A few things about Fae Skills: They're not always reliable in combat, that's because they don't function like normal skills. Most skills have a specific Tier: Adept, Master, all that. It evolves, it becomes more expansive, more focused, more powerful. A Master-Tier Physicality Skill will allow you to smash through stone, bend metal, all that fun stuff. Real devastating shit. A Fae Skill doesn't conform to any specific thing we know as people. Instead, Fae Skills are a blend of both the Fae themselves and how they relate to the world. It is technically not even their own skill; it is a skill in relation to certain circumstances and variables in the world.

  To put this into perspective, consider an apple. Bear with me now. Stick to the idea of an apple, right? You're dealing with a fae whose title and name is the Picker of the Golden Apple. Now, his story is one of hopeless Sisyphean struggle. The Winter Court has damned him, one of its most foolish subjects, to discover a golden apple left over in the twilight of the season. With that being the case, there are no golden apples. In fact, as winter encroaches and the shadows swallow the land, the only things that are left are darkness, ruin, and frost. But he still has to keep finding those apples. And so, the System plays with tension. See, that's what the System wants. It wants you to struggle. And since the fae are its eternally tormented children, the world itself tweaks the balance, allowing there to be just a bit of hope, just the slightest chance of possibility. Again, we go back to that simple word, hope.

  Hope and strife fuel the fae.

  As our unfortunate Apple Picker is wandering through the wastes, as more of the blizzards build, and the land is consumed by shadow, as the Laughing Radiance is cut down by Mother Cold and her cruel ways and devoured from within, ushering in an aeon and ending to this current cycle that will start the next one in shadow and death, as all this shit goes down, there will be seeds in the ground. Seeds that are frozen but still somehow alive.

  Those seeds will respond to the Apple Picker. They will respond because there is the possibility of a fight, because he influences the very nature of strife. And so these seeds, which normally should just freeze and die, will respond. They will flourish. They will shoot new trees out from the ground, breaching the hardened rime and climbing high toward the snow-battered skies.

  And as these trees rise up, there will be golden apples. Now, will they survive the falling cold? Probably not for long, but the Apple Picker doesn't care about that. The Apple Picker is going to pick that godsdamn fucking apple.

  And so the situations of the Fae skill will conspire for and against him, because it also doesn't really want him to win. It just wants him to struggle.

  And that's ultimately the thing about the Fae. Their skills are not for them; their skills are for strife. In the worst cases, when things are going against them, the closer they are to the point of despair and the more they're on the ropes, the stronger their skills will be. That is the only point of consistency I found.

  Now, this is all a very simplified way of viewing things because certain Fae are simply not meant to win physical fights narratively. Some of them are just eternal losers. Hurting them doesn't do anything. However, if you're trying to match wits with them and you find yourself making feeble points, then one of their skills might trigger. Or against a potential Fae farmer, you might just see your field turn to literal gold because that's their skill—to find the ability to harvest in a time when the land should be barren. And that's why it's worth it. It allows you to change the circumstances of the world. It gives you a final edge, paired with your other skills, to change the very nature of strife and make it work for you.

  -Fairies and the Fairwoods by the Realmrunner

  236 (I)

  Dietary [II]

  Shiv had assumed that bringing in Cullywier to serve as both interpreter and general bullshit-detector was a no-brainer. Let the fairy deal with the fairy and all that.

  It didn't take the System long to show him what a damn fool he was for hoping.

  “Bah! Have you no dignity, wretch? Have you no shame? No loyalty to the Court that shaped you? The King of Fall would wither and be taken by the Fel Taint of Winter if he knew how low you have fallen, how much you have deviated from the grand narrative! Look at you, but a wretched dog on a leash for the Patternists. But that must entice you so, does it not? Enough for you to lust for them and breed with them. Is that what this is? Is that what he is? Another of your breeding-friends?”

  Shiv squinted at the raging Toast-Knight. “Are you asking him if we're fucking?”

  “Indeed.” Cullywier suffered the Anointed Knight’s rant without flinching, and only issued a correction to the final statement: “To answer: that is impossible—Shiv, here, is male, and thus lacks the requisite organs to achieve pregnancy.”

  “Yeah, well, I got a certain orc I wish you could explain that to,” Shiv muttered to himself.

