Anthology Short Story: Sweetwood (2/3)

The two of them made love until Edmund’s eyes lost focus and he collapsed on top of Sweetwood, unable to move. She too seemed to weaken, and the two of them lay on her mossy bed clutched against each other like two vines wrapping around a single tree.

Edmund embraced her, taking comfort in Sweetwood’s company while he returned to his senses. Without opening his eyes, he reached up to stroke her hair. Instead of finding long stringy locks, his fingers found nothing but the moss beneath him.

He blinked away his dreariness to sit atop a pile of moss. Next to him, what little was left of Sweetwood’s tree had splintered and cracked, tumbling into the dirt as it rotted away. It looked months older than the last time he’d seen it.

Nearby, protected by the branches of a nearby shrub, Edmund’s clothes rested in a tidy pile, clean and folded. He climbed to his feet to amble over to them, and his legs ached like he hadn’t used them in a long time.

When he got to his feet, the ground felt strange, as though he were standing on a pair of stilts. He was taller than before, and after his blurry vision went clear, he realized he could see the surrounding forest more clearly than ever.

He looked down at his feet and saw a pair of cloven hooves in place of human toes. His head also felt heavy, and when he reached up to figure out why, he found a pair of horns jutting out of his head.

“Sweetwood!” Edmund called. “Where are you?”

Edmund?

A familiar voice sounded inside Edmund’s own skull. It sounded just like Sweetwood, but it felt more like a memory than hearing words spoken.

“What’s going on?” Edmund asked as he pulled his pants from a nearby bush. One look was enough to tell him the pants wouldn’t fit anymore. The shirt might work if he could get it over his horns.\

Edmund? What's going on?

Edmund sensed Sweetwood's voice again. She was nervous and confused. She unnderstood what was going on even less that Edmond did.

"I don't know what's going on, Sweetwood." Edmund said aloud. "But I intend to find out for us."

Light flickered around Edmund. Looking at them flickering through the air, Edmund realized were no normal flickers of light. These were currents of magic, flowing through the air as naturally as dust. Before, they'd been invisible to Edmund, but now they were as clear as leaves blowing in an autumn gale.

"Sweetwood, are you seeing those things?" Edmund asked.

You mean the magic in the air? That's just because of our ritual. And maybe the fairies dancing around my grove. Oh, there they are! We should say hello.

"If I can see magic, that must make me a magical creature." Edmund muttered to himself. He wasn’t that bothered by the thought, but he was worried people would go running from him in fear if he ever left the forest.

I'm feeling sleepy, Edmund. Say hello to the fairies for me. I'm going to take a nap.

Edmund sensed Sweetwood's presence grow weaker. She faded from his mind like a bonfire turning into a candle flame. Soon, her thoughts went silent. But the magic flowing through Edmund's body remained.

In contrast to Sweetwood’s exhausted state, Edmund felt more energetic than ever. It was like he’d been starving all his life, and only now had he eaten his first bite of food. Power flowed through him, coursing like blood through his veins. He pushed some of it out, and it left the palm of his hand like a faint gust of wind.

It touched a nearby flower, and the plant’s stalk grew taller. The plant absorbed the energy like water after a drought. It grew new leaves, and the flower bulged and blossomed before his eyes. The next thing Edmund knew, the flower had brown from a single stalk into a bush, and from a bush into a bouquet.

He cut off the flow of power through his palm. He could sense this power came from inside him, from the same part of his soul he sensed Sweetwood sleeping in. Perhaps this power was her, in a way. If that was the case, Edmund didn’t want to risk draining too much magic for fear of endangering her.

Edmund looked around the forest with his new inhuman eyes. He could sense a presence flickering among the trees and branches. They’d been undetectable before, but now he could see things that had been invisible to him before. Tiny currents of magic flowed through the forest, and little dots of light danced in and out of those currents, waiting and watching him.

“I know you’re out there, fairies. Come and show yourselves.” Edmund said.

The flickering lights reacted. Some of them drew back, but one came forward.

“Hello, human.” The sparkling sphere of light said. The brilliant glow around her faded and revealed a tiny woman, no bigger than Edmund’s hand. She was naked, like Sweetwood had been, and she had a wildness about her that spoke of never knowing human civilization. Her hair was purple like a flower, and her face bright and innocent. She cocked her head as she examined him while he examined her and said, “Or rather, former human.”

“Hello, fairy.” Edmund said. “Do you have a name?”

