The Hero was now able to move more easily with his crutches; his joint pains had almost completely disappeared, though his wounds were still present. At the very least, his overall suffering had lessened.
He hadn't felt this good in a long time—it would have taken two weeks of gorging on painkillers to achieve this state of "well-being."
Fairy doctors visited him daily to examine him and, at the same time, study him—after all, it wasn't every day one got the opportunity to observe such a peculiar being as this human.
The Queen had sent him, through two attendants, a fully charged electricity accumulator, allowing him to power his electronic equipment for years.
He even had access to a cook and a housekeeper who cleaned his windows and furniture.
He had gone from prisoner to slave to gladiator to esteemed guest in just a few weeks, even though he still wasn't officially allowed to leave his apartment. His greatest anticipation, however, was the visits from the girl who had given him a bath. She was the only person, aside from the medical staff and those assigned to him by the Queen herself, who came to see him. Even though she had seen his uncovered face when she bathed him, he couldn't stand her looking at him like that, so he often covered his head with a towel or wore a typical Fairy-made sweater of roots and cotton—which itched terribly.
He smiled every time she came, wondering what she would bring or what ridiculous topic she would discuss this time. Seeing how limited their conversations were—consisting mostly of nods and head shakes—she gave him a slate and some chalk so they could have real discussions. But the Hero kept losing the slate or breaking it by playing tennis with it—and with the Fairy.
He was surprised by her bluntness; despite her distinguished air, she could be quite vulgar—she was more of a boor than a highway bandit. He learned many outdated expressions from her that he had never heard before, such as "having a ball in the pâté."
Lately, however, she had been visiting him less frequently. She seemed truly preoccupied, sometimes even sad. He pretended not to notice but tried to lift her spirits with silly games and activities to distract her and make her smile.
They had grown so close that she brought him a childhood photo of herself. She had a massive beer belly—boorish from birth! Her parents had nicknamed her "Bouloute"—perhaps a mix of "otter" and "ball," given she had the same circumference as a bowling ball. But what struck him most was that she was covered in bandages. When he asked her about it, she explained that when she was born, she had fallen from her flower, breaking several bones in the process. She shouldn't have even survived, given the extent of her injuries.
Under that appearance, she looked a bit like him, wrapped in bandages...
One day, while they were playing on the gaming console the Queen had gifted him, the princess paused the game and made a confession:
"You know, ever since I was little, I've had a dream I absolutely want to fulfill."
He tilted his head to the right, wondering where she was going with this, as only twenty seconds remained before he could bring his opponent's health bar to zero.
"I don't know if you've noticed, but a special event has been in preparation for several months. However, due to recent turmoil, it has been significantly delayed. It's a tournament to determine the next Queen of the Fairy Forest among the princesses competing for the throne. And, by the way, I'm one of them."
The human had no reaction to this announcement, which greatly disappointed the Fairy.
"You already knew?"
He shook his head, confirming he hadn't been aware.
"Then at least act surprised!" she pouted.
The boy shrugged, raising his hands, but quickly put them back on his controller in case his friend was trying to trick him into losing. But that really didn't seem to be the case. She spoke too solemnly for it to be a ruse, and besides, she never cheated—unlike him.
"Well, it doesn't really matter," she conceded. "This event is a tournament, and through it, I will finally be able to achieve a dream I've held for so long. By becoming queen, I can finally see what my fellow fairies from all social classes see," she said longingly, gazing out the window of the human's apartment. "Just obtaining them would mean I'd be recognized for my true worth! I know what you must be thinking—that it's trivial and superficial—but it's the only reason and the only way I want to attain royalty."
So that was her dream. Nothing concerning wealth, glory, or power. All she wanted was compensation for what life had denied her. Her dream might have seemed selfish, but the boy didn't care. He had seen people seek power just to satisfy their egos. After all, a boy had once become king solely for the sake of absolute freedom...
She dropped her controller and grabbed his right wrist, smiling.
