The troll draws back under the trusting gaze of the goblin. "Hmm... well, could be I suppose. Now that you mention it, humans are awful nasty," the troll relents.

  The orc agrees with a deep laugh. "That's them- buncha rabbits; don't give a damn what they pack s'long as they pack it with somethin'!"

  The three faefolk share a hearty, pretentious guffaw at the unconscious human's expense.

  Effie glances behind her to see the cloak still draped over his head- but the blood streaming out from over his hair makes it clear that he's been clonked pretty hard.

  "So, what are we gonna do wit 'er then?" the orc asks, already eying her over in a way that's making Effie come to terms with her mortality very quickly. As the goblin holds tight to her, the orc gives her little silk skirt a lift. "Ay, I bet she'd be a pretty go- ouh!"

  Effie cuts him short with a swift kick in the eye, her stockinged foot providing a satisfying shriek from the orc as he jolts back.

  "Little git kicked me!" he protests.

  "You deserved it though, I reckon," the troll, as tall as his two partners put together, says with a many-tusked smile. "Usin' the merchandise is unacceptable... what's more, weren't we expectin' a shipment of a fairy from G'blane tonight?"

  Without anyone answering, the troll only needs to stretch up to inspect a hideously-drawn calendar; it has an equally bad drawing of a goblin face on it, marking that very day. "Aye, that it is," he answers himself before stretching back to look over the fairy. "Well, we'll consider her our shipment then. Mayhaps the human stole it froms 'em." He reaches up to stroke his red troll beard as the orc continues to rub his eye where Effie struck it.

  "Do ye have a name, little pip?" the troll asks after a pause.

  Effie perks up in the goblin's hand, attempting to produce an untouchable, ethereal display. "I am Effie, princess in-line of the Greatwood house of-"

  "Ay, this one's speakin' real proper ain’t she; ya think she's royalty?" the orc interrupts.

  The troll shakes his head with a wizened stare. "I doubt it. Fairies are apt to dream of things they can never be. They're apt t'lie to everyone, even themselves at times."

  Effie gasps with insult, but keeps her mouth shut; this troll's obviously seen a few of her kind before.

  "Put 'er in the cage, wait for her to molt... then we'll sell her to a royal. That'd fetch a good price," he explains to the goblin, who nods with a wild grin.

  "Fairy in the cage; yay!" the goblin responds with the excitement and willingness of a determined hero.

  At that, Effie's slapped into a birdcage alongside another enclosure containing a large group of canaries. The flock next door eyes her through the bars with confusion at first- but then they swiftly gain that raptor-like stare expected of avians when observing bugs.

  "H-hey guys," she greets with a defeated tone, fully aware that they’d rather eat her than keep her company. She turns back and looks on as the goblin and orc take their into a connecting passage way, looking to be stairs of some sort. The troll hangs back to tie the man securely into the chair. Once he is finished, the last beast turns and disappears into the passage behind them.

  Effie sighs and scrunches into herself once more for comfort. She just shakes her head for a bit as one of the canaries tries to stretch far enough to nip off some of her ruined wing.

  "Why does everything want to kill me?" she mumbles bitterly into her moon-white knees.

  Just before she can lax into an uneasy slumber, however, the little fairy happens to spot something. Just out of the corner of her eye, ever so slightly, she notices the blood on the man's face shifting its path. With surprise, she watches as he carefully opens his eyes. His movements are so subtle, only someone watching him directly would notice.

  Slowly, the young lass smiles.

  Chapter Four: The First of Many

  "Well. Greetings, fayr ser knyght," she starts with a seasoned tone of mock respect, "could it be that you're having a little bit of trouble dealing with yourself… down there?"

  She says this with a tone that is lascivious- but seeing the flinch of his expression, she can tell that the wordplay isn't lost on him. Of course, she is on a shelf, so she technically would be able to refer to him as ‘down there’ with perfect innocence.

  He addresses her with his gaze - cool, dark eyes meeting her own. "It's you."