  Bringing out Cullywier proved to be more a detriment than a boon, as the Anointed One began a brutal diatribe against him the instant he saw the exiled fae. Apparently, Cullywier was regarded as the fairy equivalent of a perverse deviant for having a relationship with a human. Even worse that a child came of that union. Shiv also discovered that the fairies had over a thousand different slur variations for said pattern-dippers who wished to sample the delights of mortal flesh and free will.

  "Hey, asshole," Shiv said with a low growl in his voice, "I'm going to give you another minute to spit out all your curses. But you better get them all out because once that's done, I'm going to kick you into the corner of the cage and hold you there until your face looks like skid marks left by a fast-moving automaton with a wheel-based Reflexes evolution racing across pavement.”

  Though the Faebread Knight's eyes continued to burn with loathing and his core churned with anger that wasn't directed toward Shiv for once, he fell silent because he knew there was a consequence when it came to angering the Deathless. "Why is he here?" the Anointed Knight asked petulantly, spitting bread crumbs in Cullywier’s general direction. "I asked for you. I'm willing to strike an accord with you and no one else. I told this to your lover. I wished to entreat with you alone.”

  "My fucking what?" Shiv sputtered.

  "Your lover," the Anointed Knight repeated, even louder. "The feebly-built one with the wings, the one that hid in the shadows like a coward while I was deceived by your challenge and endured unspeakable brutality at your hand—you vile, vile ape.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Shiv nearly choked. "You mean Adam?"

  "Is that her name?”

  “His! Adam is a guy!”

  “Impossible," the Anointed One insisted. "I know your human ways. I have learned how to decipher who is male and who is female. I see her hiding her chest protrusions underneath that armor. There are other traits as well, such as her luscious eyelashes, her glowing and pristine complexion, and her long, flowing, red hair. You cannot hide her true sex from me. I have learned many things watching the chefs!”

  Shiv was utterly speechless. Cullywier, meanwhile, seemed like he was trying not to double over from laughter, at least Shiv assumed that's what his odd spasming expressions indicated.

  "Well… For fuck’s sake—Cullywier is representing me," Shiv said. "He's a fae, and I don't know shit about your people. I don't know what you might pull against me, and I'm going to be prepared. So you're going to be talking to him because if you keep talking to me, I might rationally decide that I'll get more than a little enjoyment folding the cold iron bars around you until it fits you like some fucked-up torture corset."

  Suddenly, Cullywier didn’t look like he wanted to laugh anymore.

  The Anointed Knight gasped as if he were the maiden of a noble house who had just been turned down by a knight in public. "What barbarity! Are all you patternists the same? Are all of you little more than brutal apes that take delight in harming others?"

  "Yeah, well, I have a bit more mercy and calm in me usually, but the rest of it died when I had to deal with the bodies of all the chefs you killed." Shiv didn’t raise his voice. It was what it was. But the anger was there, it was true, and it wanted to come out. “You got two choices right now. Both of them bad. You can deal with the bastard that’s going to hurt you, or the race-traitor pervert, or whatever that fills you with disgust. Up to you.”

  The Anointed Knight realized he had overstepped and turned away from Shiv. Between pain and revulsion, the Knight of the Summer Court chose the latter. “Very well. I would like to negotiate my return to the Fairwoods and Summer Court.”

  “You would, would you?” Shiv deadpanned. "Well, while we’re here, I got a list of things I want too. Starting with having the System fuck off, getting a curse removed, murdering the Ascendants..."

  "Legend Shiv, please. It's unbecoming to interrupt," Cullywier said. The Deathless fell quiet, but continued glaring at the Anointed Knight.

  The Faebread huffed. "From what your companion claims, you have a means to travel across realms. You have a means to return me home. So now I must beg you. I must beseech you. Help me. Send me back to the Fairwoods. It is where I belong. It is where I must go. He has taught you the consequences of keeping me here, hasn't he? Of how my power will grow. How I will inevitably overcome this burdensome barricade and how I will wreak havoc upon this world until I find my way back, regardless."

  Shiv was about to direct another snide remark at the Anointed Knight, but Cullywier took over in his stead. "This might be arranged. However, it cannot be arranged freely. All things have costs. What are you willing to give to see your role changed here? What are you going to do to go from being a prisoner to a partner in this endeavor?"

  The Anointed Knight shook his head. "We will never be partners," he said. He shuddered at the very idea of it. He turned away, refusing to look at him. "For what I have done and for what he has done to me, we must never be together. A world apart is not enough, worlds apart are not enough. The fact that you exist has shown me that the Patternists and the Samsarists will never be aligned."

