Needing encoragement
I just need some encoragement. So if someone could read this, and tell me that it at least doesn't suck I'd apreciate it. If you could say that you acutaly liked it, I'd really aprecate it but... Anyhow, I need a bit of feedback and encoragement, and I figured if I didn't ask, I wouldn't get it.
It began, as many things do, with a death. I'm lucky I guess, that I got to watch. It would have been harder if I'd had to wonder if it had really happened. But I was there, close enough to see his eyes blink once more as his head was held up by the hair. It would take more than a changeling to live through beheading.
While I think of his execution as the beginning, I suppose it began earlier than that; when my mother died. I can't remember much about my mother, which isn't surprising given how young I was when she ran into the woods with me in her arms. If she hadn't done that, dying alone on the hill, I wouldn't have learned to talk with the fairies, and that was the only thing I really had to offer.
While most people can see fairies, few people can recognize them no matter what form they wear, and fewer still can talk to them.
I am quite blessed in that not only can I do both of those, I can even convince them to help me, for whatever reasons, they have always liked me. If they hadn't I suppose my bones would be resting on that hill with my mother's.
But they did like me and raised me as best they could, and even found a changeling to bring me back into the human world when I got to be too big. Michel even managed to find my father, and being the stalwart type he was, returned me to him.
My father... well he was surprised by me to say the least, and I was surprised by him. Growing up with the faeries, all I really remembered from being a human was my mother talking about God,and since the faeries were my mother, I figured God was my Da. Since fairies don't talk, not really, I would talk to God. He didn't talk back this isn't one of those stories, but it was comforting to have someone to talk to none the less. But back to my father.
My father was nice enough, and he taught me about the human world. He taught me about the revolution that didn't happen, and the rein of 'we could do worse' King Edward. I was born in the colonies you see, but my father went back to England to negotiate with the King and Parliament, and that was when my mother gave birth to me, and ran into the woods to the fairy hill. Wait, let me tell you about King Edward and the revolution that wasn't; it isn't the proudest point in history, and a lot of people over look it.
About oh... fifty years ago, King George realized that England was in a spot of finantal trouble. Rather than do what any good housewife knows to do; that is trim sails, cut expenses and wait it out, he turned his eyes to the colonies. At that point the colonies were just starting to get things set on their own, building up cities, and organizing communities. Loyal subjects paying normal taxes, mostly in coin, because it would be a pain to ship farm animals over the Atlantic for taxes. But King George thought to himself that since they could pay in coin, then they could pay that AND more normal taxes. The people of England wouldn't mind, it would be solving the problem in a way that wouldn't result in more taxes for them, and if the people in the colonies minded, who cared- while they were getting onto their feet, they still couldn't survive without what England sent them. So there wasn't much they could do about it.
Sadly he was right, there wasn't much they could do about it. Some people grumbled, some people groused, and some people were delinquent, but in the end, most of them paid the raised taxes. And if it had stopped when England got out of the financial trouble, it would have been fine. But King George was never one to let a good idea die. He decided to sq ease the colonies for all that they had. After all, what did it matter? The colonies were filled with thieves, and brigands, and religious nut cases. The land over there was filled with sprites, savages and land witches, so no one important would be put out.
No one 'important' was, but many many 'unimportant' people were and the longer it went on the more annoyed they got. Things heated up and protests were made. There was even a few battles. But before the disturbance got to a full fledged war, King George died. His son, Edward at the time fairly young, took over, rescinded most of the ridiculous taxation that his father had put in place and formally apologized to the colonies, offering each of them a seat in the parliament to insure that it would never happen again.
Right, so the reconciliation ended the war before it became a proper war, and each of the colonies got a seat in Parliament, so everyone lived happily ever after, right? Unfortunately, not quite. There were will malcontents in the colonies that wished the revolution had gone through,and that they could be their own country, not simply part of the English empire. One such was my grandfather. He was a great mover in the revolution that wasn't, and my father, a boy of no more than ten did his part as well. Which is probably why in what time he spent with me, my father painted the Resistance in such colorful and glowing colors, when most people regarded it as nothing but a nuisance. But I had hardly spent any time with my father at all before I was alone again. He disappeared, leaving me alone in a house that I had hardly learned my way around, in a town where I knew almost no one. I would have been in much worse shape if Michel hadn't come back to see how I was doing. His return was unexpected, to say the least, and I nearly died of shock when I saw him.
