chapter xxii. serendipity-2

The silence in the hallways of Stargrave feels peculiar today.

The sun is still up. You can hear the palace maids chatting in their break rooms and service halls when you walk past after you are done with your lessons with Lady Laurel at the library, yet you have yet to see any of them walking down the corridors and halls when you make your way through the castle.

Once again, your day was filled with long, exhausting hours of tutoring—hours of reading through a variety of tomes on magic and old folktales of Ancients and Kings—and minor royal duties, which ended only once afternoon comes and your tutors retreated to their quarters. With Lord Gordan once again absent for your afternoon lessons, still busy filling in for His Majesty King Aneas and dealing with the royal duties until the King returns, it leaves your afternoon free of any activities.

But your mind is still too lively for you to retreat into your bedchamber and find a moment to rest. The adrenaline that you felt from the previous days still keeping you high-strung to remain still. So you fill your free time strolling down the hallways of Stargrave, finding some entertainment in memorising the long-winding corridors, mapping out the halls and rooms and the indoor atriums that you walk past just to keep your mind busy.

Normally, you would be spending the time browsing for the magic doors, either finding one that would tempt you into using the magic key to venture through the portal or simply learning more about their characteristics and the secrets behind each door.

But not this time.

Not because you are reluctant, or that you are disinterested in having another journey so soon after the last one you had. But it is because of the lack of privacy you are getting after stepping out of the library.

Aside from your mealtime and the designated time for your daily tutoring sessions, you are rarely escorted by the royal guards. You would usually see them standing in their posts during this time of the day, all staying alert even when there is barely any threat coming to Stargrave.

But today, you have Sir Stephan following you close, watching your every move and making sure to be there while you are making a stroll from one place to another.

"Do you have nothing to do with your time, Sir Stephan?" You finally speak to him after walking in silence together for quite some time with him keeping only a few steps distance behind. "Or do you wish to have another sparring today?"

You hear a soft chuckle from him before he speaks. "Lord Gordan has caught wind of what happened the other day," Sir Stephan responds with a slight tilt on the corner of his mouth.

You raise your eyebrows as you look at him. "Did he scold you for indulging me?"

"No, Your Highness. He didn't seem pleased, but—" His lips twitch, as if amused to say, "He seemed oddly intrigued by the news when he learned that you have beaten me during our sword fighting."

You let out a scoff. "As he should, since he's been the one training me in place of my father." Your hand twitches, suddenly aching to have a grip on the hilt of your sword again, to have a grip on something.

You suddenly feel the desire to have your body moving again with another practice. The golden dagger that you had slipped under the skirt of your day dress this morning feels tight against your upper thigh, reminding you that it exists there, even if hidden from sight, ready for you whenever you find the need to pull it out.

And you do have enough free time to mess around with it this afternoon.

Only that your muscles are still aching, caused by the rigorous sparring and the intense fight happening on the same day. The wound from the fight against the guards of Arselon itself has mostly healed—thanks to the medicinal herbs that Gaia pasted on your skin and possibly some kind of remedial spells that she might have slipped in—but the faint scar was still visible when you took off your bandage this morning.

Instinctively, you move your other hand, reaching up to your forearm and pressing against the scar from over the sleeve of your dress. Choosing a long-sleeved day dress this morning raised some questions from the maid assigned to help you this morning, as the weather is quite warm today and she had expected you to request a thinner and shorter dress instead. But you managed to alleviate her worries simply by telling her that you wanted to have a nice change.

The healing scar might be hidden now under your sleeve, yet you can still feel the phantom pain pulsing when you move, reminding you that it would be too soon for you to raise your sword again.

Your arms fall back to your sides as you turn toward a corridor leading to the side courtyard, the sounds of Sir Stephan's footsteps echoing close as he follows. You take notice of the silence and bring up a different topic to get your mind out of it—of the fight, the scar, and the empty feeling in your hand with nothing to hold.

"It seems that Lord Gordan has been rather busy."

"He is indeed, Your Highness. The royal duties never stop coming for the royal aide."

You look over your shoulder, meeting Stephan's gaze. "And he has since sent you to make sure I'm not causing trouble when he's not babysitting me? Or is this some sort of a punishment that he has given you for accommodating my actions from yesterday?"

Again, the guard's lips twitch to a broken smile. "I won't dare say that the royal aide sees you as a troublemaker, Your Highness."

