Tristan's mount thundered across the flowering plains. Three hours out of the town, he spun his essence crucible, pushed the energy into his ring, and traveled to the Fey Realm. He appeared in the dirt ring, and was greeted by a festive atmosphere as fairy dragons and the various residents were having some type of celebration.

Felicity cleared her throat, "Tristan Winterbloom is back! And he's injured!"

This brought the festive atmosphere to a stop, and fairy dragons dispersed to go and seek out their fellows with rejuvenation spells. The partygoers came over and inquired about Tristan's injuries and offered help.

He waved them off, "I'll recover. Keep enjoying yourselves. I just need to rest." Felicity shifted to her elfanoid form and helped him walk into the Queen's Wood, down to his chambers, and guided him to the bed. Tristan hissed in pain as he laid back, feeling the pain of his rough ride while injured.

Felicity helped to strip him down, and the larger fairy dragon who had used rejuvenation before came in, cast his spell over Tristan, and he felt a soothing warmth suffuse his body. His muscles relaxed, loosened from their tension, and he was able to take in deep breaths without feeling agony. "My thanks," he said, softly as he rubbed his temples.

The fairy dragon left, and Felicity sat on the side of the bed, gently brushing her hand along his arm. "You survived," she said softly. "But you have to get better at not being a target for assassins."

Tristan nodded, "Not like I have much of the choice in that matter. I figured being on the move would be enough. They were able to track me from Bhant, through the Sapphire Coast, and across the ocean. Maybe they have a diviner?"

"Maybe," Felicity replied. "This is the first time someone was disguised trying to kill you. The other times they were dressed as assassins – which is really, really d-u-m-b when you think about it. They just advertised they were killers with the black cloaks, the symbol, and even the knives!"

Tristan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, "The dagger…did we keep it?"

She opened her storage dimension and pulled it out, "Yup! Got it right here. Scooped it up as we left."

Tristan gestured to the desk as he sat up, "Let's see what it does." He walked over alongside Felicity. He prepared the parchment-like leaves, the ink pen, and Felicity placed the object in front of him. "Je cherche à savoir ce que fait cet objet. Remplissez mon esprit de compréhension et laissez l'effet se répandre en moi. Distiller la réponse à l'ustensile que je tiens dans ma main." (I seek the knowledge of what this object does. Fill my mind with understanding, and let the effect flow through me. Distill the response to the utensil in my grip).

He spun his essence crucible as he spoke and poured the essence into his hands with a thinner stream going to his writing hand. After a few moments, he had completed the Discern Artifice spell and read the results aloud.

The Rose's Thorn

Alter Weapon (First) [Alteration]

The weapon can change shape to form various tools and implements; reshaping its mass to accomplish a specific task.

"That explains why they have a similar appearance, but slightly different look," Tristan stated. "Each assassin has their own preference of style for a stabbing tool."

Felicity frowned and crossed her arms, "But that doesn't help us with the issue at hand – they used a disguise to get to you. No more black cloaks. Why switch tactics if, presumably, that one was working?"

Tristan looked at the dagger and shook his head, "I don't know. One more mystery to solve. The same goes for when they die – turning to ash and dust? That has to be some type of spell or artificed item at play."

"Perhaps teleportation?" Felicity offered. "They are killed and then someone else gets notified via divination, and they summon the person to them?"

"Maybe? We should ask Obadai," Tristan replied as he stripped down and jumped into the pool on the side of the room. Ducking his head under, he came up and leaned against the side of the chamber. "We get to Rigger's Cove, get on the boat, and we'll make for Klaktol's southern coast."

Felicity slipped into the water and floated on her back, "A decent enough plan. Get to another port, another continent – and then we're heading back across the water to Schlarz?"

Tristan nodded and sank down until just his head was above the water, "Yes, that seems wise. We go back and forth to hopefully shake these assassins. But if they are using divination, we need a means to prevent them from tracking us."

Felicity got out of the pool and shifted to her fairy dragon form, shaking herself dry. "Let me go ask The Matriarch! She knows divination!" Felicity went flying out, and Tristan sank down under the water again before getting out and drying off.

The Matriarch came in right as he was pulling on a shirt, Felicity flying right behind her. "You seek to block divination?"

"That's right," Tristan replied. "I need to keep assassins from tracking us."

"That is difficult. I know that Obadai has told you information about The Thought Realm, and its protector Logos."

"A bit."

The Matriarch smiled softly, "Well, The Thought Realm only gathers knowledge that is well known, written, or can be easily discovered. I suppose…one way to go about it is to spread a rumor that Tristan Winterbloom, Tristan Anorox, is dead. But that might harm some of your ongoing activities."

"I'm not going to hide who I am for the rest of my life," Tristan replied. "There is no way to…pull the knowledge back from this Logos thing?"

The Matriarch shook her head, "No, I'm sorry. Once Logos takes hold of it, it can never be returned."

"Then I suppose we just keep on the move." Tristan stretched and suppressed a yawn, "I want to rest. Good night, Matriarch."