It feels useless to talk about him. Other than Da, he's the only one who ever seemed to actually care about me. I knew God loved me, like a Da should, because if he didn't I would have died. Some days, it was all I could think about. As long as he loved me, that was okay. And he always would. And he'd always be with me. Though the night that Michel was executed, I'd never felt more alone. It felt like God had abandoned me, just like my Father, my mother, the fairies, and now, Michel. I was sixteen years old. I guess I should have been used to being alone, but it still hurt. Michel had been executed for no good reason. A stupid witch hunt. They said that he'd killed someone but that's not true. Michel had never hurt anyone. The king had laws in place to protect people like Michel, but people ignored them, and they were in turn ignored by the law enforcers, who probably agreed with them anyway. There had to be something that I could do. But I didn't have any skills, the only thing I could do is talk to faries.
Compared to the ones in the colonies, the fairys of England were polite, and almost as well mannered as the humans. But they still loved to gossip. They told me of a place where I might meet an agent of the king. When one gets advice from fairies, it's best to follow it, so off I went.
The tavern was smoky, and filled with the stench of unwashed men. As soon as I entered the tavern's fairy set upon me, landing on my shoulder and tugging my hair from it's que. I whispered my question to it. It led me to the back of the room, where no one seemed to look, but many men whispered to each other in hushed, earnest tones. It landed on the wall and tapped a few times, then transformed itself into a disk, and fell to the ground. I bent to pick it up and as I did, the wall in front of me opened. I barely had time to gape before a hand reached out and dragged me into the break.
“You have a message, boy?” growled a voice. I didn't answer until my eyes had adjusted to the dark. The man facing me was dark haired, with a thin beard tracing around his chin in a terribly unfashionable manner. His suit was dark brown with simple black patterns traced on the vest, and no other adornment.
“Nuh... no.” I whispered. “I... I was...”
“How'd you know I was here then?”
“The fairies told me.”
“The fai...” he stared at me for a long moment. “You're serious, aren't you, boy?”
“Yessir.” I replied, heart in my throat. I could tell he wasn't very impressed with me. I was a pretty young man with dark blond hair pulled back into a que. My waist coat had roses embroidered on it, and my neckerchief had lace.
“You sidhe?”
“No!” I opened my eyes as wide as I could, to show their very natural hazel.
“But you talk to fairys. You a changeling, then?”
“Ah, yes, I guess so. I just talk to them, sir. They said to come here.”
“Did they.” He gave me another appraising look. “And why-” he broke off and turned away from me, pressing something to his ear, and swore. “I missed it.”
“Missed what?” I asked.
“They were plotting something and I missed where they were going to meet next.”
“Just now sir? Out there?”
“yes” he growled.
Pursing my lips I whistled soflty, and the fairy that loved the tavern came to me. I explained what happened, and gleefully it answered me.
“The house fey says that they were speaking of the docks, a shipment of tea that will be going to the colonys.” I said. “They're going to put... I'm sorry it didn't know the word, something, into the shipment, and someone is going to get it when it goes into port.”
He stared at me, hard for a long moment. “The fairys told you this?”
“Just the tavern fairy sir. Most older houses attract a fairy that likes them. Some have more than one.”
“What do they call you, boy?”
“John Tyler.” I answered honestly. “But mostly just Tyler.”
“Well young Tyler, why did you listen when the fairys said to come here?”
I opened my mouth and closed it again, then to my deep shame I started crying.
The spy, whose name was Matthew, was a great deal more kind than it appeared at first. He kindly waited for me stop crying, and got me a cup of tea. Then he paitently pulled my story out.
The disappearance of my father, and Michel's return and subsequent execution.
“I remember that.” he said absently. “A few towns over. So he was sidhe then?”
“A changeling.” I said, wiping at my eyes. “He brought me over from the colonyies. Helped me find my father.”
“Changelings aren't very popular.” he pointed out. “Surely he knew that.”
“That's why he wouldn't stay while I got settled. I didn't expect to ever see him again.”
“SO that's why you were weeping, young Tyler, but that doesn't tell me why you sought me out?”