She spoke her name, though Edmund heard no words. Her voice was sharply bright, and it carried more meaning than sound. To Edmund, it felt like the falling of a dandelion seed through a beam of morning light.

“Dandelion seems shorter.” Edmund said. “You must be Sweetwood's friends. Can you tell me what's happened to us?"

“You’re a satyr now.” Dandelion said, as if that explained everything. "You and Sweetwood became one. Before, she was magic that lived inside a tree. Now, she is magic that lives inside of you. I'm surprised you became a satyr though. Most humans who get so much wild magic poured into them turn into an animal. But your sense of identity as a human was firm enough to keep you mostly the same."

"A satyr?" Edmund ran his hands over his head, feeling his new horns. "Am I some kind of demon? And is it possible to fix the changes?"

"You're a satyr." Dandelion shrugged her tiny shoulders. "You'll always be a satyr. I don't know if humans think of your kind as a type of demon or not, but let me tell you, being a satyr is far better than being a boring human! As for your changes? You could probably reverse them temporarily if you learned to control your magic a little better."

"That's right!" Edmond's grin widened, the changes to his body already forgotten. "I can wield magic! Like a wizard out of legends."

"Yay, magic!" Dandelion cheered. "I like to use magic to float about the forest! You should fly too!”

“Magic.” Edmund repeated. “I can do magic.” The giddiness only grew the more he thought about it. He’d guessed as much after making that flower bloom, but saying it aloud felt different. Even Baron Rommel, with all his soldiers and all his power, couldn’t use magic. But now Edmund could. He stared at his hands in awe.

Dandelion flew up to his face and broke his moment of hushed silence. “Are you alright? Did your transformation addle your brain?”

“I-I’m fine.” Edmund said. “Do you think you could demonstrate a few spells for me? I want to learn how to use my magic.”

Dandelion tapped her chin in thought. “Hmm... I suppose I can show you a thing or two. Come along to the fairy circle! And try not to crush everything with those big hooves of yours when you get there."

***

Learning magic from Dandelion was difficult at first. So much of what she and her people knew was as instinctive as flying and dancing to them. They were born living and breathing the magic of the forest, and their minds were built to understand it.

It took Edmund time to break down what they knew and rework it into a framework of understanding that fit in his own head. To him, magic was like this untouchable thing, everywhere, but not always free for the taking. He could make certain actions to take some of that magic for himself or to stir the world around him like throwing a stone into a still lake. Through lengthy experiments, Edmund's knowledge and understanding slowly grew.

“Can I use this spell to light things on fire?” Edmund asked Dandelion after he finally managed to replicate her ability to conjure sparkles from the air.

“Why would you want to light something on fire?” Dandelion asked. “If you need light, make a light. If you need heat, make something hot. Fire on its own is dangerous. It can burn down an entire forest if it isn’t stopped!”

Edmund flicked his fingers and sparks flew from his fingertips. He wrapped his knuckles against a wooden plank and the sparks flicked across the wood. If he had kindling, he might have lit it aflame.

Beside him, Sweetwood mewled at the sight of sparks. She’d learned how to manifest her body again after a few months of work, much to Edmund’s delight. The two of them were bonded now, and she reminded Edmund of that fact nightly.

“Sorry, Sweetwood.” Edmund apologized as he ran his hands through her hair. He’d been doing a lot of that as of late. “I know you don’t like fire.” In his eyes, she looked healthier and more beautiful than ever. Something about mastering and amassing magic made her form grow more vibrant, like her body was an expression of the inhuman half of Edmund's soul.

She had no trouble walking these days, and she could even expel the green color from her limbs to look human, though she couldn’t change her hair yet. She still couldn’t go anywhere without him present, but she could wander further from Edmund than she could ever go from her tree.

Sweetwood leaned up into Edmund’s hand, like a cat nuzzling her favorite human. Though Edmund didn’t think of himself as human these days. He’d gone back to spy on the serfs living back at Baron Rommel’s keep and he found them... small. They were little people, toiling their lives away at minor tasks that didn't matter. The boats they were building would rot away, and the grain they were working so hard to grow would be gone by next fall.

The baron took everything they earned and used it to make war on his neighbor, stealing some bit of land for himself. Only for that same lord to rally his troops the next season and take the scrawny scrap of land right back from him. It all seemed so pointless to him now. Magic and the forest around them were all that mattered.

