the giant blade without issue, as fairies were surprisingly strong and sturdy.
He moved through his armory, just a storage space for his works, really. A vast cavern, much longer than it was wide, but still large enough for the far walls to disappear in the shadows. Tens of thousands of blades filled the space in every direction.
His earliest works were stacked on shelves and stands closest to his forge. Long ago, he would be embarrassed at how bad they were, but now, he just smiled. These ugly weapons were a testament to just how far he got. Each step was a journey through the history of his craft. After a few feet and hundreds of blades, he passed the first sword he was proud of. A simple longsword without any magical characteristics, simply the first one he managed to forge adequately. When he reached the middle of the armory, the weapons turned from fine tools of war into pieces of art, as it was the moment he started to utilize his Perspective, or Fairy Eyes, as it was commonly known, in his smithing. A few steps later, swords gave way to many different kinds of weapons, from spears to maces to daggers. Even bows. It was a period when he searched for inspiration, stuck at a bottleneck.
The second to last part, a good quarter of the room's length, was filled with weapons that radiated power. Some quite literally, as they shone with inner light or flickered with flames. This was when he truly fell in love with the craft. For a time, he forgot about Midjinior, Bihev, and the human world. He just spent time forging whatever new idea came to his mind, sometimes locked away in his forge for years. He forged weapon after weapon challenging himself, each one pushing his craft further until he hit his current limit.
No matter how much he struggled, he still couldn't forge a perfect replica of Midjinior. The last part of his armory was filled with the same blade, each with a different twist, hoping that this one was the one. So far, he has been unsuccessful.
Shirou left his personal part of the mountain and moved deeper through the winding passages shrouded in darkness, sometimes illuminated by streams of magma slowly flowing along the cavern walls, like veins of Nibelung itself. Seams of various ores and precious gems painted the walls in every color imaginable. Anything he could ever need in his forge was readily available.
A clamor of hammers striking steel reached him from the tunnel end.
He emerged on top of a long stairway, far above an enormous circular chamber, with a pillar of lava the size of a skyscraper in the center. The central part of Nibelung was so large that the ceiling was lost behind smoke and fumes from a hundred forges, like artificial clouds. The space was dotted with forges and smithies, some enclosed like small houses with smoking chimneys and others open to the air, just an anvil standing alone. A multitude of smaller streams of lava flowed from the central pillar to each one, creating a beautiful pattern visible only from where he stood.
Shirou admired the view for a moment before heading down the stairs that hugged the cavern wall. Getting closer, the myriad of Dwarves busying themselves between various workstations were easier to see.
Unlike Bihev, they looked more like he always imagined them. A stocky, short people with muscular arms wide as his chest and usually a thick beard. Some were different, more like Dienu, with skin like stone or iron. Some were not even Dwarves. Not every fairy that liked to work with metal and fire had to be one.
When he reached the ground floor, many of the dwarves greeted him. After centuries, he knew most of them.
"Another attempt, Master Avel? I hope you're successful this time." One said with a booming laugh.
"Ha! Don't worry if you're not, though. There's always another time." Said another.
And so it continued as he made his way towards Bihev's dwelling at the center of Nibelung.
It wasn't a secret that he was tasked with recreating Midjinior if he ever wanted to leave Nibelung, and many of the fairies found it amusing. At first, they called him 'Thief' or 'Thief of Blades' if they wanted to be fancy. Now, they called him 'Master Avel'. The same fairies he learned from in the beginning now considered him a master smith so far above their ability that only Bihev stood taller. It was flattering, really, and while Shirou was aware enough to recognize his achievements, it was still a bit embarrassing hearing it from the same fairies that watched him forge his earliest works.
Shirou took a deep calming breath, inhaling the fume-filled atmosphere. Before him was a narrow basalt bridge over a magma lake, leading to a triangular opening that split the pillar of lava constantly falling on it. A gate to the Bihev's forge, a den of a Great Father, one of the greatest of the fae.
