Chapter 5: Failing and setting goals

But Tristan grew tired. The spiral only filled halfway before he collapsed, exhausted, panting from the exertion as if he had been working out in full plate armor for five laps around the training yard. The spiral instantly vanished.

“Ah, unfortunate, but not unexpected. Your mana is not plentiful enough,” The Matriarch stated. “It just means you must return for your birthright at a later time.”

“Haha!” Felicity laughed as she flew around Tristan’s head, and this earned a swift slap from The Matriarch’s tail, launching the smaller fairy dragon to the floor next to Tristan.

“I told you, do not insult those of the royal blood.”

“But mooooom! He’s cut off my wing! It hurt!”

The Matriarch growled, “You are lucky that is all he did to you, foolish child. He has every right to completely tear you to pieces, if he has a mind for it.” She reached a massive claw down, extending one of the fingers to help Tristan stand on shaky legs. “Lord Winterbloom. I apologize for my daughter’s behavior.”

“It’s okay,” Tristan said in between shaky breaths as the ground felt solid under him once more. “How long does it take for mana to come back?”

“For those with Elf blood? Quickly. Faster if you rest. The other races generally regain their mana much slower. Elves are natural mages, sorcerers, and archons. Not as strong as other races, but through artifice and imbuement spell types, you will compensate.”

She grinned, “And, one thing you will learn from encountering other magic users is that your race determines the language to invoke your magic. And, the spell types you may use.”

“What spells are related to Elves?” Tristan asked, fully sucked into the idea that he could become a fully-fledged mage. He was riveted to the flux of information he was receiving.

“Illusions, flora, imbuement, artifice, enchantment, and fortune.” She smiled, “Not to mention your bloodline also gives you access to ice elementalism. Winterbloom is not just a name for the sake of a name; it is the energy coursing through your body.”

That’s…wow. I don’t know what half of those mean.

The smile became a thin, drawn line as her tone shifted. “You are limited, however, and cannot just do anything you desire. What you are determines what you may do with your mana, and how you can use it.”

“Right, I know that part,” Tristan said. “Speaking of what I am, my mom said that Elves came from across the sea, from a sunken kingdom. But they come from this place, this Realm, if what you’ve said is true – and it does sound true. Was she lying to me?”

“It is feasible that the Elves arrived on a different continent of the Mortal Realm before moving to their now-home. How old was your mother?”

“I…I never asked,” Tristan replied. “I can ask her when I get home, though.”

“Most Elves live two-thousand years, give or take a few hundred. I would guess she did come from across the ocean to where she currently resides, since she is not one of those who left on the Great Exodus.”

“Right…Felicity mentioned that I might live tens of thousands of years, but I guess that is not the norm for my race, right?”

The Matriarch nodded, “That is accurate. The Winterbloom bloodline is potent, and the most receptive to the mana of the Fey Realm. May I try an Eighth Order spell on you to see if I can discern something?”

“Sure!” Tristan replied. Eighth Order? The highest spell Gisele ever used was Fourth Order. Bertram never got above Third!

The Matriarch raised her large foreleg over Tristan’s head and began speaking. “This spell is called Elf Nature Invocation. It can be cast at any Order, but by spending more mana, you increase the Order rank, and the information you receive. Paljasta minulle tämän tontun elämän pituus.” (Reveal to me the length of life of this elf). This Elvish phrase was accompanied by a trace of the claw-tips into the shape of a circle, with the equivalent of the ‘index’ finger tucked in to the palm.

The air seemed to be still, and Tristan saw a burst of sparking, almost lightning-like, pink energy trickling from the edges of the enormous fairy dragon’s eyes.

There was a vibrant, rainbow glow that cascaded from her claw and formed a stream that trickled onto Tristan’s head. He felt the odd liquid almost like goop through his hair. He wanted to say something about the texture, but the sheer thought that he was being subjected to an Eighth Order spell was keeping him silent through the sticky process.

A moment later the substance vanished, and Tristan could not feel it on him. The Matriarch grinned broadly, “I figured as much.”

“How long until he dies?” Felicity asked.

