Xander Quest

by Throwaway1971

All credit goes to the OG author Judge Mental on SB

313. Happy Sixth- I mean, Ninth Birthday! 10

"HEY, BRIAR?"

"Yes, Alex?"

You nod towards the hanging body. "WOULD BURYING THIS UNFORTUNATE SOUL INTERFERE WITH THEIR EVENTUAL REVIVAL, OR HELP IT ALONG? AND WOULD THEY WELCOME IT?"

"I can't speak to the Fae's personal feelings, but as long as you don't bury..." She pauses to glance at the corpse. "Him, I think...? Anyway, as long as the grave's not on hallowed or unhallowed ground and you don't lock the body up in a box or anything, it shouldn't make a real difference either way."

You pause at that. "HALLOWED GROUND MAKES A DIFFERENCE FOR THE FAE?"

"It does." Briar adopts her familiar instructive tone. "Dedicating a patch of land to a deity makes them pay more attention to the place, and also makes it a little easier for them to take a hand in whatever happens there. That's part of the reason why bodies interred in a properly sanctified and maintained graveyard won't rise as undead."

You think briefly of Sunnydale, with its twelve cemeteries, thriving population of vampires, and Hellmouth, but then shake your head.

Briar did say PROPERLY maintained.

"When someone's buried on hallowed ground, the god in question has a claim on them. Not a strong one, but as long as their body hasn't fully decayed, they're benefitting from the god's protection, which incurs a debt. And while that's not a big issue for mortals..."

"I KNOW HOW THE FAE ARE ABOUT DEBTS," you conclude with a nod. Then you think of Hyrule, so beloved of the Goddesses, and all the little shrines and not-so-little temples scattered about the countryside. "WHAT ABOUT HYRULE, THEN? THERE ARE HOLY SITES SCATTERED ALL OVER THE PLACE; ISN'T THAT KIND OF DANGEROUS FOR YOUR FAMILY AND OTHER FAE?"

"Not really. Some of those 'holy sites' have been abandoned for so long that they don't count anymore, and for the ones that do, there's a BIG difference between owing some god you've never heard of before and who probably doesn't like Fae all that much, and owing one or more of the Goddesses who your mom, aunts, and Queen are all on a first-name basis with."

Ah.

"MAKE THAT A FIRST NAME AND FIST-FIGHTING BASIS," you add.

Briar just giggles. "Exactly!"

"What was that about fist-fighting?" Lady Chloe inquires from nowhere, sounding terribly curious.

You and Briar trade glances.

Even if you didn't already know that the grimstalker liked using traps, you'd suspect something of the sort from this scene. Part of it is simple paranoia watchfulness, but there's also the fact that moonsilver was guarded, even though that ore is rather less valuable than sungold from all you know - so if IT is still worth protecting, THIS stuff would be even more so.

It's that sense of lurking danger that has you casting one more spell.

A giant glowing hand pops into existence as you complete the Spell of the Forceful Hand.

"...why this?" Briar asks after a moment.

"WATCH, AND BE ENLIGHTENED," you tell your partner. "O MIGHTY HAND!" You point at the nearest of the red vines. "POKE THAT SUSPICIOUS RED VINE!"

The kinetic construct obediently surges forward, one finger extended to prod the vine - though, given the programming of the spell and the thickness of the artificial digit, it's less of a "poke" and more like a small free-floating battering roam being brought to bear, gently and yet firmly, upon the target.

As soon as your creation makes contact, the red vine moves like a striking snake, or perhaps a well-wielded whip or lasso, curling around the glowing digits and palm once, twice, three times, and then running of length somewhere in its fourth circuit. At the same moment, other vines drop from the canopy above, adding their own tangled lengths to the effort. Large thorns burst from the flesh of the tendrils, giving them an aspect akin to certain tentacle-waving monstrosities of your brief prior acquaintance as their discolored tips scrape and stab along the surface of the Hand, which flinches and recoils much as a living limb would under similar circumstances.

You know the Hand is very strong, and gains further power from your own skill as a caster, but while the top of the tree groans and bends slightly in your direction thanks to the force brought to bear, the snaring vines manage to maintain their hold on their "victim."

You can see why Nayru felt the need to warn you about those, and you're quite glad you listened to her.

---

"IT IS, PERHAPS, NOT MY PLACE TO SAY ANY MORE ON THE TOPIC," you declare. "I AM, AFTER ALL, A MERE CHILD-"

Somebody in the area lets out a short, mocking laugh.

"-AND SHOULD NOT BE SPREADING RUMORS ABOUT MY ELDERS," you continue, ignoring the noise. "HOWEVER, I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF TELLING MY PARTNER WHAT TO DO."

"Thank you," Briar says, nodding, before she proceeds to catch Lady Chloe up on the legend of Navi, Righteous Face-Puncher of Meddling Goddesses.

As the tinkling laughter of a Great Fairy echoes between the trees, your attention drifts back to the hanging body that you've resolved to bury once you've dealt with the grimstalker. It's not the only one of its kind that you are aware of, and while you don't really have the time to hunt down all the grisly totems the murderous Fae has marked his territory with, you decide here and now to make sure that the ones you DO know about receive proper burials.

A part of you really, REALLY wants to set those red vines on fire. Lady Chloe DID say she'd almost be willing to burn down this part of the forest to get rid of the grimstalker...

...but her being "almost" willing isn't the same thing as her actually giving you permission to set fire to the woods. Lord Raka definitely wasn't as eager to resort to such extreme measures as his lady wife, and even if they'd BOTH given you the go-ahead, you'd still be concerned about potentially contaminating the sungold. Fire can be difficult to control once you've let it loose, and though the metal is already aligned with that element, your own magical signature could still skew its worth and usefulness.

Besides, you have other spells that are perfectly suited to dealing with SPECIFIC plant monsters, without damaging anything else around them.

The one that comes to mind is the Spell of Blight, a middle-tier work of Necromancy. The presence of your struggling-to-be Forceful Hand has you considering using the Spell of the Spectral Hand to convey the touch-ranged Blight, so that you don't have to get within grappling distance of those snaring vines, but Spectral Hand can only "hold" spells of the fourth circle or lower. Blight is JUST potent enough to disqualify itself, and its formula has no variables you can reduce to change that fact.

So you go the other way, adding extra mana to the Spell of Blight and extending its range - and then, seeing as how you're already doing that much, you push a little more power into your casting, so that the spell can reach out and affect some of the other clusters of red vines hanging about.

As you complete the modified magic, you let out a cry of, "UNHAND THAT HAND!" as something that looks like a cross between bolts of pale blue lightning and a cold mist erupts from your extended fingertips, striking the vines trying to strangle your conjured Hand and their counterparts dangling from two nearby trees.

Instantly, dozens of bright red vines darken, wither, and in a few cases fall from the branches to which they'd been clinging. A number of those that had aggressively attached themselves to your creation are torn asunder, their suddenly failing strength unable to keep stalemating the conjured construct, which rips its way free and takes a few dessicated lengths of plant matter along with it for good measure.

Although the twitching among the leaves suggests that parts of those three predatory plants may still be alive - or at least, haven't finished dying yet - it looks like you got the bulk of their vines. Looking around, you count another four- make that five trees bearing clingy red doom.

Despite the light show and the destruction of some of the banaan's traps, there's still no sign of the Fae himself. You're starting to think you may have scared him into behaving himself.

---

Leaving a bunch of killer plants hanging around and giving your still-hidden enemy a chance to drive you or one of your allies into them doesn't appeal. More than that, you find yourself wondering just how many of the grimstalker's victims actually met their ends at the "hands" of this red-vined menace. The body you examined didn't have any obvious stab wounds, but decay was advanced enough that you could easily have missed something of that nature, and signs of strangulation would have long since been rendered undetectable...

Glancing at your shadow, you nod towards the brightly-colored stranglers hanging to your left. "YOU GET THAT LOT, I'LL TAKE THESE TWO." You punctuate that by indicating the two farthest right.

"GOTCHA."

And a moment later, ghostly lightning reaches out again, withering the deadly red vines to crumbling, greyish-brown husks.

If nothing else, it's a bit of practice for Necromancy.

With the area cleared of obvious threats and the banaan STILL not showing himself, you decide to finally get on with the business that first brought you here, and turn towards the sungold deposit - but you hold off on approaching for a moment, so as to give the Briars time to go over the area in depth.

As the two fairies make good use of the Spell to Detect Snares and Pits-

"Found one!"

"FOUND ANOTHER!"

-you casually remove a small Tupperware case from your dimensional pocket, pop off the lid, and smear a little of the greasy ointment remaining inside beneath each of your eyes. Reagent in place, you then cast the Spell of True Sight and look around for the banaan and any final surprises it might have set up to protect the sungold.

...

You find nothing, at least on Faerie's plane of existence. When you peer into the Ethereal, however-

PainfearangerHATEsufferingDEATHrevengekillyoukillyouKILLYOU-!

-you have to pull your enhanced vision back in a hurry.

"FOUND SOMETHING?" Shadow Alex asks.

"THE GRIMSTALKER'S ACTS OF MURDER HAVE LEFT ENOUGH GHOSTS CLINGING TO THIS PART OF THE FOREST TO MAKE THE ETHEREAL SIDE OF THINGS... UNPLEASANT," you report.

"...ARE WE ABOUT TO BE HAUNTED?" your darker self asks, looking around warily as he tightens his grip on his sword.

You do the same, reaching out with your Spiritual Sense, but almost immediately, you shake your head. This area simply doesn't feel like the scene of a haunting. The spectral malice is there, but it's too muted, lacking the cold edge of Shadow that would give it - and the ghosts - a proper grip on the physical plane.

Glancing at the sungold and its aura of mingled Fire and Light, which is surrounded by a faint aura of Darkness, you think you understand why that might be the case - though now you're worried that the grimstalker's killing spree may have tainted the sungold, making this entire effort pointless.

Shaking your head, you murmur, "COVER ME," to Shadow Alex and then drift towards the fairies. "WELL, LADIES; WHAT DO I NEED NOT TO DO?"

"Don't step on the ground anywhere around the rock," Briar reports promptly. "It's completely surrounded by pits and snares."

You glance at the ground, but it looks perfectly normal to your magically augmented vision. Then again, True Seeing doesn't penetrate purely mundane disguises - and now that you're looking closer, you can make out patches of grass and soil around the exposed mass of ore-rich rock that look a bit... off, compared their neighbors. You wouldn't have given it any thought if the Briars hadn't pointed it out, but now that you're paying attention...

Gained Survival E (Plus) (Plus)

Pit, pit, snare that would probably drag you into a pit, another pit...

"HOW IS THE LORD SUPPOSED TO GET AT THIS STUFF?" you wonder aloud. "OR WOULD HE JUST FLY, TOO?"

"Well, the lord wouldn't be fetching the gold himself," Briar says. "That's work for servants. But they'd probably keep their feet on the ground. Most of the Big Folk consider it more dignified than 'all that flittering back and forth.'"

And if her tone didn't make her thoughts clear regarding THAT attitude and the people who hold it, the way Briar goes flittering back and forth in time with her words definitely would.

Given your own difficulties in learning how to fight in mid-air, you can see another reason why one of the greater Fae might prefer to be standing on a solid surface when committing to a physically demanding task like mining, but you don't mention that.

"THE GRIMSTALKER PROBABLY DISABLES THESE SNARES, OVER HERE," Shadow Briar muses. "THAT WOULD LEAVE AN AREA WIDE ENOUGH FOR ONE OR TWO OF THE BIG FOLK TO WORK WITHOUT TOO MUCH CHANCE OF FALLING INTO THE PITS ON EITHER SIDE."

"Though the lord might not care if they did," Briar adds grimly.

"HE DOES SEEM THE TYPE, DOESN'T HE?" Shadow Briar agrees.

Shaking your head, you get out your paper and start making notes. Judging by the elemental and spiritual auras, however many deaths there have been in this area, none of them occurred on the sungold itself, or had enough... splash... to taint it. The faint edge of Darkness lies not on the gold, but around it, and far from tainting the energy that gleams from the stone, its presence makes the Light seem that little bit brighter...

You're not sure if you care for the implications.

Notes completed, you get out the box of Ore Samples, place the sheet holding your observations in the next available slot, and then look for a loose piece of stone to claim.

...

Hmmm. The only free pieces of sungold you can find are clustered about the base of the main deposit, within that "shadow" of Darkness. But unless you want to physically chip a piece off the big rock, they look like your only option.

---

You float closer to the half-buried boulder, looking it over for cracks and other areas where you might be able to break a small piece of sungold-bearing stone off from the greater whole. In the process, you rap the butt of your sword against a few of the likelier-looking places, but this proves to be insufficient force - and you're not about to do something silly like turn the blade on the stone.

If it was an earth elemental, stone golem, or some other sort of rock monster, then you'd consider it, but swords really aren't meant for mining.

And so you tuck your Blessed Sword away, cast the Spell to Summon A Weapon, and try to envision a small pick hammer, like you've seen geologists and archaeologists using on various TV shows.

What actually emerges is a slightly larger and obviously militarized pick, but you shrug, figuring it will do just as well for your purposes.

Gained Sunder D

As you chip away at the stone - taking a minute or so to work out how to manage it while hanging in mid-air - you reflect on the spiritual turbulence you glimpsed on the local Ethereal. Between your near-mastery of Summoning Magic and your less-advanced but still fairly exceptional grasp of Necromancy, you're well suited to take advantage of that, and could potentially turn the grimstalker's victims loose on him in the name of revenge poetic justice.

...possibly POE-etic, given your magic's tendency to dredge up Hyrulean critters when given the least excuse.

It's not like you'd be enslaving those spirits or anything; the magic would be entirely temporary, a strictly one-time thing. You'd simply be giving them the opportunity to settle their grudge against their killer and break one of the chains that hold them in their current state, making it easier for them to move on to their next life. That's a good thing, right?

Of course it is.

Though that does leave the question of just what spell to use. Summon Monster isn't really optimized for calling forth the undead, but that doesn't mean it can't do so. The question is whether or not it could accommodate the seething mob of angry spirits you detected - and can still glimpse - on the other side, and if so, how much power you'd need to devote to that aspect of spell.

There were a LOT of Fae spirits in that misty mess, more than you think you could pull across the planar boundary without resorting to a mass summoning. That's something you've never attempted before, at least in this lifetime, and you're not sure if you want to mark the first occasion by calling up a swarm of murderous ghosts and siccing them on a living target, no matter HOW justified it would be.

Summon Monster doesn't grant you any special control over the creatures you summon.; for that, you'd need to follow up with a Spell to Command Undead, scaled up to affect all the ghosts at once. You might not have time to cast both spells... unless you got Shadow Alex to cast one, and handled the other yourself. But that would take him off watching for the banaan. Perhaps instead, you should rely on the Spell to Hide From Undead you still have up?

Your speculations come to an abrupt end as a suitable chunk of ore-laden rock breaks away from the main mass. You catch the freed piece, dismiss your militarized mining implement, and tuck the bit of stone into the waiting box. Then, after a moment's hesitation, you descend low enough to snatch up one of the sungold-bearing rocks that litter the ground around the central deposit. They might be marked by Darkness, but you can't say for certain how that would affect their usefulness to Robin - and while the rules of magic tend to discourage taking multiple reagents from the same source in one go, the fact that these bits of sungold aren't actually going to BE used for anything except analysis makes you think it'll be alright. This time.

Gained Ore Samples

With your prospecting done, you float back towards Shadow Alex's position, wondering what to do next. The banaan STILL refuses to show himself, and-

Whoosh-THUNK!

-before you can even register the sound, you've been hit square in the back by what sounds like an arrow, but FEELS like a bolt flung from a siege engine. Or possibly the engine itself, after it had the chance to build up speed while rolling down a steep hill. Your many-layered defenses absorb the attack before it gets anywhere near to piercing your currently gaseous "flesh," but the kinetic force involved does not play well with your massively reduced weight or the gravity-defying effects of your magical flight.

In short, you've been smote from the sky and driven down into the dirt - specifically, the scattering of soil that lies atop one of those pit traps the Briars warned you away from!

---

A musical impulse overcomes you, and you wrack your memory for a song to help pass the time as you dig.

"Heigh Ho" comes to mind, but it is a rather short song, and its choral nature puts you off a bit. Plus, you aren't entirely sure you remember all the words; you've only seen Snow White twice, both times entirely at Zelda's insistence, you weren't paying that much attention to the words - at least in the first half of the song; you doubt anybody who's heard the second half has ever forgotten it - and the sound quality wasn't that great.

A few more recent tunes pass through your head, but are dismissed for reasons of unsuitable tempo.

Rather than truly singing, you end up humming a tune, the origins of which you aren't entirely certain of.

Gained Music E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Singing F

It makes the work go faster, though, which is all you really care about.

You've wrapped yourself in a dozen different spells of self-enhancement and self-defense, but even so, you find you'd rather not take the risk of letting yourself "fall" into one of the grimstalker's prepared pits. Any surprise advantage you might gain when you subsequently spring out of the death-trap is frankly outweighed by the shock, distraction, and pure worry you'd be causing your partner and summoned allies.

You doubt you could entirely overcome the force pushing you towards the pit, though, so instead you try to work with it, using the power of flight granted to you by the Spell of the Elemental Body to add some lateral thrust to your descent.

Your feet hit the turf-covered top of the trap, and for a moment - about a stride and a half, to be precise - you're almost walking across the thing. But then you can't bend your knees far enough to make up for the downward push, and your modest weight and more respectable momentum trigger the trap. The tarp, or whatever was actually covering the pit, gives way, dumping the dirt and grass-

*WHOOMPH*

-but you aren't in a position to see what exactly is down there, because you end up running stomach-first into the far wall, your upper body laid out over the rim of the pit as you instinctively grasp at the grass beyond.

From the way said grass comes loose of the soil without even a pretense of tearing, not only would this not have been enough to save you, but the banaan is apparently VERY thorough with his traps.

Thank the Goddess for your magical flight, which lets you keep your position-

Whoosh-THUNK!

-long enough to get shot a second time. This arrow came in from a different angle, somewhere off to your left, and once again, it strikes with a degree of force that has to be the product of an enchantment, or else a sign that you SERIOUSLY underestimated how strong the grimstalker actually is. Whatever the reason for its striking power, the arrow drags you sideways along the mouth of the pit, only stopping when you collide with the left-hand wall.

Your feet and Sorcerer's Robe catch on something in the process, but you don't hear any tearing, and more critically, don't feel any pain. Your defensive spells must have held.

Even as you shake off the latest impacts, you focus on weaving a Message Spell, which you dispatch to Shadow Alex, who is-

Whoosh-THUNK!

"FOUL ASSASSIN!"

-dodging arrows of his own, somewhere off to your right.

As the spell takes shape, you murmur, "MASS SUMMON MONSTER, SEVENTH-TIER. FOCUS ON THE GHOSTS HERE. I'LL HANDLE COMMANDING THEM."

"Even now?!" Briar exclaims from... huh, right in front of you.

"CAN'T ARGUE, BUSY CASTING," you reply swiftly, flying yourself all the way out of the pit as your mana cycles-

Whoosh-THUNK!

-and getting shot in the BUTT for your trouble.

"YEOW!" you exclaim on reflex, as you go tumbling and skidding across the turf.

"DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST SHOOT HIM IN THE BUTT?!" Shadow Briar exclaims.

The grimstalker doesn't respond, although there IS a suspicious pause in the firing of his arrows.

Seconds later, the clearing is flooded by an aura of Shadow and Spirit as Shadow Alex completes the Summoning ritual. Ghostly silhouettes of dead Fae, mostly humanoid, some not, fill the air.

By some miracle, you managed not to lose the Mass Spell to Command Undead that you were shaping when you got shot in the backside. You invoke it now, speaking just three words: "GET THE GRIMSTALKER!"

And with a collective howl of bloodthirsty vengeance, the ghosts charge towards the trees.

One more arrow flies through the spectral swarm, punching holes through half a dozen ghosts and then flying out the back of the mob to bury itself in the trunk of an unfortunate tree - which shudders violently at the impact - but the kinetic enhancement that was kicking your butt around has no obvious effect on the mass of undead spirits. The "damaged" ghosts merely reform their ectoplasmic visages as they surge towards the source of the attack, screaming-

"BLOODY MURDER!" cries the lead phantom, a broad-shouldered humanoid wearing a baggy cap and waving a heavy-looking stick with menacing intent.

"BLOODY MURDER!" the mob howl back.

-well, that.

---

A piece of old Gerudo wisdom flashes through your mind: "Count no man as dead until you have seen his body, burned it, and scattered the bones."

What can you say? Stalfos have been a thing for a long, long time.

Anyway, you can't help but feel that following this advice would be a good idea at LEAST twice over where one of the Fae is concerned, and then a third time for one with the grimstalker's nature and abilities. If there's any creature that can give the slip to a mob of vengeful Fae ghosts, it's another Fae in the heart of his own hunting grounds.

"Where are you going?" Briar asks, as you start to fly in pursuit of the specters.

"CONFIRMING THE KILL."

"GOOD IDEA," Shadow Alex says, as he moves to follow you.

"WAIT FOR ME!"

As you move, you take stock of your overall condition. You got shot three times, and while even the last arrow didn't actually hurt you, the fact that all of the grimstalker's attacks on your person connected in spite of your multi-layered defense has you worried.

The Spell of Protection From Arrows did nothing at all, but a quick check confirms it's working as intended, which in turn tells you that those arrows were definitely enchanted. That particular vulnerability is one that you've always been intellectually aware of, and moreover, had a certain instinctual concern over, but Ganondorf's memories of getting shot in the face with Light Arrows always had a certain distance to them before, which made them feel... not entirely real. At the very least, you were never particularly bothered by the prospect of getting hit by arrows that didn't glow with the manifest power of divinity before.

They seem rather more dangerous, now. Particularly to your pride...

Going down the list of defensive spells and effects, you confirm that everything was working, but also that the reserves of energy provided by the Greater Spell of Heroism and the Spell of Divine Power - ablative barriers focused over your vitals - were depleted by those three arrows. There are also a couple of holes in your Sorcerer's Robe, and may or may not be a dent in the armored section over your back, where that first arrow hit you. You'll have to check that when you've got a moment.

Still, no blood was drawn, no venom introduced to your system, and no magical effects added that you can detect. You did pick up some bruises when you hit the sides of the pit, but the Spell of Persistent Vigor has already largely healed those, leaving just an echo of pain and some smears of dirt on your robes to remind you that it did happen.

Reassured to the integrity of your person and more aware of the gaps in your defense, you return your full attention to the pursuit.

It doesn't take very long for you to catch up. The ghosts aren't able to move as fast as you can, and their ability to pass through solid matter you have to detour around doesn't make up more than a fraction of the difference. It is, however, enough for them to catch up with the object of their hatred. To his credit, the banaan realizes he's not going to get out of this on foot, turns, and starts firing arrows into the spectral swarm for all he's worth - and while most of these are shrugged off the same way his first shot at the ghosts was, he does enough damage to cause a couple of the summoned spirits to wink out in puffs of free ectoplasm.

But then the ghosts close the range.

Down goes the bow.

Up come the daggers.

And then the grimstalker fights like his life depends on it, because it does.

Gained Knife Training E

The blades rapidly prove to be more effective weapons against this particular mob of foes than the arrows, for while they lose out on range and individual striking power, the Fae assassin is able to land two or three hits with them in the time it took him to fire a single arrow. More importantly, the magic-dispelling nature of the blades makes them effective against your summoned support in a way the arrows simply couldn't be; not every hit cuts short the magic anchoring an angry ghost to this plane of existence, but enough of them do that the banaan is swiftly surrounded by a fog-bank of fading ectoplasm. Even the dagger-strikes that fail to banish a spirit leave more than their share of ghosts reeling and shrieking in pain, silvery echoes of blood spurting from wounds that were not there a moment earlier, something that puzzles and concerns you.

Then the grimstalker side-steps a charging ghost, which flies into a tangle of vines-

!

-and is snared and dragged screaming into the branches overhead by the ropy growths, while more vines lash out like the tentacles of a hungry Octorok, seeking prey. While some of the ghosts ignore these attacks easily, letting the vines pass through their immaterial forms with no greater impact than a brief distortion of their features, others prove shockingly vulnerable.

Then it occurs to you just what it MEANS for all these ghosts to be the grimstalker's victims - for while ghosts are largely invulnerable to mundane threats by dint of their undead and immaterial states, the things that ended their mortal lives often retain a degree of power over their unhappy spirits.

A ghost created by murder may yet be wounded by the murder-weapon, even though it has no beating heart to still or blood to spill.

A ghost created by a hanging fears the noose, even though it no longer has breath to be strangled or a neck to break.

And ghosts crushed to death by predatory vines, or torn apart by the enchanted daggers of a murderous Fae, would still be vulnerable to those same things, most especially on the ground where they died, facing again the one that killed them.

Yet despite these advantages, the grimstalker is sorely outnumbered. He's put down perhaps half a dozen of his now twice-victims, but easily three times that many remain, and if a number of those are wounded and the whole wary of his blades and the vines hanging about, they now have the measure of the threat he poses, and have him surrounded besides.

Surely, the undead Fae can claim their revenge without further support?

---

You decide not to directly interfere with the ghosts' revenge. Indirectly, however...

Turning to Shadow Alex, you say, "HIT THE GHOSTS WITH CAT'S GRACE!"

As he begins gathering mana, your not-evil twin asks, "AND YOU?"

"GOING TO TRY TO WIPE HIS MEMORIES OF US," you reply, as you start shaping your own power.

After all, if the grimstalker is going to eventually come back to life, it would be best for you if he didn't remember your name, face, or other distinguishing characteristics.

This is easier said than done, though. You only know two spells that erase memories, and they only affect very short spans of the target's recall. The Spell to Cause A Memory Lapse works on a span of seconds, while the Spell of Anonymous Interaction can reach back about a minute; however, the former is a first-tier spell, while the latter is second-tier, so if you were to scale them up, they'd have roughly the same... "reach?"

That scaling, however, is the problem. By dint of sheer repetitive practice, you can modify certain universal parameters of your spells on the fly, altering range, number of targets, and duration more or less at will. Other factors, more specific to a given spell - or at best, found in a handful of related ones - require a great deal more effort to work out, and unless you take the time to test, refine, and finalize an entire new spell, you can't guarantee the results. Particularly not when you're casting in the middle of combat.

Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Going over the particulars of the spells in question again, you decide to rely on Memory Lapse. Anonymous Interaction is an ongoing magic, anchored to its target; it might not follow the grimstalker through the cycle of reincarnation, and even if it did, it would still be subject to detection and dispelling. Memory Lapse is more like Fireball, a brief flash of magic with lasting non-magical consequences. Where a spell to suppress the banaan's memories might lapse with his temporary death, memories that are erased before he passes wouldn't be there to enter the cycle with the rest of him.

Taking the basic matrix of the spell, you add more mana, raising the spell to the fourth circle, which ought to be enough to erase the last hour and a half of the banaan's memories.

While you've been doing this, Shadow Alex has completed a Mass Spell of Cat's Grace. Due to the banaan's presence in the center of the ring of ghosts, your ally couldn't hit all of the spirits with his spell without catching their quarry in it as well; as such, only about a third of the ghosts receive the effects of the magic. That said, the sudden boost to their reflexes and speed makes those seven or so ghosts more dangerous than before-

!

-though the grimstalker still catches one of them with his dispelling dagger, breaking up the Augmentation Magic that just took effect while leaving the Summoning Magic beneath that intact.

In that moment, the Fae killer's gaze shifts from the ghosts to you.

"YOU-!" His snarl reveals a mouthful of fangs. "Don't think you've won, sorcerer! I will find you!"

"NO," you reply, as you complete your spell. "YOU WON'T."

And as you let your magic fly, Shadow Alex casts a Spell of Invisibility, making all four members of your party wink out of sight. Because what would be the point of erasing the banaan's memories of you, if he saw you again immediately afterwards?

The grimstalker stumbles, blinks, and shakes his head. "What was-"

And in that moment of distraction, the ghosts close in.

"No! NO!"

---

Yeah, no. As much as there is to be said for facing the consequences of your actions, there's ALSO something to be said for not giving yourself (more) nightmares.

There are quiet and painless ways to go, but "death by angry mob of ghosts" is never going to be one of them.

And so you clap your hands over your ears and turn away from the grim spectacle about to unfold. If Shadow Alex or either of the Briars want to observe, that's up to them, but you are not going to subject yourself to more trauma than you have to this day.

As you stand there, unseen and unseeing, you quietly pray: "Din, grant me the strength to use my Power justly. Farore, grant me the fortitude to accept the consequences of my actions. Nayru, grant me the ability to recognize when I have better options... and may that monster, too, find a better way forward."

There is no answer from the divine sisterhood, but for a moment, you feel a faint pressure on your shoulder, as if a hand were giving you a sympathetic squeeze.

Then you realize that it's Shadow Alex, who has dismissed his Spell of Invisibility.

You don't lower your hands just yet, but that's fine; he simply exaggeratedly mouths the words, "It's done."

...you can't find it in you just now to make that statement sound dramatic, even in your own head.

Guided by your Shadow Self, you lower your hands - immediately becoming aware of a raucous cheering - and look around.

"Vengeance! We have vengeance!"

"How do you like it, huh? You jerk!"

"BLOODY MURDER!"

"...does that even work when there's not actually any blood?"

"...point. Alright, how does 'ghostly murder' sound to you?"

"Ghostly murder works."

"Right, then, with spirit! GHOSTLY MURDER!"

"GHOSTLY MURDER!"

The ghosts are dancing and shouting and slowly fading away, the Summoning Magic that gave them a grip on this plane being something else that Shadow Alex evidently decided had run its course.

One of the Fae spirits doesn't immediately fade with the rest. The cap-wearing, stick-waving ghost that led the charge lingers on, rubbing his headgear to a silvery "bloodstain" on his chest where one of the banaan's daggers caught him. Then he crouches next to the corpse, and moves the silver-stained hat over to it; when the cap is drawn back a moment later, it seems completely covered in dripping, phantasmal silver.

Popping his ghostly gore-streaked cap back on his head, the lead phantom turns to the four of you and nods once, his wrinkled old man's face pinched in an expression of grudging gratitude above a long, vaporous beard.

Then he vanishes like the rest.

For a moment, no one says anything. You probe the area with your spiritual and necromantic senses, but from what you can tell, the ghosts are truly gone, banished back to the Ethereal.

Then Shadow Briar lets out a shaky sigh. "WHEW. DODGED AN ARROW, THERE."

"Yeah, getting rid of the grimstalker only to introduce the ghost of a redcap to the woods probably wouldn't have gone over too well with the locals," Briar agrees.

From what you can recall about redcaps, being ill-tempered, murderous little creeps in their own right? Yeah, probably not.

Shaking that off, you turn your attention to the body, and then turn away with a wince.

Fae don't normally age the way humans do, but that just makes the effects of the ghosts' ravaging touch all the more unsettling to behold. The banaan's body, previously brown-skinned and green-haired, is now as withered and grey as the oldest humans you've ever seen - more so, where his vine-like hair has been dessicated in a manner not entirely unlike the effect your Spell of Blighting had on the strangling vines, or how his bark-like skin seems to have stiffened like true wood.

You keep your gaze averted from the face.

Now comes what's normally the fun part: looting.

You've been warned by Nayru against taking the banaan's lord-given, not-yet-wholly-paid-for daggers, although Briar tells you that - as long as you have no intention of claiming them for yourself - you could carry the blades back to Lady Chloe's for safekeeping and return to their rightful owner. As the lord's peer and the grimstalker's technical hostess, she has the right and responsibility to see the lord's property back to him - eventually.

Or you could just leave the daggers here, undisturbed.

Then there's the rest of the grimstalker's gear. Mail, short sword, and bow are all enchanted, and while his belt of thorns is non-magical - though likely magically crafted - a few of the pouches hanging from it register as having reagent-grade contents. The arrows spilled from his quiver are mundane, but the heads of the bolts that have fallen out far enough to be visible glisten with what has to be some sort of poison.

This has you checking over your not-injuries one more time, just to be sure, but no, your skin wasn't pierced by any of those three shots, and if there's a stain to your clothing, the stuff doesn't appear to be contact-triggered. Or maybe your Spell to Delay Poison is keeping it at bay.

In any event, you could lay claim to your fallen enemy's equipment. But is that a good idea? You're doing this quest to pay off a debt to Navi, not to profit yourself. Then too, while taking the banaan's weapons away will make him less dangerous when he revives, their absence will also anger him; even if your cobbled-together upgrade of the Spell to Cause A Memory Lapse worked as intended, it wouldn't have erased the grimstalker's memories of his possessions. He'll know they're missing, and he'll want them back - or failing that, he'll want revenge on whoever took them.

---

Although there is a part of you that insists you ought to leave all of the grimstalker's belongings where they lie, the idea of a well-armed enemy that may or may not remember your face and first name convinces you that you ought to do something with this stuff.

The daggers will go to Lady Chloe, so that she can deal with the hassle of returning them to their rightful owner. She's better-placed to handle such a task than you are, and she'll probably be able to have some fun with it - after all, just because she has a hostess's obligation to return a guest's property, there's no rule saying she has to be nice or even prompt about it.

Going by the established precedent that Navi made no objection of you looting the Guardian's Gauntlets during last year's trek through her Silent Realm, you'll take the armor, the bow, the sword, and the contents of the belt-pouches, and see if studying examples of Fae craft will give you any pointers. After that... hmmm... depending on what exactly they're made of, you could melt down the armor and the blade for raw materials in some new project, like another round of birthday gifts. The bow could be transformed, the reagent-grade materials the banaan was carting around will go to your private stock (assuming you don't use them up), and whatever's left can probably just be disposed of.

Carefully, mind you. Some of what's in those bags has to be poisonous.

Speaking of poison, you give the arrows another look while Shadow Alex loots the body-

"OH, SURE, MAKE THE SUMMONED GUY DO ALL THE MESSY WORK."

-as while they're not enchanted, they are still examples of mundane Fae craftsmanship. The wood, however, proves unremarkable to your eyes, while the arrowheads appear to be made of common flint, rather than something interesting like obsidian. Although you're far from an expert in woodworking in general or arrowsmithing in particular, the overall craftsmanship honestly seems substandard - the bolts are serviceable at best, but nothing more than that. The only really remarkable bit about them is the fletching, which consists of leaves that appear to have been grown right out of the shaft.

You cautiously pack a few of the arrows into your dimensional pocket, for further testing, but use Mage Hand to move the remaining twenty or so away from the corpse. Once they're clear, you fire up the Spell of Burning Hands and char the lot. Then you add a Shatter Spell for good measure, blowing the steaming arrowheads to bits.

Some of the resulting shrapnel bounces off of your Spell of Protection From Arrows, draining the merest fraction of its power. You're not sure if you should be amused or annoyed by that.

Gained Arrowsmith F
Gained Grimstalker's Armor
Gained Grimstalker's Arrows
Gained Grimstalker's Belt
Gained Grimstalker's Bow
Gained Grimstalker's Sword

Once Shadow Alex is finished, you ritually cast a Spell to Dispel Magic, erasing the traces of your mutual spellcasting. Then you double back to the sungold deposit and repeat the process, leaving the ore itself alone while you purge the surrounding area.

And now comes the other nasty bit: burying the grimstalker's victims. You've already decided that you're going to see this done, the question is, how? Actually digging the graves won't be a problem; you may not know a spell specifically for that, but your mastery of Earth Elementalism is more than sufficient to make the task go smoothly. Likewise, you know enough about Telekinesis that you won't need to directly handle the bodies.

No, the only real question here is who's going to actually do all the digging. The distance and number of bodies involved are such that you can't really spare the time to see to all of the dead Fae you know of personally, but giving Shadow Alex copies of the memories you pulled from your Prying Eyes would let you split the difference and make things... vaguely manageable. You could also summon some extra hands to make the job go even faster, or you could leave all the work to your summoned ally/allies, while you deliver the grimstalker's daggers to Lady Chloe.

---

Part of the reason why Lady Chloe objected to the banaan's presence was his habit of displaying gruesome trophies as territorial markers. As you have no particular desire to commit such an offense yourself, you're fully in favor of burying the grimstalker.

That said, you are seriously considering consecrating the ground around here, so the Goddesses can keep that nasty little soul in check. Just to be on the safe side, you ask Briar for her thoughts on the matter.

"You could do that," your partner replies, "but the grave would have to be on HALLOWED ground to prevent a Fae from automatically reincarnating. Just consecrating it wouldn't do more than stop him from rising as one of the undead, and even then only if you made the spell strong enough to last indefinitely."

Which you could do, easily enough - it's only a second-circle spell to begin with, and the normal duration is pretty high - but if it's not going to stop the grimstalker coming back...

"PLUS, WE DON'T EXACTLY HAVE THE TIME OR THE REAGENTS YOU'D NEED TO HALLOW THIS PLACE," Shadow Briar adds.

True, the Ritual to Hallow Ground takes a full day, and the herbs, oils, and incense required are pretty pricey. You might be able to supplement the material cost by expending more mana, but... no, as a fifth-tier clerical ritual, it would be JUST energy-intensive enough that you wouldn't be able to fake it. Conjuration wouldn't help you here, either, as you need specific reagents, things sacred to the Goddesses and prepared in particular ways, and you as yet lack the knowledge and skill required to reproduce those things.

In any case, there's nothing you can do about the time requirement, and you simply don't have an entire day to spare.

"ALL OF THAT ASIDE," Shadow Alex points out, "DO YOU REALLY WANT TO LEAVE AN ACTIVE EXAMPLE OF YOUR SPELLCASTING SIGNATURE SOMEWHERE THAT A FAE LORD IS BASICALLY GUARANTEED TO FIND IT?"

...no. No, you do not.

So instead of blessing the ground, you merely cast a modified and ritualized Spell of the Hungry Earth, causing the soil upon which your fallen enemy lies to quietly swallow his corpse. It's a somewhat gradual process rather than an immediate one, and a living or sufficiently energetic undead creature could have fought its way free of the pull, but it takes less than twenty seconds for the ground to engulf the grimstalker's lifeless form.

"HERE'S HOPING THAT'S THE LAST WE SEE OF HIM," Shadow Alex mutters.

You groan. "MUST YOU TAUNT MURPHY?"

There are twelve bodies in total in need of a proper burial. You're going to take care of the first one yourself, as you feel you owe it to the Fae in question for using him as a focus in your Spell of Scrying. You have to discard the Briars as grave-diggers, for while they could assume human form and take down most of the bodies you've remotely viewed easily enough, their particular brand of Druidic Magic isn't really suited to digging graves, and doing the job the old fashioned way would take too long. Shadow Alex could easily handle the rest on his own, but you'd like to bring him along when you visit that other deposit of moonsilver, just in case you cross paths with the frog-men or the giant that Lady Chloe mentioned live in that region.

To get the job done as quickly as possible, then, you'll need ten summoned assistants. They don't need to be particularly strong or exotic, they just need to be able to cover the distance involved in a reasonable amount of time, dig graves promptly, respectfully handle bodies that are the size of small to medium humans at most, and withstand, bypass, or ignore the inconvenience of the grimstalker's leftover booby traps.

It's a rather interesting list of conditions, if you're being honest.

You begin a long ritual of Summoning Magic.

Nine minutes later-

"I SUMMON YOU! GRAVEDIGGERS!"

*Poof!*

-your party of four is surrounded by the ghosts of two and a half times as many Hyruleans. Most are older men of Hylian descent, dressed in simple, well-worn workman's tunics dyed in simple earth tones, but there are a couple of younger faces in the crowd, and you see traces of Gerudo and even Shiekah blood in a few of them. There's also a Zora dressed like a priest, a colorfully-robed Gerudo matriarch wrinkled and diminished by age - though not nearly to the extent Koume and Kotake were - and one hooded figure of uncertain ancestry.

To the last, they all carry lanterns somewhere on the their person, and every one of them other than the Zora and the Gerudo has a well-used shovel in hand. Some are propped over their owners' shoulders, while others stand tall at their sides, whether held head-down or the reverse; a few have their lanterns, glowing with familiar ghost-light, hanging off the digging tools. The individual in the robe carries something that looks like a modified polearm, the edge of the shovel blade glinting with unnatural sharpness and spiky bits poking out above - or below, depending on your perspective - where metal joins the wooden haft.

"Where in the Goddesses' names are we?" one of the old men asks.

"I was napping, blast it-!"

"No respect, no respect at all-!"

"Come back at night..."

"This is MOST irregular." That fussy voice belongs to the Zora.

The grumbling is cut short by a sudden, sharp whistle, coming from the Gerudo woman.

Lowering her fingers from her lips, the matriarch says, "You boys done whining?"

"I don't whine, you old biddy!"

"Why, I oughta-!"

"Who are you calling 'boy'-?"

"WHAT'S ALL THE SHOUTING ABOUT?!"

Silence falls as the speaker, a hunch-backed old man as bald as an egg, rises from where he'd been laying on the ground - not just in the sense of sitting up, but also floating about five feet straight in the air. He has the singular distinction of being the ugliest "human" you've ever personally laid eyes on, age having done no favors at all to a face that was probably never better than unattractive, with a protruding lower jaw and a pronounced underbite from which a lonely white tooth juts up. His eyes are slightly off-center, and the skin around them seems bruised from lack of sleep, while the rest of his face is pallid.

For all of that, the halo above his head gleams a bit brighter than those of the other spirits, and the lantern hanging at his waist likewise appears a bit more ornate.

"Sorry, Dampe," one of the other ghosts apologizes. "Didn't mean to disturb you. Right, guys?"

"Sorry, boss!"

"I keep telling you lot-" Dampe breaks off, looking your way. "Eh? Who in Hylia's name are you kids?"

There's a pause as the ghosts collectively turn to look at you.

"...are they some of yours, Granny?"

"Not dressed like that, they're not," Granny replies with a frown. "And don't call me 'Granny,' you old fart."

"Who are you calling an old fart, you-?!"

---

Trying not to make it too obvious that you're interrupting one of the grumpier of the old dead men, you answer this "Dampe's" question and introduce yourself, Briar, and your shadows.

Most of the gravediggers shake their heads and/or mumble something about magic, but Dampe, the Gerudo woman, and the Zora priest all straighten up in surprise, their expressions betraying actual recognition of the term you use.

Leaving that alone for the moment, you sum up the situation.

"So you don't know just how many unfortunate fairies were caught by their mad cousin?" Dampe asks.

"Fae, not fairies," Briar corrects.

"WHAT SHE SAID," you state. "AND NO, I AM ONLY AWARE OF THE TWELVE THAT I FOUND. WILL THAT BE AN ISSUE?"

"Let's just say it's against union rules to leave bodies unburied," the gravedigger replies. The shape of his jaw makes it look like he's got a perpetual frown, but the edges of his mouth appear a little more turned-down just then.

His associates grumble in agreement, projecting an air of professional distaste.

There's not much that can be done about it, though. Even if you were to scry out all the bodies right this moment, your Spell of Summoning won't hold the gravedigger ghosts here long enough to travel to all the locations involved - however many that might be. No obvious pattern leapt out at you when looking at the locations the grimstalker was hanging his victims' bodies, but none of them were closer than a few hundred feet, which might as well be beyond the horizon in these woods.

True, you only saw thirty or so ghosts in that mob, but those were just the Fae angry enough to stick around, even if they weren't able to manifest on their own; there could easily have been others. In fact, seeing as how the grimstalker's claimed territory was two miles across, there could be a hundred or more Fae corpses just... hanging around.

You note that you and Shadow Alex will each be handling one of the bodies, but that you have business elsewhere and will need to move on once you've finished. There's a bit more grumbling at the first part, until you explain that you feel you owe the Fae in question a decent burial, after using his body to help track down the killer.

"Oh-HO," the Gerudo matriarch chortles. "Gave the kinslayer a taste of his own medicine, did you? Good, good! Where is the scoundrel?"

Wordlessly, you point at the ground where you "buried" the grimstalker.

The gravekeepers regard the intact ground. Some are more visibly impressed than others.

Dampe gives the ground a couple of experimental pokes with his shovel. "Magic?" he asks, conversationally.

"A MODIFIED BATTLE SPELL, YES. SANK THE BODY STRAIGHT INTO THE GROUND, ABOUT FOUR OR FIVE FEET DOWN." You pause. "WAS THAT OKAY?"

"Hm? Don't see any reason why it wouldn't be."

The Zora scowls. "Unhallowed ground? Truly?"

"We're in Faerie, you fool fish," the Gerudo woman says bluntly. "If there's enough hallowed ground here to bury a dead dog in, I'll be astonished."

"Besides," Dampe cuts in, "the Fae don't bury their dead in graveyards or tombs. Back to nature as naturally as possible, that's their way. Magic, shovels, your bare hands; a quick hole dug for the remains and a few spades' worth of earth to cover them over is plenty for this job."

"Barbaric," the Zora mutters.

"I resemble that remark," Briar says shortly.

"ME TOO!"

"As do I," Lady Chloe comments from above, and nowhere.

"Erk!"

As much fun as it is to see the Zora go pale as he realizes he insulted a Great Fairy, you're burning spell time. You offer to call up a map of the area to show the gravediggers where they need to go, but Dampe says it's not necessary.

"We'll just follow the ghosts, lad," he says kindly. "Most of them seem pretty eager to be moving on."

You look around cautiously, reaching out with your spiritual senses - which don't register any particular change in the environment - and then shifting your still-active Spell of True Sight into the Ethereal.

...

Huh. So they do.

"Right, boys!" Dampe declares, as he turns back to his companions.

"And girl," the Gerudo woman interjects.

"And girl! We have a whole lot of bodies to bury, and those graves aren't digging themselves! Pick a direction and start floating! First round's on the last one to finish!"

"YES, BOSS!"

Visages humanoid, fishy, and hidden disappear as the ghosts fade into balls of spectral light, which circle about the area for a moment before shooting off in ten different directions.

Watching the brief spectacle, you decide to dismiss what you said earlier about there not being time to get all the bodies.

You, Shadow Alex, and the Briars make your way back through the grimstalker's territory, with the Shadows breaking off from you past a certain point, as they head more directly towards the body nearest to the first one.

For your part, cutting down and burying the body of the dead Fae requires about ten minutes in total, most of which is taken up by a ritual act of Telekinesis and another ritual casting of the Spell of the Hungry Earth.

You decide to wait there a few minutes longer for the Shadows to finish up and rejoin you, and as you hover near the unmarked grave, you turn to Briar.

"DID I DO THE RIGHT THING, BRIAR?"

"With the graves?" she wonders.

"WITH THE GRIMSTALKER. I MEAN, I GAVE HIM A CHANCE TO LEAVE US BE, WHICH IS ARGUABLY MORE THAN HE DESERVED, BUT..."

"You're still wondering if there was another option," Briar concludes.

You nod.

"If there was, I can't see it, myself," your partner admits. "Like you said, you gave him a chance, and he shot you in the back as soon as he thought it wouldn't be breaking Lady Chloe's word to you."

"HER WORD TO-" You think back to the terms of your agreement with the Great Fairy, which you kept trumpeting at regular intervals as you headed towards the sungold; to be more specific, you think about the precise words you used, and let out a groan of realization as the pieces fit together. "I SAID THAT LADY CHLOE GAVE US PERMISSION TO TRAVEL HER DOMAIN AND TAKE SOME OF THE SUNGOLD. BUT..."

"But, you never said anything about having permission to LEAVE with the gold, even if it was implied," Briar agrees. "And he jumped on that opening the first chance he got. Which is why I don't think there was any way to handle this that didn't end with him dead," she continues. "He'd already killed a bunch of Fae, he would have killed us if he could, and if he'd been smart enough NOT to do that, he would have killed more Fae going forward - and considering the growing ghost population around here, that could have ended up going very badly. Sometimes, there's nothing you can do for a mad dog but put it down before anybody else gets hurt."

There's not much you can say to that.

You take a moment to check your active spells. True Seeing and Entropic Shielding have run their course, and there's a few more buffs that will be dropping in the next hour - so, right around the time you make it back to Lady Chloe's and Lord Raka's domicile, if not sooner.

---

As a summoner, you gain a temporary link to any creature you have called forth. It's a pale shadow of the bond you have with Briar, little more than a vague sense of distance and condition, but it's there all the same.

When your link to Shadow Alex tells you that he is moving closer, you mentally measure the distance between the site he was headed to and where you are, compare your doppelganger's known flight speed in forested terrain, count off a couple of minutes for good measure, and then begin a ritual casting of the Spell of Teleportation.

Your timing is a little off; you complete the spell and have to hold the charge for about thirty seconds before Shadow Alex and Shadow Briar come flying in.

After Briar sorts them out for you, the fairies take their usual place(s) riding on their respective partner's shoulder, you and your not-evil twin join hands, and you say the final word to trigger the spell. The world shifts-

-fly-

-and like that, you're back at the border of Lord Raka's domain.

Releasing your hand, Shadow Alex looks around. "SO, DO WE JUST WAIT TO BE PICKED UP BY THE LITTLE GUARD, OR SHALL WE HEAD ON IN?"

"Halt, travelers!" comes a familiar voice.

"I'M GOING TO GO WITH THE FIRST ONE," you reply, before turning to greet Newt. "HAIL, GUARD NEWT."

"Whoa, you're back already?" Newt exclaims, his determined guardsman's act falling away in a moment of genuine surprise and fairy curiosity. "How fast can you actually fly?"

"ONLY ABOUT AS FAST AS YOU, AT LEAST WITH THE SPELLS I'M CURRENTLY USING. HOWEVER, WE DIDN'T FLY BACK, WE SIMPLY TELEPORTED."

"Ohhh..." Newt catches himself, clears his throat, and resumes his straight-backed mid-air stance and no-nonsense voice. "I mean, welcome back to my lord father's domain, sorcerer and companions. I understand that you may have something to deliver to my lady mother for safekeeping?"

If you hadn't already figured that Newt and at least some of his siblings had joined Lady Chloe in observing the latest leg of your quest, that would have confirmed it.

You simply nod. "I DO INDEED."

"Then allow me to escort you to her with all haste."

"IT WOULD BE MUCH APPRECIATED."

"...also, fair warning, sorcerer," Newt adds semi-casually, as your group takes flight. "Mom may try to hug you."

"SHE'S REALLY HAPPY THAT THE GRIMSTALKER IS GONE, HUH?"

"Oh yeah."

"THANK YOU FOR THE WARNING, THEN."

Also, is there anything important you wish to say or do while you're here, besides dropping off the dangerous daggers and enduring Lady Chloe's gratitude (or not)?

---

"THANK YOU!"

*Whoomph!*

Gained 3 Gratitude Crystals

"Thank you SO much for getting rid of that little monster!" Lady Chloe exclaims, as - in a display of strength most human women of her size wouldn't be able to manage - she picks you up and swings you around.

Your attempt to answer, "You're welcome," comes out as more of a wheeze, due to the not-quite-crushing power of the Great Fairy's arms.

If Newt hadn't warned you about the possibility of hugs, you might have reacted to Chloe's sudden PRESENCE in your personal space in an unfortunate manner, namely one involving hold-breakers and defensive throws. It really is for the best that you avoided such a thing.

Still, while you usually appreciate hugs, you are kind of regretting your decision to just let the Great Fairy grab you like this. Especially with so many of the little fairies laughing, cheering, or making sounds of envy.

If nothing else, you have a better appreciation for what Cat has gone through. Silver linings.

"Ah, dear?" Lord Raka says with some amusement. "I'm hardly an expert on the subject, but don't humans need to breathe?"

"What? Oh, yes." Lady Chloe stops spinning, sets you down, and backs up a bit to give you some *ahem* breathing room. "My apologies, Alex. I let my excitement get ahead of me."

"It's fine," you don't quite gasp, before coughing and resuming your HEROIC QUESTING VOICE. "IT'S A PERFECTLY UNDERSTANDABLE REACTION AFTER HAVING A PROBLEM LIKE THAT DEALT WITH. ALTHOUGH, SPEAKING OF DEALING WITH PROBLEMS..."