"I have absolute confidence in my abilities to win the kingdom's crown, and I will defeat my opponents with skill and courage! With Beneltig, I am certain I will reach the finals... I will finally realize my dream and soar over the entire kingdom with my beautiful, colorful wings, no longer a disgrace to my people."
That last sentence was a lie, and the Hero could tell. Her voice had begun to tremble, and although she said it in a reassuring tone, she had no reason to reassure him—she was trying to reassure herself. He just stared at her silently, knowing there would be a better time to intervene than during a confession.
"Speaking of him, the tournament begins the day after tomorrow, and he will fight in the opening match. If I manage to convince the Queen to let you attend, would you come and watch?"
The Hero shook his head. He wasn't interested in seeing people in the same situation as him. Playing video games was far more stimulating. Seeing his hesitation, she tried to reassure him by saying it would be different from his fight—it would be a five-person battle, though not lethal. The boy took the slate and wrote that he had no interest in death matches, but if it was a free-for-all, he might take a look. This greatly delighted the Fairy. She warned him that she wouldn't be able to accompany him to the arena, but she would meet him at the entrance to the VIP stands.
She stood up from the couch and stretched, but the Hero pulled her back down by the arm.
"Why?" she asked, eyes wide open.
He pointed at the holovision screen—they had a match to finish.
"You're so rough just for that. You could be gentler," she laughed nervously.
It was true that he greatly enjoyed her company, but he felt that she was holding herself back from running away at the sight of him—and that would be perfectly normal. She pretended indifference to his appearance, but he really had the impression that she was tense around him. No matter how much kindness he displayed, he could not hide the fact that he had no humanoid traits to show—aside from everything visible, such as his arms, legs, eyes, and teeth. He was closer to a supernatural being than to a living one. In short, she must have found him repulsive.
So why did she invite him to accompany her?
"Don't get distracted if you want to finish the fight—look, I won!" she said, pulling him out of his thoughts.
He could only gape at his own defeat. The Fairy jumped for joy at having beaten the Hero, celebrating and teasing him, expecting him to take offense. He approached her and ruffled her hair, applauding her victory. He wrote on his slate that he had simply held back.
"Oh, sure, of course, I'll believe you."
OK
Next time, I'll crush you.
"We'll see about that."
Now that she had gone off to tend to her princess duties, he was going to make his usual rounds, because staying cooped up in this tiny apartment could become maddening—though it was far more charming than the one he had lived in at Vicenti. For now, he was merely exploring the immense tree-castle named Yggdrasil, but perhaps in a few days, he would dare to visit the royal capital, and then venture even further into the High City.
But first, he needed to finish exploring his surroundings.
Grabbing his crutches and closing the door to his lodging—not locking it, as he doubted they even knew what a lock was—he set off on his daily walk.
You must be wondering how a human with such an uncommon "skin" color—if one could even call it that, given the curse covering his body—and a disability could go out for "walks" so freely.
First, let me repeat what our dear protagonist thought when he asked himself that very question, seeing that no one came to hold him accountable: "They could at least slap an ankle monitor or a tracking device on me."
Irresponsible.
But there were two other reasons he hadn't been caught by any guards yet—one of which he was unaware of.
The first was that the Hero never exited through the door behind him but rather through the window. He would jump from his own to the one below, which led to a hallway that was usually empty.
I told you—irresponsible!
The second reason was none other than the fact that the Queen was aware of his movements. She hadn't seen him with her own eyes—she had better things to do than chase after a teenager—but she could sense his presence, just as she could sense all the inhabitants of the Fairy Forest through the electricity she spread throughout the kingdom. This was precisely why, from wherever she was, she could launch a large-scale attack on him without him ever knowing where it came from or who had sent it.
That being said, it was easy to see that she was making things easier for him—or rather, outright helping him by subtly indicating how to avoid guards, courtiers, nobles, and others. However, if he ended up in a dead end, that was his problem—and it had happened more often than one might think. But he was no novice; he wouldn't be so easily defeated by such setbacks.