Eventually, Edmund learned as much as the fairy’s magic as she could teach. Despite that, he sensed there was more to know. So he isolated himself for another year deep within the fairy woods, studying the surrounding creatures. His understanding of magic expanded ever onward, growing in greater power and complexity.

In his new state of being, time seemed to pass differently. Days felt the same as months, and he could go without sleeping or any cease to his studies for two whole years. Only the changing of the seasons kept him in touch with the passing of time, and he watched Sweetwood’s hair chance color again and again.

“Look, Sweetwood! I’ve done it!” Edmund declared one day as he burst from the shade of a tree where he’d constructed his crude workbench.

“Done what?” Sweetwood asked as she stuck a dainty finger in a nearby stream, toying with the fish just below the surface.

“My legs and horns!” Edmund laughed. “I look fully human again! Now we can finally see the world outside this forest, just like you always wanted!”

“Oh darling, that’s wonderful!” Sweetwood said. “But I have something to tell you. I didn’t just want to see the world outside this forest for fun. I wanted somewhere to plant our seeds.”

“Your seeds?” Edmund asked.

“Our seeds.” Sweetwood repeated. “You’ve been sowing them each night, you know. By now, we have ten thousand children waiting to be planted.”

“T-ten thousand!” Edmund choked.

“Every one of them will need at least this much space.” Sweetwood spread her arms wide and pointed to two edges of the clearing “Otherwise their trees won’t grow to full size. Ten thousand of those would be... uh...” Sweetwood worked out the numbers on her fingers. Edmund had been lucky enough to know some basic figures. Even as a serf, he still needed to count coins. But during his studies in the forest his previous abilities had evolved to a new level, and he taught that knowledge to Sweetwood.

“Around six acres, assuming we don’t need room for anything else.” Edmund concluded. “That shouldn’t be too much. If I remember things right, Baron Rommel has far more than that lying fallow in his fields. Perhaps we can buy some land off him.”

“Oh, buying things!” Sweetwood said. “That’s where you take little metal disks and give them to people for food and treats! I can’t wait to see it!”

“I’d be happy to show you, love.” Edmund promised. “But I don’t have any money myself. I had a couple of iron pieces in my hut, but I’m sure someone’s looted that by now. Not that I could even hope to buy six acres with that much. We’ll have to acquire money first, which means selling goods of value.”

“Oooh...” Sweetwood smiled. “What do we have of value?”

“Dandelion once told me about a mushroom that grows deep in the forest. If eaten by a mortal, enough magic flows through their body to reduce their age by ten years.” Edmund said. “If we can find one, I’m sure it would be worth a lot of money to someone. It would probably be worth enough to Baron Rommel to give us the land we need.”

“Ten years isn’t very much.” Sweetwood said. “Are you sure just one of them will be enough?”

“Ordinary humans don’t live very long.” Edmund explained. “Ten years should be plenty to one of them. And if not, we can always find something else.”

Hunting down the mushroom took a lot of searching, but Edmund found what they were looking for. He plucked the mushroom and tucked it in a pouch of fine cloth that Sweetwood grew herself using some of the local plants.

“Do you think it’s worth money too?” She asked as she batted her eyes.

“Absolutely.” Edmund said. The magic coursing through the bag would preserve the health and vitality of the mushroom long after it was plucked, and would do so for any other living thing stored inside it. “I’ll have to charge the baron extra for it if we sell it with the mushroom.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful Edmund.” Sweetwood said gleefully. “If he gives us more than we need to buy the land for our children, can I buy something too? I always thought those flower pots looked rather cozy.”

“I’ll make sure we have enough for a flower pot after.” Edmund assured. “Now stop being so green and tie your hair up in a bun. We need to look like a pair of humans now.”

“Right!” Sweetwood smiled. “I’m a pretty human girl, thinking pretty human girl thoughts. I can curtsy and wave just like you taught me.”

Sweetwood demonstrated her human-like gestures.

“Very good.” Edmund said. “But we forgot to bring clothes. I’m afraid you’re going to have to grow us some.”

The two of them had worn little of anything in a long time. Edmund’s enhanced skin was more than tough enough to endure the rigors of traveling through the forest, and Sweetwood’s soft body was as tough as bark, despite its luscious texture.

Sweetwood wove a set of lovely clothes, tinged brilliant green and orange. These would be more colorful than Edmund remembered wearing as a humble serf, but seeing Sweetwood pour her heart into making the clothes made Edmund too excited to worry over such details. He wouldn’t need to blend in for long, so the mortals would just have to deal with the two of them looking a little odd.