"Say no more," Lady Chloe interrupts. "I would be perfectly pleased to repay your favor to me by taking those enchanted daggers off your hands, seeing them returned to their rightful owner, and making sure he and his don't learn your identity from me and mine." She looks around at her children. "Isn't that right, kids?"

"Sure!"

"He did Mom a favor, so we're doing him one right back!"

"Who is this guy, again?"

"I can't tell if you're joking, or if you honestly forgot..."

"I never liked Lord High-and-Mighty anyway!"

"Are we sure we can't ask the sorcerer to make HIM go away, too?"

There is a murmur of interest at this.

You quickly raise one hand to cut it off. "MY APOLOGIES, BUT I'D HAVE TO DECLINE SUCH A REQUEST."

"Awww," some of the fairies whine in collective disappointment.

There's no particular ceremony to the handing-off of the grimstalker's daggers. One of the roots of Lord Raka's true body shifts like a knot being untied, and reveals a small passageway of clay and stone that leads down into the earth at a gentle angle. You hand the four daggers off to Lady Chloe, and she descends into the faintly glowing darkness of the tunnel for a couple of minutes, before returning with the blades no longer in her possession. Then Raka seals the chamber again.

Before you depart, you ask Lady Chloe and Lord Raka how long they think you have before the grimstalker's employer might come looking for you.

"He'll find out about the banaan's death when he returns for the sungold at midsummer, at the latest," the Great Fairy replies. "It's possible that he already knows, but I doubt that. The grimstalker was a hired agent rather than a true sworn vassal, so there wouldn't be any connection there, and as long as he had those daggers on his person and hadn't completed his term of service, there wasn't any NEED for a tracking spell."

"MIDSUMMER, HUH?" you muse. Third or fourth week of June, then; you'll have to check the calendar when you get home to confirm this year's solstice date. It's uncomfortably close to Yhwach's awakening on the 17th, though...

"As to whether or not he'll be able to track you down," Chloe goes on, "the banaan saw your face and heard your first name. If he remembers those when he revives - and he probably WILL; spite for one's killer is a great motivator for holding on to memories through the reincarnation cycle - I'd expect him to tell his employer."

Good thing you used a memory wipe, then. You just wish you could be sure it worked.

"What happens from there depends on how much of an insult our good neighbor feels your actions have paid him," the avatar of the Great Raka Tree says then. "That will likely be determined more by the amount of ore that goes missing from the sungold deposit than anything else."

You consider that. "SO IN THEORY, IF IT TURNS OUT THAT THIS SUNGOLD ISN'T OF THE QUALITY NAVI REQUESTED, AND I WERE TO RETURN THE SAMPLES?"

Husband and wife trade glances.

"He'd still be annoyed at the loss of his guard," Raka notes.

"But it's the sungold that was important enough to him to double-deal with me," Chloe responds. "Just as it's the daggers that were valuable enough to trade for the banaan's services."

"And we'd be the ones returning those weapons," her spouse agrees thoughtfully. "If none of the sungold needed to be 'reclaimed,' there'd be nothing but his agent's complaints to lead his attention elsewhere... but since nothing his employer actually valued would be missing, the failure would be the banaan's alone. Yes, I could see that working."

Now you wonder if you should hope Robin declares the sungold samples useless or not.

Regardless, you have one last ore deposit to visit, and you should probably get on with that.

Making your farewells to the Great Fairy, the Great Tree, and their swarm of children, you teleport your party back to the trilithon where your quest began, and then venture southwest. It should take you less than an hour to reach the moonsilver...

---

"JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE'S A JERK ISN'T GROUNDS FOR MAKING THEM 'GO AWAY'," you tell the young fairies.

They regard you with some confusion.

"It's not?"

"But the grimstalker was a jerk, and you made HIM go away," one of the fairies points out.

"I DID THAT BECAUSE THE GRIMSTALKER WAS KILLING PEOPLE, HE TRIED TO KILL ME AND MY PARTNER, AND HE WOULD HAVE GONE ON KILLING PEOPLE IF HE HADN'T BEEN STOPPED," you reply. "THERE'S A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BEING THAT KIND OF JERK AND BEING THE SNEAKY POLITICIAN KIND."

The worst things you can accuse the Fae Lord of doing at this point are tricking Chloe and assigning the banaan to guard the sungold. Being good at political maneuvering isn't exactly a crime, and neither is placing a guard on a valuable resource; even the grimstalker's use of lethal force, deadly traps, and grotesque wards isn't entirely out of the question, given how valuable sungold seems to be.

Which isn't to suggest that what the grimstalker was doing wasn't horrid and wrong and doesn't reflect badly upon his employer, only that without further proof of wrongdoing, the Fae Lord's greatest offenses are having the worst sort of hiring standards and a criminal lack of oversight. He could be a totally stand-up guy otherwise... and yeah, you don't even believe that in your head.

Which brings you around to the other major reason for your reluctance to take action: "BESIDES, PICKING FIGHTS WITH FAE LORDS IS OUTSIDE MY COMFORT ZONE."

"Oooohhhh..."

"Well, yeah, fighting one of the Big Folk would just be dumb."

"That's why you prank them instead!"

"Sneak into his room while he sleeps, and put stinkbugs up his nose!"

Ergh.

"Fill his dresser drawers with swamp slime!"

Ick.

"Poison ivy in his breeches!"

Ow.

You decide to head this litany of fairy tricks off before Chloe's kids talk themselves into a prank raid on the Fae Lord's residence, or something with similar potential to backfire.

Roughly three-quarters of an hour later, you are flying along in loose formation with Shadow Alex and the Briars, high enough over the canopy to stand a good chance of dodging anything that tries to leap out at you, but low enough to be able to dash to cover if any of your fellow fliers try to make a real nuisance of themselves. Nothing of either sort has happened, and by this point, you're doubtful that it will; Lady Chloe's territory just doesn't seem to be the kind of Fae realm where that kind of thing is permitted.

You're still keeping your guard up, of course, just... perhaps not quite so much as you would in an area proven to be inherently hostile.

In any case, you were a bit over five miles out from the trilithon when you noticed that the trees below you were starting to thin out, exposing patches of grass, bare earth, and the odd piece of rock. Over the next mile or so, those gaps in the coverage grew larger and more numerous, and now you're starting to see water - isolated pools, a stream or two, and just a general increase in the dampness.

You pause just shy of the forest's true end, looking ahead to where the ground becomes a greenish-brown morass of mud, standing water, and creeping, crawling, floating plants, with gnarled, moss-covered trees forming small islands of stability amidst the muck. The air is heavy with moisture, and while it's thankfully too warm for there to be a mist, much less a fog, the resulting humidity is already proving somewhat unpleasant. There's also a smell that stirs vague memories of ruins half-drowned in mud and rain pouring down from perpetually stormy skies, before you shake the images off.

And yes, as Lady Chloe warned you, there are some rather large insects flitting about, many of what seems to be the biting persuasion.

On the positive side, you don't see any frog-people, swamp giants, or other large predators.

On the negative, several of your enhancement spells ran out the clock while you were making your way south.

"NICE PLACE," Shadow Alex says dryly. "I ESPECIALLY LIKE HOW THE TREES THIN OUT ENOUGH TO GIVE A MORE OR LESS CLEAR VIEW OF THE SKIES, WHILE STILL AFFORDING HIDING PLACES TO ANYONE ON THE GROUND."

"I DON'T THINK THAT COUNTS AS GROUND ANYMORE, PARTNER," Shadow Briar replies, eyeing the swamp distrustfully.

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN."

Do you have a particular plan for approaching the swamp?

---

You're about to head into terrain that you've been told is inhabited by toad people that are hostile to anything prettier than they are. While you don't know how ugly something would have to be for the boggards to ignore it, Moss did seem to be implying that fairies were too pretty for this to be safe territory. It may be unkind of you to think so, but the image all of this brings to mind is a squat, warty figure with webbed hands and feet, and a long tongue that snaps out to seize any passing insects - or insect-sized fairies.

Even if that's not the case, you also know that the swamp is home to various insects of unusual size. Odds are there's something in here besides the boggards that preys on them, and which might also find fairies to be a tasty snack.

Since you'd rather not see Briar get eaten, you suggest that she and her shadow let you and yours carry them for this leg of the trip, ideally somewhere that they won't be easily noticed.

"Familiar Pocket?" Briar guesses.

"PROBABLY THE BEST IDEA," you agree. If the fairies were to ride on your shoulders, they'd be in plain sight and still potentially at risk, and riding on your heads while you kept the hoods of your Sorcerer's Robes up would be a bit uncomfortable due to the reinforced material being a little stiff and heavy - not to mention how the glowing might still give them away.

"I have no objection to this plan," Briar notes.

"LIKEWISE," Shadow Briar agrees.

"IT'S NOT LIKE BEING EATEN WOULD ACTUALLY KILL YOU," Shadow Alex observes.

"BUT I'D REMEMBER IT." Then the dark green fairy leans towards Shadow Alex's ear-

"HEY!"

-and from the way he flinches, gives it a swat. "ALSO, YOU'RE A JERK."

You open up the front of your Robe to reveal the t-shirt underneath and cast the spell in question on the breast pocket. Once the magic has taken hold, Briar dives in and disappears. The Shadows echo the actions with a little more arguing about the sanctity (or lack thereof) of one's partner's ears.

With the fairies out of harm's immediate way, you turn to the matter of your own appearance. Although it is possible that humans are "ugly" enough by Fae standards not to offend a boggard's sense of aesthetics, it's not worth taking the chance. Hence, you re-cast the Spell to Disguise One's Self, altering your appearance to something that you hope will cut down on delays and murder attempts.

"LET'S SEE... WARTS, BROKEN TEETH, BROKEN NOSE, ONE EYE LOOKING OFF AT AN ANGLE..." Musing to yourself, you turn to Shadow Alex. "WHAT DO YOU THINK, SHOULD WE GO FOR THE PALLID CORPSE-LIKE LOOK, OR WOULD SOMETHING IN A SHADE OF 'BRUISE' WORK BETTER?"

"I VOTE FOR 'CORPSE'. ALSO, DON'T FORGET THE HAIR."

"RIGHT, GREASY AND STUCK TOGETHER."

The looks you come up with are bad enough that you both wordlessly pull up the hoods of your Robes and leave them there, and then turn and fly into the swamp, heading for the moonsilver deposit. All the while, you try not to feel TOO much like a pair of Wizzrobes that have lost their hats.

Five minutes pass without incident, and then ten. You see a lot of small insects, but you're flying fast enough that they can't keep up well enough to make nuisances of themselves.

Then a strange collection of sounds become apparent: a buzzing noise akin to an annoying housefly, doppler shifting as it approaches from somewhere ahead and off to your right; and behind that, an excited croaking.

Moments later, a giant fly the size of a dog appears ahead, on a flightpath roughly sixty degrees off from your own. The creature's multifaceted red eye catches sight of you almost as quickly as you spot it, and rather than change course, its wings start beating faster as it accelerates in your direction. Not far behind the monstrous insect, several brown- and green-colored figures come into view, leaping between the more solid patches in the swamp with tongues dangling from the broad mouths of their toad-like heads and crude spears clutched in fat fists. There are four or five of the creatures, and they're the source of the croaking, which intensifies and shifts tone as their bulging eyes also register your presence.

"Help me," the fly says in a high-pitched voice. "Help meeee!"

One of the larger anthropomorphic amphibians croaks something that might be a warning, a question, or both, but you don't recognize the language.

---

Not only do you not understand the clicking, croaking language of the boggards, you can't see how you'd be able to produce some of those sounds without resorting to magic - so you go ahead and cast the Spell of Tongues, wanting to get some answers.

Of course, the fly and its amphibian pursuers don't stop moving as you make with the magic, and even in the three seconds you need to finish your spell, the difference between flight- and land-speeds makes itself apparent. The boggards were doing well to follow the fly in this kind of terrain, their long, broad-splayed, webbed toes allowing them to navigate the swamp as easily as you would solid earth, while their half-leaping gait gives them a degree of speed that somewhat makes up for the shortness and crooked nature of their legs.

But where the toad-men are traveling in short arcs from point to point, spending a portion of their energy and time in vertical movement rather than fully devoting both to horizontal, the fly can and does just move in a straight line. You and Shadow Alex drift in separate directions, moving out of the giant insect's flight path; whatever else happens here, you don't want to suffer a mid-air collision.

"That's right, intruderibbit!" the lead boggard croaks. "Stay out of our hunt, ribbit!"

Gained Boggard F (Plus)

Ah.

While you can't say you're comfortable with the prospect of sapient beings hunting and eating each other, you have to admit that it seems to be the way of things here in Faerie. The only alternatives are to eat plants - some of which, you know, are likely to be self-aware themselves - to use magic, or to starve to death. Lower-order Fae creatures like the boggards don't have the kind of magic it takes to conjure food, and you can't really fault them for simply doing what they need to in order to survive... but by the same token, you don't have to lift a finger to help them. Especially when they're asking/telling you not to.

And so you fly even further aside, hands raised in a hopefully universal gesture of non-interference just as the fly goes zipping past.

"Thankzzz for nothing!" the fly rasps sourly over the drone of its wings, somehow managing to produce an intelligible Sylvan accent despite the alien shape of its... can you even call that a mouth?

That parting comment might have stung a bit more if you weren't dealing with a giant bug, or if its situation were more dire, but honestly, you don't see how the fly really needs any help. Its lead on the toad-men is already far enough that they aren't trying to throw their crude spears at it, and is only increasing with every second that passes.

And this is with the fly barely trying for more altitude, which would swiftly render the frogs's pursuit a non-issue. It's kind of hard to see how land-bound primitive hunters with no magic could be a threat to something that fast on the wing, but ambush tactics seem likely. Flies need to eat and drink like every other living thing, and there are plenty of hiding places in a swamp, especially for creatures that blend in with the terrain as well as the boggards do. Doubly so, if they're as amphibious as the animals they so resemble.

Speaking of which, the boggards shortly go bounding along beneath you, croaking to one another. Now that they're closer, you can get a better appreciation for just how ugly they really are, warts and all. Swamp muck drips from their bodies, which are otherwise clad only by crude bits of harness that seem to be present solely to provide places for the boggards to hold things besides their hands. Most of them have a spare spear or two stowed across their backs, plus some manner of stone object with a relatively sharp edge tucked through the belt. There are a few pouches in evidence, which you hope for their sakes are waterproof, as well as a couple of sodden bags that clearly aren't.

"It's getting away, ribbit!"

"I can see that, croak!"

"Maybe we should catch these intruders instead, rib- OW!"

The lead boggard's tongue just lashed out, maneuvering precisely to slap the speaking toad-man across the side of its fat face.

"What was that for, ribbit?!" the chastised hunter demands furiously.

"Because you're an idiot, ribbit," the leader croaks back in disgust. "Talking about hunting magic-users right to their faces, croak."

The boggard's yellowish eyes blink, and roll upwards to regard you.

---

You're tempted to mention Lady Chloe's ongoing observation, but it occurs to you that if boggards hate beautiful things enough to attack most of them on sight, they might react poorly to being told you were associated with a Great Fairy.

While Navi and Chloe represent too small a sample size for you to make any statements about Great Fairies in general, Ganondorf's partial memories of other Great Fairies from ages past do seem to support the idea that they're all on the good-looking side of the scale. Inhumanly so, in some cases, and with a downright bizarre sense of personal style in others, but neither of those are anything out of the ordinary for Fae.

So rather than take the risk of needlessly provoking the toad-men, you simply wave down at the one that was (probably) considering hunting you.

That one croaks nervously and hurries to catch up with the rest of his party. As they disappear into the murky distance, however, an abnormally loud ribbiting comes back, a few discordant notes that don't directly register as part of the boggard language to your Spell of Tongues, but which echo over the marshy terrain and momentarily silence the background noise of unseen animals.

"WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE THE ODDS ARE OF THAT BEING A SIGNAL FOR ALL THEIR FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS TO COME HOPPING AFTER US?" Shadow Alex inquires dryly, as the two of you resume your flight towards the moonsilver.

"FAIR," you admit, as you ponder whether or not you should adjust your approach.

Keeping on a straight heading to the ore deposit has the distinct advantage of speed. If you get there before the toads do, you could potentially grab a sample and teleport back to the trilithon before they ever catch up to you, making your notes in peace there before signalling Navi that your quest is completed.

On the other hand, the boggards are almost certain to know the moonsilver's location; Cat told you earlier that the stuff attracts the attention of certain spirits at the full and new moons, and while the swamp isn't what you'd consider the best spot for a party, there are all kinds of beings who'd think otherwise. The boggards would have to be complete idiots to have missed such a gathering on their turf, and considering the nature of the spirits Cat said turn up under the moon's darkest phase, they'd be very DEAD idiots.

The boggard that got tongue-lashed might have been close to that dumb, but its leader seemed clever enough - clever enough to work out a signal for "intruders at the silver lode," perhaps? At the very least, it seems a safe assumption that whichever toad-man actually leads their tribe is no less intelligent than the one leading the hunt, and so is probably sharp enough to either have a guard on the moonsilver, or send toads to defend it when intruders are reported in this neck of the swamp.

So even going by the shortest available route, you might not be able to reach your destination before the boggards do. If that's the case, a stealthier approach might be called for.

Or you could just barge in, relying on your existing defenses (and maybe some added ones) to fend off the toads while you attend to your business and then get clear. The auras of the hunting party were weak enough that all of them together didn't represent as much of a threat as the grimstalker, even leaving his use of traps and magic weapons out of things. Unless they have a swamp witch or toad-priest or something similar waiting for you, you could probably just bull through any obstacles they tried to put in your path.

---

Maybe it's the fact that the boggards you've already encountered didn't feel like much of a threat.

Perhaps it's because you'd previously gone to the trouble of layering numerous magical enhancements upon your person and weaponry to face the grimstalker, only for most of those to turn out to be unnecessary.

Or it could simply be that you've been at this quest for hours, and now that the finish line is in sight, you just want to get it over with and go home.

Regardless of your precise reasoning, you decide to forge ahead as you are, relying on your speed, existing suite of defenses, and ability to rapidly deploy extra layers of protection via ki and/or Power to deal with whatever threats the swamp throws at you.

Following your brief encounter with the boggard hunting party, it takes you another ten minutes to cross the stretch of marshland that surrounds the moonsilver deposit. In that time, you don't run into any more boggards, although you do hear a few of those far-reaching croaking calls.

Ribbit-ribbit CROOOAAAK
Croak-croak ribbit
Croak-ribbit CROOOAAAK

While there's definitely some kind of pattern to the calls, they still don't register as proper language to your Spell of Tongues. That's frustrating enough, but more concerning is how they're getting closer to your location and occurring faster as time moves on.

Perhaps because of all those frog noises, you aren't attacked by any of the giant insects Chloe warned you about, and in fact hardly see any such creatures. You do spot a giant dragonfly at one point, zipping along at twice your own speed, but it doesn't approach you; no doubt the overgrown insect is looking for some quiet place to set down and finish devouring the half-eaten carcass it grips as it flies along.

Just before the location of the ore deposit comes into view, there is one final croak, longer, louder, and - dare you say it - larger than all of the rest. The entire swamp seems to fall silent in its wake.

And then you see it.

The moonsilver deposit is a weathered mass of rock that rises only a few feet above the surface of the mire, but which is curiously clear of mud or moss. Strange totems of bone ring the site, one placed at each of the cardinal directions some ten feet away from the rock; nothing so grim as a skull is on display, much less the grisly spectacle that marked the grimstalker's territory, just the long ribs and leg-bones of some unnamed swamp creature(s), carved and painted with alien symbols. A faint aura of protective magic and spiritual energy hangs about those and so marks the area itself.

You're less concerned about the presence of the warding markers than you are the bloated mass that looms just beyond them. Some observers might take it for a hill, albeit one curiously bare of plant life, but when you cast the Spell to Commune With Nature hours ago, you registered no such landmark in this area.

Even without that warning, you'd be wary of the "hill," for it radiates a powerful aura of Fae life-force and magical energy, stronger than the banaan.

And then there are the boggards. Over twenty of the toad-like creatures are gathered about the area, keeping their distance from the moonsilver and the not-a-hill both. Perhaps half resemble the hunters you saw earlier, but there are larger specimens as well, more obviously armed for combat with crude leather armor and spiked maces. Scattered through the ranks are several toad-men - less muscular and more fat - that carry small skull-capped rods of carved bone and have more of those unfamiliar markings painted on their skin in bright colors, which clash quite badly with their mostly greenish-brown skin tones. Not surprisingly, all three of those radiate modest levels of magic. Also present are a dozen or so bizarre monsters that look like dog-sized two-legged tadpoles, squatting in the mud with their fat, strong tails waggling eagerly behind them as they goggle in your direction, fanged maws gnashing around hungry croaks.

Near the center of the boggard mob squats the greatest toad-man of all, a grotesquely fat and yet powerfully muscled thing with patches of skin that have faded to an unhealthy grey. This one wears tattered robes that might once have been a bright red, but now are mostly brown, even where they aren't obviously spattered by the mud of the swamp. Though he carries no skull-rod like the others, he wears a headpiece shaped from the much larger skull of some predatory creature, and the aura of magic that radiates from his fat form is not only strong, but registers to your senses as divinely granted power.

"That will be far enough, intruders, ribbit," the skull-crowned boggard gurgles. "Declare yourselves, croak. Have you come to pay tribute to the Great One, ribbit, or are you mere thieves, come to steal our silver, croak?"

Gained Boggard F (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)

From his tone, it seems clear that he expects the latter.

---

It occurs to you that mentioning your association with fairies probably wouldn't go over well with this crowd.

"OUR APOLOGIES, RIBBIT," you reply through your Spell of Tongues.

The boggards blink in collective surprise at hearing you speak even that much of their language.

"WE ARE VISITORS TO THIS REALM, AND NOT FAMILIAR WITH ITS TERRITORIES, CROAK. WHILE IT IS TRUE THAT WE CAME SEEKING MOONSILVER, WE DID NOT REALIZE THAT THIS DEPOSIT HAD BEEN CLAIMED BY OTHERS - AT LEAST, NOT WHEN THE MOON WAS NOT YET FULL OR DARK, RIBBIT-RIBBIT." Though after that business with the fish, perhaps you should have? "NOR DID WE EXPECT THE PRESENCE OF THE GREAT ONE, CROAK."

And you're tempted to have a few words with Lady Chloe about that last one. She mentioned boggards, giant insects, and a straight-up giant, not what is probably a giant toad the size of a small hill. That's a rather significant oversight for a Great Fairy to be making in her own domain.

Between his surprise at your fluency in Boggard, the fat-rippling flinch that passes through the assembled crowd of toad-men at your passing reference to the impending new moon, and perhaps a certain amount of confusion at your DRAMATICALLY EMPHASIZED TONE, it takes the boggard leader a moment to find his tongue.

"...er, yes, well, ribbit..." Then he makes a sound that you assume is the toadly equivalent of clearing one's throat. "IT MATTERS NOT WHAT YOU EXPECTED OR WERE FAMILIAR WITH, CROAK; YOU HAVE TRESPASSED UPON A SACRED SITE, AND NOW MUST ANSWER FOR THAT OFFENSE, RIBBIT."

There is a twitch from your shirt pocket when the boss boggard starts mimicking your voice.

"WOULD IT BE POSSIBLE TO MAKE AMENDS FOR OUR UNINTENDED INSULT BY DOING SOME SMALL FAVOR TO YOUR TRIBE OR THE GREAT ONE, CROAK? AS YOU CAN SEE" - you gesture at your free-floating self and at Shadow Alex hovering a few feet to your right - "MY COMPANION AND I HAVE SOME SKILL AS SPELLCASTERS, PARTICULAR IN THE FIELDS OF MAGICAL CONSTRUCTION AND PROVISIONING, AND WE WOULD BE WILLING TO PUT THOSE TALENTS TO FAIR USE, RIBBIT."

Gained Boggard E

The boss toad swells up, making a series of rapid, angry croaking noises. "WE HAVE OUR OWN MAGIC-USERS, EMPOWERED BY THE WILL OF THE GREAT ONE AND THE BLESSINGS OF THE TOAD-MOTHER, RIBBIT! DO YOU SUGGEST YOUR SORCERY COULD PROVIDE ANYTHING THAT THEY COULD NOT, RIBBIT? THAT IT IS BETTER, RIBBIT-GRIBBIT?"

---

It's been a long afternoon. You've spent hours doing nothing but fly over a forest, gotten attacked by a psychotic Fae, personally laid one of its victims to rest, dealt with the ghost of an unhappy child, and been harassed by a school of fish - and now an overgrown toad is deliberately giving you a hard time.

Under different circumstances, you might have tried to deflect the boggard chieftan's obvious bluster and spoiling for a fight, but here and now, you simply don't feel like playing entirely nice any more.

And so it is that you release some of your hold on your internal energies, allowing the stirrings of your Power to express themselves upon the world as a golden glow.

"YES."

Gained Power Aura E

Once again, a collective flinch runs through the mass of toad-men. The skull-wearing boss actually backs up a step, eyes bulging in alarm as the lingering hints of divine energy in your aura register.

Something over on the "hill" shifts. Obscured by your hood and your shiny new aura, you glance quickly in that direction - and find that a bleary, bloodshot orange eye has cracked open near the top of the mass, and is now regarding you with a mix of hunger, caution, and interest.

"BUT YOU NEED NOT TAKE MY WORD FOR IT," you continue, keeping on eye on the monster. Raising one hand, you point the illusion of a gnarled finger with a cracked and filthy nail at the boss boggard, and as he recoils in alarm, declare, "I CHALLENGE YOU! TO A CONJURATION COOK-OFF!"

The words hang in the air for a moment.

Then, a thunderous CROAK issues from the back of the mob. As one, the boggards wheel about, drop to their webbed hands and scaly knees, and press their faces to the ground, moaning and croaking praise to their Great One, as the monster decides to make its presence fully known.

As you expected, it's some sort of giant toad, fifteen feet tall in its body alone and just as broad, and gaining another five feet in height from the four thick legs that support its vast weight - though even those powerful limbs seem unable to lift the bloated beast free of the mud, instead keeping it in a sort of squatting stance. But this is no ordinary amphibian: twisted reptilian wings not entirely unlike those found on certain dragons unfurl themselves upon its bloated back; the eye you spied before is joined by two more, which collectively mark the points of a very broad triangle as they glance about independent of each other, taking in the scene; and fangs the size of daggers glint as its cavernous maw parts to allow an enormous tongue - thick as a tree trunk and possibly just as tall - to slide forth and slather slimy spittle over the monster's thick lips.