  She leans back seductively in her cage in response, which is extremely difficult to pull off when surrounded by smelly, annoying canaries. "Ah, yes, me. I suppose you were expecting someone else?"

  The man's expression doesn't budge, but simply looks about in search of something. "Where'd they put my-"

  "Your belongings?" she cuts with an aloof tone. "Oh, I think just around over there," she adds, pointing with her stockinged foot to a cupboard on the other side of the room. "But we better be quiet. Someone might hear us~" she coos.

  Ignoring all but her directed location, the man flexes brilliantly into the ropes. His teeth grit with stress as his pectorals flare with a surprising hidden strength.

  Effie, who was quite sure it was her in control of the situation, suddenly flinches at his display. The faeish tips of her ears redden a bit, seeing him strain against something with that much effort. Even so however, he can't defeat the ties; at last, he slumps back from exertion.

  "Aww, that was a nice try~" she says again with a mocking tone. "I guess you just don't have the stamina for it."

  Still ignoring her antics, he begins to rock- but immediately realizes that the feet of the chair are bolted down to the wood of the shantywalk upon which the little mining office is built. The man sighs and closes his eyes in a moment’s resignation as the little fairy continues.

  "What's the matter, you? Are you embarrassed with yourself? A big strong mud man like you can't break into some little ti-"

  She shuts herself up quite abruptly as the young human directs his boot brutally into one of the chair's legs. In only a single hit, the wood gives way, causing him to fall aside- still bound, but now free to move.

  "Oh," she says in blunt surprise. "Y-yeah, that works too, I guess."

  She watches him curiously as he wriggles alongside his chair, over to the cupboard where she had previously directed him. His hood is flipped back in the process, and she hums. Again, she's never seen a half-breed before in person- but he's way more handsome than the boorish, violent depictions of them, she thinks. The human tries to open it by wedging his lower jaw into the small gap between the cupboard and the door, but can't quite budge it. He looks upward, and squints at the knobs with frustration. "It's tied with string," he notes.

  Effie notches back uncannily at first- but once she’s focused in on it, she can make out a small yet strong-looking twine that’s been strung around the two knobs of the cupboard for security. She raises her brow, impressed that a troll would take so many measures. Even so, she's going to make the most of his misfortune.

  "Awww, so sad!" Effie mocks down at the man once more. "Big bad boy- breaking that mean chair, but can't beat a wittle stwing!" She waits for a reaction, but all she sees is his eyes scanning around for a solution to his problem. She sighs amidst the sounds of pickaxes below; she might as well lend a hand, if he’s not going to play along.

  "Ugh; yeah, alright, fine" she sighs with a hint of pity. She aims her index finger, outstretched in a pointing gesture, over to the string. With a few deep breaths, she focuses in on her target, and then takes her shot.

  A spark glances across the twine, lighting it aflame and burning it asunder. The man is frozen briefly in shock as he attempts to understand what’s just happened. After a moment, he comes to the only obvious conclusion, directing a sharp, mystified glance at the tiny lady sitting up on the shelf.

  She just smiles and waves back to him, a set of mortified canaries flittering back into the farthest reaches of their own cage. They’re now regarding her as if they’ve encountered some hideous devil.

  Shaking the surprise off and turning back to his task, the man begins working at the lower cupboard with his teeth once more. This time, the door swings opens with a deep creak. Effie sees him go immediately for his dagger, which he retrieves by spinning backwards so his hands can get to it. She snorts at the display, but is certain she feels far more on edge than he does. She did just save him, so technically he owes her— right?

  "Verily... verily," a voice rises out from the mines below, as if dismissing someone before starting their return up to the entrance.

  As if that were the cue, everything else starts to get freaky.

  The man's eyes sharpen with a sudden deadly sheen, like a wolf that's been held back by a single thread for his entire life.

  The troll comes in at the very same moment as the man's binds are breaking- but the human has already rolled onto his back to make it look as though he's still tied.

  "Aye," the troll sighs, reaching over to grab a broken-off oar in the corner of the room. "Well that’s a shame. I 'Spose you c'n get along just kipper minin' on yer bum though," he says with a disappointed tone as he takes aim for the man's legs.