Shirou crossed the bridge without hesitation, as he did thousands of times by now, and entered the dark opening, leaving behind the sound of metal striking metal and the soft hiss of falling lava. The short corridor led to a spacious cavern filled with various tools and materials. Soon, he stood before the strongest fairy in Nibelung, the Great Father of the Forge … asleep and snoring louder than a defective motor engine.
Shirou sighed. The only thing that eclipsed Bihev's prowess in the forge was his laziness.
"Bihev! Wake up, you lazy fairy!" Shirou shouted, used to the situation.
It took a few tries to wake the giant up.
"Huh? What do you want, Avel? Did Dienu flood your forge again?" Bihev blinked owlishly at Shirou.
"No. You know why I'm always here for Bihev." Shirou replied, exasperated.
Shirou seldom visited him besides showing off his latest attempt at Midjinior, yet Bihev always managed to start the conversation with some ridiculous comment. It was no surprise that he and Dienu got along so well.
"Fine, fine. No need to be so angry. Now, show me that thing."
Shirou tossed the sword at the larger fairy, the dwarf catching it easily. The blade fit perfectly into his large hand. He inspected it closely, one finger tracing its entire length.
"Let's see. Hmm. Not bad, not bad at all."
It was far more than Shirou got at his first attempts: a single glance, a bark of a laugh, and a kick to the ass. Now, Bihev had to examine the blade carefully. Sometimes, he even added a word or two of advice.
But not this time, it would seem.
"But still wrong. Now shoo, shoo. I need my sleep," Bihev said, throwing the weapon back at Shirou and lying back on his stone bed, "And your clothes burned again, just so you know."
Shirou caught the blade, disappointed. He knew it was a long shot. His latest replicas were identical, just with a small random change in the hope that Bihev would accept it, as Shirou didn't know what he could even improve anymore.
He looked at his shirt and pants, and yes, as Bihev said, they turned into half-burned rags again.
"Damn it. I really need to craft myself some fire-resistant pants."
"Ah, another failure, I see."
With a single look at Shirou's grumpy expression, these were the words Tile greeted him with, an amused smile on her face.
"Unfortunately."
Shirou sat down on a raised root acting as a chair at a small table inside Tile's hut. His long-time friend put away her knitting needles, a gift from him, and conjured a ball of water above her hand. Soon, it started boiling, and the Aelf threw a fistful of dried leaves into it. When the water changed color to a clear amber, she let it pour into a pair of cups Shirou Projected in the meantime. The small space of Tile's house filled with the aroma of freshly brewed tea.
Shirou sipped the bitter, steaming beverage, his stress melting away.
"Better?" The blond fae asked.
"Yes, thanks, Tile."
"Good. I see you burned another set of clothing. Honestly, Avel, you need to figure something out about that, or you will end up helping me harvest the forest for thread more than you forge. I'm running out again."
"Sorry. And you're right. I do need to make myself some fire-resistant gear. Using Reinforcement on them doesn't cut it anymore. And I don't mind helping you. You know that."
She sighed, "I know, but you shouldn't let others take advantage of you, Avel."
"Come on, Tile, it's not that bad. At least I have someone to spar with if I gift them my weapons. And if I didn't share and teach my cooking, I wouldn't be drinking this tea now. See? It's a win, win."
Tile snorted, "Right, and how many fairies besides Aelfs actually have the patience to use that knowledge instead of just eating the ingredients? Besides, do you truly want to be known as 'Fairy of the Oven'?"
"… what?"
"Oh? You didn't know? Many think you are some sort of Brownie with your cooking and helping out anyone who asks."
"Is that why I keep finding food in my forge?"
Shirou grumbled under his nose, eliciting a laugh from Tile. The room fell into a comfortable silence, with only a warm breeze rustling the leaves in Tile's hut, a web of red ivy that crawled all over the walls.