"I APPROVE OF THIS CHALLENGE, RIBBIT," the Great One states. "THE WINNER SHALL EARN MY FAVOR, AND THE LOSER SHALL JOIN ME FOR DINNER, RIB-RIB-RIBBIT!"

If you thought the robed chieftan had been scared before, it's nothing compared to the shade of pale he turns now.

"Permit me and mine to fetch the cookpots and dishes, Great One, croak!" one of the rod-waving types bubbles into the mud.

"PERMISSION GRANTED, CROAK."

Without a word, the arcanist leaps to his feet and takes off, followed by half a dozen of the mundane toad-men.

"With your blessing, Great One, I'll get some fires going, ribbit!" another of the boggard spellcasters adds, a little too enthusiastically.

The crowd flinches again.

"GRANTED, RIBBIT." The Great One pauses. "BUT NO MORE THAN THREE, AND NONE BIGGER THAN COULD FIT IN MY HAND, CROAK."

The boggard almost seems to wilt at that. "Aw, but- I mean, as you command, Great One. Ribbit-ibbit..."

You stare at the toad-man, wondering if you've actually found a pyromaniacal amphibian. It wouldn't be the weirdest monster ever, but...

Leaving that aside, is there anything you'd like to ask for permission to add to the... festivities?

---

As the boggards rush off to make their preparations for the contest, you consider making a few of your own.

On the off-chance that you get asked to eat examples of swamp cuisine, it would probably be for the best if you had spells up to protect you from poison and nausea. While you do have the Spell to Delay Poison already in place, it's going to run down after another fifteen or twenty minutes, which probably won't be enough time; fortunately, it's only a second-tier spell, well within your abilities to cast without drawing attention from the spellcasters.

You go ahead and do that.

As far as suppressing nausea goes, the Spell of Persistent Vigor immediately comes to mind, but that one won't last two full minutes. You could increase the duration easily enough, but it's a fourth-circle spell to start with, and making it last long enough to be useful would push the spell all the way to the sixth tier - too potent for you to hide.

You don't think that the boggards or their Great One would let the casting of an upper-middle tier magic pass without demanding to know what it was for, and you doubt the toad-men would be pleased to hear that you expected their cooking to make you physically ill.

So instead, you cast the Spell to Remove Sickness. While it doesn't make you immune to nausea the way Persistent Vigor does, it will make you less likely to get sick, whether because of your stomach rebelling against unpalatable food or because something was actually bad for you. Between that, your resilient stomach, and your sturdy constitution, you should be alright.

Probably.

Finally, you get around to the question of what sort of food you should try to prepare. You've never cooked for a giant toad before, and you're not sure what sort of menu the Great One would approve of, besides "giant bugs."

After a moment's thought, you decide to cast the Spell to Know the Enemy, and hope that the Goddesses will read the situation and favor you with some culinary insights, rather than the usual martial ones.

Your third spell takes effect, and the Goddesses prove to be with you, as information heretofore unknown to you fills your mind.

The Great One is something called a "mobogo," the quasi-mortal spawn of a toad-like entity that the boggards worship as a goddess - though in truth, it is actually a demon. Mobogos typically reside in the most ancient swamps of the Material Plane, and as they seldom if ever leave their murky domains, they are accustomed to dining on the lesser swamp beasts, as well as whatever their subservient boggard tribes can catch for them.

In other words, the Great One is likely to want meat, and lots of it. Fish, bugs, and lizard would probably be its usual fare, along with any unfortunate toad-men that manage to displease the monster, while meat of mammalian origins is likely a rare treat. The sheer size of the mobogo ensures that cooked food would be highly uncommon as well; the ambient damp of the swamp makes fuel for fires somewhat hard to come by, and the boggard spellcasters aren't so powerful or numerous that they could casually make up the difference. Not with all the other demands there should be for their abilities, or the leadership roles they appear to hold.

The last bit of information you get is that the Great One probably isn't familiar with spices. Whether that's a warning to avoid them or a suggestion that the novelty of hot foods might go over well, you can't say, as your spell lapses immediately afterwards.

Thinking it over, you mentally shrug. Magic came up a little short in terms of deciding the menu, but you could always just ask the one you're about to cook for.

"AND WHAT WOULD THE GREAT ONE CARE TO DINE ON THIS AFTERNOON, RIBBIT?"

The giant amphibian's three eyes blink in unison at your question, and it croaks to itself a few times in contemplation.

"I HAVE GROWN FOND OF SPIDER, OF LATE, CROAK," the monster replies after a moment. "ESPECIALLY WHEN THE HUNTERS CAN TAKE ONE ALIVE, RIB-RIB-RIBBIT. FAIRY IS ALWAYS SWEET, CROAK."

Urge to smite, rising.

"AND YET... I ONCE HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO SAMPLE A DISH FROM THE MORTAL PLANE, RIBBIT. THE HUMAN WHO PREPARED IT FOR ME CLAIMED THAT IT WAS THE TRADITIONAL MEAL OF HIS PEOPLE, AND THAT HIS FAMILY RAISED THE BEASTS WHOSE MEAT WAS ITS PRIMARY INGREDIENT, CROAK."

"AND WHAT WAS THE NAME OF THIS RARE REPAST?" you ask.

The mobogo's enormous tongue licks its lips once more. "HE CALLED IT 'BARBEQUE,' RIBBIT."

Gained Boggard E (Plus)

...well, then.

---

Your father regularly cooks barbeque, and is pretty good at it, in spite of his otherwise lacklustre, take-out focused culinary skills. Although you've never attempted to use the grill at home yourself, you have picked up a thing or two through osmosis, sometimes from hearing your father and uncle argue over the details, at others because Tony's made a point of telling you directly.

It's a family tradition that he wants to pass it down, and if you're still too young to try cooking with gas on your own, you have at least helped out with the spices and sauce, and paid attention while your father was creating culinary art.

The only question is how well you can adapt what you know of the mundane process to the spells you have available for creating food...

You rule out the Spell to Create Food and Water right away. While your skills have improved since the day you shared flat soda and bland pizza with Xander, the fact remains that this spell is meant to provide simple fare rather than fine dining.

The Spell of the Heroes' Feast is a much better option in that regard. It is, bar none, the highest-quality food-creating spell in your repertoire; the only issue is that the feast is perhaps TOO good, so rich and flavorful that it bestows a number of benefits on the diners, purging them of illness and making them tougher, stronger, and more resilient for the length of an entire working day, plus overtime. You're not sure if you want to give that kind of a boost to creatures you may yet end up fighting, just on general principle.

Finally, there's the Spell of the Magnificent Mansion, which you've used to produce mass quantities of food before, as when you fed Ghido the Island Turtle. In terms of dining quality, the Mansion falls somewhere in between the other two spells, being superior in quality to Create Food, but lacking the supernatural potency of the Heroes' Feast.

As you review formulas in your mind, the boggards get to work. Gnarled bits of dried wood are piled up in three separate locations, along with "bricks" of some compressed brown material whose origins you aren't sure of. Three huge clay pots, each big enough to hold an entire cow, are dragged out from somewhere and planted within each of the ring-shaped piles of fuel, after which individual boggards holding flasks of water begin wetting the outside of the pot, while others hop inside to do the same.

All the while, the pyromaniac waits impatiently, webbed foot tapping and bulging eyes staring unblinkingly at the flammable piles. No sooner has one of the boggards leapt out of the pot he was in, than the spellcaster ignites the firepit with a happy croak. He doesn't stop there, and the other two pot-cleaners escape their duties with frantic yelps; one of them seems fine, but the other dances in place for a moment, hopping back and forth as he warbles in pain, before leaping into the nearest brackish pool.

The ruckus seems to rouse the skull-capped leader, who gives himself a shake and waddles over to the vicinity of the pots, where he begins chanting prayers to the Great Toad Mother, Long May She Ribbit.

No sooner do you feel the toad-priest's magic take effect than a sloshing gurgle escapes from the pots, the sound of water bubbling up as if from nowhere to fill the vessels. It takes a minute to fill the huge containers to what the boss boggard feels is acceptable, but once that's done, the tone of his croaking chant changes. Splashing sounds are the next thing to emerge from the pots, as food is conjured from thin air and falls in.

Then, with great solemnity, the still-praying toad-priest draws a great wooden stirring spoon from somewhere, hops up on a crude, wide footstool that two of his minions dragged over, and begins stirring the stew. He's at it for a minute or so, moving at the speed of ritual, and as he shuffles down from his stand and moves towards the next fire and the pot atop it - stool-carrying minions hurrying on ahead of him - several more boggards wrestle a clay lid the size of a tower shield onto the top of the pot.

"The Mother has heard, and the Mother has answered, ribbit," the toad-priest intones, voice of DRAMATIC EMPHASIS dropped in favor of something more formal. "The stew should be ready within the hour, croak."

"GOOD, GOOD, RIB-RIBBIT," the Great One replies. One eye turns to you. "AND WHAT OF YOU, INTRUDER, CROAK? CAN YOUR MAGIC MEET THE CHALLENGE YOU HAVE SET, RIBBIT?"

"IT CAN, O GREAT ONE, CRO-OAK," you reply. "BUT IT IS ONLY RIGHT THAT THE CHALLENGED PARTY SHOULD GO FIRST, RIBBIT. BESIDES, I NEED ONLY TEN MINUTES TO PREPARE MY OFFERING, CROAK."

There is much muttering and ribbiting at that. Boss Boggard shoots you a glance that is half-envious, half-worried, and tinged with suspicion.

He may not be able to cast Heroes' Feast himself, but it's possible he's priest enough to know of the spell.

"INDEED, CROAK?" the mobogo replies, intrigued. "I SHALL LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR OFFERING, THEN, RIBBIT."

Is there anything you'd like to say or do to fill the time before you start cooking?

---

You wait patiently, a robed, faceless figure hovering over the proceedings like the shadow of doom as Boss Boggard and his underlings carry on with their culinary craft.

Each time the heavy lids of the cookpots are removed for another round of stirring, gouts of steam escape, carrying with them a surprisingly not-unpleasant aroma of something meaty and something green. The view these moments afford you of the bubbling stew is rather less tantalizing, as the broth is a thick brown, occasionally broken by body parts floating to the surface: a chitinous leg, here; a multifaceted eye, there; and short hairs that somehow retain their bristly appearance despite being soaked and stewed.

Swamp spider stew, huh?

Each time the lids are pulled away, the Great One's attention becomes fixed on his approaching meal. There is a certain amount of lip-licking and slobber involved.

Even as you keep one eye on the events unfolding below, you periodically glance around to see what the boggards not directly engaged in cooking are up to. You're glad you do, because past the fifteen minute mark or so, the number of toad-men starts increasing. They appear mainly in groups of four to six, hunting parties like the one you passed earlier, but at one point, a mob of at least thirty individuals shows up; most of those aren't visibly armed or magically capable, instead bearing baskets of additional foodstuffs and crude cutlery.

It appears that a tribe-wide feast has been declared. Checking the numbers, and coming to a good seventy-plus boggards - and the mobogo, of course - you spare a moment to be relieved that Shadow Alex is here to back you up when your turn comes.

At the half hour mark, you check on your suite of self-enhancement spells. Most of those that you entered the marsh with are still going strong, but your Spell of Protection From Arrows has lapsed, while the Spells of Freedom of Movement and Greater Magic Weaponry will be joining it in a few more minutes. You don't really NEED any of these right now, but if this cook-off comes to a bad conclusion, that could change very quickly. The good news is that, if you wanted to renew those protections, your Mana Concealment is sufficient to hide all of them - though Freedom of Movement, as a fourth-circle spell that you'd need to leave unmodified, would create enough of a lingering signature that you'd lose the ability to stealth-cast further spells of that level.

At length, the chief toad takes a taste of the slimy stew, nods his head in satisfaction, and issues new orders to his minions. To much croaking chanting, one of the fires is extinguished, and an enormous bowl of comparable size - albeit much broader at the base and more shallow on the sides - is carried over on the backs of half a dozen boggards. As many more of the toad-men produce "spoons" the size of shovels and begin the laborious process of preparing what is clearly the Great One's serving - whether "only" or merely "first," you are honestly unsure.

While that's going on, soup-bowls of much more familiar dimensions are filled from the second pot. The first of these is presented to the skull-capped chieftan, while three more are taken to the arcanists, and the next two are brought before you and Shadow Alex by a couple of servers who are visibly reluctant to come near you.

You accept the offering in the spirit with which it is given, peering warily into the bowl and shifting the contents around a bit.

There's definitely part of a spider's leg in there, but no eyes float to the surface.

That's... something, anyway.

At length, everyone who's getting some of the stew has been served. There seems to have been just enough for each member of the tribe to get a bowl, although not all of those are equal in size. Regardless, the band of toad-men weighed down by the Great One's share croak and wheeze as they slowly make their way over to their patron, struggling to take each web-footed step without spilling a drop of the stew.

They succeed, and no sooner has the group halted than the mobogo reaches down with both forelimbs to lift their burden from their backs. The monster raises his meal to his face and breathes in deeply through what passes for his nose.

"AH, SPIDER STEW, CROAK. A FINE CHOICE, RIBBIT."

And with no further adieu, he opens his mouth, tips the bowl forward, and chugs the contents down in one long, gulping go. The boggards do likewise, although even taking differences of scale into account, most of them have much less to eat than their towering master.

When his bowl is at last empty, the Great One smacks his lips, making sounds of appreciation.

Then he belches.

"YES, WELL DONE, RIB-RIBBIT. I BELIEVE I SHALL HAVE SECONDS, CROAK."

None of the soup-carriers groan, but at least two of their number visibly slump at the pronouncement, before being blocked from sight by the return of the mobogo's bowl.

Boss Boggard shoots a challenging glance your way, some of his pride restored by the Great One's approval of his efforts.

---

You take a few minutes to quietly restore your lapsed self-enhancement spells.

You won't be here for more than another hour or so, meaning you don't need the full potential duration of the Spell of Protection From Arrows. Once you've trimmed that down, it works out to the equivalent of a first-circle spell, and slips past the notice of your hosts without so much as a twitch.

Greater Magic Weapon sees a similar reduction, as well as a shortening of its effective range - for what use is being able to affect targets sixty feet away, when you're only interested in boosting the fighting power of the sword held at your side? That, too, comes out at first-tier, and once again, goes unnoticed by your warty hosts.

Finally, there's the Spell of Freedom of Movement. This one you can't alter in any meaningful manner, and as a fourth-circle spell, it's on the upper end of what you can reliably conceal, meaning that a keenly magically sensitive individual might still catch you casting it. Fortunately, the ritual approach lets you spread out the effort over time, drawing the necessary mana slowly enough that no one appears to detect it.

It likely helps that the four major spellcasters of this tribe of toad-men and the building-sized Great One are all at least slightly distracted by the food preparation going on.

All in all, you feel that much safer once your spellcasting is complete.

Spells to Delay Poison and Remove Sickness or no, you aren't keen on putting your intestinal fortitude to the test in this company. That said, you can't afford to be seen refusing to eat the meal any more than you can be seen violently rejecting it, so - with a short prayer to the Golden Goddesses to not let you make a fool of yourself, and an apology to Liantiel and that winged Fae spider you spoke to earlier - you raise the bowl to your lips and take a drink of the stew.

*Glug*

...

Huh.

There is good news, and there is bad news.

The bad news is that Boss Boggard's Swamp Spider Stew has about as unpleasant a texture as you expected from looking at it. The consistency of the broth reminds you of runny phlegm, and it's shot through with some of those bristly hairs; though sufficiently softened by the stewing that they don't pierce the flesh of your mouth or throat, they do threaten to get stuck back there and just be irritating, the same way as any other hair you'd accidentally (or in this case, intentionally) swallowed.

The good news is that the stuff doesn't smell or taste bad at all. Whatever marshland greens the toad-man added, they go down easily, and the small bit of meat you get with your experimental tasting almost melts in your mouth. The cracked chunk of chitin attached to it takes some actual chewing, but the hour-long stewing has softened it considerably, to the point where it's no harder on your teeth than uncooked pasta.

Also, you don't feel nauseous.

While it's tempting to chug down another mouthful of the stew, you stick to your guns to wait and see what happens - and, hopefully, take advantage of the nausea-removing properties of the Spell of the Heroes' Feast, which you're due to cast shortly.

Once the Great One has finished off his second serving and deemed it good, all bulging toad-eyes turn to you.

"AND NOW, IT IS OUR CHALLENGER'S TURN, RIBBIT," the enormous amphibian declares.

Setting your bowl aside - in mid-air, with a little Mage Hand cantrip for showmanship - you clap your hands together and bow to your hosts.

"THANK YOU, O GREAT ONE, CROAK. MY ASSOCIATE AND I SHALL ENDEAVOR NOT TO DISAPPOINT, RIBBIT."

As you ready yourself to begin the spell, words come to you, not of magic, but of prayer.

"O MIGHTY DIN! GRANT ME THE POWER TO CALL FORTH A GREAT FEAST!"

"GRANTED."

Out of the corner of one eye, you see Boss Boggard blanch.

"O SAGE NAYRU! GRANT ME THE KNOWLEDGE TO FLAVOR IT WELL!"

"Reluctantly granted."

"O BRAVE FARORE! PASS THE HOT SAUCE!"

"MWAHAHAHAHA! GRANTED!"

Gained Boggard E (Plus) (Plus)

And then you begin casting.

Energy swirls about you and Shadow Alex as you chant in unison, and about a quarter of the way through the ten-minute ritual, shadowy images begin to waver in and out of view. The boggards croak nervously at first, warty fists tightening on weapons and spellcasting focuses, but as the forms of furniture and high-piled foodstuffs emerge from the swirling mists, the ribbiting takes on notes of surprise and anticipation.

The mobogo in particular eyes the enormous beanbag chair and even larger pile of food that appear next to him with great interest.

Elsewhere, the toad-priest's ugly face falls in dismay.

Casting this spell represents a significant effort. Normally, Heroes' Feast is a sixth-circle divine ritual, which means that in your hands, it's effectively seventh-circle. On top of that, it normally affects less than a score of recipients, meaning you need to enhance it by another step, putting it at eighth-tier - just about the limit of your abilities with on-the-spot Conjuration Magic, before taking into account the limitations imposed by your youth. This makes the magic somewhat uncertain, and since it's already a ritual, you can't use the ritual casting method to enhance your available mana and stabilize the casting.

Under different circumstances, the outcome might not have been ideal, but with the support of the Goddesses behind you, the feast that manifests is one that suits the aesthetic sensibilities of the beauty-hating boggards. The "dining tables" that appear are simple pieces of undecorated wood, cut for crude solidity rather than style, and joined with no consideration for matching colors or patterns. There are no tablecloths, no shining silverware, no bone china; instead, plates and bowls of the same sort of clay as the boggards' cookpots cover the bare surface of the table. The chairs are nothing of the sort, replaced by more beanbags - lined with waterproofed leather - that the toad-men will have no trouble squatting on.

As for the food itself, meat is everywhere. Steaks are piled as high as some of the boggards, cooked from oozing rare to black-tinted well-done, flanked by a forest of kebabs of marsh greens and paler meats. An army of hamburgers stand ready for toppings, which range from familiar ketchup, mustard, onions, and relish to soggy leaf-greens, insect or arachnid legs, and weirder toppings you don't look too closely at, after seeing the contents of one bowl squirm. Grilled fish, chicken, and ham compete for space with the red meat, and plain goblets of clay and wood bubble and froth with eldritch liquids - or maybe just carbonated beverages.

The mobogo's enormous private table sports a similar spread, with a bit of everything for his consideration.

And for a moment, the odors of the swamp are drowned out by the rich smell of barbeque sauce.

Gained Conjuration B (Plus)

"It's... it's beautiful, croak," the mobogo whispers, a tear forming in the corner of his left eye.

Gingerly, as if he expects the food to disappear, the swamp titan plucks a single steak from his table and tosses it into his mouth.

"Mmmm... MMMM... hmmm?"

And then he swallows it whole.

"DELICIOUS, RIBBIT!" the Great One thunders, tears in his eyes as he reaches for an enormous cup. Guzzling down something that visibly steams in the damp air, the giant amphibian proclaims, "LET THE FEAST BEGIN, CROAK!"

Once everyone else in sight has heeded those words, you and Shadow Alex take the seats at the small private table you conjured up for your private use, and dig in.

Gained Cooking D (Plus)

---

While a part of you would like to take advantage of the boggards' and mobogo's collective distraction-via-food to quietly tip out the bowl of Swamp Spider Stew, the majority rejects that proposal. For one thing, it would be rude. For another, this "Toad Mother" was involved in the creation of the meal, and it would not serve your interests to offend a demon powerful enough to pass itself off as a god. Not that you doubt the Goddesses could take her, but you shouldn't be making problems they'll have to deal with unless there is no acceptable alternative. Or unless they find it funny. Which they honestly might...

All of that aside, you honestly feel a little bad for Boss Boggard.

Seriously, you've stomped the poor toad-man in magical power, prep time, sheer quantity of food, and - if the reactions of the Great One and the rest of the crowd are any indication - for quality as well. Unless the mobogo eats itself into a food coma or somebody does something clever, odds are the Great One is going to finish this cook-off with a boggard chaser, as he threatened at the outset.

Refusing to eat the guy's cooking on top of that feels kind of like kicking a puppy. A really ugly tadpole-puppy.

And so, in between bites of your barbeque bonanza, you glug down mouthfuls of the thick, runny stew. It takes a while to finish off, but another minor cantrip keeps it warm for you, so that you don't have to test yourself against cold glop.

At no point during this Feast plus one does your stomach so much as twitch or gurgle. Whether that's because of your iron stomach, your magical measures against gastric distress, or the simple fact of the stew being entirely safe, who can say?

As it is written in the formula of the spell, it takes a full hour for those who sit down to a Heroes' Feast to finish their portion of the meal. The amount of meat the mobogo is able to pack away in this time is... okay, to another mind, it would be staggering, but you've fed an island turtle to the point of satisfaction. The Great One's gluttony comes in a distant second to Ghido's island-clearing hunger.

In the end, however, the mobogo clears his table, lets out a thunderous, croaking belch, and proclaims, "I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE IT, EVEN OF THE WONDER THAT IS BARBEQUE, BUT I CAN EAT NO MORE, RIBBIT."

One of the maybe-warlock, maybe-witch boggards with the skull rods dares to rise from his beanbag chair and raise his voice in question: "Then, O Great One, you have reached a decision, ribbit?"

Boss Boggard shooks his lackey a look of betrayed fury.

"I HAVE, CROAK. THERE CAN BE NO DOUBT: THE WINNER IS THE INTRUDER, RIBBIT!"

A round of congratulatory croaking ensues.

Gained 3 Gratitude Crystals

"AND SO, STRANGER WHO COOKS DIVINELY," the mobogo continues, "YOU HAVE EARNED NOT ONLY MY FOREBEARANCE WITH THIS MEAL, BUT MY FAVOR AS WELL, RIBBIT. HAVE YOU A REQUEST, CROAK?"

Obviously, you're going to request permission to take a sample of moonsilver, and potentially to mine the site later on, depending on how the tests go. And yet... your gaze trails over to the toad-priest, who now stands alone by the empty cook-pots, abandoned by his tribe in anticipation of what is to come.

Are you comfortable leaving him to his fate? More to the point, is there anything you can think of that might avert it?

---

Maybe it's the fact that the boggards are Fae, for whom dying on their native plane - no matter how unpleasant the manner - is only a temporary state of affairs. Perhaps the knowledge that this is a tribe of demon-worshippers is curbing your enthusiasm to heroically intervene. Or it could just be that you don't like toad-people enough to make a serious effort.

Whatever the reason, when you look upon the Boss Boggard and consider his impending fate as the Great One's after-dinner snack, you find no clever ideas coming to mind that would prevent it.

...that said, you might be able to avoid helping those particular proceedings along. You did just stuff the mobogo full of a feast of heroic proportions, and he did say he was full. Maybe if you don't remind him of the boggard chieftan's existence, he'll drift into a food coma and forget all about his threat to eat the loser of your little competition by the time he wakes up?

"YES, O GREAT ONE, RIBBIT," you reply, turning back to the towering triple-eyed toad. "I HAVE BEEN TASKED WITH COLLECTING CERTAIN METALS, FOR A PROJECT BEING UNDERTAKEN BY ASSOCIATES OF MINE, CROAK."

"AND ONE OF THE METALS THAT YOU REQUIRE IS MOONSILVER, RIB-RIBBIT," the mobogo concludes, fat flesh rippling as he nods his vast head.

"IT IS, GREAT ONE, CROAK. AT THE MOMENT, I SEEK ONLY A SMALL SAMPLE FOR QUALITY TESTING PURPOSES, BUT SHOULD IT PROVE WORTHY, A LARGER SUPPLY WOULD BE NEEDED, RIBBIT."

The Great One considers this. "WHO ARE THESE ASSOCIATES YOU SPEAK OF, CRO-OAK? AND WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF THEIR WORK, RIBBIT-RIBBIT?"

"O GREAT ONE, THEY ARE FAE RESIDENTS OF THE LOST WOODS, A DARK AND HAUNTED FOREST IN THE GODDESS-TOUCHED, DEMON-CURSED MORTAL REALM KNOWN AS 'HYRULE,' CROAK. AND THEIR PURPOSE IS NO LESS THAN THE CREATION OF A MIGHTY DEATH MACHINE, THAT ALL IN THAT LAND MAY KNOW THE FEARSOME GLORY OF THE FAE, RIBBIT!"

And the best part of this is, every word of that was true.

Appreciative croaking passes through the gathered tribe. Even Boss Boggard brightens a bit.

"SUCH WOULD BE A WORTHY CAUSE FOR OUR SILVER, CROAK," the Great One booms with a note of distinct approval. "VERY WELL, INTRUDER, RIBBIT. I WILL GRANT YOU PERMISSION TO TAKE A SMALL AMOUNT OF THE MOONSILVER, AND, SHOULD IT SUIT YOUR ASSOCIATES' NEEDS, TO RETURN HERE UNHARMED TO NEGOTIATE FOR A LARGER SUPPLY, RIB-RIB-RIBBIT."