Besides, he himself could sense the presence of those around him—though to a much lesser extent than the Queen of the Fairy Forest. It was more a matter of instinct than magic or any special power—but I won't dwell on his "instinct"... more than questionable as it was.
Through his various escapades, he had noticed several things—some more "interesting" than others:
For one, he had memorized the guards' patrol routes through the corridors. If things went south, he could escape easily. Otherwise, he had noticed that his footprints vanished behind him. The castle was likely enchanted, much like the one in Beauty and the Beast, or perhaps the lights were emitted by soft-shelled gastropods that stored sunlight in special luminescent orbs placed in dark corners, glowing at night. Other than that, it was similar to other royal castles he had seen firsthand, in books, or in holo-films.
Nothing new under the sun.
Wandering through new parts of the castle he had yet to explore, he failed to notice that someone was following him in the dim corridors woven from greenery, leaves, moss, branches, and roots. As he advanced through these sylvan passages in search of something new to stave off boredom, he felt the air vibrate behind him and barely dodged an incoming blow by throwing himself to the side. He pointed his crutch in the direction of his attacker and found himself facing a familiar face.
"You really look like hell," said the shaven-headed stranger.
The Hero's eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. He threw himself at her, embracing her tenderly. The woman returned the hug, stroking his hair.
"No matter where you go, you just can't help but sow disorder and chaos, can you?"
The boy feigned innocence.
"Oh, stop that! I know everything—Queen Audisélia told me," Helmir declared. "You're really just like your so-called brother."
He pretended to spit on the ground, turning away.
"Then stop acting like a fool if you don't want me to say you resemble him," she sighed.
The Hero pouted. Helmir knelt before him and cupped his cheeks with her hand.
"Seriously, if I weren't here, you might have ended up back in the Limbo and been 'executed'!" she scolded. "You're being reckless in your stupid quest for vengeance. I don't know why Astéron lets you act so freely."
He violently pulled her hands off his face and retrieved his crutches. Helmir caught up to him and touched him all over, running her hands along his body, inspecting every inch of him, making him shiver—he couldn't even protest since he couldn't speak. "Silence means consent"...
Wait a minute! Who the hell wrote that line—?
"Your limbs are much better thanks to the Miracle Bath; it's a huge improvement over the lotions I used to give you. It's a good thing you ended up here."
The Hero turned away, and the dark elf ruffled his hair.
"I must say, you've grown quite a bit," the spy remarked. "One day, words will actually come out of your mouth so you can tell me about your 'adventures.' Ah, I see they gave you a slate to write on. Do they even understand Franca?" Helmir teased. "After all, I taught you Oli'ane, so you shouldn't have any communication issues—that's one less problem for you. Well, I have to go. Get back to your walk, but don't let yourself be seen, and don't go anywhere off-limits," she ordered.
The dark elf leapt and disappeared into the decorative foliage of the ceiling. The Hero marveled at her ability to vanish so easily—in secret, he had been training to replicate her trick, but so far, it had been nothing but repeated failures.
Suddenly, he heard a noise coming from one of the dead ends where he had gotten lost. He perceived the voices of two men—one was higher-pitched than the other, and he thought he had heard it somewhere before. He placed his crutches on the ground to be more discreet and quietly hopped toward the source of the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that it was the protector of the nameless princess—the very one who constantly pestered him with stories of her miserable romance with a man he had seen running away when she was in danger.
"What I'm giving you here are strength bracelets. It's very rare to find them in Sylvania. They're usually held only by soldiers of the regular army, but especially by the royal army," Beneltig explained. "With these, you can increase your strength tenfold, even twentyfold!" he boasted about his magical gadgets.
The Hero had seen such items before, in an armory in Pérestine, a lawless city north of Paris the Fallen. It wasn't hard to figure out how such rare artifacts had ended up in such a deadly place.
"Enchanted stones? And what do you want in exchange for these pieces of magical technology?" asked his interlocutor. "It surely has something to do with the tournament, doesn't it?"