She bowed and departed. Felicity shut the door behind her mother, switched to her elfanoid form, and pushed Tristan to the bed, tucking him in before snuggling under the covers next to him.

Tristan woke up to a muttering. He could hear Felicity talking gently in her sleep. They had shifted during the night, and he was curled up behind her.

"Nhg. Just say it," she muttered, her ears twitching slightly.

He closed his eyes to try and go back to sleep, but he felt…off. Like something was wrong, somewhere, or he had forgotten something. But he couldn't figure out what he was forgetting.

Well, since I'm up, may as well tire myself out in a productive manner. He slid out from behind her, headed to the door, and ventured down to the vault. Going through the first chamber and into the center one, he looked towards the door that had the least-complex spiraling pattern. Dropping to his knees and feeling the grooves that he slid into, he placed his hands on it. Let's see if I'm strong enough to open this.

He spun his crucible, pouring the power into his arms as it filled up the spiral a little over two-thirds of the way. Right, so not quite there yet. But let's see how this compares to my inner world tree tracker. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, sinking down into a meditative trance as he came to in his inner world.

Going to the tree, he placed his hand on it, and saw that the spiral filled to the same amount as the vault door had. As I thought. The next door of the vault requires the essence capacity for Third Order spells. I would bet that each door is locked with more and more essence-intensive locks.

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Leaving his inner world, he stood up back in reality. He felt lethargic thanks to the loss of essence, and he ambled back to bed, slipped behind Felicity, and let his eyes shut once more.

Tristan woke up and found their positions had been shifted again – Felicity was behind him, and she was holding onto him tightly. Gently extricating himself from her grip, he headed outside. It was night, and the cool air of the Fey Realm on his skin was refreshing. Heading up the spire he stepped out into the top boughs. It was silent, and thanks to the lack of anything else in the Fey Realm aside from fairy dragons and the people he had offered a home to, it stayed like that. The only sound was the slight sigh of wind through the trees.

Why can't I sleep? He thought as he headed over to the Astrologer's Glass. I know I don't have to sleep while I'm here, but I was expecting it. Something is getting in the way. He plopped down onto one of the cushioned seats and looked at the observation device, still pointed almost straight up. Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths and tried to relax. To let all the tension loose.

But a knot in his stomach wouldn't let him be. He knew, he felt, that something was "off". Standing up and looking around, Tristan still saw no movement. All was calm. And yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. Both-direction spinning his crucible, he whispered and his voice carried across the Fey Realm to his intended audience. "Matriarch, to me."

There were a few moments of silence before he heard the loud sound of flapping, and glancing over the side of the tree, he saw the large fairy-dragon form of The Matriarch fly up before landing. She sat back on her haunches, much like Felicity had done, and she peered down at him. "Yes, Lord Tristan?"

"Do you feel like we are being watched?"

She nodded, "Yes. Ever since Obadai was here and used the Astrologer's Glass."

Tristan glanced over at the device, "Well…maybe what he was looking at has the answer." He walked over to the device and peered into the view hole. He saw a swirl of blue energy, strands of it, traveling towards that enormous black dot.

And the dot had an eye looking down at him.

Tristan backed away and felt fear wash over him. The Matriarch looked at him, the Astrologer's Glass, and then back to him. "What was it?"

"The…Logos thing. It looked at me."

The Matriarch frowned, "Someone is actively trying to divine your location." She walked over to the view hole, switching to her elfanoid form, and peered in. "Mhmm." She looked back to Tristan, "Seems like that feeling you have is because Logos is trying to find you. You know how I mentioned divination cannot be done across Realms?" Tristan nodded and she continued, "Well, someone is trying to find you in the Mortal Realm. Logos, effectively, looks across all Realms, finds the target, and then returns an answer to the person. "The individual you seek is no longer on your Realm.""

Tristan felt some relief that whoever was searching for him – these assassins, most likely – could not find him in this place. But it also confirmed his and Felicity's suspicions that someone in the group of assassins was capable of divination spells and was using that prowess to seek him out. "I need a way to block divination from seeing me."

The Matriarch put her hand to her chin and her face had a puzzled look. "You could…try to bribe Logos? It's a Realm Protector. We would need a way to talk with it though. We would need a cross-Realm communication spell. And that…that is not easy."

An idea hit Tristan, and he ran over to the small desk near the cushions and the bookshelf that was empty – as Felicity had all of the books in her storage. The desk had what he wanted – ink vials, the parchment-like leaves, and ink pens. Grabbing the inkwell in his right hand, he popped the cork off with his thumb, placed the finger over the top, and then wrapped it in his fingers so it was fully covered. "Prends cette goutte de possibilité infinie et guide mon d'essence dans la pointe de la plume. Transforme le pouvoir de ce sort, permettant de l'emmagasiner en cas de besoin.." (Take this drop of infinite possibility and guide my essence into the tip of the quill. Transform the power of this spell, allowing it to be stored for a time of need).

Spinning his crucible, he pushed the power into the ink well, and when it glowed a silver with crimson, black, and icy-blue flecks, he cut off the flow of power. "Logos knows everything that is public knowledge or written down, correct?"