Gained Boggard E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)

You have the distinct impression that someone's angling for a second feast.

---

You're about to suggest a conditional term of your own, specifically that one of your "associates" may come in your place, but two things stop you.

First, if you don't come back for the moonsilver in person, the one most likely to take your place is probably Briar's big brother Robin. You haven't forgotten the warning you were given about boggards disliking creatures "prettier" than they are, and while you wouldn't describe the Fae smith as "pretty," he's certainly put together in a much more aesthetically pleasing manner than the toad-men. There's also the Great One's comment about fairies being tasty to consider.

The other thing that stops you from speaking is that Navi said sample-gathering was only the FIRST of your Trials to pay off what you owe her for the demiplanar refuges she'll be creating on your behalf. Although she hasn't breathed a word about what the next item on the agenda will be, sending you to fetch the actual ores that will be used in the creation of the Fairy Death Machine would be a natural follow-up.

As such, you bow and accept the Great One's terms.

"EXCELLENT, CROAK! I SHALL LOOK FORWARD TO OUR FUTURE DEALINGS, RIB-RIBBIT." The mobogo pauses for another spicy belch. "ON THAT NOTE, I SHALL RETIRE TO DIGEST, AND DREAM OF MEALS TO COME, RIBBIT." Two eyes turning towards the toad-men, the Great One declares, "HEAR ME, ALL OF YOU, AND OBEY, CROAK! SO LONG AS HE LIMITS HIMSELF TO COLLECTING A SMALL BIT OF MOONSILVER, YOU ARE NOT TO INTERFERE WITH THE COOKING ONE, RIBBIT!"

The boggards collectively fall on their flat, ugly faces. "We hear and obey, Great One, ribbit! The Cooking One shall not be touched, rib-ribbit!"

"We hear and obey, croak!"

Apparently, you've gained a new title.

The Great One nods in satisfaction, and then turns to hop back to the spot where he had been sitting when you first arrived. As the monster does so, however, one of his three eyes locks on the still-present beanbag chair for a moment, before the mobogo turns back to you.

"AS AN ASIDE, HOW LONG WILL THIS SEAT ENDURE, CROAK?"

"I WOULD NOT EXPECT IT TO PERSIST LONGER THAN HALF A DAY, O GREAT ONE, RIBBIT," you answer. Your Conjuration Magic is good enough that you likely could conjure a permanent beanbag chair big enough for the giant toad monster's warty rump, but that wasn't the purpose of the Spell of the Heroes' Feast. The chairs, tables, and other accouterments are strictly temporary, and will start fading back into the aether now that the Feast is complete and their purpose served.

In theory, it might be possible to use the Spell of Permanency to stabilize the oversized creation, but you don't have much experience using that particular spell - certainly not enough to accurately estimate the cost of such an endeavor. As such, you keep quiet on the topic.

"A PITY, CROAK," the mobogo sighs, before turning away and apparently putting the seat out of his mind as he re-settles himself amid the muck of the mire.

The boggards, for their part, continue to kowtow until the Great One has stopped moving, closed his eyes, and let out a final booming CROOOOAAAAK. Only once that thunderous sound has faded into the distance do the toad-men lift themselves from the mud and start going about their business. The crowd of hunters and "civilians" that turned up midway through the encounter disappear back into the swamp, carrying the bowls they brought with them. The warband - or is "wartband" more appropriate? - that confronted you upon your arrival at the site of the ore deposit breaks up into four groups, three of which follow their skull rod-wielding leaders in different directions.

Said spellcasters shoot smug glances towards the brown-robed toad-priest, whose remaining warriors seem... reluctant... to venture too close to his person.

Then the arcanists are gone, one of them croaking at his followers not to drop the blazing lengths of wood he had them pluck from the still-smoldering cook-fires.

For his part, Boss Boggard remains on his knees in the muck, webbed hands clutching at his skull cap in a manner that strikes you as half-desperation, half-ritual, while he quietly croons and croaks a prayer that is no less urgent for its modest volume.

Whatever his religious inclinations, you don't feel right about disturbing a priest at prayer. As such, you leave the boggard to his devotions for the moment, instead turning your attention to making notes of this whole incident and finally collecting that last sample of moonsilver.

Gained Ore Sample

And with that, you are done.

...right?

---

Yeah, you're done.

Gesturing silently for Shadow Alex to follow, you take to the air once more and leave the toad-priest to his prayers.

Once you're out of earshot, your doppelganger inquires, "YOU'RE NOT PLANNING TO FLY ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE STARTING LINE, ARE YOU?"

"NO, NOTHING LIKE THAT. I JUST WANTED TO PUT SOME DISTANCE BETWEEN US, THE MOONSILVER, AND THE BOGGARDS BEFORE TELEPORTING."

No sense in risking contamination to the ore at this late stage, or provoking an angry response from the Boss Boggard.

Shadow Alex follows your reasoning and nods to indicate his own understanding.

A short time later-

-fly-

-you return to where this Trial began.

"YOU CAN COME OUT NOW, BRIARS," you announce, lifting your hand from Shadow Alex's shoulder, where you placed it to link him to your Spell of Teleportation.

"No more evil toad-men?" a muffled voice issues from the shirt pocket beneath your armored robe.

"WE'RE CLEAR."

Reddish-pink light flies from your pocket, as a deep green one does the same from Shadow Alex's. Both fairies make identical sounds, as if stretching after a long period of inactivity.

"So, how'd it go?" your partner asks.

"WE TRADED A HEROES' BARBEQUE FEAST FOR A SAMPLE OF MOONSILVER, AND SAFE PASSAGE TO NEGOTIATE FUTURE ACCESS."

"...boggards eat barbeque? Really?"

"SOMEONE FROM EARTH APPARENTLY TREATED THEIR GIANT TOAD-DEMONSPAWN BOSS TO BARBEQUE BEFORE, AND HE DEVELOPED A TASTE FOR IT." You pause, wondering about that unidentified barbeque chef. When did he come to Faerie, and how? What led him into the boggards' territory and a meeting with the mobogo, and did he ever leave?

Questions for another time. Shaking your head, you look around. It's just you, your team, the standing stones, the forest around you, and the belated realization that Navi never mentioned how you were supposed to signal her that you had completed your - or for that matter, what to do if you'd decided to give up on it. Not that you would have needed to, of course, but...

In any case, the lack of a Great Fairy appearing in response to your return to the trilithon suggests that Navi either wasn't watching your Trial, or else got distracted by something. Your money's on the latter.

Shrugging, you cast a Spell of Sending to let Navi know you're finished, and receive a short reply that she'll be along presently.

And so she is, arriving about six minutes later.

"Sorry for the delay," the Great Fairy apologizes. "There was an idiot in need of strangling."

...do you even want to know?

"You said you have the Ore Samples?" Navi continues.

You produce the box in question, letting Navi know of the notes you included about the environmental conditions, your readings of the Samples, and the business with the two sungold samples. Then you hand the collection over, along with the Ore Chunks that Navi loaned you for comparative purposes.

Lost Ore Chunks
Lost Ore Samples

With that done, Navi opens a Gate back to the rocky desert outside Los Angeles. It was just after lunch when you left this spot, and the sun was high in the sky. Now it's closer to the horizon, although still some hours from setting - you make somewhere past five, maybe five-thirty, which means you can still make your planned trip to Karakura and be home before sunset.

One question, though: what to do with Shadow Alex? His presence would probably be extraneous to your purposes for visiting Urahara Shop, but given the hour, you could send him home to let your family know that a) you were well, b) you'd be running late, and c) you'd already eaten VERY well, so they didn't have to worry about you for dinner. You could also just dismiss him and Shadow Briar right now, or perhaps there's some other task you'd like them to attend to?

---

Curiosity compels you to ask: "WHO DID WHAT THAT NEEDED STRANGLING?"

Navi groans. "You recall that I mentioned that some of my brats had convinced a Hylian sculptor to carve a stone statue for them? And how it was probably going to end up like a dwarf-sized Armos?"

Yes...?

"Well, HE figured the same thing. And somehow, this man had the bright idea to find an ACTUAL Armos Statue, and then ACTIVATE it. So that he could take NOTES on how its construction affected its movement, you see."

You consider that, calling to mind what you know of the construct warriors. Their appearance, behavior, and quality of manufacture have changed down through the ages, but most Armos bear at least a passing resemblance to Hylian foot soldiers - clad in heavy armor and horned helm, and carrying a shield and trident - and are both entirely motionless and extremely damage-resistant until something activates them. Usually, this is in response to some form of physical contact, whether it's a full-on collision or something as minor as a fluttering cape brushing against seemingly lifeless stone, but a well-built Armos can also be programmed to activate when it detects an enemy nearby.

Regardless of the era, one Armos usually represents a deadly threat to most people.

"WAS HE A MAGE?" you wonder. "A PRIEST? OR AT LEAST A TRAINED WARRIOR?"

"None of the above," Navi replies flatly. "He's just a sculptor. A fairly skilled one, I will grant you, but that's it."

"...WHY WOULD HE EVEN THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA?"

"I strongly suspect that some of my beloved little idiots were involved in the man's decision making process," the Great Fairy growls. "Them, and alcohol."

"RIGHT, SO..." You pause, clear your throat, and then continue. "Sorry, force of habit. Alright, so, if I could get you two to head back to Sunnydale, to let the family know I'll be running late?"

"Heading off to Urahara's?" Shadow Alex inquires, as he puts away his sword and starts dismissing his magical enhancements.

"Yeah," you agree, as you follow suit. "It's about nine in the morning in Karakura, so I won't be waking anybody up."

"It occurs to me that we never did finish sorting out whether it was a good idea to use Urahara's secret underground spiritual science base as a teleportation site," your Shadow adds.

True, but you were right in the middle of sorting that out when you found out about the precise date of the impending Quincy apocalypse. Kind of distracting, you know?

Anyway, you let the Shadows know that if there's something else they want to take care of after they've delivered your message, they're welcome to do so. Your stuff is their stuff, after all.

"Oh?" Shadow Alex grins. "So if, for example, I wanted to fill the sewer tunnels with fire-"

---

"WERE THERE ANY SURVIVORS?"

"Oh, the Goddesses watch over fools and small children," Navi sighs, shaking her head. "Most of my kids had an attack of good sense and kept as far away from the Armos as they could - and since they were outdoors, and Armos can't FLY..."

Ah.

"Only most?" Briar asks.

"A few of them decided that they should help the sculptor," her mother replies. "On the one wing, it's the sort of behavior I like to encourage; on the other..."

"ON THE OTHER, YOU HAVE TINY LITTLE FAIRIES AND A BIG RAMPAGING CONSTRUCT?" you guess.

The Great Fairy nods. "Exactly. Still, they managed to not get themselves squashed, and even distracted the Armos long enough for the sculptor to duck inside a cave that was too small for the monster to fit, and too sturdy for it to smash open. Cost the man some of his tools - he dropped the bag holding them when the Armos woke up, and it stomped them flat - and a lot of bruising, but frankly, he got off lucky."

"SO, I TAKE IT THE STONE STATUE VERSION OF THE FAIRY DEATH MACHINE IS NO LONGER IN THE RUNNING?"

"Oh, if only," Navi groans. "That idiot sculptor says he was INSPIRED by the experience, and the brats are backing him."

...

Yeah, you've got nothing.

"...exactly how much fire are you talking about, here?" you wonder, your Dinnite inclinations - and possible inner pyromaniac - urging you on.

Shadow Alex blinks in surprise, and then starts to grin.

"Alex," Briar says warningly.

"Strictly for future consideration," you add quickly. "Obviously, we can't set the tunnels on fire NOW, not without drawing more unfriendly attention than I'm set up to survive, but I think it has some real potential as a long-term project."

I support this notion.

You would.

Still smiling, Shadow Alex says he'll do some preliminary calculations, and then get back to you.

With that settled, the two of you step far enough apart for your auras not to overlap and potentially entangle, and start casting your respective Spells of Teleportation. Having much less distance to cover, Shadow Alex is using a less powerful spell, and hence disappears a few minutes before you complete your own ritual-

-flying/falling/sinking through a strange space/medium/awareness filled with familiar shapes/alien geometries and faint/loud chorus/discordance and a near/distant green energy/presence curiosity/what were you doing there-

-which deposits you in the backyard of the Kurosaki home.

A quick sweep of the house with your senses reveals four presences inside, all located in the clinic area. Two are clearly Isshin and Masaki, the spiritual signatures of a Shinigami and the recipient of a Heart Container being fairly obvious even through Karakura's spiritual interference, but the other two are unfamiliar to you. Both are human, one adult, one very young, and nothing else about them stands out enough for you to detect through the high ambient spiritual energies.

The presence of strangers who are potentially and even likely ignorant of the supernatural side of things is a good argument for you to keep your head down and move along, but a part of you still thinks you should let the Kurosakis know you're passing through again.

On the other hand, Isshin DOES run a walk-in clinic, so even if the current pair leave in a timely manner, who's to say more patients won't show up at an inopportune moment?

---

You briefly consider taking advantage of the walk-in nature of the Kurosaki Clinic - as well as some basic Illusion Magic - to pop in and say hello, but after a moment, you dismiss the idea. Fetching all those Ore Samples for Navi ate up the entire afternoon, and you've got enough business to discuss with Urahara that any further delay kind of grates.

Besides, Isshin and Masaki are working right now. You really shouldn't distract them without a good reason, and "just to be polite" probably isn't good enough.

So you weave the Spell to Disguise One's Self, taking on the older image you've used to dodge Karakura's truant officers before, and set about quietly sneaking out of the Kurosaki family's backyard.

Mostly, this consists of just making sure nobody is around to see as you unlatch, open, and pass through the gate, or quietly close it afterwards. Seeing as how it's past nine o'clock on a Monday morning, this goes entirely without issue.

You don't run into anyone you know as you make your way through Karakura, although at one point you pass a trio of adolescent hoodlums who look vaguely familiar - or maybe what's familiar is the manner in which they give you a considering sort of look, before thinking better of it.

Regardless, you get to the Urahara Shop without incident. You've arrived at a good time as well; a young mother and her pre-kindergarden-aged son are just leaving the premises, the former exchanging polite goodbyes with Tessai while the latter waves a small airplane around, making zooming sounds. Something from one of the gatchapon machines, you guess.

"Good morning, sir customer," Tessai greets you. "Welcome back to Urahara Shop."

As the big man ushers you inside, you note that the store is once again empty of customers.

"The manager is in the back," Tessai continues in a quieter tone of voice. "Shall I fetch him for you?"

"I've got enough things to discuss with him that we should probably sit down out of public view," you admit.

Tessai adjusts his glasses. "...I hesitate to ask, but..."

"Nothing apocalyptic," you quickly assure him. "I've got some potentially positive developments with the Quincy matter to report, and I was hoping for an update on our other business."

"Ah." Past his normal impassive expression, Tessai seems relieved - whether that's for the good news, or the lack of any new calamities to worry about, is up to interpretation. "In that case, right this way."

The big guy shows you to the back room, starts up a fresh pot of tea - after all your adventures, you are kind of thirsty - and then disappears to fetch Urahara.

When the not-quite-mad scientist arrives, you blink at the bags under his eyes.

"Good news," he says with a grin, as he sits down across the table from you. "Yoruichi checked in the other day, and Soul Society took the news of the Wandenreich about as well as could be expected. Even better, they're planning a serious assault."

Oh, that's good... which has you wondering what the bad news is.

"They're divided over what to do about the various mortal souls mixed up in the affair," Urahara replies. "And by 'divided,' I mean about a third of the captains want to subject all of us to memory-erasure, power-sealing, and/or imprisonment, while as many more are arguing that would be ungrateful and short-sighted - partly because they owe us for the warning, and partly because we could be useful assets going forward."

Oh. Yay.

"That's only two-thirds," Briar notes into the ensuing pause.

"The Captain-Commander didn't make a definitive statement," Urahara replies dryly. "Evidently he was less than thrilled to hear that Yhwach was alive and planning a comeback, and had to step out after the initial briefing to... vent. One of the other senior captains went with him, to make sure nothing irreplaceable burned to ash-"

What?

"-while a third senior captain was ill enough to miss the meeting. The Eleventh and Twelfth Division captains didn't stick around for the extended discussion: the former was planning to whip his men into shape for the invasion; and the latter was working out a complete overhaul of Soul Society's sensor systems."

Okay, that makes sense. Nice to know that some of these people have their priorities straight.

Before you bring up the possibility of Ambrose and Balthazar getting directly involved in the attack on Silbern, do you have any other questions for Urahara regarding Yoruichi's message?

---

You ask Urahara which of the captains wanted to wipe your memories and/or seal your spiritual powers.

Beneath the brim of his bucket-shaped hat, the shopkeeper's eyes narrow consideringly.

"Yoruichi wasn't able to get into the meeting in person," Urahara says carefully, "but based on observations after it let out, the captains of the Second, Sixth, Seventh, and Ninth Divisions all appear to have been in favor of some degree of... corrective action. They couldn't come to a consensus as to how much was appropriate, though. The Fourth, Fifth, and Tenth captains were against it, and the Eighth and Thirteenth - the two senior captains I mentioned - almost certainly would have been as well. I already mentioned the Eleventh and Twelfth, and the captain of the Third Division seems to be sitting on the fence to frustrate people."

"I can't help but notice that you're not using names," Briar notes.

"I'm a little concerned that if I do, your partner will try to use them as well," Urahara replies, not looking your way. "I wouldn't be worried about that with most underage sorcerers, but I respect his magical abilities, capacity for finding trouble, and divine support enough to be wary of the possibilities."

Wise of you.

Hey, now. It's not like you were going to try invading Soul Society or pre-emptively cursing these people for something they haven't done yet. Sure, they're discussing messing around with your mind and/or soul, but unless Yoruichi dropped your name or some other clear tell of your identity or place of residence-

Urahara snorts. "I am offended on my friend's behalf that you would even suggest such a careless thing."

-then you don't have anything to immediately worry about, much less justify a retaliatory strike.

"Does it still count as 'retaliation' when you're the one hitting first?" Briar wonders.

If they were seriously going to mindwipe and/or soul-bind you? Yes, it totally would.

Damn right.

Tabling the matter of names for now, you ask Urahara if he feels having caught the attention of Soul Society means you should start stepping up your spiritual training and widening your area of study, in the name of self-defense.

"Actually, I'd recommend focusing hard on your spiritual stealth, and making use of whatever magical means of concealment you can," the scientist advises in a serious tone. "You're one of the more spiritually potent pre-adolescents I've known, but you're not at the top of the heap-"

Well, no; Ichigo obviously takes that crown.

"-and raw potential only goes so far. The Soul Society has spent centuries researching and developing the spiritual techniques used by the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, and even the newest unseated Shinigami has spent years training to use the end results of that research. Some of the captains have centuries of experience, to say nothing of the power advantage they enjoy. Trying to match them in their area of strength would be a waste of time, especially when you've got access to high-level sorcery AND some major deities who aren't constrained by the local political arrangements in your corner. Soul Society's a bit short on both."

Praise be to the Goddesses, then.

You're welcome.

You also spare a moment to be glad you've been studying the Spell of Mind Blank, and resolve to double-down on that one for the foreseeable future.

With all of that out of the way, you ask Urahara if he'd be interested in hosting a meeting with two of the other major points of sorcerous support for your plan to save some of the Quincies.

"Absolutely!"

Yeah, you're not surprised.

---

Having concluded your business with Urahara, you once again teleport home from the shop. There's less of that unpleasant interference this time around, indicating that the scientist's latest adjustments to his defenses were at least headed in the right direction, but you'll have to try teleporting TO the store the next time you mean to visit, before you can give it your full seal of approval.

Returning to Sunnydale, you find that Shadow Alex only got "home" a relatively short time before you. As he explains - while Briar flies off to join her shadow in playing a game with Zelda - he was a few minutes down the road from the abandoned gas station when it hit him that you had an outstanding promise of Boar Meat, Leather, and Bones to a certain Fae catgirl and her overgrown wolf to keep. So your not-evil twin took it upon himself to pop over to Bali Ha'i, collect what he thought was a generous helping of meat and sundries from your Stone Cellar, and then whistle up the Postman to deliver them, as you told Cat you would.

Shadow Alex notes that the Postman "charged" him a few protective spells to make the trip, Faerie being one of those "more dangerous than average" delivery areas, but otherwise counted it as part of your agreed-upon and paid-for services. So you don't owe him any extra Rupees for the job.

That's nice.

Lost some Island Boar Bones
Lost some Island Boar Leather
Lost some Island Boar Meat

Seeing as how it would upset your sister to dismiss the shadows until she's done with her game, you take the opportunity to attend to a bit of constructive spellcasting down in your Mirror Hideaway. You expended the last of your much-used Gold Incense during today's adventures, and while it was a worthy sacrifice, you've gotten so much use out of that single purchase that you'd like to make sure you have more of it on hand.

A Spell of Major Creation, edited for permanency, could give you enough incense to refill that box and three more like it a dozen times over. You don't need nearly that much of the stuff, however, nor would you have anywhere to put it, so you limit yourself to the equivalent of two boxes' worth: one, you'll carry with you; and the other, you'll leave bundled up in your workshop, for use at home.

(Re)Gained Gold Incense

The next couple of days pass without much incident, until you receive a message from Navi on Tuesday evening, informing you that Robin has completed his assessment of the Ore Samples you collected.

Of the nine sites of Goddess copper you investigated, four are of sufficient quality to serve in the Fairy Death Machine, although Robin has marked one of those has having a slightly lower grade of ore than the other three.

Of the two sites of moonsilver, only one proved to be of acceptable purity, and that was the one from the river. You're actually a little surprised to hear this; with the way your luck normally rolls, you were fully expecting to have to make a return trip to the boggards' swamp.

Finally, there's the sungold. The chunk you "mined" directly from the ore deposit was of suitable quality for Project Fairy Death Machine, but as for the second bit you gathered...

"Too tainted?" you guess, facing the glowing sphere of Navi's trans-planar messaging magic.

"As my son put it," the Great Fairy replies, "'I know it's kind of traditional for guardian constructs to fall to evil and run amok, but that doesn't mean I have to make it EASY for the bastards to steal my work.'"

Right.

Well, since further negotiations with the Great One are no longer required, the only real obstacle to your gathering the ore Robin needs is the fact that the new moon starts on Friday, the 2nd of June. From what Cat told you - and which Navi now confirms - this means that moonsilver deposits all over Faerie will be visited by various darkly aspected spirits, making them unsafe to approach until the moon's light begins to wax once more. By the same token, Faerie in general will be less safe than usual in the coming days, as the darker Fae gain a slight advantage over their kin.

You could, perhaps, try to slip in a quick moonsilver mining trip tomorrow afternoon, as the second-to-last day of the waning moon still has light enough that the night Fae probably won't disturb you. Thursday would be a bad time to visit the moonsilver deposit - as the LAST day of the waning moon, the metaphorical "dying of the light," it's as close to full darkness as makes near no difference - but you might still be able to visit some of the other ore deposits without issue.

Sungold is naturally aligned with the day-star, and would normally repel Fae that appear during the dark of the moon, but thanks to the banaan and his employer, you're probably better off not trying to mine this particular sungold deposit during the new moon, either.
Goddess copper is fairly neutral as far as astronomical influences go.

---

Under different circumstances, waiting another week might be considered to be cutting things a bit close. After all, you are doing this whole mining quest as a way of repaying Navi for those demiplanes she's going to create for you to hide the Quincies in, a little over two weeks from now, and most mortal magic-users or extraplanar beings would insist on being paid in full before providing such a service.

However, whatever her personal issues with you being the Dark Lord Reincarnated, Navi is still a Great Fairy and a long-time ally of the Golden Goddesses; this means that sitting around and letting a bunch of innocent people get their souls sucked out, when there's something she could do to prevent it, really isn't in her nature.

If she has to float you a line of spellcasting credit for a week or so to uphold her own moral and ethical values, well, that seems like a small price to pay.

Navi seems to agree, as immediately after accepting your answer, she says that she can get in touch with Batreaux about creating the planar focuses herself, but - for the sake of avoiding issues with the local Powers - you should call Ambrose and Balthazar and let them know to get in touch with her for the same purpose.

Once your cross-dimensional call with Navi is over, you do just that.

You call Ambrose first, just to get it out of the way, and take the opportunity to pass on Urahara's agreement to a meeting. Ambrose is all for getting that taken care of as soon as possible, since it will give him more time to prepare for whatever role he ends up playing during Auswahlen, and you give him your word you'll get back to him after checking with Balthazar.

While you're talking to the Sorcerer of the Seven Hundred and Seventy-Seventh Degree, however, he brings up the matter of the New York Quincy. You'd originally requested to meet their elders this Tuesday or Thursday, if they were available; as it happens, they weren't free to meet you this evening, but they do have some time available on Thursday.

New York's three hours ahead of Sunnydale, and since you're trying to meet the New York elders without the younger generations catching on that something's up, you'd have to leave right after school, so that the meeting could be over and done with and all the attendees safely home before dark. That would give you two, maybe three hours to talk, which is probably more time than you need to cover this Auswahlen business - at least as long as things don't get out of hand. Which they might; you'll be covering some rather weighty topics, not to mention having to provide proof of your claims to a pair of people who've spent their lives hunting soul-eating spirits and being hunted by said monsters in turn, as well as trying to keep under the radar of the Shinigami. That they've survived long enough under such conditions to GET old says things about their capabilities, among them that they're old hands at dealing with danger.

That can be a good thing, or a really bad one.

If you choose not to contact the New York Quincies on Thursday, you'd have to move the meeting back to this weekend. Considering that you're planning to meet Tiriaq's South American Quincy friend this Saturday afternoon, there's a certain appeal to that idea, but you've already got a meeting at Castle Shuzen scheduled for Sunday afternoon (Sunnydale time), plus a load of Fae-wrought gear you'd kind of like to finish analyzing and dispose of as soon as possible, before somebody thinks to start scrying for it. That's on top of all your pre-existing projects and obligations.