Without further ado, the two of them made their way back towards the tiny village Edmund left behind so long ago.

***

A familiar emotion welled up in Edmund’s heart, long since buried by his time living among the fay. It took him a moment of self-reflection to identify it as anxiousness. His heart beat quicker, and he felt sweat streaming down his brow, despite the chill morning air.

He ran his hand across his forehead, checking once again to make sure his horns weren’t visible. It took magic to hide both them and his hooves, but the power he used was little enough he could maintain the disguise indefinitely.

Satisfied that he was looking fully human, he glanced at Sweetwood. Her face was warm and inviting, adorned with a happy and innocent smile that spoke of warm summer days of bliss and frolicking through happy meadows. Her eyes were bright and clear, shining with a radiant glow that made the sun overhead look dim. Edmund was certain she’d draw the envy of every woman and the jealousy of every man.

He laughed at the thought of a mortal thinking Sweetwood was just a mortal woman.

Even now, while she walked around in her own body, Edmund could sense her thoughts. He had even grown to understand a little. By human standards, she was naive and foolish. But that didn't mean Sweetwood wasn't a powerful spirit of the forest capable tearing a man to pieces with her bare hands.

That thought bolstered his spirit enough to overcome the knot buried in it. “If you’re ready then, my dear, we’ll leave the forest.”

“Oh goodie, my first step!” Sweetwood took one dainty step beyond the treeline, stepping onto well trod grass. Other humans had walked this path just the previous day as they worked the barley fields. They were just like Edmund remembered them. The same way he had been before bonding with Sweetwood.

Already, Edmund saw serfs pouring out of their huts, ready to work the fields. The overseers followed not long after, and for the first time Edmund realized their huts weren’t all that much nicer than the ones the serfs lived in. Sure, they were larger and made of wood instead of straw, but they were still only huts.

“...Edmund? Is that you?” A serf gasped.

Edmund turned to see who addressed him and saw an old man, stooped and hunched over his cane. He was the very man Edmund had saved from a whip years ago before he left. Terric seemed like he’d aged decades, and his back was crooked from the passing of time and years of hard labor.

“It’s me, Terric.” Edmund nodded. “How have you been?”

“You’re alive, boy? B-but how? You went into the Faywild Woods! You should be dead!” Terric said. “I went looking for you once the overseers gave me a chance to rest, but I couldn’t find any sign of you. I thought you’d already been eaten.”

“Note quiet.” Edmund laughed. “I’m good. Better than ever, really.”

“Well... look who we have here.” The overseer standing nearby chuckled. Edmund remembered him as the one who'd held the whip the last time he'd been here. This overseer would have beaten Terric had Edmund not intervened, and Terric flinched away at the sight of him. “So you’ve come crawling back? Sick and tired of living in the woods like some sort of animal...”

The overseer’s voice trailed off as he noticed Edmund’s fine garments. They were green and orange and as smooth as silk. They were nothing like the rough spun clothes he used to wear. In fact, the clothes Edmund was wearing were far better than the overseer’s own. Possibly even better than what Baron Rommel himself wore.

“I’m here to see Baron Rommel.” Edmund said. “I’m not interested in anything else.”

“Who is that fair maiden by your side?” Terric asked. “Would you introduce her to us?”

Sweetwood stepped forward. “I am Sweetwood, Edmund’s lover. How do you do?” Sweetwood said as she curtsied, just like she’d practiced.

Terric’s eyes widened, and he looked at Edmund with a big grin. Seeing the lady before him curtsy, Terric gave her his best bow. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, lady Sweetwood. Edmund’s a good lad. A bit of a troublemaker, but he’s got a big heart. I’ll have to trust you to take care of him.”

“Don’t worry.” Sweetwood smiled. “I will. Just like he takes care of me.”

Then Sweetwood and Edmund headed off towards the keep. Baron Rommel was waiting there.

He approached the guard at the gates. “I request an audience with Baron Rommel! Edmund called up.” He didn’t recognize the guard. he must have joined some time over the last two years.

“And who are you to request an audience of the baron?” The guard called down.

“That man is a run away serf!” The overseer behind Edmund shouted. “He was too lazy to do the work required of him, so he fled into the forest. Now he’s come groveling. I suggest you hang him for fleeing into the woods.”