The Matriarch shot her a glowering stare before turning back to Tristan, “Your base lifespan is ten-thousand years. However, Winterbloom are normally far longer lived than that, and this spell confirmed my suspicions. As long as you come here to the Fey Realm once a year to rejuvenate yourself, and you do not die to disease or injury, you could live even longer. Especially if you cultivate your mana core.”

That floored Tristan and he went completely silent. I…I could live longer than the Kingdom of Bhant has been around? Longer than history goes back? The thought was not just sobering but also humbling, making him feel the whole weight of the situation that he now found himself in. Long-lost royalty of a non-Mortal Realm race.

And despite a lifetime of being the least-wanted child who was barely tolerated by his father and half-siblings…he now felt important. That alone was incredibly empowering, and he felt himself swelled up with a feeling that had not visited him many times before. The same type of feeling his grandfather had instilled in him while training him on the practice-dragon puppets.

He felt pride. Importance. For once, he was not just the third, half-breed child of a minor noble family, relegated to the exterior edges of the royal court. He was finally significant. He was unique.

Tristan nodded, “Thank you for telling me. I’m…at a bit of a loss, though. What do I do now? I failed my king’s quest since I didn’t bring back a fairy dragon.”

“Do you need a corpse? We lost a few of our number this morning due to old age.”

Tristan felt slightly disturbed by that willingness to just give up their dead, but he nodded nonetheless. “Yeah, then I can go home.” And there’s all this information about spells, these different types that I have no clue about, how to use them, that whole vault situation…It was a lot to take in all at once, and he was on the verge of feeling overwhelmed. He needed to return to a place that was familiar to deal with all of this. He needed a place to decompress. He needed to talk to his mom and grandfather.

And relax a bit. After all, he’d been on a quest almost constantly chasing a fairy dragon across the kingdom for ten years. Checking his hip pouch, he felt the comfort of the family’s noble crest; an amulet on a small chain. The symbol of their house, a draconic neck and head in side-profile, with a sword through it. When I get home, I can at least prove who I am despite my changed appearance. His reception at the family’s ancestral home was also a concern – but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

“This is your home, my liege,” The Matriarch replied. “Even though you are male, you are still of the royal bloodline. You may stay as long as you desire.” She paused, “Well, if you exerted your mana every day. If you did not, you would suffer mana sickness after a day’s time.”

“I can’t just stay here…I was raised as a dragonslayer. It’s what I am supposed to do. Protect the Mortal Realm from the dragon species of the Elemental Realms.” Tristan felt that almost as strongly as he did the desire to see what was behind that vault door. Whatever it was that was promised to his Winterbloom bloodline. He felt, he knew, with every fiber of his being that he would not be satisfied until he acquired what was inside the vault.

It was competing against and winning versus his Dragonslayer bloodline and doing what his beloved grandfather had trained him to do. His father might not have loved him, but his grandfather did, and he was an amazing mentor. Tristan was supremely confident that he could fight an actual dragon if he had the chance. After all, he was trained by the man who entered the Elemental Realm of Fire and slain the Arch Dragon who resided there. A man who forged his own bloodline. He was a legend. I have to live up to his expectations for me.

“Then I have a proposal for your path to growth, my lord. I would advise you to return to your Realm, complete this quest you speak of, and then set off on your own to defeat creatures to increase your mana capacity – dragons included. In that way, you may have enough power to unlock this door and claim the items within. I am sure whatever lies within will be valuable.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

She looked over at Felicity who was lifting herself, “And my daughter will be happy to accompany you to assist you in any way. She has an extradimensional storage space as all our kind do. And, despite her impertinence, she is a fount of knowledge when it comes to your lineage, your capabilities, and Mortal Realm lore.”

Tristan glanced sideways at the fairy dragon who gave him an exasperated look. “I am not really a fan of Felicity,” he commented.

“The feeling is mutual,” Felicity snapped back.

The Matriarch sighed, “I cannot force you to accept assistance, my lord Tristan, and we do have other fairy dragons who would be more than willing to accompany you if you requested. But Felicity has been in the Moral Realm for the past ten years. Others of our kind are out there, but I do not know when one will come back. She has the best idea of what that Realm is like in whatever era it is in.”

“I can come back here any time, right? With this ring? If, for example, I got pissed off at Felicity and wanted to have another fairy dragon accompany me?” Tristan asked.