You'll be so glad when this business is over. Freaking apocalypses have no respect for people's busy schedules...

With that in mind, what do you want to do about the New York Quincy Elders?

As for the Magical Tea Party, Urahara has cleared his busy social calendar in preparation of hosting the event. Barring a sudden invasion of Hollows - very unlikely, but not entirely impossible - or representatives of the Soul Society showing up - more likely than the shopkeeper would prefer - he and Tessai will be available for tea whenever.

Ambrose can likewise drop whatever he's doing and go at basically any time. He told you not to worry about disturbing an old man's delicate sleeping cycle, as he's got his own methods of cheating when events conspire to short him on rest.

Balthazar is also free pretty much whenever. The difference in time zones is actually to your benefit for once, since no matter what time you schedule the meeting in Karakura for, it'll be nighttime in New York; as such, closing down the Arcana Cabana and rescheduling lessons for Dave won't be a problem. That said, given your personal preference not to be wandering the streets of the Big Apple after dark, you should probably arrange the meeting in Karakura for the morning (in Japan, meaning mid- to late afternoon Sunnydale time), so you can pick up Balthazar and Ambrose while there's still sun in the sky in New York.

The biggest sticking point is, once again, your own schedule. If you meet the Quincy Elders on Thursday, that's out, and the weekend is already booked. You have lessons at Lu-sensei's tomorrow and Friday, so if you want to hold the meeting at either of those times, you'll have to prevail upon your master to let you miss another class. Not that you doubt he'll allow it, given the cause you're pursuing, it's just sending the wrong sort of message to people who aren't aware of what's really going on with your absence(s), and potentially drawing unwanted attention.

---

You tell Balthazar to let the New York Quincy Elders to expect you this Thursday.

You also ask him about how you should present yourself during that meeting. Is it okay to turn up with your usual casual clothes, or should you dress more formally? Has he mentioned that you're a nine-year-old prodigal sorcerer, and if not, would things go more smoothly if you took on an adult form? That sort of thing.

Balthazar recommends that you stick with your normal bodily proportions. He hasn't specifically mentioned your age, but he did tell the Quincies you were "remarkably young," so they'd probably be put off if you turned up as an adult. As far as dress code goes, full formal isn't required, and would probably just draw some of the attention you're trying to avoid with this first meeting. Your usual attire ought to do just fine.

"But feel free to wear the old man shoes," the senior sorcerer adds.

Ha. Ha.

The sooner all your spellcasting allies can put their heads together and their cards on the table, the sooner you'll have a plan of action for A-Day, and the more time all of you will have to prepare for it.

Tomorrow afternoon and evening is the earliest opportunity you have to hold the meeting at Urahara Shop, and while it would mean skipping out on another of Lu-sensei's classes, the argument about the lives and souls of dozens of innocents being more valuable than a single lesson in a class where you're already well ahead of the curve still applies.

You do, of course, inform your master of the situation (via phonecall) and get his permission to miss the lesson.

On a related note, you wonder if you should send your Shadow - and Briar's, too, since she'd be going to Karakura with you - to "cover" for your absence with the not-in-the-know members of the class. It wouldn't be a perfect disguise, as even with Illusion Magic to cover the minor discrepancies of appearance between you and Briar and your doppelgangers, the Shadows' version of ki is distinct enough that the sensitives and active ki-users in the beginners' class may notice something is up.

Most of those people are your supernaturally aware friends. A couple of the others might be far enough along to notice something, but as long as the Shadows keep their ki restrained, they should be fine. Probably.

Once you've sorted out your personal schedule, you spend another half-hour or so playing telephone tag with the sorcerer, the wizard, and the Shinigami shopkeeper. Somewhere in the middle of that, you let your parents know that you'll be missing dinner again tomorrow night, as you're need to play taxi - and perhaps referee - for a meeting.

Your parents remember Ambrose and Balthazar from Bali Ha'i, and you "introduce" Urahara to them as a spiritual specialist who's a reasonably trusted acquaintance of the Kurosakis.

"Only 'reasonably'?" your father asks.

"I've heard him accused of causing explosions a couple of times," you admit. "Also, he's apparently a menace behind the wheel of anything motorized, and he dresses like he stepped out of 19th Century Japan. On the other hand, Urahara owns his own shop, has custody of two kids a few years older than Zelda, the Kurosakis trust him to look out for THEIR kids, and I can't exactly throw stones when it comes to explosions."

"Boom!" Zelda cheers.

Your dad just shakes his head.

---

After some consideration and discussion with your teacher, you decide not to send Shadow Alex and Shadow Briar to class as stand-ins for yourself and your partner.

Being absent from another lesson at Lu-sensei's might draw some attention, but it's normal for people to miss a day here and there. You just need to own up to your friends if and when they question what you were doing, and have a simple, believable excuse ready to go if anyone else in the class gets curious - like that you were meeting a few acquaintances from out of town.

In contrast, if something that looked like you but had a subtly different ki signature turned up for a lesson... well, even if you hadn't alerted Lu-sensei, he would recognize Shadow Alex from Bali Ha'i, as would your friends. Anybody else who happened to notice the difference, however, might take it badly.

This IS the Hellmouth, after all.

Local portal to the hell-dimensions or no, Wednesday passes without issue. You decide to let your friends know at lunchtime that you'll be absent from this afternoon's martial arts class, and give them your chosen cover story to pass along if anyone else asks.

"Anything we should be worried about?" Cordelia asks absently, as she opens up her lunchbag.

"I'm taking Ambrose to meet a mad scientist who deals with souls."

Cordelia considers that for a moment. "Are they going to be anywhere near us during this meeting?"

"No closer than Japan."

"If you get those cute little twins get caught up in old man crazy, Alex, I will kick you."

"Duly noted."

You head straight home after school, and - since it's currently a little after seven in the morning, Karakura time - split the next hour or so between doing homework and playing with Zelda and Moblin. Once the hour is a bit more reasonable, you make your way out of town and teleport to New York, in the alley across from the Arcana Cabana.

That brown tabby you startled on a prior visit is here again. This time around, while still clearly spooked by your appearing out of nowhere, the cat doesn't yowl in alarm, instead contenting itself with a wide-eyed stare.

"Hello, again," you greet the animal, before heading out.

The Cabana's door has the "Closed" sign up when you approach, but it isn't locked; knowing that you're expected, you knock thrice, and then let yourself in when Balthazar calls out.

Ambrose is here ahead of you today - a helpful timesaver - and he's once again clad in the business-casual suit with briefcase and cane that he claimed was a way of deflecting attention from any eyes Horvath has on Balthazar's business. That puts you in mind to wonder over how your little group is going to leave the store, but the older magic-users are ahead of you here, as well; you've no sooner walked in than Ambrose tips his hat to you and strolls out.

"He'll head down the street, vanish himself once he's out of sight around the corner, and double-back to meet us in the alley," Balthazar explains. "Give him ten minutes, then head out and start your ritual; I'll close up the shop and catch you before you leave."

It sounds like a plan, and you go with it, taking a moment to glance over the available wares - but seeing as how you haven't finished reading your last round of purchases, that's mostly for show.

When you return to the alley a quarter of an hour along, the sight of Ambrose in a staring match with the tabby cat gives you only a moment's pause before you shrug it off and start shaping your Spell of Teleportation. Balthazar times his arrival very well, joining your small group half a minute before you complete the ritual, and the four of you are off to Japan without further delay.

---

You waver for a moment, torn between the simple convenience of going straight to your actual destination - as well as the lack of imposing on the Kurosakis - and the lack of desire to subject your passengers to the possibility of a rough landing.

In the end, it's the latter factor that decides you. It's one thing when you're teleporting yourself and your partner around, but when you start taking other people with you, you assume a degree of responsibility for their well-being. The cross-dimensional equivalent of slamming them through a wall wouldn't be in keeping with that.

Besides, Balthazar hasn't done anything that merits that kind of treatment, and this WILL be his first time traveling via one of your teleport spells, which you have acknowledged are kind of weird. There's no need to subject him to physical stress along with the mental.

Now, if it were just Ambrose... no, no, bad Alex. That would be wrong, even if he does deserve it.

So you aim for the Kurosakis' back yard-

-flying/falling/sinking through a strange space/medium/awareness filled with familiar shapes/alien geometries and faint/loud chorus/discordance and a near/distant green energy/presence I see/hear/feel/sense you arcane signature/old man/that one and new presence/arcane signature/other old man-

"Okay," Balthazar says slowly. "That's new."

"That's what I said," Ambrose exclaims.

-and hope for the best.

"Does that happen a lot when you teleport?" Balthazar asks you.

"Every time," you confirm.

"Do you know why?"

"Ambrose helped me figure it out," you admit. Honesty compels you to add, "I still don't know exactly what that green presence is, but all my sources and experience so far show that it's basically harmless."

"Do those 'sources' include your Goddesses?"

You nod. "I think they think it's cute."

It's like a pan-dimensional puppy!
Shock/embarrassment/puppy?!
Balthazar turns that notion over in his head for a moment, and then visibly sets it aside. "Right, then. So, this is Karakura?"

"The Kurosaki family backyard, to be precise," you say, giving the house a quick glance. Once again, you detect Isshin in the clinic, although this time he's by himself, with no sign of Masaki. You briefly wonder where she went, but then shrug and dismiss it as not really being any of your business. "I have their permission to use it as a teleportation site when I visit."

"Interesting atmosphere," the Merlinean Master muses. "How many ghosts does this town have?"

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say, 'Too damn many,'" Ambrose grumbles.

"I haven't gone looking, myself," you admit, "but from what Ichigo and Tatsuki have passed on from their families, there's more than a few places that are supposed to be legitimately haunted."

And that's not even getting into all the lingering spirits Ichigo has pointed out on your prior visits, or the Hollows that you have, as yet, only heard on that one nocturnal visit - and then only at a distance.

Of course, your spiritual awareness is sufficiently developed that if you allowed yourself to, you could see all those wandering souls as well. But one of the nice things about having to develop those particular senses more or less from scratch is that you can remember what it felt like NOT to be able to perceive spectral entities everywhere you look. While it's not so smooth as turning a dial or throwing a switch, it takes only a little effort to recreate that sensation, lowering your awareness to the point where spiritual activity below a certain threshold just doesn't register.

You've made a point of doing so whenever you visit Karakura. If a malevolent ghost or true Hollow shows up, you'll have enough warning to turn your senses up to a level more suitable for dealing with the problem. Until that happens, however, you're just as happy not having to see or hear a lot of dead people floating about.

Ichigo considers this to be entirely unfair.

Tatsuki thought it was kind of funny, although ever since she won that pint-sized Poe's Lantern from the Trials and has been able to get a better idea of just how many lingering spirits there are in her hometown, she's been finding it less amusing.

"How far are we from this Urahara Shop?" Ambrose wonders with a frown.

"Half an hour's walk, depending on traffic." At the wizard's dry look, you shrug. "Urahara's asked me not to teleport outside his shop, and we're still working on adapting his wards to allow me passage that way without getting banged up in the process."

"Oh. In that case, never mind."

As the four of you make your way out of the backyard, you cast the Spell to Disguise the Self again, offering a brief explanation of, "Truant officers," when the older arcanists glance at you as you gather mana. Just as you're about to invoke the spell, a thought occurs that gives you pause.

Your usual guise in Karakura is that of a young man in his late teens - old enough for it to be believable to any onlookers that you'd be out of high school. The presence of your fellow arcanists make that guise a bit awkward, however: even Balthazar looks visibly a decade older, while Ambrose is clearly on the far side of sixty; and this isn't even getting into how your normal casual attire clashes with the old wizard's business formal, or Balthazar's dark duster and matching fedora.

Taking a particularly firm grip on your magic, you alter some of the parameters of your spell.

"How do I look?" you ask, as the magic finishes.

---

You pose the question while artfully smoothing down the folds of your illusionary black coat.

"Not bad," Briar approves. "Of course, now Balthazar is the odd man out."

You, Briar, and Ambrose all turn to look at the Merlinean Master, in his long, dark duster and matching fedora.

Without a word, Balthazar runs his hands down the length of his coat. The material shifts from leather to wool, stitches undoing themselves and reforming in different places, and the entire lower half of the garment simply up and vanishing, until Balthazar is left wearing a third business jacket, of a different cut than Ambrose's or the one you appear to be wearing.

It's very subtle work, and if you weren't looking right at him the entire time and close enough to see the subtle flow of mana from the senior sorcerer's fingertips, you could be forgiven for thinking he'd triggered a woven-in piece of Transformation Magic, instead of casting a minor spell from that school. The Spell to Fabricate A Disguise, you suspect, with a little stylistic flair.

The fedora remains unchanged during all of this, but you say nothing about it.

You know better than to mess with hats, especially where magic-users are concerned.

Now that everyone's properly attired, you lead the way to Urahara Shop.

Luck and traffic schedules appear to be with you today, as you manage to make half the trip in a little over ten minutes, rather than the fifteen-plus it usually takes. Those of your fellow pedestrians that are out and about at this hour rather than at school or work give your little group the occasional glance, but those that you see doing so calmly turn away, politely indifferent to the trio of foreign businessmen that you appear to be.

Karakura's thriving thug population, meanwhile, is markedly less inclined to make trouble for your adult-looking self and associates than they were your usual teen disguise. Most take one look at your party - particularly your taller- and broader-shouldered-than-usual adult form, although Balthazar gets some cautious looks himself - and just keep on walking.

The exception is a four-man band whose burly, bandana-wearing leader blanches at the sight of you, shrieks that, "The Men in Black are back for meeee!" and then turns around and RUNS back the way he came. One of his buddies is right behind him, looking similarly horrified, while another staggers along in the wake of the first two, looking back and forth in obvious confusion and clear concern for his buddies.

The last punk lingers a moment, shooting you a look from beneath a bleached-blond fringe that plainly asks, "The hell was that?"

Then he turns and follows his friends.

"Okay," Briar wonders. "What was THAT about?"

"Hmmm," Ambrose hums. "Well, unless the lad has spent some time roaming the back alleys of this fine town while wearing false forms such as this before-"

You definitely haven't, for the record.

"-I would point the finger of accusation at the Shinigami. Their customary uniform is black, and their methods of memory-suppression leave a bit to be desired."

Akkiko had mentioned as much, but this is your first encounter with living evidence of the fact.

That brief "encounter" aside, you reach Urahara Shop without incident. At a distance, you see that the store's doors are shut, and as you draw closer, you spot an obvious "Closed" sign hanging from one sliding panel, with a sheet of brush-painted characters on the other door.

Before you can get close enough to read it, the door slides open to reveal Urahara.

"Welcome back, Mr. Harris! I take it these are the inestimable Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Blake? Urahara Kisuke, gentlemen; a pleasure to meet you. Miss Briar, always a delight."

The first-time introductions are kept short and smooth, with Urahara ushering you all inside, through the storefront, and down the hall beyond, to where Tessai awaits with a pot of steeping tea and a tray of Western-style snacks.

You take a seat and allow your disguise spell to lapse.

And so it comes to pass that two Shinigami exiles, a reformed Demon King of Evil, a Merlinean Sorcerer of the Seven Hundred and Seventy-Seventh Degree, Merle Ambrose, and a Hyrulean fairy sit down to discuss how they might better thwart a spiritual genocide.

Let the world tremble!

It occurs to you that if you've gone this far in assembling the contributing parties, there's something to be said for summoning Batreaux and Navi as well, just to round out the group.

---

You graciously accept Tessai's offer of tea, biscuits, and other goodies - and perhaps a touch hungrily as well. After all, you ARE delaying your dinner to attend this meeting.

It's as you're lifting your cup of tea to your lips that the thought of summoning two more involved parties occurs to you, causing you to stop and set the cup back on the table.

You stomach rumbles softly in protest.

"Is something wrong, Alex?" Tessai wonders, brow pinching above his glasses.

"It's just hit me that if we're doing this" - you make a gesture at 'we' that takes in everyone gathered around the table - "then I should probably go ahead and summon Batreaux and Navi, too."

Your nominal elders trade glances.

"That would likely be a good idea," Balthazar agrees.

"To the basement!" Urahara proclaims, leaping back to his feet.

"I'll set extra places," Tessai says, turning towards the cupboards.

"Mmmm," Ambrose adds, as he sets down his cup and swallows. "And I'll put a preservation spell over your tea, so it doesn't get cold in your absence."

Half an hour's worth of cross-planar messaging and summoning rituals later, a Risen Demon and a Great Fairy of Hyrule join the rest of you around Urahara's now slightly crowded table.

True to Ambrose's word, your tea is still steaming, and he didn't even attempt to prank it while you were gone... though that may have had something to do with Tessai's presence.

There's a short pause as everyone enjoys the tea, and most of you down part of a muffin or a cookie or two.

"Speaking as the host," Urahara begins, "I should probably start by catching everyone up on recent developments from the Soul Society."

"Another message from Yoruichi?" you ask.

He nods, and explains that his furry friend wasn't the only agent of an external party sent to warn the Soul Society about the Wandenreich. It turns out that a celestial messenger was dispatched from Takamagahara itself with news of the danger, as well as what details the heavenly kami could provide.

Looks like the Hakuba kami managed to get through those "proper channels" after all. Farore's influence with Amaterasu probably helped-

Yup.

-but even so.

Yoruichi doesn't know exactly what the contents of that message were, as the kami agent spoke first to Soul Society's main governing body, the Central Forty-Six, whose members are customarily secluded behind a level of security the cat couldn't challenge without preparation - and Yoruichi was already committed to monitoring the captains anyway, who were meeting to discuss the information that the Karakura exiles had arranged to reach them by different channels.

"Yoruichi only found out Takamagahara's agent was in the Seireitei because the current head of the Noble Clan of Shiba is an old friend, and she was summoned to an audience between the kami and the heads of the noble families." Urahara smirks. "They must have been seething about that."

"How so?" Navi asks.

"There was a time when the Shiba were considered one of the Five Great Noble Clans of the Soul Society," Urahara says. "Their fortunes have... declined over the last century or so, however: Shiba Kukaku and her younger brother are currently the only two living members of the main family; and they've been functionally exiled from the Court of Pure Souls for decades, now. So for her to be officially summoned back to the Court, in her capacity as the Lady of Shiba, to attend a meeting with an emissary of the heavenly kami..."

"Tweaked a few in-the-air noses, eh?" Ambrose guesses.

"A few," Urahara agrees.

Gained Local Knowledge (Soul Society) E (Plus)

In any case, a few of the Shinigami captains are of noble birth, and if they are not the heads of their respective houses, they are at least of sufficient status to have been present at that audience with Takamagahara's envoy.

Whatever was said behind those closed doors, it led to a second meeting of the captains - which Yoruichi did manage to listen in on - during which the faction in favor of not taking "corrective action" against the "problematic mortals" suddenly got a lot more support.

"Knowing that no less an authority than Amaterasu herself is keeping one shining eye on current events has a way of putting people on their best behavior," Urahara concludes.
Wan!
Hehehehe.

---

You make a mental note to come up with an offering that properly expresses your gratitude to the Hakuba kami for his assistance in this matter.

You're probably still going to end up keeping a low profile where the Soul Society is concerned, but since the Shinigami have effectively received... hmmm... not so much "orders," you suspect, as a broad hint from on high to leave you and the other "mortals" involved in the Wandenreich matter in peace, any of them that try to come after you anyway will need to do so very covertly.

It's not a perfect resolution, but it takes the majority of the little death gods out of the equation, so you're not going to get mobbed by a small army of them any time soon. As for the individuals or very, very small groups that might turn up anyway?

Well, if they're acting in defiance of divine decree, they can't very well complain if they get smote in the process, now can they?
Grrr...
Hehehehe.

No. No, they can't.

To quote a certain adorable little sister: "BOOM!"

So, yeah. Definitely need to figure out a nice way of saying "thanks" - but later, later.

Another consequence of the celestial kami taking an official interest in the Wandenreich affair is that, if some of the mortals they've already told the Shinigami are not to be targetted for memory-erasure and other forms of retaliation were to turn up to offer their assistance against the Quincy army, said help would stand a better chance of being accepted. Maybe not graciously, and maybe not without consequence: after all, those who personally objected to mortal involvement in spiritual affairs would still do so; others might find their pride stung by the implication that any aid was needed; and even those Shinigami who were willing to turn a blind eye to or claim ignorance of technical law-breaking they didn't witness might find their tolerance tested if said law-breaking was happening right in front of them.

Ambrose, to pretty much everyone's complete lack of surprise, is all in favor of showing up.

"It's been much too long since I properly stormed a castle," he says, "and if I get started today... or is that tomorrow? Well, whatever; there's enough time between now and the big day for me to complete or delegate my contributions to the Quincy evacuation effort."

"Speaking of which," Batreaux interjects, turning your way, "how goes that effort, my young student?"

"Balthazar and I have a meeting with the elders of the New York Quincy community tomorrow evening, by New York time," you reply. "I'll be meeting Shaman Tiriaq and his friend from the South American Quincy group this Saturday."

"Souken's been feeling out the Japanese Quincy lines about the idea of a 'family reunion'," Urahara adds then. "Something to get all the members of the bloodline together in one spot by June 16th, at the latest."

"Any convenient birthdays, say, among the kids?" Balthazar asks.

"Ichigo's is in July," you reply, shaking your head. "I'm not sure about the rest of the family."

"First week of May for the twins," Urahara informs you. "Masaki's birthday is next week, but she's been persona non grata with the majority of her more distant relations since she married Isshin, so that's out, and Isshin's birthday isn't even worth considering. The Ishida men were all born in March, as far as I know, and I believe Kanae's birthday is in the winter."

Basically a "no" on all fronts, then.

"That said," the shopkeeper goes on, "there is an old Quincy holiday that would be utterly and ironically appropriate."

Oh?

"Back when belief in the Sealed King was still popular, they used to observe the day of his defeat as a time of remembrance, fasting, sacred oaths - the works." Behind his fan, the man smirks. "Guess when it's held."

You're going to guess June 17th.

Urahara waves his fan. "We have a winner!" Calming, he adds, "Souken's idea was to float the reunion as a way to encourage the youngest generation to appreciate the old traditions - not ON the holy day, of course, that would be disrespectful, but a day or two in advance, maybe a week?"

That's useful. If it works, Souken will have saved you a bunch of teleportation; if not, you've still got all those mana potions and gems saved up, and a demiplane designed specifically for accelerated mana recovery.

While you're on the subject, is there anything you feel should be brought up, regarding the Quincy groups you're going to try to save from Yhwach's impending cull?

---

As it happens, you do have a few problems you could use advice on.

The first one that comes to mind is how to best go about convincing people from different cultures, specifically those with Quincy origins, to trust an unknown spellcaster - and a child, at that, at least physically - who shows up out of nowhere to tell them that an ancient would-be god-king is going to eat their souls.

After all, it wouldn't be right to rely on Balthazar and Tiriaq's relationships with these people to give YOUR claims weight, especially when you're already leaning on their good names just to have these meetings in the first place. Likewise, while going all golden and quasi-divine is technically an option, it's one that really ought to be held in reserve, and ideally never used at all. Too easy to mistake for a threat, to draw attention from ACTUAL threats, and - as you've seen once before - to give people the wrong idea about you.

Performing a Ritual of Communion to let the Goddesses weigh in is another option, but even leaving aside the issue with the Powers, what reason do the Quincy have to put their trust in a trio of deities they've never heard of before?

Fair question.

They really don't have any reason to trust us, and there isn't much we could say to convince them to.

Actions do speak louder than words.

True. Just look at the Fairy Boy.

Oi!

"One option would be to just not mention Yhwach and the Wandenreich," Urahara muses, tapping the side of his now-closed fan against one cheek in a thoughtful manner. "Leave the exact source of the danger a mystery, and say that your divinations picked up a threat to the life of one Quincy you knew, and that when you investigated the matter, it turned out to be aimed at Quincy in general."

"Another possibility would be to re-cast the same spells you used to discover the problem in the first place," Balthazar says. "But as I understand it, that would require the presence of a Quincy willing to let you cast those spells on them."

"A bit much for a first meeting?" Batreaux guesses.

"Just a bit," the sorcerer agrees, holding up one hand with thumb and forefinger a couple of inches apart. "The Quincy remnants haven't survived the last thousand years by being quick to trust."

"What if you took a friendly Quincy with you, then?" Navi suggests.

"Might work," Urahara replies. "From what I know, the different Quincy branches aren't exactly in regular contact with each other - there just aren't enough of them anymore - so there'd be a certain amount of wariness for another stranger. But they'd still be a Quincy... unless you're dealing with one of the traditionalist groups, in which case they'd react differently to the presence of an Echt than they would a Gemischt."

"Good different, or bad different?" you ask.

"It could go either way," Ambrose interjects. "The Echt bloodlines are held in higher esteem, and on the face of it, that status would lend more credibility to their words, and hence to your own claims. At the same time, the Echt are supposed to be PROTECTED, not traipsing around the planet with mysterious non-Quincy sorcerers, so turning up with one of them in tow might be taken badly. A Gemischt Quincy would at least make sense as a first-meeting messenger; they're generally the servant class in traditional Quincy society, and if anything were to go wrong, they'd be expendable."

Pleasant notion.

You'd have to talk with the actual Quincy in Karakura to get an accurate idea of how taking one of their number along would play out. You know where to find Masaki, of course, and you can get the Ishida address easily enough. The main problem is that your meeting with the New York Quincy elders is tomorrow, and while the time zones line up reasonably well - it'd be not overly early morning here when it's mid-evening in New York - you'd be asking Mrs. Kurosaki or one of the Ishidas to accompany you on terribly short notice.

Maybe it might be better to leave the presentation of your evidence/witness testimony for a later meeting? Give them more warning, and maybe a chance to make contact with the other Quincy by phone or email or something?

---

It occurs to you that, ideally, you should talk to Masaki and the Ishidas about this development, and give them the choice of whether or not to join you for tomorrow's meeting or those in the future. It's their time, and their (very) distant relatives who are at threat, so the decision really ought to be up to them.

The main stumbling block is time. It's currently about nine-thirty a.m., local, which makes it five-thirty p.m. or so back in Sunnydale, and gives you two hours and change until you need to be home. Using your past meetings with adults from the mystical side of things as a guide, and factoring in travel times, you might not have enough time to make a couple of diversions after this little pseudo-war council is over.