A twitch of annoyance flashed through Edmond’s eyes. That overseer was certainly annoying. He flicked his fingers, and a small burst of magic shot out, barely perceptible to the naked eye. The nascent spell flew towards the overseer’s mouth.

When it touched him, his lips melded together like his mouth had been a wound. He let out a muffled, horrified moan as he clutched at his face. He waved his hands at the overseer and pointed at Edmund. But the guard had paid little attention to the overseer’s words, so he didn’t care enough to see him squirm.

“I’m someone who has something precious to Baron Rommel.” Edmund explained. “Tell him to come see us, and he will not regret it.”

The guard fetched another guard. This one wore a larger hat with the feathered plumes of a bird sticking out of them. To Edmund, he was a comical sight. But the lesser guard saluted and bowed before the bird-like man before pointing in Edmund’s direction.

This new guard took in Edmund, inspecting his fine clothes for a moment before his eyes touched upon Sweetwood standing next to him. His eyes lit up, and he scurried off. The original guard shouted down his answer to them.

“The two of you will be granted your audience.” He said. “But the lord is taking breakfast now. You’ll have to wait in his gardens until he is finished.”

Edmund nodded, and the guard escorted the two of them to a small patch of ground framed by small sheets of glass embedded in wooden frames. The chamber they made was warmer than it should have been, given the cool morning air, and the glass trapped the heat inside.

The garden was filled with flowers and fruits of all sorts, and the plants inside were healthy.

“This is a nice box.” Sweetwood said. “Do you think we could buy one along with a flower pot?”

Edmund glanced around the chamber. “I think this would cost more than a flower pot. This glass alone is likely worth enough to buy a hundred times the amount of land we need.”

“That’s a shame.” Sweetwood sighed. “Perhaps when we find more mushrooms, we can buy something like this. I enjoy the plants though. I’ve never seen many of these fruits and vegetables before.”

“They’re imported.” An unfamiliar voice explained. It was soft and feminine, but it had a hardness cloaked within it. Like there was hidden strength there that the speaker did not wish to show to others. “The vegetables come from further south. The hothouse keeps them growing all year though. In that corner is something called an orange tree. It makes delightful fruits, or so I’ve heard. I’m afraid I won’t get to taste one for at least another ten years.”

“I hate waiting for fruit to ripen as well.” Sweetwood nodded at the newcomer. “I just make the tree grow faster using mag—“

Edmund nudged Sweetwood in the side with his elbow to interrupt her.

“What my companion means ask is,” Edmund said. “What is your name?”

“Alice.” The newcomer said. “Alice Valadel. I’m the gardener who tends to this place.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Alice.” Edmund said. He cocked his head to the side as he remembered the name. “I’ve heard about you. When the baron gave you the name Valadel, it was a big deal.”

“Yes.” Alice nodded. “When my mother passed, my father Baron Rommel Valadel, had to decide what to do with me. Fortunately for me, everyone already knew I was his illegitimate daughter. And an illegitimate daughter doesn’t stir up trouble like an illegitimate son would.” Alice sighed. “I’m told I’m headed off for a distant yeomanry for eight good archers on next summer’s campaign. I hope my father puts them to good use.”

“Edmund, I don’t understand.” Sweetwood said. “She’s being exchanged for people with bows? Like how we want to exchange the mushroom for enough land to plant our kids?”

“Something like that.” Edmund said. He turned to Alice. “It’s a shame your father doesn’t see more value in you than that. You’ve maintained this beautiful garden for him, at the very least.”

“I enjoy gardening.” Alice said as she set down her trowel and inspected a few of the ripe tomatoes.

Meanwhile, Sweetwood started eyeing the orange tree she’d mentioned earlier, and Edmund rolled his eyes as he sensed a bit of magic flowing from her into the tree, urging it to grow and bear fruit. Sweetwood could never resist the chance to taste something new.

“You’re very good at it.” Edmund said as he inspected the tomato plants with her. “These things wouldn’t grow in this soil without a caring hand.”

Alice turned to look at Edmund, and a slight flush filled her cheeks. “It’s true it took me ages to figure out how to make the soil work for them. In the end I tried peat moss from one of the nearby bogs and that seems to have done the trick.”

“Well done.” Edmund said. “I’m sure that took a lot of work. Tell me, do you cultivate plants alone, or do you work with secrets as well?”

“What do you mean?” Alice asked innocently.