The Hero didn't recognize this voice; it had to be a champion he had not yet met or encountered during his daily wanderings.
"Exactly," Beneltig replied, bowing slightly. "You're perceptive."
The Hero found the princess's protector to be rather servile for someone who was supposed to stand at the right hand of the future queen.
"You know I won't let you win, even if I could profit from these bracelets. I have my champion's honor to uphold."
"Yes, yes, don't worry, I already know that, just as I know I have no chance against you. But what I ask is very simple: in exchange for these items that will make you unparalleled on the field, I just want you to avoid injuring me and knock me out with a single hit to the head."
The Hero wondered if he could look at himself in the mirror after displaying such cowardice—probably, given how well-groomed his hair was.
"That's all?" asked the unknown champion.
"That's all," confirmed the champion of the Fairy.
"Well, I must say, you know how to be useful when you want to be," the unknown champion laughed heartily. "Alright, I'll grant your wish."
The Hero saw a huge brown hand pat Beneltig's shoulder before the champion walked away. The young coward was able to release his tension and sighed deeply. He wasn't really used to confronting others, so for him, this interaction was truly an achievement.
"This will buy me some time," he muttered to himself.
Did he really have a plan to rid himself of the orders given by the men in red hoods? If so, the Hero would let him carry out his plan and observe the consequences.
He picked up his crutches and was about to leave, but the noise alerted Beneltig, who sprang up in surprise and asked who was there. The Hero thought of a strategy to get out of this: playing dead, jumping through a wall—by breaking it, of course, since this wasn't Casper's company—or simply knocking him out...
Beneltig stepped out of his hiding place and saw the human walking ahead of him, but he didn't recognize him. He moved toward him and shouted for him to stop. The Hero obeyed. He would attempt anything to avoid being dragged into the schemes of this cowardly character.
He turned his head and stared straight into his eyes without speaking, resembling a ghostly apparition with red eyes. He wanted to make him flee through intimidation. The fairy-boy stammered a few incomprehensible words as he advanced toward the Hero. Seeing that his intimidation wasn't working, he decided to act tough. He let his crutches fall and walked toward the champion, puffing out his chest and ignoring his body's fatigue. That was enough to make Beneltig forget his quest for information and flee.
The Hero sighed with relief; he didn't want any altercation with the Fairy's lover. He had no desire to deal with him, especially since she already annoyed him enough whenever he cheated.
He cut short his visit to the castle and returned to his studio, throwing himself onto his couch. On the table, he saw some pastries with a note on them. He unfolded the paper and read:
"Here, some waffles made by my mother. She suggested bringing you some, so here they are! I don't know if you'll like them since I don't know your tastes, but in any case, they are really good.
PS: Be more careful when you go out!"
He didn't know if the last sentence was meant to be caring or a reproach—probably both. Either way, he could hear his friend's cheerful voice resonating in his ears.
In any case, she was silly to think he wouldn't appreciate her waffles. Even if they were made with Blun Bear excrement—no, that's not a typo, nor a color, that's their name, and for those who have encountered them, I hope you're doing well—he would eat them because she had made them thinking of him... although his mother had always told him to refuse food offered to him.
"Are we beggars to accept others' food?" she used to say.
Once, she had thrown away a box filled with sweets that a neighbor had given them in a village other than Novillios.
Then he wondered how the Fairy's mother knew about him. Had she talked about him? Probably.
He didn't know if he should scold her for mentioning him to her mother.
Yet, there was nothing wrong with her doing so. It was just that he wasn't used to people talking about him positively—it had to be positive since she had made these pastries for him.
He thanked the Lord for this gift, blessed the person who had prepared it and the one who had brought it to him, and sat down to eat—he had not forgotten the Christian education provided by the Sisters.
The next day was the big day.
The day the tournament for the succession to Sylvania's throne would begin.
Finally!
And, as usual, he had to be late.
The tournament was set to start in fifteen minutes, and our Hero was still pitifully sprawled in his bed.