It's a good thing, then, that you can be in two places at once.

You call up Shadow Alex-

-and send him to see if Masaki has returned to the Kurosaki home-slash-clinic. If she has, great; he can get her (and by extension, Isshin) up to speed on things, and then either try to arrange a meeting with Ishida Ryuken at Karakura Hospital, or head out to the Ishida residence. If Masaki isn't back, Isshin should be able to arrange a meeting with Ryuken in his wife's stead - and failing that, he can certainly let your not-evil twin use the phone to call ahead, confirm that Mrs. Ishida is at home, and convince her not to shoot him when he arrives.

You haven't forgotten how Souken twitched the first time you introduced him to your Shadow, and you'd rather not test how the rest of the family would react.

Tessai fetches a map and holds it up while Urahara provides directions and points out locations with his cane. You learn that Karakura Hospital is just a few blocks from the Kurosaki clinic, while the Ishida family home is rather further away - it's actually nearer to Urahara Shop than either of the other locations, though still not exactly "close." Regardless, the distances involved are such that Shadow Alex should be able to cover them in an hour or less, even at mundane speeds.

Gained Local Knowledge (Karakura) E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)

Saying that he'll Message you if something comes up, your doppelganger casts the Spell to Disguise One's Self, taking on the late-teens appearance you normally use when roaming Karakura during school hours, bowing to the room at large, and then seeing himself out.

With that issue in good hands, you ask another question: how should you go about convincing people that may not believe in magic - or at least, not in the higher-level feats it's capable of - that you can use it to save them, without damaging their world view too much?

"My personal approach is half turning myself into a monkey and half making them watch the tapes from the tournament," you explain.

Navi snorts into her tea.

"How's that worked out for you?" Balthazar asks, honestly curious.

"The tapes have gone over fairly well, but they do take a while to watch," you reply. "Plus, it's basically martial arts supplemented by magic, not really a demonstration of the sort of reality-bending we're going to be using. As for the monkey thing... I kind of broke a friend's brain for a few minutes. He got better quick enough, but it still happened, and I'm told kids handle shocks like that better than adults."

"That's been my experience," Balthazar agrees.

There is a general murmur of assent from the others at the table.

"That aside, monkey business isn't a great way of proving what high-level magic can do, either," you go on. "In this case, I'm thinking I'd have to produce a Magnificent Mansion or summon Navi to prove I'm not trying to pull a fast one on these people."

"Stick with the Mansion," Ambrose advises. "That's got enough similarities to creating a demiplane to be a reasonable demonstration of what 'magic' could do with more prep time-"

The air quotes weren't necessary.

"-and it doesn't require bringing a powerful extraplanar entity near soul-destroying mystical archers with twitchy fingers."

"Thank you for the consideration," Navi murmurs.

"You definitely don't want to bring up your teleportation, though," the wizard adds firmly.

"No," Balthazar agrees. "That wouldn't go over well."

"I don't know," Batreaux says, thinking back to a few demonstrations you'd given him regarding the unusual side-effects to your use of teleportation magic. "I find the green glow rather nice."

"I think they're more worried about the eldritch presence/voice," Briar tells him.

"But it's so friendly..."

---

Really, why would you ever separate your Shadow from his partner?

"What's this?" Shadow Briar wonders, after the light-and-shadow show of the summoning fades. "A chance to make my workaholic partner go outside and take a walk in the fresh air, while giving him a legitimately important job to do so that he can't grumble about it? Gasp of amazement! ...also, hi Mom!"

"Erk," Briar exclaims.

"Hello, my daughter's shadow," Navi replies, suddenly looking very interested in this manifestation of your magic. "We should talk."

"Ack."

"We totally should," Shadow Briar agrees.

"Eeep!"

"But it'll have to wait," the dark green fairy adds, as she assumes human size. Indicating a suddenly worried-looking Shadow Alex, "Shadow Cousin Briar" says, "I have to take this guy for his walk."

"I am perfectly able-"

"I understand completely, dear."

Shadow Briar waits somewhat patiently as Shadow Alex gets directions, bouncing on her heels and borrowing a little lift from her wings to look over his shoulder at the map - because after all, navigation IS one of a fairy partner's many responsibilities. Once both of them know where they need to go, she who claims to be Briar's sense of repressed maturity wraps herself in a bit of Fae illusion to hide her wings, and then leads the way out of the shop.

Shadow Alex gives you one last troubled glance before he follows her.

There is a pause in their absence, and then Ambrose speaks up: "I've got five pounds that says the two of them get into at least one fight before they reach the Kurosaki place."

Navi frowns. "What makes you say that?"

"I spotted a surprising number of young punks roaming the streets on our way here," the wizard replies. "They might be intimidated enough by the apparent size of the boy's alter-ego to just walk the other way, but ignore a pretty girl? Not a chance."

...uh-oh.

"I don't think I'll take that bet," Balthazar says after a moment's thought, no doubt thinking back to your walk from the Kurosaki Clinic.

Nobody else takes Ambrose up on his wager, either, and it's with a certain distracted air that you ask for advice about easing people into the realization that magic exists and is capable of bending reality. After that discussion has concluded, you ask Urahara if he'd be willing to put up the foreign Quincies for a few days prior to the 17th, so that if and when something inevitably goes wrong with your plans, all the people involved will be in one place.

"I personally wouldn't have any objections to putting up one or two people from out of town," the shopkeeper replies. "Considering the numbers we're talking about, though, I'd need a few of those 'Mansions' of yours to be set up ahead of time; otherwise, I'd have to ask people to camp out in the basement, and there'd be lines for the bathroom and toilet."

That's a point. Between the New York and South American Quincy groups, you're looking at around twenty people. The building housing Urahara Shop is a fair size, but it's not THAT big, and a good chunk of the space is already taken up by the store, storage, and mad science. And that's just the space - there are, as noted, other issues to consider. Fortunately, magic can deal with those.

"That said, the Quincy themselves might have objections to taking shelter under a Shinigami's roof, exile or no, and then there's the Soul Society's reaction to think about. If we DO manage to convince them to accept more direct assistance in the raid on Silbern, they're going to want to send somebody down here for a face-to-face meeting - or just to keep an eye on us. I don't think we want a bunch of Quincy rooming here when that happens."

And THERE'S a sticking point that magic can't deal with quite so easily, at least not without serious drawbacks. Using mind-affecting magic on people tends to make them cranky when they find out about it, unless of course you leave them under it permanently - but that way lies other issues, like turning into a giant boar demon.

You mentally scratch Urahara Shop off a list of places to temporarily relocate foreign Quincy in the days leading up to Auswahlen, but you also make a note to talk to the Kurosakis and Ishidas about the possibility of setting up Magnificent Mansions on their properties. Souken's cover story of a festival might find a few more takers if he could tell them honestly that the accommodations had already been taken care of.

At this point, there isn't much more that can be said about the Quincy without getting in touch with them, so you let that part of the discussion end, and move on to the big event.

Aside from the map you've already created and the matter of exploiting the Gate of the Sun to make the attack possible in the first place, what sort of support do you think your current group should offer the Shinigami when they assault the Wandenreich?

---

You turn what you know of the situation over in your mind, calculating how you could best contribute to the coming assault, if indeed you can - or should.

Given the less-than-friendly attitude of the Shinigami in general, your prior committment to evacuating the Quincy, and your own healthy paranoia, you can't see yourself going in person. Magic items are off the table as well; even if you were willing to provide lasting examples of your craftsmanship to a group of beings you don't trust yet, you just don't have the time or resources to turn out items of sufficient quality and quantity to really affect the outcome of the clash between the sort of high-level combatants Soul Society and the Wandenreich can and will bring to bear.

For many other spellcasters, that would be the end of it, but the Heart of Courage gives you the option to send in the Shadows. While you know that Shinigami aren't ignorant of magic - Urahara's work alone would be proof enough of that - the fact that they rely primarily on spiritual energy would impede their ability to detect many kinds of magic. Anything that didn't involve souls or spiritual forces, basically. Shadow Alex's nature makes his spellcasting signature slightly different from your own to start with, and you were planning on sending him and Shadow Briar in under the best mind-protecting magic you can muster anyway; adding some aura-blanking magic to that would be no great hardship.

You don't want the Shinigami erasing parts of your duplicate's memories before you get a chance to study them, but even more than getting some strategic intel and tactical inspiration from seeing Shinigami in action, you don't want THEM getting a look inside a copy of your head.

Fortunately, the Spell of Mind Blank can cover all these angles; if you don't manage to master it yourself in the next couple of weeks, you'll ask Batreaux.

As for what the Shadows might contribute to the invasion effort...

You know that scrying spells work in and even through Silbern's wards, so offering to perform some "field Divinations" for the assault force leader(s) seems like a good idea. Maps are one thing, but accurate, up-to-the-minute intel on the enemy's movements would be even better. Besides, for all the time you spent scrying the Quincy stronghold, your map only accounts for a small portion of its interior; if the Shinigami decide they need more information about some place located "off the map," Shadow Alex could get it for them with less risk and greater speed than a scouting party.

Time and numbers are both going to be important factors in the battle. The less of both the Shinigami spend, the better.

The subject of scouting parties directs your thoughts to another field you may be able to help with - namely, communications. Checking with Urahara and Tessai confirms that Shinigami do have their own equivalents of the Message Spell - some of them capable of reaching far more individuals than anything in your current repertoire, from the sound of it - but being kido, they'd be subject to detection, interference, and monitoring by the Quincy, particularly within the walls of Silbern.

You know if YOU'D spent a thousand years gearing up for a war of annihilation with an army of super-ghost samurai, you'd ward your fortress to be as unfriendly to their powers as possible, including communications.
Urahara tends to agree.

Magical messaging spells, on the other hand, might still be viable.

You float the idea of providing medical support, but are informed that such are the primary responsibility of the Fourth Division, and the members that would be sent on a mission like this will have decades if not centuries of experience treating Shinigami patients, which is an advantage you and Briar (and hence, your Shadows) can't easily match.

"Also, Captain Unohana would probably object to the idea of any untested treatment regimen being applied to her patients in the field." Urahara is smiling as he says that, but there is a faint edge of wariness.

One last thing that comes to mind if for your Shadows to try and lock down the other Gates of the Sun as the Shinigami pass them, so that any Quincy reinforcements would have to take the stairs and couldn't hit the invaders from behind. You briefly consider trying to force the wards you glimpsed to trigger, but have to admit that you don't know nearly enough about Quincy "programming" to mess around with their defenses like that.

Besides, casting the Spell of Dimensional Anchoring on a Gate ought to be enough to render it useless for the duration.

"That's a good idea," Ambrose notes. "I might be able to arrange some summoned assistance for that end. Have to make some calls when we're done here..."

As for the adults, Batreaux counts as an agent of foreign Powers and has... dubious origins besides, so his involvement likely won't be welcomed by the Shinigami. Navi is a divine being in her own right, and also Fae, either of which is a mixed blessing: in the former case, she's at least a peer to the Shinigami, while also being another outsider; and as for the latter...

"The Soul Society doesn't have a lot of contact with Faerie," Urahara states. "Fae are more of a Western thing, and they don't usually venture this far east. When they do, they don't stay; most of the ecological and spiritual niches that terrestrial Fae occupy in Europe are already held by youkai and kami here, and in most cases, there just isn't room for new competitors."

You think back to the book about Japanese fairies you received from Kasumi and Ayane on your birthday.

"Little fairies aren't exactly 'competition' for most other nature spirits and small gods," Batreaux says. "They can fit in almost anywhere. Now, if a Great Fairy tried to move in, there'd be problems."

You think of Gen's Great Fairy acquaintance, who left Earth some decades ago, and wonder.

You also think of a certain dullahan working as a transporter, and wonder if you should bring her up.

Regardless, whether or not Soul Society will deign to accept Navi's assistance in the upcoming incident is a big "maybe." She'd be most useful and comfortable working as a healer, which runs into some of the same issues that Urahara raised for you or Briar lending a hand in that role; Navi is MUCH more experienced at healing in general than you or her daughter, but has no more experience working with Shinigami patients.

Balthazar admits to not being terribly interested in joining an assault on a fortress.

"I've seen enough strongholds sacked and cities invaded over the years to know that I don't really have any taste for the business," he says frankly. "I'm also not sure how well my magic would adapt to this secret realm the Wandenreich Quincy are hiding out on."

Oooh, that's a nasty thought you hadn't considered.

Traveling to other planes isn't a particularly big deal for someone like you, who carries a huge pool of quasi-divine power wherever you go, and moreover has the training and experience to safely tap into a wide range of external sources. But with the way Merlinean Sorcery gets around the normal drawbacks of external sorcery by drawing on the supernatural energies of Earth and the Material Plane in general...

It's not that the other planes of existence are devoid of Earthly magic. Anywhere there's a natural portal or artificial gateway between realities, or where beings of great power reach across the walls between worlds to share their strength with others, there will be bleedthrough and intermingling of the energies of the planes involved - the functional equivalent of Hellmouths. But even so, Earth's magic would be weaker, limiting how much a practitioner reliant on it could do while he was on that alien plane.

Moreover, those energies would be heavily tainted by the native essences of the plane in question. Unless a sorcerer was very, very skilled at filtering the energies he channeled, he would invariably be taking in more of certain powers than he was used to calling upon for every single spell he performed. It would stress his body in ways he wasn't used to, at the very least interfering with his spellcasting and potentially damaging him - and it would open a Merlinean to the spiritual and physical corruption and transformation that afflicts so many other schools of sorcery, but which he would have little if any experience with.

That could go very badly, very easily.

---

Celty only came to mind due to the conversation shifting to the matter of Fae in Japan. Although you know that dullahans are psychopomps in their own right, if Miss Sturluson were still engaged in the traditional line of work for her kind, you would have expected to sense foreign spiritual energies lingering on her person - and her bike-slash-horse - during your encounter last Halloween. You sensed nothing of the sort, merely Celty's own power as one of the greater Fae, which seems a fair indication that she's devoted to her current job as a transporter and not moonlighting as a reaper of souls.

If that's the case, then there's really no need to mention her in relation to this business with the Shinigami and the Wandenreich. You'd just be derailing the conversation AND bringing a lady to the attention of a bunch of powerful people without giving her a heads- that is to say, without asking her if she was okay with it first.

Getting back on topic, while Balthazar feels it would be best if he remained on this plane rather than accompany the Shinigami into the Wandenreich, he does believe he could still contribute a few spells to the effort - provided the little death gods are willing to accept the aid and cast said spells on them.

"What sort of magic did you have in mind?" Urahara asks.

"There aren't a lot of references to Shinigami," Balthazar begins, "and the majority of the ones I've read were fragmentary and full of guesswork and supposition. But there's a few consistent points, and one of those is that Shinigami apparently don't use armor. Is that accurate?"

"For the most part," the shopkeeper replies slowly. "All Shinigami are trained to focus their reiatsu to resist blows and deflect hostile energies, which gives them most of the benefits of armor already - and that protection only gets stronger as the individual does. Defensive equipment capable of providing comparable protection is hard to come by; most inanimate spiritual matter doesn't have reiatsu of its own, and can't stand up to the pressure generated by souls in combat without a lot of refinement and reinforcement - moreso as the rank and power of the Shinigami in question increase. That makes armor expensive, and even the best-made stuff wears out faster than physical armor subjected to similar levels of violence would, because it's being stressed by its wearer's reiatsu at least as much as it is by the attacks it's meant to protect them from."

That makes sense, and yet...

"Economic limitations, or political nonsense?" Ambrose guesses.

Urahara's smile is sharp. "Both, really. There honestly aren't a lot of craftsmen with the skills to produce armor that would be practical for rank-and-file Shinigami, much less the officers; they probably wouldn't have the numbers to realistically keep up with the demand if armor was adopted universally. That aside, the only armorers realistically capable of producing gear that captains, lieutenants, and some of the higher seats could use are vassals to the noble families, who keep them busy equipping their house guards, filling their armories, and crafting gifts and showpieces for other nobles - pretty much anything that won't give the Shinigami more power." He turns back to Balthazar. "I'm guessing you weren't about to propose creating magic armor for everyone."

"Not enough time, they don't have the training to make the best use of it, and I don't trust them nearly enough anyway," the Merlinean master agrees. "But the Spells of Mage Armor and Shield are easy to cast, they bestow most of the benefits of wearing a modest set of armor and carrying a shield, and they have none of the downsides or requirements."

"They're also fully effective against ghosts and other ethereal threats," you note, "and don't meaningfully degrade from damage."

"That could be useful," Urahara agrees. "It just depends on how these spells would mix with a Shinigami's existing defenses."

How fortunate, then, that you've got a couple of Shinigami right here to experiment with!

Urahara blinks. "...that's my line."

Do you have any further questions or comments at this point?

---

Urahara blinks. "...that's my line."

"And you did well in teaching it to the next generation," you reply sagely.

The shopkeeper stares at you for a moment, and then turns to the rest of his guests. "I should be worried, shouldn't I?"

"Yes," everyone says.

You...

Before yielding the floor - or table? - to Ambrose, you note that Balthazar's example has reminded you of how sorcery in particular, but also magic in general, can be affected by the dominant conditions on other planes. With that in mind, you ask Urahara if there's some way to test how your magic performs in an environment more like Soul Society, before it becomes important.

The man winces, which you take to be a sign of imminent bad news.

"Under different circumstances," Urahara says, "it'd be a fairly straightforward matter: I could just build a portal to the Soul Society and send you through with Yoruichi to show you around and keep you out of trouble. But Yoruichi isn't here right now, and Tessai and I can't go ourselves, because we're not as good at hiding our presences, and this would be a REALLY bad time for us to be detected opening an unauthorized back door and letting mortals wander around. That's assuming we could get the job done right now; between preparing for the potential arrival of a bunch of Quincy in Karakura, the coming invasion, AND that special-order gigai, we're just a bit strapped for time and materials."

That last bit makes you wonder about how Jasmine's new and possibly temporary body is turning out, and by the same token, how Batreaux's search for a safe copy of the Clone Spell is going.

---

With that done, the discussion turns to what Ambrose feels he has to contribute.

Unlike Balthazar, the (visibly) old man has no particular compunctions against venturing to another plane. As a form of magic that relies on the manipulation of external energy sources, wizardry is a lot safer to use in alien environments than sorcery, an advantage that only increases when the wizard in question has time to prepare additional resources in a familiar environment beforehand. It's not completely without risk - the way Magic Circuits work, it's almost inevitable that some foreign mana will get into a practitioner's system, regardless of their specific spellcasting style - but since wizardry doesn't require channeling planar power through a wizard's entire being every time he casts the least little spell, the level of contamination he suffers in a hostile magical environment tends to be a couple of orders of magnitude less severe than it would for a sorcerer of equivalent ability.

Similarly, Ambrose isn't particularly broken up over the idea of storming a castle-city.

"I'm not exactly going to lose any sleep over an army that implicitly supports genocide getting sucker-punched on their eve of triumph," he explains. "At the same time, though, the boy mentioned that there was a civilian population in that fortress; given the bad blood between Quincy and Shinigami, I'll rest easier if I know there's someone in place to smack some sense into any bright sparks that have a mind to commit an atrocity or two. Easiest way to do that is just to be there myself."

"And how, exactly, would you go about that?" Urahara wonders, looking Ambrose over, his skinny and age-bitten frame apparent even through his nice suit.

The wizard smiles. "Well, there's no reason why those summons I mentioned earlier should be limited to ONLY neutralizing the Gates of Sun. Aside from that, I was also thinking about making a few greater Simulacra, and just showing up at the head of my own little army."

"An army of wizards is a frightening prospect," Batreaux admits.

"Oh, I wasn't planning to copy myself-"

Balthazar murmurs something that sounds like a prayer of thanksgiving.

"-that would be terribly immodest, and more than a little confusing," Ambrose continues, without missing a beat. "Besides, the copies would all be significantly weaker than I am, which wouldn't be helpful in this particular instance. No, I was thinking more along the lines of a band of knights."

Balthazar does a double-take. "You wouldn't."

Ambrose's eye twinkles madly. "Wouldn't I?"

"...you would," the Merlinean master admits, sighing.

For once, Urahara looks a bit lost.

For your part, you have a pretty good idea WHICH "band of knights" Ambrose and Balthazar are referring to, and the idea that he could just create duplicates of them is simultaneously awe-inspiring, terrifying, and giving you a sense of great pity on Altria's behalf.

It's also vaguely disappointing, because you don't know the Spell to Create a Simulacrum yourself, and so can't send a fully-armed and operational double of Link into the upcoming battle.

Oooo, that would be neat! You should learn that spell.

Farore, no.

Farore, yes!

---

Urahara looks at you again. "For the record, Alex, I think you're a bit too big to pull off the 'innocent look'. Especially around anybody that knows anything about your actual abilities."

Really?

"Yeah."

"I have to agree," Balthazar adds.

"Definitely," Navi chimes in.

"Being large and powerful has its downsides, my student," Batreaux sighs.

Darn. The innocent look is such a good card for most kids to play, too...

"You're not most kids," Briar comments.

This is true, and it's usually an advantage. Not today, you suppose.

While it might be interesting to have the magic-wielding experts in your life discuss how different forms of bodily replacement stack up to one another, that isn't why you brought them together today. You also know for a fact that Batreaux doesn't know the Spell to Create a Clone - you would have just had him cast it, if that were the case - and you strongly suspect that Navi doesn't know it, either, so their contributions to such a debate would be limited.

Since you'd rather not derail the current conversation just to retread old ground, you let this matter pass without comment, trusting that Urahara and Batreaux will alert you when and if there's been a development in their respective efforts that requires your attention.

In any case, you've now covered the contributions each individual seated at the table feels willing and able to make, with the exception of your two Shinigami hosts.

Urahara refers back to those "preparations" for the invasion that he previously mentioned, saying that, while he and his are on the outs with Soul Society as a whole, there are a few individuals he thinks would still trust him enough to accept some under-the-table assistance.

"We do a modest business with the Shinigami assigned to patrol Karakura," the shopkeeper says with a smile. "Energy boosters, first aid kits, maps detailing recent and/or major shifts in spiritual activity, gigai rentals-"

He did tell you that he kept spares for short-term use.

"-and repair kits, parts and replacements for a few standard devices. Nothing that couldn't be brought in bulk from the Soul Society, of course, but it's also already HERE, meaning they could make use of my humble shop as a staging area, without having to go to the trouble of requisitioning and transporting materials from their own stores. Or at least not AS much as they'd otherwise need."

Based on what you've heard about the Shinigami so far, they probably will want to launch this invasion from Earth: partly because it would spare them having to allow living humans - one of them a Quincy, at that - into the Soul Society; but also because the Soul Society is compromised by the Wandenreich's location.

You know that if YOU were an ancient god-king - ahem - who'd gone to the trouble of hiding your last redoubt and army in a planar space adjacent to and hidden from the domain of your mortal enemies, you'd have included some means of monitoring your enemies' stronghold.

So, yeah, Urahara Shop, and especially the warded and nigh-undetectable basement area, would be a good place for the reapers to kick off their invasion from.

Urahara adds that he and Tessai are working on a few specialty devices, inspired by the shopkeeper's observations and records of the various spells you've used on the premises.

"Creating a perfect barrier against Quincy attacks, like that 'Spell Immunity' you tested against Souken, probably isn't in the cards," Urahara admits. "Quincy power is just too disruptive to spiritual energy in general for anything that USES spiritual energy to ever be that effective. Ablative barriers are definitely doable, but I'm a little reluctant to hand Soul Society something they could turn around and use to wipe out the remaining Earthly Quincy bloodlines with impunity."

Ow. Yeah, that would be very bad. Doubly so when you're already trying to save those people from being exterminated.

"On a brighter note, if you recall that flare of unfriendly energy when Masaki absorbed the Heart Container-"

Even though both of them were already aware of the incident, Batreaux and Navi still look distinctly put out by mention of that.

"-I managed to isolate the spiritual frequency involved, and build a detector that will lock onto it," Urahara continues, reaching into a pocket to pull out-

!

-it can't be.

It is!

He built a Compass.

Okay, who made with the divine inspiration?

Urahara built a freaking Hyrulean-style boss-finding COMPASS.

Because don't get me wrong, this is great; I just wish I'd had the idea first.

You... you have no words.

It seemed appropriate, once I realized what he was doing.

Batreaux chortles, while Briar and Navi giggle.

The wizard and the other sorcerer in the room just look bemused.

Aside from the matter of locating high-value assets for possible recovery, do you have any other thoughts to offer on the matter of the Silbern raid?

---

The two Shinigami, the wizard, and the other sorcerer all regard you with puzzlement.

"No," Urahara says slowly. "Why would it?"

Why WOULDN'T it?

You explain that the Compass he's created looks almost EXACTLY like similar devices that can be found in the land Batreaux and Navi hail from, and has a similar "treat the nearest boss monster as magnetic north" property.

"Those Compasses are created by servants of the Goddesses, to either aid those who are facing one of the Temples of Trial, or help the latest Hero find his way through a demonic stronghold," Navi adds. "In both cases, each Compass is attuned to and hidden away within the structure in question, whether to make finding it part of the Trial, or to keep it hidden from the monsters."

"...your Goddesses have temples, plural, that are large enough for people to need COMPASSES to find their way around inside," Balthazar says bluntly.

A dark voice at the back of your mind moans in despair.

Doesn't everybody? ...is what I'd like to say, but, yeah, we're kind of lucky that way.

"Maps as well," Batreaux offers helpfully.

You hear a mental whimper.

From the way Mr. Blake stares at your teacher in response, that last statement was less helpful than it might have been.

"Anyway," Navi hurries on, "the magic of each Compass is attuned to the location it's hidden in. Since the most powerful monsters tend to spread their auras all over their territory as part of claiming it, a Compass locks on to them almost automatically; with enough time, though, it can also pick out other nearby sources of magic, especially those that are similarly blessed or empowered by the Goddesses."

"And they look like this?" Urahara asks, holding up his Compass.

"Almost exactly," Navi agrees. "And the Goddesses have been... chatty, since you brought it out."