  The man swings his legs apart to dodge the strike though, then swings his body around with a hideous display of strength. The dagger, which had been tucked keenly into his wrist up until this point, makes its appearance immediately plunging into the troll's neck. The blade, carefully maintained to keep a razor point, is shockingly and unceremoniously defeated by the creature's thick skin.

  "Aye!" the troll roars with excitement, rearing back for another swing as he grasps the man's knife-wielding arm. "We trolls do have some things t'show ya', boy!"

  Scarcely dodging another swing, the man enters a striking bout with the troll. Neither of them wins out clearly, but both do bruise each other quite notably.

  Effie takes a sharp breath as she presses against her prison bars in growing exasperation. "Oh, you absolute idiot! Trolls are weak in their feet!" she chastises.

  No sooner has she said this, than the man lowers all of his weight quite swiftly into the comically-sized garments on the troll’s feet. It is, of course, right about this time that he also realizes that the troll was wearing steel-toed boots.

  "Come on, dumbass!" Effie cries out as the man takes a heavy blow to the stomach from the oar, which he follows up with a hanging kick to the troll's neck.

  The two are pushed back for a second, gaining both parties a slight pause in the fight- but the human party wastes no time resting. Swinging back to the cupboard, he grabs for one of the alchemical products that he’s been keeping stocked in his coat pockets. It's a small ball wrapped up with chemical tape, and another small slip of the tape tied out to act as a fuse. Reaching for it with a swipe, he takes up the small ball of what Effie can only assume is a crude bomb of some sort.

  Under the curious gaze of the readied troll, the man shoves his hand into the lantern box nearby to light the makeshift fuse.

  "Ay, a little crafty one, ain't ya?" The troll grins tuskily as he rears back his oar. "But I ain't so easy!" He rushes the man with a calculated sort of recklessness that immediately forces the tactic of using the bomb into a matter of suicide.

  The man snuffs the fuse in frustration just in time to fumble the dodge against the oar- earning himself a glancing blow to the side of the head.

  The cute little bomb tumbles down to the floor, its wrapping slipping away just enough to reveal the black powder from within the clean white gauze.

  A spark flickers through Effie's eyes in realization.

  "Hey, dude!" she shouts abruptly. "Could you, like, push him to the middle of the room maybe?"

  She's not actually sure if he can hear her over the gleeful roaring of the troll, who is making a general mess of the place with his sweeping batting motions as he wield his oar.

  "I'll make ya' crooked!" the infuriated beast screams at the top of his mighty troll lungs, just taking one wild swing after the next.

  Effie looks on warily as she watches her man, the best hope she has of escaping, get utterly pummeled by the large bluish-gray faefolk. In another flash of insight however, she notices the troll's hair. It’s bound up about his scalp, and looking quite marvelously thin.

  She grins, then takes a determined aim.

  The next thing anyone's conscious of is that the troll's densely-packed head of hair has just burst into flame. He reaches up for his head with a painful yelp of surprise as the man, finally taking in Effie's words, follows up on the distraction to deliver a firm kick to the troll's center. The beast topples back onto the floor, his chest right next to the little bomb.

  Effie was already prepared.

  Connecting her next spark to the spilled black powder, she ignites it into an instant detonation. The troll is immediately slaughtered, his life coming to an end in a loud, authoritative *bang*.

  It's not a pleasant sight for Effie, seeing someone's parts scattered everywhere like bloody confetti— but she was never been a big fan of the "mundane" sort of magical creatures anyway.

  "W-wow! Yeah!" she shouts, a bit put-back by the sight of a body practically ripped clean open right in front of her. "That'll... that’ll teach 'em! Hah…"

  Already gone back to ignoring her though, the man needs only a second to regain his bearings from shock and return to the cupboard. He wastes no more time in moving in to retrieve the rest of his belongings .

  "H-hello?" Effie asks as the man rifles once more through the lower shelves, then begins retying and rehooking all of his equipment into his cloak with an alarmingly-practiced speed. "Hello, mister human!"

