Last Words chapter 65 (Patreon)

I got bored of Connie’s training fast. It was fun to watch her use her new skill at first. Amazing even. Seeing real earth magic at work was awesome, but the more I watched it, the more I began to consider my own options in that regard.

Eventually, I excused myself and went upstairs, determined to find some way to apply her discovery, or mine, in a way, to my power.

Of course, there was the obvious. Demons. I’d used that particular ruse myself not too long ago, and while I was sorely tempted to make a trip down to the crossroads, I wasn’t a COMPLETE idiot. Transactions with demons never went well for the transactor, and I couldn’t assume that my speaker abilities would protect me.

I mean sure, I could start with minor imps and let my skill grind up enough to probably give me some measure of protection, but even so, it just seemed like a bad decision. Demons were off the table.

But demons weren’t the only magical creatures that conducted transactions. There were other things, older things. I probably wasn’t going to come out ahead against, say, a Djinn, but if my word COULD give me access to real supernatural forces from earth, I had other options. Options I knew well. Ones I grew up hearing stories about.

My choice to call myself Balor in my demon identity hadn’t been random. I’d grown up on stories of Irish myth, of legends of the Fomor and the Fae. And Fae were particularly well known for making BARGAINS.

Fae Bargains were a type of transaction, and one I hadn’t received a skill for yet. Could I do what Connie had done and use my skill as a potential anchor to practice real magic? I assumed it would probably require mana, the same way hers did, but that didn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.

Obviously, I’d need to be careful. But unlike demons, the Fae weren’t a monolithically shitty species. There were some few relatively peaceful Fae. The kind ones were generally pretty weak, but that suited me fine. I was assuming they would cost less mana to summon. If I could summon them at all. I was making a lot of assumptions here, based on fairly disparate pieces of ‘evidence’ at that.

But despite that, I felt that I COULD do this. My word could make this happen. Speakers could alter reality, we were baby GODS. I mean, I mean, I wasn’t sure I could create creatures from nothing, but I also wasn’t sure I’d have to. Wordworlds existed, gods existed, and chances were good a lot of OTHER things also existed. Why not Fae?

I looked around the room. I was in a house, a small and relatively cozy one. I had options here. I could test this out.

Looking around, I found the hearth. The most peaceful and minor Fae I was aware of could be summoned to a home pretty easily. You just needed to supply a small bowl of cream. Which, in itself, was a transaction. Payment for appearance.

With a slight flicker of my attention, I purchased a small dish full of the best cream I could think of, spending a full five bucks on the combination, then stepped over to set it down next to the fireplace. Stepping back, I considered how to do this. I cleared my throat. “Ok, well, I invite you into my home,” I said slowly. “I offer you this cream in invitation and extend my hospitality. I offer this bargain, thrice I say and done.”

I felt something shift. Something fundamental.

Bargain: One bowl of cream for safe passage and conversation. Accept?

I gaped. That was…it worked. It had WORKED. That was a new skill. My fourth real skill. It felt right, too. Like the missing piece. Selling and buying, contracts, those were for money and or services. But bargains were an older type of transaction even than contracts. Barter, exchange. They were a fundamental aspect of my word. And THIS use of them…it felt right. It felt like what I was supposed to do. I accepted.

There was no real action involved, at least not for me. When I accepted, I felt mana drain from my body, just one point, and then, suddenly, there he was.

A small man sat on the hearth, his face in the bowl as he lapped up the cream. He looked old and worn, covered in hair like a sasquatch but MUCH smaller. He wore a tattered waistcoat and a pair of canvas pants.

The only part of him that wasn’t shabby or ragged were his shoes. A magnificent pair of expertly crafted leather shoes with shiny silver buckles on them. I knew it was silver, despite it just being metal colored, because steel contained iron, and the Fae hated iron. They did NOT, however, hate silver. In fact, they adored it. ‘The metal of the moon is friend to the Fae’, my mother had told me once as a child.

And that mattered here. Because I was sure he’d made those himself. Brownies were, after all, expert cobblers.

He was so busy slurping down the bowl of cream that it took him a moment to notice me. When he did, he froze, looking up at me in shock and horror. “You…you can see me?” he squeaked in alarm. He closed his eyes quickly, shutting them tight…and then just sat there.

I think he was expecting something to happen, but it obviously didn’t. He peeked open one eye to make sure, his expression crumbling when he realized he was still there. “What have you done?” he demanded. “Why am I still here?” He looked a little panicked, but I wasn’t planning to hurt him, obviously.

“Because we have a bargain to strike,” I said bluntly. “And because of the one we already struck. I offered that cream in exchange for questions answered as well as this meeting. You’ve only lived up to half. You didn’t agree to that?”