"...huh." The shopkeeper looks at the device in his hand, but his gaze is distant, his attention distinctly elsewhere. "So THAT'S what divine inspiration feels like..."

You're welcome~.

The Shinigami scientist briefly shakes his head, and tucks the Compass away again. "Still. Goddessly guidance or no, I'm fairly certain THIS Compass won't be pointing the way to any hidden treasures inside Silbern. The only energy signature I had to program in was Yhwach's."

Unfortunately true.

If that's the case, then perhaps you should scry for high-value assets ahead of time? Say, the library, the treasury?

"Do you have anything that came from said library or treasury?" Batreaux inquires archly.

...Souken's stolen amulet, maybe?

"It might be worth the attempt," your sorcery tutor admits, "but after being in his possession or simply hidden away on Earth for so long, its links to any older owners and locations would be... thin, at best. And I would think such an item came from an armory, lab, or more general storage area, not a library or treasury - assuming it wasn't someone's personal property to begin with."

You're not sure, actually. Souken said that he initially stole two Keys, one of which DID belong to someone, but he also said that he put that one back before he was banished from the Wandenreich. He didn't go into detail about where he got the one he has now, but you're inclined to think he swiped it from long-term storage, where it would be less likely to be missed.

But if the stolen Key of the Sun doesn't lead you to Silbern's loot pi- ahem, to where the Wandenreich Quincy keep their most valuable items, there's not a lot else you could try. You haven't yet mastered the Spell to Discern A Location, and that one requires you to have touched an object you're trying to find, anyway, so it wouldn't help here. Most of your lesser scrying spells have similar limitations on what they can seek out, won't work across planar boundaries, can be blocked by mundane means like a thin sheet of lead or a sufficient mass of stone, or just fail against wards. Silbern's location and heavily warded, solid stone construction cover most of those points.

Balthazar and Ambrose, meanwhile, are leery of their chances of replicating your success in piercing Silbern's wards.

"It's not that I don't have faith in my magic," the wizard observes. "I just know I don't have the sort of divinely backed, Fae-influenced, rule-breaking nonsense going on that you do."

The only other recourse you have is to start scrying the fortress interior again, and hope you get lucky, both in finding your desired targets and in NOT getting found out by the residents. You already had a few close calls with wandering Sternritter in the Royal Quarter, and odds are security around whatever Silbern has in the way of treasure vaults wouldn't be any less - it might even be tighter in some respects, if only because there'd be a lot less authorized traffic.

Aside from the risk of alerting the Quincy to the fact that someone is spying on them and thus losing the element of surprise for the upcoming assault, the other major issue with scrying Silbern is time. The place is huge, and you have only a couple more weeks before the attack, much of which is already earmarked for projects you can't rightly abandon or delay: meeting the New York and South American Quincy; proving your bona fides to them; ACTUALLY hiding them before Auswahlen and/or the Shinigami attack begin; sorting things out with the other Dark Lords of Miss Akasha's acquaintance; another day-trip to Faerie for mining purposes; getting those bits of equipment you took from the grimstalker analyzed and disposed of - because you're NOT keeping those around any longer than you absolutely have to; and ongoing research into a number of spells that you're either going to urgently NEED in the very near future, or which are just too useful to go without.

---

As much as the idea of a hunt for material wealth and spiritual knowledge appeals to you, you have to admit that trying to locate Silbern's library and/or treasure hoard is just too likely to ruin the element of surprise that you and your allies - nominal as well as actual - currently have over the Wandenreich.

Besides, Shadow Alex and Shadow Briar will still have a chance to loot- that is, to preserve valuable knowledge of the spiritual arts that would otherwise probably be confiscated or destroyed by the Shinigami.

Ambrose can probably be counted on to lend a hand. Wizards, you know, are like packrats where rare lore is involved.

...not that you have a leg or a Spell of Levitation to stand on in that regard.

After all, knowledge. Is. POWER.

It's a KIND of Power, anyway.

Pity it doesn't work the other way around...

Grrr! I will learn the SECRET OF EVERYTHING by beating the world up with my BRAIN MUSCLE until it talks!

...on second thought, forget I said anything.

Pfft. "Brain muscle." Heh.

With the "before" and "during" aspects of the raid on Silbern covered, it's time to proceed to the question of what happens after, and what, if anything, your little group can do about it.

Of course, the fallout of the entire affair will depend greatly on the outcome of the Shinigami surprise attack, particularly as regards casualties among the powerhouses and leadership on both sides, but there are some broad-strokes outlines you can put together.

In the best-case scenario for your side, Yhwach is taken out before he regains consciousness, and casualties on all sides - attackers, defenders, Wandenreich civilians, and Earthly Quincy alike - are kept to a minimum. Urahara notes that Yhwach's loyalists, such as the Grandmaster Haschwalth that Souken mentioned, will need to be either killed or taken prisoner to convince the remaining Quincy to stand down; nobody really disputes that, and even your own fleeting memories of Ganondorf's various periods of dominance support it.

As long as Zelda and Link were known to be alive, free, and fighting against him, the King of Evil was never able to fully secure his rule.

If the Shinigami are presented with a victory with minimal losses, keeping them from taking any drastic actions with regards to the Quincy survivors OR the mortal participants will be much easier. Urahara and Tessai admit that it will be helpful that the captains, at least, should be well aware by then that Amaterasu is keeping one glowing eye on the whole situation.

Ambrose adds that he'll be using Mind Blank regardless, and advises that you get in the habit of doing the same as soon as you've mastered the spell - or having your teacher do so in your stead.

You were already planning on that, and Urahara admits it's a good idea, as there are officers and members of the nobility that wouldn't consider divine oversight and objection to be a deterrent, so much as a reason not to be OPEN in their actions.

We'll see how long THAT lasts when I get my hands on them...

Remember, no killing.

Can we at least maim them? Just a little bit?

I don't generally approve of maiming, but it WOULD send a stronger message - so, yes.

Best Blue Sister!

There are several possible sub-optimal outcomes for the attack. One is that the Shinigami kill Yhwach, but fail to remove his loyalists from power or to hold Silbern. That would likely lead to an outbreak of general war between the Wandenreich and the Soul Society, which could remain confined to the Spirit Plane - but still have nasty consequences for life on Earth, particularly when Japan's Hollow population starts growing unchecked - or spill over into the Mortal Realm.

"The Soul Society will definitely try to avoid that outcome," Urahara says. "They'll raid the Wandenreich's terrestrial bases - they'll have to, to cut their supply lines - but the increase in the use of spiritual power on Earth that an all-out war represents would pull in Hollows by the thousands, to say nothing of all the other supernatural power-groups that would involve themselves. Soul Society can't afford that, and they know it. As for the Wandenreich... we know they aren't ignorant of the other factions and species out there, so they SHOULD have the good sense to avoid escalating the conflict on the Material Plane, but..."

"But, they've been secluded on their private demiplane for a thousand years, where nothing and no one has been able to touch them," Navi continues. "Even if they know that monsters, magic, and other kinds of non-spiritual danger are out there, they might not fully appreciate how dangerous those powers can be, and dismiss them out of hand."

The bucket-hat dips in a nod of concern.

Whether it's fought on Earth or in "heaven," an open war will make things difficult for the Earthly Quincy families. At the very least, they'll have to deal with increasing levels of activity among hostile spirits, be they Hollows, unquiet ghosts, or other, which in turn will force the Quincy to use their powers more often and potentially draw the attention of the two armies having it out in the afterlife. That would be a bad thing at the best of times; in war, it's all too likely to be deadly.

The demiplanes Navi will be setting up for you, while fine as temporary refuges, really aren't suitable for long-term occupation. Cabin fever is a thing, and all of the magic-users at the table agree that adding pocket realities to the mix doesn't make it any better - rather the contrary.

"At least with a mundane cabin, you can look outside, sit on the porch to enjoy the wind and sun, or go for a walk in the woods," Ambrose recounts. "Basic demiplanes are shy on those things, and even the really nice ones lose a lot of their charm if you're being forced to stay there. Then there's the question of whether the creator left the plane's surface exposed to the greater Ethereal, or shaped it into a self-contained space. Some people can't handle staring into a featureless fog, and others are claustrophobic."

If it comes to a war, you might just have to consider moving the Quincy, as well as your friends and family, to another plane entirely - if they'll even agree to that.

They might not. Uprooting the Shuzens promises to be a tricky business, and the Drakes almost equally so - vampires and knights being about equal for sheer stubborn pride and metaphorical bloodthirstiness, Ambrose notes sourly, at least once you've stripped away all the niceties. Urahara also mentions something about "the honor of the Quincy" being a similar obstacle to convincing them to abandon the plane, and Balthazar backs that up.

The more they talk, the more you consider the merits of just knocking people over the head, dragging them off, and presenting them with a fait accompli when they wake up.

I like this idea.

It does have a certain Gerudo straightforwardness about it, doesn't it?

I always did like their marriage kidnappings. Very practical.

Another sub-optimal outcome for the raid is that it somehow misses the Sealed King, whether because the Shinigami wait too long to launch their attack or get bogged down by the defenders, or just because somebody has the bright idea to MOVE Yhwach. It's also possible that being attacked while on the threshold of regaining consciousness might jar the Quincy overlord into invoking Auswahlen prematurely. Nobody has any idea what the consequences of that might be, beyond "Very Bad."
In either of those cases, it'd be war again, only with the Wandenreich in a stronger position, fighting to hold the line until their king recovers. And even during the subsequent nine-year period Yhwach is foretold to keep his eyes closed for, the Sealed King may yet be able to contribute something to the war effort, which would simply make a bad situation for Soul Society even worse.

The worst-case scenario has the Shinigami raiding party caught and/or destroyed by Silbern's defenses, Auswahlen proceeding on schedule, and the Wandenreich starting the war with a major military advantage - as well as whatever they can squeeze out of any prisoners they take.

"Make sure your Shadow knows to dismiss himself on the spot if that happens," Ambrose tells you seriously.

You don't disagree. The Wandenreich are right behind the Soul Society on the List of People I Don't Want Knowing I'm a Conscious Reincarnation (of a Demon King of Evil).

---

All told, the meeting at Urahara's lasts for the better part of two hours, and is still going strong when you personally have to bow out at around eleven, local time. You've got only an hour or so before night falls back in Sunnydale, and given your desire to track down Shadow Alex before you go, as well as the travel time... yeah.

Seeing as how Ambrose and Balthazar are both perfectly capable of getting themselves home, and that it's currently somewhere around ten at night in New York - and three in the morning in Wales - they're staying to talk about less apocalyptic matters with Urahara and Tessai. Batreaux and Navi are also interested in staying for that, and can likewise depart Earth whenever they feel like it.

Once again disguised as a business-like adult version of yourself, you try not to shiver as you leave Urahara Shop, imagining all manner of potential outcomes from the minds behind you being left unsupervised together for the rest of the day.

"I would say that Mom will keep them out of trouble," Briar begins, "but then I think about some of the things I've heard other Great Fairies get up to, and remember that she used to run with the Hero of Time AND recently punched out Nayru."

She did NOT- it was a bruise, that's all!

And you're still never going to live it down.

"So, yeah," your partner continues. "Here's hoping we didn't just accidentally end the world or anything."

Speaking of apocalyptic events, you suppose you'd better track down your Shadows and see what they've managed to get up to in your absence.

On the off-chance that Shadow Alex might be busy - whether that's talking to someone, fighting, or making with the magic - you don't send a Message Spell. Instead, you lean on the magic of the Heart that's keeping the two Shadows manifested, and invoke something akin to the Spell to Locate A Creature. Due to the inherent connection between you and your target(s), this effect is much quieter and somewhat more precise; rather than the magical equivalent of a sonar ping or radar sweep that searches a broad area all around you and returns only a sense of the direction in which your target lies (if it's in range), your sensory awareness simply follows the link through the streets of Karakura, around a few corners, and past blurry shadows of pedestrians and vehicles before coming to a stop at...

...

Huh. That's a hospital, and it's definitely in the right direction to be the one Ishida Ryuuken works at. Shadow Alex and Shadow Briar are just walking past the security kiosk for the parking lot, the fairy's shadow in teenaged human shape waving to the guard there in a friendly manner as she and her partner leave the area.

Shadow Alex looks up as your magic brushes against him, and invokes his own power in turn. A moment later, the Spell to Send A Message whispers to you: "I spoke to Masaki, and Ryuken had an opening for a meeting. He's not thrilled about this whole business-"

You wouldn't expect him to be, though Shadow Alex seems to be implying there's more to Ryuken's reaction that the anger of a man facing down a genocide aimed at most of his living relatives.

"-but he said something about medical oaths and preventative medicine and agreed to accompany you to New York tomorrow."

Well, then. That's very convenient.

Do you have any questions for Shadow Alex, or anything else that needs doing today?

---

Taking advantage of the already-active Message Spell, you ask Shadow Alex when and where you're expected to pick Ryuken up from.

"We settled on 7:45 in the morning, local time," your doppelganger replies. "He'll meet you at the Kurosaki Clinic."

You mentally run the numbers, working it out to 3:45 in the afternoon, Sunnydale time, and 6:45 in the evening, New York time. Doable all around, though it's just about the earliest possible time you could manage after getting out of school, short of risking short-range teleportation.

Was Ryuken in a hurry, or something?

"He doesn't seem like the sort of man to appreciate wasting time," Shadow Alex admits. "I also got the impression he's not terribly fond of his status as a Quincy."

No fancy mantle or white uniform, then?

"No, he was dressed pretty much like any of the other doctors we saw," comes the reply. "Pretty sure he had one of those star-crosses on him, though, and the way his aura felt, how he moved, he's definitely trained. But it was less how he looked and more how he talked; the man's pretty cool and controlled, but kind of angry underneath, especially when the conversation shifted to our meetings with Souken, or how Masaki's been doing since she absorbed that Heart."

He doesn't think it was just anger at the whole Auswahlen situation?

"Some of it probably was that," Shadow Alex admits, "but I got the feeling there were other issues, there. I didn't pry-"

Shadow Briar clears her throat.

"-that is, I was reminded not to pry into other people's personal business."

You nod, considering that.

Then you abruptly change topics, telling the Shadows that it, unless they learned something that urgently needs to be passed on-

Shadow Alex and Shadow Briar trade glances.

"I don't think so," your darker twin says slowly.

-then the two of them should probably head back to Urahara Shop.

"Oh, that's right!" Shadow Briar exclaims. "I owe Mom a talk."

"Grk!"

Well, there's that-

"Bwa!?"

-but also, you'd like the two of them to keep an eye on the adults, to make sure they don't accidentally end the world or something.

The Shadows nod slowly.

"I can see how that might be a concern," Shadow Alex admits.

"Definitely need to have that talk with Mom," Shadow Briar adds.

With that sorted out, you wish them luck; Shadow Alex subsequently ends the spell.

"I'd really hoped she'd forgotten about that," Briar groans.

Based on her reaction when you brought it up, it's quite possible that Shadow Briar DID let it slip her mind that Navi wanted to talk with her. She could also have been prevented from meeting Navi today, if you'd decided to cancel the magic of the Heart of Courage-

"Could I get you to do that?"

...no.

-but that would just have been delaying the inevitable. Or did Briar honestly think her MOTHER would have forgotten about it?

Your partner's answering sigh hangs heavy in the air.

That's what you thought.

With your business in Karakura concluded, you return to the Kurosaki Clinic, where you spend a short time in conversation with Isshin and Masaki. You confirm that "you" were able to meet with Ryuken, and that he agreed to accompany you to New York tomorrow. You also politely turn down an offer to join the pair for lunch - reminding them of the hour in Sunnydale is helpful, here - and then remove yourself to their backyard.

With a final prayer of apology to any listening kami for who and what you've unleashed upon this unsuspecting town, you teleport home.

It's not like the whole town is going to get yanked into another plane, ri- Nayru, why are you facepalming?

---

You stay up until midnight on Wednesday, partly because you're curious to see if Shadow Alex will return home or make contact with you, and partly because you find it difficult to get to sleep when you know that the meeting in Urahara Shop could very well still be underway.

To keep your mind occupied, you get started on that analysis of the Faerie-crafted equipment you acquired from the grimstalker. Given the late hour, the absence of your "lab assistant," and the potentially hazardous nature of the poison-smeared arrows and whatever is in those pouches, you limit your investigation to non-destructive testing of the armor, bow, sword, and belt - the latter only after removing and stowing all the pouches, naturally.

On a side note, after all that time where you knew the mechanics for the Spell to Analyze Dweomers, but lacked the necessary material focus, you take a certain satisfaction in propping the ruby lens over one eye, invoking the magic, and PEERING DEEPLY into the structure of the items laid out before you, leaving their secrets NOWHERE TO HIDE!

...Batreaux's influence emerges at the oddest times.

The Grimstalker's Armor is nothing special as far as defensive enhancements go; though the Fae energy woven through it behaves a bit differently from mortal magic, it reinforces the metal in the same way as the armored sections of your own Sorcerer's Robe, and to a similar degree. More interesting are the secondary enhancements, which make the mail shirt duller to the eye and ear than it ought to be while worn; then there's metal itself, which isn't anything you're familiar with in this lifetime, whether from Earth or Hyrule, but shines as bright as silver (as long as it isn't being worn).

That metal is present in the Grimstalker's Sword, which bears familiar enhancements for greater accuracy and striking power, but nothing else of note. The same sort of spellwork can be found on the Grimstalker's Bow, as is - as expected - a related but significantly more potent enhancement for increasing the striking power of an arrow. It's quite a complicated bit of spellwork, actually, and while you think it should be within your ability to reproduce, it'd cost enough that you don't see much point to doing so - especially not when you don't use ranged weapons yourself.

It might be possible to adapt the effect for a melee weapon, but you'd need more time and study to work out the specifics.

As for the Grimstalker's Belt, it's not enchanted in the slightest. Magical, yes - it's from Faerie to begin with, and as far as you know, even Fae plants don't grow like that without a certain degree of encouragement - but there's no spells woven into the material.

Speaking of materials, Briar identifies the odd metal from the grimstalker's gear as "silversteel" or "battle silver."

"Some legendary smith supposedly created the stuff as a substitute and counter for iron tools and weapons, back when mortals first started getting good at forging them," your partner explains. "Apparently, it's an alloy of silver and moonlight, with a few other things mixed in. Don't ask me how that works, because I have no idea, and don't ask Robin; smiths are pretty protective of their secrets, and I'd rather he didn't crack your skull."

"So it's... kind of like synthetic moonsilver?" you venture. There was a certain similarity in the auras, but-

"Kind of, but not really."

-they were also fairly distinct from one another. While you can't speak to how the physical properties of the metals measure up, that bar of refined moonsilver that Navi let you borrow the other day had a purer and stronger aura than the metal in the grimstalker's gear. Even most of the raw ore samples that you collected felt a bit higher-quality than this stuff.

As you tuck the belt away with the rest of the equipment, you briefly consider putting on a pair of safety gloves and taking out one of the arrows, but you dismiss the notion with a shake of your head. You simply don't feel like messing around with poison at... eleven-fifteen at night.

With that decided, you organize your workshop, turn off the lights, and quietly head upstairs to your room, where you read Magic of the Smithy for an hour or so, before calling it a night.

Maybe ten minutes after your head hits the pillow, you sit up again, registering the familiar sensation of a Spell of Sending.

"Karakura safe for the moment," Shadow Alex reports. "Masaki broke up the meeting by dragging everyone to dinner. Heard some stuff, will tell you tomorrow."

Ah.

---

You're very attached to your skull, after all. It's where you keep your best thoughts.

"Also the bad ones."

Well, yes, but that's just more motivation not to get your head smashed open. You wouldn't want those thoughts getting loose, now would you?

You thank Shadow Alex for his efforts, let the Spell of Sending end, and then lie back and think restful thoughts.

The following afternoon, you head straight home from school, and find the house mostly empty upon your arrival, with your mother not yet home from work and your father apparently running late in picking Zelda up from the daycare.

With a quick cantrip, you leave a note on the fridge door to let everyone know you've been and gone, applying just enough of a glow to ensure it's noticed. Then you check on Moblin in the backyard, changing his water and ruffling his ears before going back inside to quickly shower and change clothes. You don't need anything formal for the upcoming meeting, but your school clothes might be a bit too casual for the topics to be discussed, so you split the difference.

You're out the door by twenty after, reach your teleport site by twenty to four, and seeing as how you'd like to be a little early for your first in-person meeting with Ishida Ryuken - and because, after last night's dream, you kind of want to make sure that Karakura is still where it's supposed to be - you cast the Greater Spell of Teleportation the short way for once.

The magic takes effect, and when the moment of green fades, you find yourself in the Kurosakis' backyard, as planned. Shadow Alex is just getting to his feet from where he was sitting on the back porch.

"Thank Din you're here," your dark side prays, as he immediately begins casting the memory-transfer spell.

"Worn out from keeping an eye on the mad geniuses, or are you just hiding from the little girls?" Briar guesses.

"Take your pick. Also," he adds, turning to you and holding out one hand, "take these memories and let me dismiss myself, already."

...suddenly you're not sure if you want to, if things were THAT bad.

Shadow Alex isn't having any of that, though, and lunges forward to touch you. Hand or head are ideal for the transfer process, symbolism being what it is, but anywhere will do, really.

---

For a moment, you're tempted to back away and avoid your Shadow's touch, maybe even lead him on a little chase around the Kurosakis' backyard. Restraining that playful impulse, you instead extend your hand and relax your mental defenses to accept the magically transmitted memories.

Images flash past your mind's eye, the high points of what Shadow Alex experienced since splitting off from you yesterday standing out from the blur of unimportant details.

You see Shadow Alex and Shadow Briar talking with Isshin and Masaki, and a phonecall being made before the Shadows head to Karakura Hospital - with Masaki? Huh, you hadn't gotten the impression she was present for that meeting, but it makes sense that she'd at least introduce you to Ryuken.

Speaking of whom, the man is very clearly Uryuu's father, although his hair appears to have gone prematurely white. As your Shadow mentioned, Mr. Ishida moves like an experienced combatant, and at varous points in the conversation, you catch fleeting signs of intense emotional pressure that didn't appear to be present in any of his immediate family.

At a guess, Uryuu is too young to have been read into whatever is bothering Ryuken, while Souken is old enough to have made his peace with it. As for Kanae... well, she DID seem annoyed when Souken revealed he held a Key of the Sun, and that Ryuken knew about it. Maybe it's this whole business with the Wandenreich that Ryuken finds so aggravating?

If so, you wouldn't blame him.

Masaki stepped out of the meeting at a certain point, and when the Shadows excuse themselves to let Ryuken get back to work, they pass the Kurosaki matriarch in one of the staff rooms, engaged in a spirited conversation with four other women.

Another blur of movement, and the Urahara Shop fills your thoughts.

...

The good news is that methods of transporting Karakura to the Astral Plane were never so much as hinted at. Hopefully, this will help to quiet whatever part of your subconscious came up with that unsettling dream.

The bad news is that between your departure from the store and the Shadows' return, the elder spellcasters were left unsupervised for a good twenty-five minutes, and Shadow Alex never managed to figure out what they'd spent that time talking about. Judging by how suspiciously quiet and interested in their light lunch they all were when he and his partner returned, Shadow Alex was quietly convinced the main topic of discussion had been him - which is to say, you.

Navi absconded to another room with Shadow Briar almost as soon as the latter got back, and Shadow Alex has no idea what they talked about, except that it kept them occupied for the next couple of hours. The rest of the group passed that time with a lengthy discussion of how structured manipulations of spiritual power - mostly Shinigami kido, it must be admitted, but there was enough knowledge about Quincy ginto shared between the two Shinigami and the older human spellcasters to include them in the conversation - stack up to Necromantic Magic, and how one style might be used to interfere with, overcome, or augment the other. There was a general relocation to the basement for some practical testing, which was at once aided by the collective experience of the various participants, and hindered by the professional cageyness of those selfsame individuals.

Urahara and Ambrose were the worst offenders in that respect, but you can't say that anyone else, even your Shadow, was entirely innocent of trying to keep a few things to himself during the exchange. That said, Shadow Alex did take the opportunity to test out the full range of energies available to you against a variety of spiritual defenses and attacks.

Abjuration Magic in general works pretty well, as you'd already known, and Power is as disruptive to spiritual techniques as it is to everything else - although considering how underdeveloped your Power Armor and other defensive applications of that golden energy are, you're probably better served relying on magic. While Ki Armor didn't seem to have a meaningful effect against kido and likewise won't be much good against Quincy arrows, Urahara thinks it should at least buffer you against hand-to-hand strikes. Ki PROJECTION showed some potential for blocking spiritual attacks, but the basic technique is too crude and fragile; right now, the best you could hope for there is to generate a simple "handheld" shield by selectively hardening your aura, and that would be more of a last-resort thing. Full-body coverage should be entirely possible, but will need a lot more work than you have time for.

Gained Ki Aura F (Plus)
Gained Ki Projection C (Plus)

Your spiritual defenses aren't much better, unfortunately. While more inherently suited to withstanding Quincy attacks - or Shinigami ones, or Hollows, though you don't expect your Shadow to run into any of the hungry ghosts in the upcoming operation - you're just too unpracticed with most applications of spiritual power not aimed at improving stealth or sensory ability for them to be relevant in the attack on Silbern.

Gained Spiritual Armor E (Plus) (Plus)

You don't even want to think about how poorly your psychic abilities worked as a defense against spiritual power - or rather, how they didn't.

On a related note, there are several breaks in Shadow Alex's stream of consciousness, where either a defense proved insufficient to the attack it was being tested against, or somebody got overeager with whatever they were throwing at him.

You think he may have hugged Masaki when she turned up to "invite" everyone to a dinner. Navi and Batreaux bowed out of that, but Ambrose, Balthazar, Tessai, and the Shadows accepted readily enough, and Urahara let himself be wrangled into attending for the sake of the kids.

Nothing too remarkable happened after that. Shadow Alex just appears to have had more exposure to people than he's really comfortable with.

Incidentally, he let himself get talked into conjuring another Magnificent Mansion for an "indoor camp-out sleepover."

And then the flow of thoughts ends, leaving you blinking.

Any questions or comments for Shadow Alex, before he dismisses himself?