Holding back a chuckle, you turn away to continue your stroll, your escort quickly following close behind. "Everyone seems to be busy today, more than other days," you muse, almost to yourself. "Is something happening?"

"I cannot dare say—"

"Without my guardian's permission, I take it?" you retort back with another scoff. "Nanny Abigail has been my guardian since I was a wee babe. Well, supposedly older, if I recall correctly. And she has always been open to me about the business with the empire, no matter what it is," you find yourself sharing a bit of yourself before you can stop it, before glancing back at your guard again. "I assume that Lord Gordan has taken over the duty under the King's order? Seems like he's doing things differently when it comes to sharing information about the happenings in the empire."

It makes you feel bitter just thinking about it. You have always hated being kept in the dark about certain things. Including all the things that should have mattered to you. And you will surely hate it should you be placed in such position once again.

Sir Stephan takes a moment to consider his response, which only confirms your suspicion. "It has been officially passed on to the palace staff that you are currently under Lord Gordan's guardianship, though Lady Abigail still retains her role as your governess," he carefully explains instead of giving you a direct answer. "If there's any news that may involve your wellbeing and your duties in the palace, I am sure that either the royal aide or the Governess will inform you themselves."

Sighing, you can only nod. You keep your eyes looking towards the courtyard for a moment before smiling at him. "And until then, you're going to have to remain patient as my babysitter?"

This time, when you turn to look at your guard again, he makes no effort to hide his amused smile. "I wouldn't mind it." 

Closing your eyes, you tilt your head up, relishing the warm late afternoon sunlight falling on your face.

This is quite a nice change, you wonder with a grateful sigh.

After your previous trips, where you were taken to sacred places where you were met only with twilight and dim grey of sunlight, having this kind of warmth blanketing your skin and being surrounded by all the radiant colours spreading around you feels like a nice treat to enjoy.

Having an adrenaline rush flowing through your blood may have alleviated this feeling too. A mixed sense of thrill and relief that you had gotten after fate gave you the chance to slip away from your temporary shadow of a guard.

Any hope you had for being able to find the time and a chance to escape so you could travel today had started to dwindle, when Sir Stephan continued to follow you, shadowing your movements. Even when it was obvious that you had simply been walking down the long hallways and quiet corridors of Stargrave with no obvious direction, the guard was relentless.

He only kept quiet, letting you continue exhausting yourself for quite some time. Barring you from entering the hallway where the magic doors were located so you could slip away to a different part of the realm. Until fate intervened.

Another guard came in just when you were about to give up. Announcing that Lord Gordan had summoned Sir Stephan to come and meet the royal aide in his office. Not expecting the sudden change of duty, Sir Stephan looked hesitant about stepping away, while you couldn't have been more eager to relieve him from his duty before he could even get a word in.

"I should at least walk you back towards your bedchamber," he said before he departed. You may have only known him for a short time, but it was quite obvious that he was displeased to know that he was being let go from his post.

You held back a smile as you teased him, "To make sure that I won't escape and cause some trouble?" From the corner of your eyes, you could see the other guard widening his eyes. He seemed baffled as he looked back and forth between you and his fellow knightly guard, amused to see the other guard bantering smoothly with their princess.

Sir Stephan's lips quirked to a grin. "Just making sure that you'll be safe without an escort," he said, stressing out his words as he regarded you with, "Your Highness."

"I'll be safe between these walls. My bedchamber is merely a hall away," you answered him by tilting your chin towards the small connecting hall leading you towards the West Tower. "It seems that your business with Lord Gordan is more urgent than sending me off to my afternoon nap."

Sir Stephan said nothing to respond, but the way his gaze flickered towards the next hall was sharp and quick, and you could tell that he had to hold back. A lot. Keeping his words to himself, the guard merely nodded and bowed.

"Then I shall take my leave," he said. "I shall inform the royal aide that you are on your way to your quarter."

You returned his bow with a nod and turned away before he could say anything else. And you kept on walking towards the next corridor, listening closely to the sound of their footsteps as they walked the opposite way. Only once you were sure they were no longer in sight, you quickly turned to a different hall to begin your afternoon exploits.