The small child he met on his first day in Nibelung grew into a beautiful woman with long blonde hair in a thick braid, clothed in a simple yet intricately decorated dress. Most fairies were immortal, but Aelfs were not, even if their lifespan was measured in centuries.
The story went that long ago, a Sylph fell in love with a human, and from them, the first Aelfs were born. But human lives are short, and soon, the man died. The Sylph, struck with grief, followed after him, scattering her essence to the wind, leaving behind their offspring. Half-human and half-fae, unable to interact freely with mortal men and cursed to waste away in time.
How much of that was true, Shirou didn't know, but it wasn't unheard of for a human and a fairy to fall in love. He had never heard of such pairing producing children, but who knew. The rules of how fae were born were often … bizarre. Some sprung from literal rocks or rivers, while others appeared directly in Avalon or Faery. Sometimes, two fairies bonded together and produced a new fairy, although not in the way humans did. Then there were Aelfs, who did reproduce like humans, which shouldn't be possible, as fairies are nature spirits, so some of that story had to be true.
Shirou sighed again. Lately, he found himself doing so more often. His failed attempts at Midjinior and seeing Tile all grown up made him feel like he was wasting time. His old goal of returning to the human world was just an excuse to leave Nibelung by now. It's not like anyone he knew was even alive anymore there.
For all Nibelung was a peaceful place, it was also, well, boring. It may be his fae nature speaking, but after centuries of staying in the same place, he was becoming restless.
The village at the foot of the mountain didn't change much since he first arrived at Nibelung. The same hut-trees took most of the space, filled with the same fairies. Many left, and new ones arrived, but fairy society was relatively stagnant most of the time.
Sure, some things did change, Shirou admitted.
Closer to the mountain, several new houses appeared. However, that term was a little generous for what was basically a collection of boulders stacked haphazardly on each other, with a larger one acting as a roof. It was a result of a group of new fairies that arrived some decades back.
'Fairy Knights' they called themselves. A bunch of aggressive werewolf-like fairies armed with rusty swords and armor. Surprisingly, they arrived at Nibelung because of Shirou. It was his habit of gifting his blades and other crafts that gained their attention. For all Nibelung was known to be a home of a Great Father of the Forge and many Dwarven smiths, they jealously hoarded all their works deep inside their mountain, their 'sparkly rocks' as Dienu once said. In that regard, he was considered unusual, parting with his belongings so easily.
The prospect of getting their hands on his high-quality weapons was irresistible for fairies that used ancient, falling-apart equipment.
Shirou didn't mind. He gladly traded them some of his numerous works in exchange for training and an occasional spar, as most other fairies fought with magic or claws and fangs. It allowed him to actually use something he forged.
That's how Nibelung gained a semi-permanent population of 'knights'.
Shirou watched various fairies milling outside, going about their business, his head resting on his palm, the other hand tapping rhythmically on the wooden table.
"Tile, did you ever consider leaving Nibelung." He asked idly.
"Mhm. I did." She replied softly, still focused on her work.
"Really?"
"Is that so surprising? Mother left, with many of the older Aelfs, to see the human world at least once in their life, didn't they?"
"But you didn't."
"I did not, no. I was young then, a child still. I'm getting older, Avel, but I still enjoy my time here. I like to knit and sew, and many of my friends still live here, but it would be a lie to say I never thought of it. But not yet. Maybe in a hundred years."
Shirou hummed in acknowledgment.
A hundred years. For Shirou when he was still a human, it would have been an impossible amount of time to even imagine, yet Tile spoke of it like it was not that far away. And she was one of the shortest-lived fairies. Would he still be here in a hundred years? A thousand? … ten thousand?
Shirou dismissed those thoughts. Worrying about the far future would only make him depressed again.
Half an hour later, Tile finished her work and handed him a fresh set of clothes. Hopefully, he won't destroy them so quickly this time.
"Thanks, Tile."