He scoffed. “I don’t make the bargain, fool. I abide by the terms of hospitality as laid down. But you shouldn’t be able to make it either. Come to think of it, where exactly am I?” He looked around curiously. “Reminds me of the old world, I should think. But houses like this aren’t the fashion anymore. Where have you brought me?”

That was interesting. My Fae Bargain skill let me tweak the terms of an implicit deal he wasn’t aware of? I doubted that was going to be a consistent thing, it was probably based on his relative strength, but still. That was a fascinating side effect.

Sadly, I didn’t have time to focus on it, because I needed to answer the latter question, and I was a bit worried how he’d react. “I brought you to a different world,” I told him bluntly. Lying to the Fae is never a smart idea. While he might get pissed at me for being up front, there was a chance he might try to kill me if I lied.

To my surprise, he didn’t seem too unsettled by that news. “Another world, really?” he asked with interest as he looked around. “Not one I’ve been too before, to be sure. I can feel the magic in the air. Dense and sweet. What a lovely place.”

“You can feel that?” I asked quickly. “So you’ve felt it before? Does that mean there used to be magic back on earth?”

“Of course,” he scoffed. “Otherwise how would I have been there? Tir na Nog isn’t exactly in your backyard. Or at least, I assume as much. Calling the Fae from our summerlands requires power, boyo. You have that, I can feel it. Not much, mind, but some. It sits in you odd. Like it’s part of your bones.”

He could sense my mana body. Fascinating. And learning about magic back home was just as interesting. That had been the point of all this, after all.

“So how does this work?” I asked him, after a moment to collect my thoughts. “I know not to give you orders. But we can make another Bargain, right? Seems like you’re out of cream to drink. Maybe you’d like some more.”

He scoffed, but his eyes flicked to the saucer, not empty, and he licked his wrinkled lips. “Maybe,” he admitted. “Depends what exactly you’d be wantin’.”

I considered what was happening. Connie was downstairs looking for the shard, but even if she found it there would only be a radius. Her scrying would be damned useful later on, but expecting her to level it enough to be functional in the short term seemed naive. If, however, I had a bunch of magical creatures to search that ten mile radius she’d already identified…that might be a different story.

“What if I wanted you to find something?” I asked. “Something small and valuable.”

Fae couldn’t lie, so if I got a promise to turn it over, he wouldn’t be able to run off with the shard. As for finding it…well, Brownies were made for those kinds of chores.

“Just me?” he said suspiciously.

Which was fair. Because I definitely didn’t just want him helping. “Or more if you can swing it,” I confirmed. “But the rate stays the same. A bowl of high quality cream. British double cream, maybe. Your choice. But I’ll supply it for anyone you bring. And an extra bowl for you for each of them who come along.”

His eyes narrowed greedily, and I saw him mull over the proposal before finally, eventually, nodding. “Fine. But we need more information. And don’t think about not following through. You wouldn’t like to see a Brownie if you go back on a deal.”

I nodded solemnly. “I believe you. And you can believe me when I saw I want this to be the beginning of a fruitful relationship. Speaking of which, what do I call you? I can’t just say ‘hey brownie’, now can I?” I very carefully did not ask for his name, because I knew he wouldn’t give it to me. Fae are finnicky about names.

Clearly, he knew why I’d phrased it that way. I caught his suspicious glare as he considered how much to say and tried not to chuckle, mostly managing to succeed. “Bog,” he said eventually. “Bog Donahue. You can call me that.”

He did not, I noticed, claim it was his name. Or a name at all. But at least I had something to call him now. “So, you’re willing to take the job?” I asked again. “Bowls of cream to head to a certain place and look for something?” I had to be sure. I was positive Brownies would be able to A: find that shard way faster than us, and B: get in and out without being noticed. They were stealthy when they wanted to be.

Bog nodded quickly. “Yes, yes,” he clarified. “A bowl for me and another for each Brownie I bring with. Plus a bowl for each of them. We have a deal.”

Nodding slowly, I turned and walked to the basement door. “Alright,” I said with a long sigh. “That’ll work. I’ll need you to come down and meet my friends. My friend Connie is the one who knows where you’re supposed to be going.”

He frowned. “I suppose if you’re paying so much I’ll survive some socializing,” he said sourly. “But I don’t like it. You’re on thin ice, boyo.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said with a laugh, escorting him down the steps to meet with Connie and Ron. I had to admit, I was looking forward to seeing their reactions to our new houseguest. Meanwhile, I checked my stats, pleased to see my new skill had already leveled twice from that negotiation. I was sure it would slow down, but for now I was happy to ride the lightning through the early ranks, it might even smooth my path to Iron grade. It was too early to think of that though. For now, we had to survive this mess. Here was hoping Bog could help with that.