You walked through some more corridors and then headed down some stairs, finding yourself in the Apex Hall connecting the center palace and the tower housing the king's chambers, where lines and lines of doors appeared before your eyes. The hall was devoid of any form of activities, as there were only guest bedrooms and galleries for royal guests available in this part of the castle. But after going through a royal guest room the one time to find your way to Aeris, you were curious to see if you could find any portals hidden among these doors that would be able to lead you to places similar to the mage city.

Places that wouldn't be as daunting and gloomy as the previous places you've recently been to, that aren't as dilapidated from hardships or haunted by their dark history.

The ground floor hall was filled with charming things, trinkets and decorations that made the place look even more alive than the other parts of Stargrave; royal portraits of who you assumed to be your ancestors or the previous kings and queens; sculptures and vases filled with fresh flowers; tables similar yet smaller to the ones you saw in guest rooms, all carved similarly to the ornate doors standing all round the atrium.

You walked up some steps and stood by one of those doors which had caught your attention among others. Made of old cherrywood—much like these other doors, only slightly darker—with carvings of tendrils of ivy looping around its frame, the door had a delicate charm which was alluring to look at.

It was the image carved at the center which had mostly drawn you to it; the carving of a chalice and crescent moon, similar to the image painted on the banners you saw at the temple of Arselon.

The only difference you saw was that the crescent moon wasn't hovering above the chalice but instead carved within its core, as if it was portraying the moon as being presented like fine and holy wine.

The grooves around the carvings were filled with threads of silver lining, glinting under the dim light of the afternoon which penetrated through the glass windows under the arch ceiling above your head. Silver dust floated from the keyhole as you pulled out your magic key, beckoning you to reach it.

The same silver dust seems to have followed you to this place, floating in the air where the streaks of sunlight are falling, floating above the lake filled with crystal-clear waters vastly spreading before you, and between your fingers when you reach out to touch the vibrant petals of the wild roses growing all around you.

There is magic here, pulsing in the same rhythm as your heartbeat as if living and breathing. Strange how it makes you feel like you have become one with the place, and you barely spent more than an hour strolling across the grassy plains.

A spread of green grass as thick as the rugs you find back at the palace lies beneath your feet. Your low heels sink into the soft grass with each step you take, yet you find no discomfort as you continue to stroll down the small forested hill where you had emerged from. Excitedly, but cautiously at the same time, you cross the meadow with your eyes drawn towards the glittering lake.

Beautiful, you wonder to yourself. And it feels so peaceful here.

You look at your surroundings, enjoying the scenery that is presented for you to see. All around you, there are only trees, spreading all around and to the top of the hill. A myriad of colours appear before you as the shades of yellow and beige and brown are mixing into the green as they grow from the trees, a sign that autumn is seeping in. Some leaves have also dropped onto the ground, covering the green grass with yellow dots sprouting here and there among the vibrant roses. The air is fresh, filled with the scent of fresh grass and damp soil. A cool breeze flows all around you, and the warm sun feels comforting against your skin.

Looking over across the lake, you see no sign of a town or anything that may indicate the presence of humans. But the more you look, the more you are curious, seeing that the trees on the other side of the lake appear to be bigger, stretching up to reach the sky, and thicker. The foliage seems denser, enough to hide something in the shadows.

Just like the grove back in Arselon which kept the Keep and the shelters where the humans lived in hiding.

You continue to stroll around the lake, hoping to find a way to get across and see if you can find anything on the other side. Once again, fate seems to be on your side—or perhaps you are just getting lucky today—as you find your wish fulfilled the moment you see the bridge crossing the lake.

Without any hesitation, you walk up to make it across. From up the bridge, you find the chance to fully marvel at the nature around you as you get a better view of everything. And you cannot help but marvel at the structure stretching over the lake, connecting the two separate plains together.

The sturdy bridge rises from the lake, standing firm from one end of the woodlands to another and high above the water like a solid gate. The structure is built with weathered stones, the foundation below covered with moss and lichen, adding a touch of green to the grey and brown. Thick ivy weaves its way along the stone bannister, softening the hard edges with its delicate tendrils. Looking down to the body of the bridge below, you see arches formed high enough to allow small boats to come passing through.

On the top, the bridge's width is enough for a single horse carriage to travel across, while the passage is covered with natural stones that are smoothed by countless footsteps and slightly etched by marks of wheels from carriages that may have come across from time to time. It's obvious that this isn't some simple structure that manifested itself from nature, nor was it built by lesser beings. Although the earthly colours do make it seem like the bridge has blended into the nature it is built on, causing you to nearly miss it the first time you looked.