“I’m sure it’s no coincidence that you hold guests in the garden you maintain. It gives you the perfect excuse to meet with everyone your father is going to speak to.” Edmund said.

“You’re smart, for a former serf, Edmund.” Alice smiled and nodded. “That’s right, I like to keep my eyes and ears open, for all the good it does me. I know who my father talks to and what he gets from them.”

“And you wish to know what he gets from us?” Edmund asked.

“I would. It won’t do any harm.” Alice said. “I’m just a curious girl interested in what her father is up to.”

“I doubt that very much.” Edmund laughed. “But seeing as how your business is none of mine, I’ll tell you. I’m here to buy six acres of land from him.”

“Six acres?” Alice frowned. “That’s it?”

“Well, preferably it will be a fallow field. Something easy to till, already flat and level. I plan to plant about ten thousand trees there.” Edmund explained.

“You want old farmland so you can plant trees.” Alice ran her fingers across her chin. “Are they special trees in some way? I know some orchards can grow precious fruits and seeds. My family has never had the patience to plant one though. They take too many years to produce.”

“I’m afraid I’m not planting these trees to make money.” Edmund said. “They won’t be much more than ordinary trees like those in the forest, at least for a hundred years.”

Alice murmured in disappointment. “Well, my father does always need good wood. Maybe he’ll buy the land back from you in a decade.”

Edmund snorted at that. “We won’t be selling once we plant.”

Alice shrugged. “Very well. At any rate, my father is ready to see you now.”

“Come along, Sweetwood.” Edmund called back to his companion. “We’re going to see the baron.”

“Coming!” Sweetwood hummed as she plucked a plump ripe orange of the newly blossomed tree before her. She bit into the outer rind, only to curl her lip at the bitter flavor. Alice’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She glanced between Sweetwood, Edmund, and the fully mature orange tree.

Edmund smiled back at her. “The forest is not as scary as many believe, but it is every bit as mysterious.”

Alice nodded silently as she watched the blossoms drift through the air to fall at her feet.

She came to her senses again, just before Edmund and Sweetwood were out of sight. “Before you go though, know I don’t expect him to sell you anything.” Alice placed a hand on Edmund’s shoulder. “In fact, the only one liable to get you what you want in this keep is me.”

Alice led the two of them to a large wooden door. It was made of sweetwood boards, which unnerved Edmund’s dryad companion.

“How would humans feel if I built a house out of their bones?” Sweetwood pouted. “I bet he didn’t even know the trees that became his door, let alone ask for permission.”

“We’re not here to ask him about that, dear.” Edmund hushed her.

“I don’t like it though.” Sweetwood protested. “Tell the humans to live out in the open like normal creatures. Or to at least to use a different tree. Maybe pines. Those things are so ugly and mean...”

Edmund couldn’t help but feel a sense of trepidation at the thought of meeting with Baron Rommel. Back when he was a serf, he never would have even dreamed of a private meeting with the baron. The man had been a living myth. A name and symbol of authority the overseers clung to when explaining why their huts were bigger and the lesser serfs had to work while they held whips.

Alice opened the door, and Edmund and Sweetwood stepped inside. A portly middle aged man sat at a desk in the center of the room, doing his best to look busy scribbling on a piece of parchment. With his enhanced sight, Edmund could tell from across the room that he was just scribbling a line on the paper without writing anything.

The portly man had to be the baron. He held up his hand as Edmund and Sweetwood entered, urging them to wait as he finished his line.

The show of power seemed feeble to Edmund’s eyes, and like that, the illusion was broken. This baron was nothing more than another mortal man. He knew nothing of magic, or the touch of a dryad. Perhaps he could have intimidated the old Edmund, but the man he was now would not be frightened.

“Ah, there we are.” Baron Rommel said. “So I’m told you two were pounding on my door this morning, saying you had some sort of valuable exchange for me?”

The baron’s eyes shot towards Sweetwood, as though there she only one thing in the room that he saw as worth his time.

“Your visit wouldn’t have anything to do with this lovely lady, would it?” The baron asked.

“It does.” Edmond confirmed. “But not in any way that concerns you. I require no less than six acres of arable land, suitable for planting saplings. For this quantity of land, we will give you something you will desire beyond anything else.”

The baron’s expression darkened at Edmund’s brisk tone.

“And here I thought my serfs had better manners than most.” Baron Rommel scoffed. “I take pride in the discipline of my people, you know. But now I know that a few years in the wilds is all it takes for a serf to learn to spit in my face.”