"Sure, now let's go."
They left Tile's hut, each with a large weaved basket. Fairies didn't have a currency or need for trading, but when one fairy had something the other did, usually an exchange of favors was enough. Or murder. In the wilds of Faery, far from the influence of a Great Father or Mother, the more savage side of the fae often pierced through. Shirou never witnessed such, but then again, he lived all his life in Nibelung.
The Aelf house was one of the closest to the village edge, so it didn't take them long to reach the endless forest that surrounded it.
Despite Bihev's curse, Shirou could leave Nibelung for a short time. Not far, and he had to spend much of his power to suppress its effect, but it was possible.
They slowly made their way through the woods, traveling in a wide circle, never leaving the vicinity of the village. After a while, they turned back, and new growths appeared on the trees they had already passed by. Small branches with extremely long, grey leaves that pooled on the forest floor. Once they plucked them, the leaves split into numerous strings, connected together, creating a long string of thread.
Such was the nature of Faery.
Every fairy quite literally influenced the realm of the fae itself. What fae wished for, the Faery provided. From Tile's thread to the metal veins in the mountain itself. Even the very reason why Faery was so beautiful was because of that. Fairies wanted to live in a pretty place, so they did. It could only create things that were part of nature, so Shirou couldn't just walk up to a tree and grab an already-crafted weapon or shirt. Yet, his armory never ran out of space, expanding as he needed. Tile never had to worry about making her own thread.
Shirou and Tile filled their baskets as they backtracked. It was easy but time-consuming work. They had to clean and roll the tread into balls, one leaf at a time.
"What about you, Avel?" Tile asked, breaking the silence they were working in.
"What about me?"
"Do you want to leave Nibelung?"
"You know I'm cursed, Tile. Bihev will only let me go after I forge him that damned sword."
"Yet, here you are, outside of Nibelung."
"That's different and you know it. This far out, it barely even tugs at me. If I try going further, who knows how long I would last."
"Is it really? You're much stronger than you were when he cursed you. Both in power and skill. I don't believe you can't forge yourself something to break that curse or at least block its effect."
"…"
Shirou didn't respond right away. There was some truth to her words. Fairies grew in strength the longer they lived, their mystery accumulating, and Shirou was already powerful from the start. Whatever turned him into a fae granted him more power than most fairies had. It just took him a long time to learn to control it. Bihev was still much stronger than him and a better smith, true, but not to the degree that Shirou was powerless before him. Forging something to ward off the curse also wasn't outside his skill.
Could he leave? Maybe, with enough time and preparation. But the idea of giving up at reforging Midjinior, admitting defeat, grated on him more than his desire for freedom. Was it his pride as a smith? Or his fae nature? He wasn't sure.
"Most in your place would've left long ago, Avel," Tile continued when he didn't respond, "I don't know how you can stand it. Just thinking about being bound in place, told what to do, gives me shivers." She said with a shudder.
Shirou was about to reply when he noticed a strange scent, an odd magical signature. It smelled of stagnant water and mud. But not of gold. Not of fae.
He scanned the woods warily, receiving a questioning look from Tile. He had never before encountered beings that were not fairies in Faery, and he didn't like it now.
"Avel?" Tile asked, puzzled at his sudden change in demeanor.
Before he could voice his concerns, a sound of rustling bushes caused both their heads to snap in that direction, the forest filling with tension. They stared at the shaking shrub for what felt like hours before it stopped moving.
Slowly, Shirou started moving towards it when a loud crashing noise erupted behind him.
He whirled around just in time to see a couple of large beasts with glowing blue eyes jump out of the bushes. He didn't waste a moment calling on his power, flowing golden patterns flaring on his skin, from his hands all the way to his face.
"Trace on." He invoked his aria and Traced a shortsword while his power continued to churn, conjuring fae magic.