Halfway across the bridge, a gentle breeze flows around you, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, and something more succulent and vibrant and fresh, a different vibe from the quiet woodlands you had just stepped away from. Slowly, you come to a halt, taking this moment to take another look at the lake as you get to see it from a different angle.

From up here, it seems as if the lake is stretched out endlessly, its surface is clear like crystals, with the glimmers coming from the silver specks of dust and the reflection of the warm sunlight glowing all the way up to your skin. Small ripples disturb the mirror-like stillness, appearing in multiple spots where you think you might find fishes swimming beneath the surface or leaves falling from above.

Smiling, you take a deep breath, taking in the scents before continuing your journey across. At the end of the bridge, a canopy of leaves welcomes you as thick branches appear to be growing and stretching low, covering what is hidden on the other side. You keep your eyes forward as you step off the bridge, and the moment your heel lands on the less solid gravel pathway, the air around you seems to ripple and shift.

With a gasp, you feel a rush of magic coursing through your body. It doesn't feel painful, yet strange enough to make your head spin a little before you finally regain your bearings. Only a short moment later do you finally realise that you have just walked across what seems to be a border, where a protective spell has been cast to cover the land before you. With a jolt, you realise that your arrival has somehow disturbed the spell, unlocking the magic to allow you passage to continue your journey.

Still reeling over your sudden encounter with a foreign magic spell, you continue walking down the gravel-covered pathway without a word. The sparks from the magic cling to your skin for a moment longer before it slowly wanes as you walk deeper into the thickets, clearing your senses just as the low branches in front of you begin to sway.

The movement is quick, as if they are suddenly forced to hold some kind of weight. As the rustling sound of leaves begins to grow violent, its shaking sends drying leaves falling down your path, your steps falter until you completely stop.

The swaying of branches intensifies, and before you can even reach your dagger to protect yourself, something pops between the leaves.

"Hello!"

A small, cheerful voice greets you, coming from a creature that is just as small—tiny face, tiny smile, with a pair of pointy ears that remind you of the elves, yet a version of it which is probably merely a palm-sized big—hanging upside down from the low branch hanging right in front of your face. Only once your shock subsides when you recognise what kind of being is greeting you from behind the leaves.

A pixie.

A smile grows on your lips. You have learned about them—the pixies—through one of the books in the library that Lady Laurel made you read. The Magnificent Beings of The Elements.

In the book, the pixies have drawn your interest more than others. Known as little magical creatures that hide in the woodlands, the pixies were treated almost like dragons—mythical beings that are rare but most sought after. They are known to create the magical element, the pixie dust, which has a myriad of effects which are valuable to many.

To nature, pixie dust helps cast magic into the land—helping plants to grow more affluent and flowers to bloom more vibrant, for water to be cleansed of any toxin or grime, and for the air to remain fresh even in the bleakest of weather.

To other beings, pixie dust can be used as a cure for ailments, to heal physical wounds, and to alleviate the ailment of the mind.

But for most humans, pixie dust can act like a drug, giving them psychedelic sensations and causing them to feel high and happy and filled with joy or to have intense hallucinations.

For these reasons, the pixies were once hunted down, captured and sold as pets as part of illegal trade, to be made into house slaves, or to be used to create as many pixie dust to be sold illegally in the black markets as drugs that humans can use to get high. That was until the protection law for magical beings changed, forbidding any form of trading involving the pixies and other mythical creatures of the fairy tale land. They have since been declared as one of the most protected creatures, mostly hidden in sanctuaries that were built on higher grounds, up in the mountains, and the deepest woodlands.

"Oh, hello there. I didn't see you up there," you greet them back, smiling, and you can see the creature's smile widening further.

"Of course, you didn't. You weren't supposed to," the pixie pridefully boasts, before flipping back into the leaves and jumping into another branch, this time sitting down with their legs swaying beneath them.

"But we've seen you," the tiny thing adds, while you tilt your head, wondering what they meant.

"Have we met before?"

The pixie excitedly nods, throwing the short strands of their honey-blond hair up and down their face. "We work with our master, Trish, at the magic shop in Aeris. We helped Master find some spell book for 'ya."