"Yes," The Matriarch replied as she came over.

"Then instead of putting a spell into a scroll, what if I just used the essence as an offering? Obadai said that the essence used during divination spells was like paying a librarian or archivist for access to knowledge. If I just give Logos raw essence, write down my message…maybe it can reach out? Correspond?"

"Novel idea," she replied as she sat on one of the cushions. "No harm in trying."

Tristan began writing his letter, speaking aloud as he did so – as that was what spell scrolls required.

To Logos,

I am Tristan Winterbloom, formerly Anorox. I want to see if we can come to an accord. I am being sought out by assassins and want them to be unable to find me even if I am on the same Realm as them.

Is there a deal or bargain to be struck where you refuse the information to my assailants?

He set the quill down and waited. What he was waiting for, he was not sure. Feeling some dismay, he turned to The Matriarch, sat on the cushion near her, and waited with his hands tented.

She looked aside at him, "While we wait for…something or nothing, you have been taking Felicity to bed frequently." She let the slightest of smiles escape the side of her lip, "Changed your mind?"

Tristan gestured to himself, dressed in his night clothes, "Nothing untoward is happening. And her elfanoid form is fully clothed." But come to think of it, I never see her put on clothes. Does she shapeshift her skin to have them?

The Matriarch let out a slight laugh, "I see. You just want companionship?"

Tristan nodded as he kept staring at the desk and the paper lying still on top of it. "I enjoy her company. She has grown on me."

"Ah, and you are inexperienced," The Matriarch said with a coy smile.

He felt himself blush, but nodded slightly. He muttered, "I do really like her." His attention was drawn away from the conversation as the parchment began floating off of the table. Tristan stood up immediately and walked over to it – The Matriarch close behind.

Words in an elegant, flowing script were written under his own.

To Tristan Winterbloom,

You have my attention. Such an accord may be struck. But first, you must succeed in convincing me. Give me three arguments – one of each type of rhetoric minus time – and I will discuss further.

Logos, Realm Protector

The Matriarch let out a slight gasp, "You actually got his attention."

Tristan looked at her, "Rhetoric?"

"Oh," she said as she regained her usual demeanor. "It is just the art of persuasion. There are four types of persuasion. An appeal to logic, an appeal to emotion, an appeal to credibility, and an appeal to time."

"I need to come up with one argument of each type to convince it?"

"Correct."

Tristan turned back to the parchment, dipped the quill into the inkwell, and began writing under the text of Logos' reply. He spoke aloud as he wrote.

Appeal to logic: The assassins who seek me are wasting your time and resources by having you constantly look for me. Even when I am somewhere they cannot see. It does not make logical sense to waste your time in such a fashion.

Appeal to emotion: I am scared of dying. I know that Realm Protectors can die, as my grandfather Hurvun Anorox slew one with the help of allies. You, therefore, could also die. Surely fear of death is an emotion you can empathize with?

Appeal to credibility: I am the last lord of the Fey Realm, the last Winterbloom. My word in this Realm is law. Look through my past, and you will see my credibility on full display.

Almost as soon as the message was finished being written, a response from Logos appeared.

These are all rational arguments. I find your reasoning sound. Your logic is sensible, as this group is a thorn in my side; constantly asking me to track your location. Your emotional appeal holds weight, as all things can die and I do, indeed, fear my own demise.

As for your credibility…you have an interesting past. You have tried to take the moral high ground on many occasions, and yet succumbed to your darker side – particularly with the slaying of your father.

But, with all that said, I do believe an accord can be struck. I cannot completely block divination spells from a single individual – it is part of my nature to respond to those requests. But, I can reduce how often I respond to them.

My proposed arrangement is thus: In exchange for what I state I will do above, you will send me essence, just as you have during our conversation, every night you are in the Fey Realm. A payment, of sorts.

What say you?

Tristan looked over at The Matriarch, "Thoughts?"

"Sending him essence is not a huge deal. It comes back, albeit slowly, but with our low population? It would be negligible. Let me just…" she grabbed the quill from Tristan and began scribbling a message.

Tristan peered over her shoulder, and she was working on a specific schema to the whole affair. He stood back, waiting patiently, before she stood up and presented the paper to him. "Logos agrees that we will send it the equivalent of a Tenth Order spell's worth of essence each week. I can cover that expenditure from my own essence crucible."

Tristan nodded, took the parchment, and scanned it – confirming her words. "Thank you," he said softly.

She smiled and brushed a hair out of his face with a soft touch, "You are welcome, Lord Tristan. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to send him the essence requested." She gestured to the Astrologer's Glass, "This may be used to funnel it towards Logos, rather than using ink on parchment." She walked over and peered into the view port.

Tristan headed downstairs, back to his room, and stood at the door. Felicity was still snoozing in her elfanoid form, and her ears were twitching as she mumbled in her sleep further. He let out a light sigh of relief and contentment. Relief, in that he knew he would not be as easy to divine going forward, and content because he was safe and surrounded by people who cared for him.

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