  "What?" he finally cuts back with a curt tone of disinterest.

  "Uh, well, you know— that lighting hair on fire, and the cord on the doors, and the whole, you know, explosion thing was me."

  "Okay," he shrugs bluntly, already halfway done with putting on his stuff.

  She clears her throat firmly. "W-well… I think that, seeing as I was very helpful, it wouldn't be all that crazy to assume that you... you know, owe me a little."

  "I don't owe you," he answers plainly.

  "I saved your life!" she rebuts snippily.

  "... That's not how that works for me, though."

  "Y-yes it is! What of that precious human 'honor', eh?"

  "I'm not a human," the man retorts with a bitter tone that Effie can only assume is self-pity. "Same way you’re not my star, right. You know that," he adds.

  She leans back with a wave of shock. "Wh-... what?! No! No! You're one hundred percent human, though!"

  He scoffs at the thought. "I'm a half breed. Don’t you recall?"

  "But two humans made you," Effie demands, "that makes you a human, so too bad; you have to be honorable, you’ve got no choice."

  She can see that he's packing things away more slowly than before. He must be actually considering what she's saying now. She has to press on to the offensive.

  "You are a human, regardless of what other humans say. It's not noble for an honorable human to leave a lady, let alone a royal, in distress; stop feeling sorry for yourself, and be the person that you know you are inside!"

  He finishes packing up, but stays crouched next to the cupboard for a moment longer. "How would you know if I'm a human or not? Just what are you, really?"

  She flinches in surprise. He truly is clueless. "I told you. I'm a fairy, from the North- and it is my wisdom that you are, in fact, human."

  His eyes are shocked, but still unmoving. It’s as if all of this is entirely new to him. "I'm... I'm truly a human? All the others-"

  "Forget what they think! Fairies know best; we are celestially enlightened, you see," she interrupts with a dignified tone. "Now, you need to believe when a higher creature is telling you what's what." She clears her throat and starts again with an air of matter-of-factly seriousness. "You are a human. Humans are honorable. As such, you— a human— should do the honorable thing and rescue me!"

  The man takes to his feet with a look of awe on his face, but it quickly chars back to a distance.

  "Fine," he says, easily tugging the door to her prison open, and snapping her up off the shelf.

  She spares a single last moment, giving a smug look to the dozen disappointed birds who are left behind- though they’re all quite relieved to have her gone.

  He then slips her into a smaller cage— more than likely the one actually meant to hold her when she arrived— and runs the chain of it into his cloak as he reaches the threshold of the exit.

  He stops abruptly just at the door for some reason.

  "What is it?" she asks in confusion, looking up to him.

  His face is frozen with stress, as if a deep moral battle is cutting through him.

  "There must be a lot of slaves down in those mines," he finally answers with a grave tone.

  Effie leaps back in her cage. "W-what?!"

  "It’s just... it would be the honorable thing to do…right?" he mutters to himself amidst a consistent string of ‘no’s from Effie.

  "Don't you dare do that! Whoever's down there is just a bunch of— n-no! Turn around! Human! I order you to turn around this instant!"

  But the human doesn't turn around; instead, he continues down into the depths of the mine. It's a dismal place, where a few emaciated persons are laboring endlessly under the shadows of some even more nervous canaries.

  A brutish voice in the low lamplight greets them upon their arrival.

  "Oi! Just what th' fuck d'you think yer doin'?" the orc demands from a few meters away, already preparing his whip for some thwacking as he begins to approach them.

  "Good job, priest," Effie snaps as the young man reaches into his cloak. "Looks like we're really gonna ge— e-eh?..."

  Her voice falters as a crossbow flies up out of the man's cloak folds. A single bolt is delivered right into the orc's neck in the simple blink of an eye.

  The orc sputters senselessly before falling aside, both hands wrapped futilely over his jugular. The human calmly searches over the gray orc's body, and retrieves a key as if nothing were amiss.

  "Oh... y-yeah, you did have that," she corrects herself.

 

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