Blinking, you suddenly remember the day you spent in Aeris. And then you remember entering the magic shop—l'Équinoxe—and the female elf who was running it, and your eyes grow wide at the memory of seeing tiny pixies jumping between the racks to fetch orders for their customers. Some with their hair pinned or tied up in ponytails, while others wore floppy hats that clung to their heads even as they moved quickly from one corner of the shop to another. And all of them wore the same bright green top and white pants, exactly what your new little friend is wearing right now.

"Of course!" you cheerfully say, clapping your hands when you recall seeing a pixie with honey-blond hair perching atop the bannister on the mezzanine floor above the shop, where the shop owner—Trish—disappeared into to fetch your spell book. "So you were the—staff, in the shop?"

The pixie's lips curl to a sneaky smile. "We were not taken in to work in the shop as slaves, if that's what you're worried about—" the creature says, while you are taken aback and feeling guilty that the pixie can guess what you were thinking, "Trish has helped a lot of us in the sanctuary and when we wanted to do something in return, she gave us the job in her shops. We earn our wages, benefits, and even some vacation time when we need them, just like any other creatures in the mage city."

"So you mean"—you look around with a new sense of awe—"this is your sanctuary."

"This is home." The pixie says, sighing with a content smile on their face. And then their eyes flicker with curiosity as they question you, "So what are you up to in this place?"

The smile that comes to your face is small, but unguarded. It feels refreshing to hear the same question given to you, only without any underlying threat or suspicions this time. For the first time, you aren't feeling like a criminal for crossing a border to a new land. To be seen as a regular traveller instead of a stranger trespassing into others' land.

"I was merely passing through," you answer with a tilt of your head. "I was running away from home because I was having an odd day."

The pixie snorts. "Odd day isn't good." A frown forms on their face as if the thought of you having an unpleasant day is making them unhappy too. "It's weird that you choose to hide here."

You shrug. "Why would it be weird?"

Shrugging—the action coming out as a mirror to yours instead of it being something natural for them to do—the tiny thing nonchalantly answers, "Because only elves and fairies can pass through the gates. That was a part of the condition in the protection spell that was given to the sanctuary to protect us from danger."

Your heart skips a beat. A tiny slip that makes your breath catch, while something starts nagging at the back of your mind. Every single peculiar event that you have encountered before comes rushing back to you; from your previous journeys, from the words shared by the people you met, and the things you inadvertently learned from them—

"But you won't regret it," the pixie continues, oblivious to your wandering mind. "There are many things to see here."

You brush away your thoughts to smile. "Is that so? Then it's a good thing that I'm here."

"Do you need a guide? We can show you around. We know every place to see here and where not to go," the pixie says, jumping up and down on the branch with excitement, as if guiding you through their land seems like some kind of a fun game for them.

Seeing this, and noticing the playful gaze in their eyes, remind you of something about them that you've learned from your books that cannot resist teasing, "Will it be okay? Are you sure you wouldn't trick me into anything nefarious?"

You grin at the pixie while they cock their head to the side, narrowing their eyes at you. Based on the texts you read in the books, their kind is often portrayed to have childlike personalities; mostly friendly and kind-hearted, but other times mischievous and playful, with a bit of naughty nature as they all love to play and have fun.

There were stories written in those books where pixies, who live mostly in the deepest woodlands and higher plains, would come out at night and use their pixie dust to trick travellers and hunters, manipulating their minds with the potent magic of their dust to leave them astray between the woods.

But there were also stories of pixies helping little children in distress, saving them from any kind of peril and guiding them home when they were lost in the woods, making them one of the most contradictory beings among any other mythical creatures you've learned about.

The pixie merely rolls their eyes. "We might be naughty bits, but we promised Trish to not cause trouble as long as we live here. We've lost our old home a long, long time ago, and we want to keep this one for as long as we're allowed to." Their words are filled with grief, yet the way they are talking about it doesn't show much about their loss, as the tone of their voice remains playful.

As if their mind is already jumping to the next topic, the pixie leans forward with a grin to ask, "What's your name?"

"I'm ________," you answer with a smile. "What should I call you?"

"Eydan," the pixie introduces themselves by standing upright on the branch and bowing down to their waist—like a royal greeting. A wide grin appears on their face when they straighten up again, the strands of their hair flowing with the breeze. "That's the name. The only pixie here with honey-blond hair"—Eydan flips their hair—"never forget it."