“Correct. One hour to channel the mana, and then it cannot be used for another twenty-four hours. Remember, that you will depart from and arrive at the same location in both Realms. And yes, although my daughter better mind her manners if she knows what is good for her!”

Tristan nodded, “Then I will follow your insightful direction. I want whatever is behind that door.” And if it’s super-powerful weapons and armor, then I can show up Betram and Gisele. Maybe even go into an Elemental Realm portal and fight one of the Arch Dragons like grandpa! Forge my own bloodline, even? Fusing this Winterbloom and the Dragonslayer ones? Now that is a heroic goal!

“I’m going to return home, talk to my mom, and then– wait a second. Could I bring her here?” Tristan asked.

“You could. She would then outrank you.”

Tristan smiled, “I don’t mind that.” He looked over at Felicity, “And…I owe you an apology.”

“About time!” She replied. “I don’t forgi-” a guttural growl from The Matriarch echoed through the space, and Felicity shook in fear, gulping audibly. “I forgive you,” she muttered. “But no more cutting me. And definitely no choking, hear me?”

Tristan nodded, “As long as you don’t do any weird, tricky magic with me. Like that fruit rind.”

“I told you that wasn’t me!”

The Matriarch cleared her throat, returning the two’s attention to her. “The vault, and its contents, are the birthright of any Winterbloom,” The Matriarch replied. “So you are up against a timer for whenever another Elf wanders their way into this Realm…which is unlikely unless they also chase down a fairy dragon, since we hold the key to traveling here without one of those Rings. Now, let’s get you a corpse you can return home with.”

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Tristan was standing in front of the tree in a small, dirt circle surrounded by green and blue grass that waved gently in the breeze. He had a small, burlap sack with the corpse of an elderly fairy dragon inside it - which discomforted him slightly, but he wanted to complete this quest, regardless. 

The reason for this location is that this would be his return-point. Where he would come back to when he departed the Mortal Realm again. Glancing around, he felt a little overwhelmed as the fairy dragons all bowed their heads as they perched on their limbs. He’d never been the object of reverence before, but it felt…awkward and amazing at the same time. This must be how grandpa felt when he brought back the Arch Dragon’s head.

The man had elevated the family to minor nobility through his actions. Without Tristan’s grandfather, they would not have their prestige, their house, their bloodline and unique spell type, or the respect that enabled them to travel to court every week. He was Tristan’s role model. I’m going to bag myself an Arch Dragon, just like him.

Felicity was perched on his shoulder, grumbling slightly under her breath. She waved her front, right paw, and the burlap sack in Tristan’s hand vanished with a slight pop as reality distorted around it. “I can do other stuff,” she stated.

“Spells?” Tristan asked.

“Sort of? I don’t have to say anything to do them. They are just a part of me.” She held up her paw and it turned into a human hand with five fingers. “I can shapeshift, turn invisible, and do the extradimensional storage space. It can’t store an unlimited amount of items, but it is pretty large in there!”

Tristan’s attention was drawn to the front as The Matriarch emerged from the enormous tree, and she gestured as a pair of smaller, dog-sized fairy dragons flew over with a cloak that was silver with icy-blue thread and fastened it around his armor. They flew up and away, perching on branches and joining their fellows in bowing.

“Remember,” The Matriarch stated, “You will return to the place you arrived and left from in either the Fey Realm or the Mortal Realm. Return when you think you have enough mana to open the vault. The cloak is a symbol of your office. Only fairy dragons and the most learned people will know what it means. And only you can wear it – the same goes for the ring. If another person tries to wear either, they will suffer a horrific fate. Wear them with pride, my lord Tristan.”

Tristan nodded, “Thank you, for everything. This is a lot to take in…but I swear I’ll return and open that vault.”

“It is your right. We await your return and to serve you, my lord.”

I’ll show them all. Bertram and Gisele? I’m going to be more famous than either of you. Turn in this corpse and return the king’s scepter, kill some monsters and dragons…And then I’m coming back here to reclaim my inheritance. That’ll show them all that I’m not just some useless third child!

He channeled mana down his arm, into his hand, and the ring upon it. The world turned white around him.

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