He lunged at the wolf-like beast right as it landed, giving it no time to dodge. A quick diagonal slash scored a shallow cut on the beast's neck as it barely managed to twist its head away. Going with the motion, Shirou pivoted in place, delivering a solid kick to the growling beast's side, sending it flying away.
Behind him, a curtain of golden-red flames stretched in a semicircle, reaching toward the creature, limiting the beast's options. It could attack him head-on or brave the fires.
He glanced at his friend, glad to see her unhurt. She slowly backed towards him, violent wind buffets keeping the other beast at range.
Shirou focused on his enemy, Tracing a pair of javelins, the weapons materializing with a flash of golden lightning, floating in midair.
He took a moment to analyze the creature.
It looked like a large wolf but covered in silverish scales and with a thick flat fish tail. It had a short and wide maw filled with needle-like teeth and jagged claws on its paws. Considering that he only managed to make a shallow cut, its hide must be incredibly durable.
The beast tensed, preparing for another jump. The moment its paws left the ground, Shirou fired both weapons, giving them a fast spin to pierce the creature's scales. Each one buried itself deep in the creature's chest in a splash of blood, driving out a wheezing yelp from its maw. With a single step to the side, Shirou slashed at the still airborne beast as it passed him, cutting open its soft underbelly. When the beast hit the ground behind him, motionless, he was already rushing to the other one.
Shirou prepared another salvo of javelins, but he didn't have the chance to unleash them. Once the other beast saw its dead partner, it bolted away, disappearing into the forest before Shirou could finish casting his magecraft.
"Tile, are you all right?" He asked once he was sure the beast wasn't hiding nearby.
"Y-Yes. What … what were those, Avel?" She asked, shaken by the experience.
"I don't know." He answered, face grim.
Tile and Shirou approached the dead beast cautiously. It appeared dead, but you never knew with magical beings. Shirou prodded it with his sword, ready to jump away at a moment's notice, but the creature was indeed dead, with holes in its chest and guts spilling out of its cut-open belly.
He dismissed the javelins and his sword, the weapons disappearing in a glitter of golden dust, his fire fizzling away.
"What should we do, Avel? Do you think it's … safe out here?"
"It … should be."
And that was the problem. From all he knew, Bihev's presence should grant protection and stability. That it didn't was … concerning. Shirou didn't even know outsiders could enter Faery. And this close to Nibelung too. He hoped they were the first ones to encounter these creatures.
"I will ask Bihev what's going on. Or maybe someone in the village will know something." He said and picked up the carcass.
On his way to the mountain, after escorting Tile to her house, Shirou gathered a lot of attention with the beast strung across his shoulders. Almost every fairy that saw him asked some questions. The 'Fairy Knights' especially. When he told them what had happened, they cursed themselves for missing the fight, and some ran off to find the other beast. Yet, none recognized the body. By the time he reached the mountain, a small crowd of curious fairies trailed behind him.
The impromptu procession continued into the mountain itself, joined by an occasional dwarf.
Shirou found Bihev outside of his forge for once. The giant fairy was waiting for him as if sensing that something was wrong. Shirou walked up to him, the rest of the fairies spreading in a semicircle, enjoying the spectacle.
"Avel, what did you bring me this time? This doesn't look like a sword."
Shirou threw the body before Bihev, the dwarf eyeing it curiously.
"That's what I want to know. A couple of these things attacked Tile and me right outside the village. It was fast and tough." Shirou pushed the best's head to the side with his foot, showing the shallow gash on its neck. "I cut it with one of my good swords, and that's all it did."
The murmur of the gathered fairies increased in volume. Shirou was a good fighter and swordsman, but few of the gathered fae knew that as he mostly trained with the 'knights'. What almost every fae in Nibelung did know, however, was his skill as a smith. It was a big deal if Shirou's 'good sword' didn't cut something.
"Hmm. This thing looks like a Makra. A small one."
"Makra?"
"A river monster. Despite what it looks like, it's actually a reptile that preys on humans, hiding under the river surface."