“I am not one of your serfs.” Edmund said. “And I have something that you will desire.”

“Yes... yes you do.” Baron Rommel muttered. He reached behind himself to a chain dangling from the ceiling just behind his desk. He pulled it, and Edmund sensed a distant bell chime.

Six guards entered Baron Rommel’s chamber mere moments later. They surrounded Edmund and Sweetwood in moments, and they had swords and axes in their hands.

The axes were frightening to Sweetwood. She’d seen such things cleave through branches and trunks before, and the sight of them had always frightened her.

“Kill the serf.” Baron Rommel said. “Then string his corpse up on a stake outside for the others to see. He’s caused enough trouble as it is, and I don’t want him inspiring others to run away from their duties like he did.”

A few of the guards edged closer, raising their axes higher.

“You are making a foolish mistake.” Edmund said as he crossed his arms and stared Baron Rommel down. “Do you think your men are fiercer than the Dire Felbeasts of the Faywilds Forest?"

“Edmund,” Sweetwood nudged Edmund’s shoulder. “Tell them to put the axes away. I don’t like them.”

“As for the girl,” Baron Rommel continued, completely ignoring Edmund. “Bind her and stick her in the box with the gold and wine we captured during the last raid. If we send her with the rest of our tribute, the king might overlook us being a chest or two short.”

“Stop it!” Sweetwood shouted at the men surrounding them. Her lip quivered, and the floor trembled, Her hair came out of the neat bun she’d tucked it in, revealing its brilliant green and orange colors. Baron Rommel’s eyes widened when he saw it, but not as much as they did when a pair of horns appeared jutting out of Edmund’s head.

“By the gods!” The baron shouted and trembled. “Y-you’re a demon!”

“Not quite.” Edmund chuckled. “A satyr. A creature of wild fay magic.”

And then Edmund flicked his fingers. Power poured through his body, spilling out into the world around him in strands of vivid pink and azure blue. It swirled around Sweetwood and Edmund, nibbling at the bones of their attacks through their armor and skin.

Sickly snapping echoed throughout the chamber as they found the armor they were wearing too heavy for their weakened legs to bear. Their legs cracked under their own weight, sending them tumbling to the floor.

Though the baron wasn’t wearing armor himself, he was still a heavyset man, and Edmund’s spell had hit him as well. He felt his limbs weaken, and he collapsed against the table, barely holding his weight up with his arms.

“You’re a monster!” Baron Rammon said, eyes wide with fear.

“If you had dealt with us in good faith, then you could have some of this fay magic for yourself.” Edmund shook his head. “I never realized how blind and stubborn mortals could be. Come along Sweetwood, there’s no need to bring the keep down on their heads.”

Sweetwood had powerful magic of her own, but she’d never learned Edmund’s quick and subtle spells. Once the Baron’s men raised their axes, their fates had been sealed regardless of what Edmund had done. Sweetwood stirred the roots of the nearby plants to swell and grow until they cracked the stone foundations beneath the keep.

They really taken her prisoner, she would have buried everyone in the keep in a mountain of rubble.

“If you say so, dear.” Sweetwood wrapped herself around Edmund’s waist, clinging to him as the two left the baron’s chambers.

Servants rushed in as they left, and the entire keep was in a frenzy. Edmund spotted Alice watching both it and them with a curious expression on her face. She glanced back and forth between them and the chaos before following not far behind.

Edmund and Sweetwood left the keep in each other’s arms. The serfs outside had heard the shouts in the keep and the sound of cracking stone. Many were looking up as they hunched over the barley in the fields, curious about what had happened to cause such a commotion.

When they spotted Edmund and Sweetwood’s inhuman bodies, they shied away in fear. A few of the overseers dropped what they were doing and fled.

Terric, the old man, was the only one who stepped forward. “...E-Edmund? What’s going on? What are those horns on your head?”

“It’s alright, Terric.” Edmund smiled. “The baron and I just had a minor disagreement is all. Here, I have a gift for you.” He tossed the mushroom towards the old man.

“What’s this?” Terric asked with trembling hands.

“Eat that and you’ll be feeling much better. It will take care of that old back injury and add ten years.” Edmund said. “Make sure you take care of that bag too. Sweetwood knitted it herself.”

Without looking back at the keep or listening to the enraged screams of the baron inside, Edmund turned and headed back into the forest.