  "That is not the question I ask," Cullywier continued calmly. "What do you offer?"

  The Anointed Knight’s gaze grew distant, and silence lingered for a few seconds. "I know that you must hide yourself from your fellow Patternists, that they are hunting you for the reward the System offers. I can see to it that none of the chefs here remember anything about you. I have the means to dissolve their memories, to enchant their minds. More than that, though, I can see those slain returned. Within the Enchained Heart you've taken from me, there are echoes. Imprints of their memories and soulstuff. With that, I can mold replicas of them, fractured pieces that resemble the greater whole, at least for a while."

  Shiv stared at the Anointed One briefly. "So what's the catch there?"

  "The catch there," Cullywier answered on his behalf, "is that they will be made from bread, and that will be obvious for all to see."

  "Bread People," Shiv choked out. "You are offering to replace the chefs you killed with fucking bread people?"

  “And they are not simply bread people!” the Anointed One snapped. “They are fully functioning awakened fae pawns molded from the wonders of glorious foodstuff. They will dance and move to their own whim, or so they will think. This power will allow them to operate somewhat autonomously, and their stranger nature can be hidden through higher quality ingredients. There are still customers waiting outside, are there not? Will they not come seeking answers about why their food has been so delayed soon? You cannot stay here indefinitely.”

  "Your solution is to draw out the lingering echoes of their mind and soul from this heart." Shiv pulled the heart out of his cape. It glowed like a brilliant gem in a land of eternal midnight, and the kitchen was bathed in blossoming hues of red. “And use it to shape and power a group of bread constructs. Sounds like I’m just letting you win this way. Who knows what you might do—how many crumbs you might stuff into someone.” Shiv's left eye twitched.

  "Now, now, Deathless, calm yourself. Let him finish," Cullywier said.

  Shiv really wanted to continue arguing, but he held himself back. He decided to listen to Cullywier just this once.

  The Anointed Knight carried on, "You will let me do this for you. See, I will not be the one who wields this power. Instead, I will loan this power to you, a fragment of my skill, an expression of my soul for yours to wield and your will to retain, should you prove truthful on your end of the bargain."

  Against all odds, the Anointed Knight had captured Shiv's curiosity. This wasn't just a desperate ploy if the Fae was being truthful. He was offering Shiv one of his skills, and a Fae Skill was... Well, Shiv didn't know anything about Fae Skills, and neither did Adam, for that matter. “What the hell does this skill do anyway? Does it just let you infuse bread with life?”

  "Not just bread, but all food," the Anointed Knight declared. "It allows you to compel food to awaken to enact your bidding after you grant it a period of existence. But only if the foodstuff is fresh—for when it spoils, the lifeforce empowering it will flee back to the source—back to the embrace of the System.”

  Shiv blinked. "Is that how you summoned all those food pawns? Is that how you filled us full of crumbs and teleported inside of us?"

  "No. That was another skill," the Faebread said. "One that will not directly impact your ability for food items to awaken. You have no idea what I offer you. You have no idea how much this hurts me, how much I despise losing this gift to you. But I am willing to take this wound if you are willing to promise me my safe return to my homeland. Also… you said you were Cursed.”

  Something shivered inside Shiv.

  Sage of the Enkindled Heart: Don’t do anything yet. The fear chain is right there. You can hurt him at any moment. But let him finish, and then react.

  “Yeah,” Shiv grunted.

  “The Curse affects everything made by your hands, does it not?” the Anointed asked.

  Shiv nodded.

  “Then imagine if you could command food to prepare itself. I cannot shatter a Curse inflicted upon you by a Divinity, but I can give you a means of stepping around it.”

  With that, Shiv realized he wasn’t just dealing with an absurd piece of bread that thought itself a knight. Despite being confused about Adam’s sex, he knew quite a bit about humans—and knew how to approach Shiv psychologically as well. This was the only weakness he found in the Deathless, and he latched on.

  Sage of the Enkindled Heart: Hope can be a most tempting poison. Be wary.

  "Is there anything fishy about his offer?" Shiv asked Cullywier.

  The fae silently eyed his countryman with his large eyes, then let out a long breath. "It depends on what you mean by fishy."

  "I mean, is there anything there he can use to screw me?"