"What's it doing in Faery then?"
"Who knows, but probably looking for food. Aelfs are, after all, half-human, and monsters like that aren't known for their brains, so it's not like they have some sinister plan or something."
Shirou frowned. "But how did it get here, so close to Nibelung?"
Bihev smiled at Shirou in amusement.
"Avel, I know you are a young fairy, but you should know these things. Faery is a part of the Reverse Side of the World. Monsters like these flee the human world all the time. They can barely sustain themselves there now, so they run away. But monsters are still monsters. They hunger for human flesh, even when the Reverse sustains them. They tear a hole into Faery, where they can smell food and hunt like animals they are."
"So that's it? We just have to kill those things every few hundred years?"
"If you want to," Bihev said, disinterested. "The hole will last for some time, so more will come, I'm sure."
"Then do something about it! If I weren't there, Tile would be dead now." Shirou shouted. Bihev's apathetic approach to the whole situation annoyed him.
"Oho? And why should I care? Fairies die all the time, Avel. As long as those monsters don't disturb my forge, what is it to me?"
"You really don't care? At all? Fine! Then let me go. I will take care of it if you won't move your lazy ass."
"Ha! So it was about that, after all. You just want to weasel out of your debt!"
"No! And you damn well know it, Bihev." Shirou glared at the larger fairy.
Bihev knew Shirou hated standing by when he could help someone. He probably also suspected the same thing Tile did. That Shirou could break the curse in time and leave Nibelung if he wanted to. Now he was just using that knowledge to mess with him for his own amusement when Shirou was still at his mercy.
"So it would seem. Hmm. I know! Promise me to stay in your forge for ten years. Let this matter be, and I will lift the curse, let you go free afterward."
"…" Shirou only glared harder.
"No? That's a generous offer. You sure are difficult, Avel. How about this? You can leave, but, in ten years you will return, and stay for a decade more, forging Midjinior until I'm satisfied, no matter what. If you fail, the cycle will continue."
A wave of shocked gasps traveled through the crowd of surrounding fairies. There was nothing a fae hated more than having its freedom restrained, in any form. That Shirou would even consider that option was unthinkable to them, especially when he had the option to free himself.
"What will it be? A decade of service now for freedom forever, or a decade of freedom now for a future of service?"
Shirou grit his teeth, flickers of fire appearing around him as his magical power welled up in response to his anger. He hated this side of the fae, their aggravating pettiness.
He was tempted to take the first offer. He may be able to free himself, but he would still have to confront Bihev when he did. The Great Father wouldn't just let him go. But … he imagined Tile lying on the forest floor, dead, being devoured by beasts. How many fairies would die if he stayed in his forge for ten years while those monsters roamed the Faery? Could he live with himself then, knowing he had the option to stop it and didn't? He was no Hero of Justice, but a glimmer of that ideal still lived inside him, even after all these years.
"I promise to return to Nibelung in ten years, and stay for ten more if you let me go now Bihev," Shirou said, voice resolute.
Bihev's eyes widened in stunned silence.
"… you are a strange fairy, Avel. I accept your promise. Let it be known – for ten years you can roam free before returning to Nibelung, where you will forge Midjinior. If you fail, the sword not to my satisfaction, you will have a decade of freedom more before returning and trying again."
"So do I promise."
"Thrice said and done." Declared Bihev, and a powerful surge of fae magic sealed the agreement. "Now off you go, I need my sleep."
Shirou turned around and left without another word, the mass of fairies parting before him. A few followed after him.
"Looks like you're in for some monster hunting, Avel." Said one fairy with a savage grin, a 'Fairy Knight' with a head of a wolf. "Sounds like a quest fit for a knight, doesn't it?"
Shirou returned the smile. "It does."
"All right! I'm gonna let the rest know."
Shirou watched him dash off. He wouldn't mind having a bunch of 'knights' to accompany him on his 'quest'.