“And I don't know why you were spying on those men.” I returned. “But when the fairys give advice, it's best to follow it, and they led me to you. Something is coming, sir. And I don't think it's good. Da's given me good sense. It'd be foolish of me to ignore it.”
“Huh...” Mathew leaned back and studied me for a long moment. “A boy that speaks to fairys delivers himself to me, and give me dire warnings that something is coming. You're not the only one with sense, boy.” He clasped a hand on my shoulder. “I won't make bones about it, young Tyler, I could use you.”
“So there is something coming?” I asked.
“Yes. There are people who want to separate the colonies, make them a separate kingdom, under a separate rule.”
“I thought that they died out when King George passed on, and King Edward took the throne.” I said, surprised. “There are still revolutionaries?” My father had always spoken of them in the past tense.
“Yes. And not having the numbers to win a war, they seem to be turning to magic to do it.”
“Sorcery?” I asked, shocked. “But... that's hardly reliable- most sorcerers can barely be trusted to raise a wind with any regularity, let alone actually do something that would turn the tide of war.”
“Yes, but they seem sure that it's going to work, and that's got me worried, what do they know that you- or any of us, don't?”
“Do you think something might have changed?”
Mathew stared into the distance for a moment, then into his beer. “How much do you know of your history?”
“Not as much as some, but more than most.” I responded. “I can't think of anything that has to do with the situation.” I blushed. “I'm afraid my father concentrated on more recent history.”
“Ah.” he sighed, and ran a hand over his head. “Well, it's said that long ago, sorcerers could cast spells that would turn the tide of war. Great magics, that would tear apart the very fabric of the world.
“Folk tales-” I said dismissively, and drank my tea.
“Says a boy who's traveled with a changeling, and speaks to fairys.”
I nearly inhaled my drink.
“Touch a nerve did I?” he said dryly as I coughed. “There are stories of the things the greater fairys can do, are those folk tales as well?”
“No, they really can do great magics, but they aren't human, that's different.”
Mathew smiled, a strange mixture of triumph and resignation. “Is it now?” he asked me “Why shouldn't humans learn to do the things that the fairys do? After all, we live side by side with them.”
“But if that's true...” I choked, wiping at my mouth with a handkerchief. “then how did we loose it?”
“Now then, that's a whole range of studies for head much older and wiser than we, with more time on their hands than we have.”
I must have looked as confused as I felt, because he took pity on me.
“No one knows how humans lost the ability to use sorcery, Tyler.”
I thought about this for a long moment.
“Since no one knows how we lost it, there's a chance that we didn't really loose it, we just... forgot.” I thought for a moment longer “And what's forgotten can be remembered!”
“That's right. That's why the rumors are such a real danger.” Thoughtfully he studied my face before continuing. “There are artifacts, that prove that humans one wielded great magics. Some even call the church's miracles magic.”
“I don't see ow people could get those two mixed up.” I muttered. “Church is church and magic is magic.”
“Ah, the world of the young. Such an unshaded world.”
at the amusement in his voice, I began to blush again, and fought it back. He waved his hand, dismissively.
“Don't worry.” Mathew said. “It is refreshing, you'll come to the end of it in your own time. But do you understand the point I'm getting at?”
“You think that the rebels have found one of the artifacts, and made it work?” I hazarded.
“At least one.”
He paused, and took a drink. “They've caught every spy I've set upon them, it's getting harder and harder to get reliable information from the colonies.” He stopped and looked at me. The look was peirceing, like he was staring right through me. I could have sworn he could see right through my soul. It made me break out in a cold sweat. Everyone has secrets they don't want others sharing.
“But you, you can talk to the house spirits, right?”
“Yes.”
“That means you can hear things that you weren't even there to hear. A perfect spy.”
“A... a spy? Me?”
“Well, if you don't like the term; an information collector.” Again, the look like a gimlet. “Someone I can trust.”
“Wha... what makes you think you can trust me.”
“You're transparent, young Tyler.” he chuckled and shook his head. “Full of dreams, ideals and hopes. Not trusting you, would be like not trusting a puppy.”
My face felt as hot as a stove, and I was sure I was as cherry red as a coal.
“That's a good thing.” he said soothingly. “You came to me, wanting to help, and I can give you that opportunity. If you still want to.”
I didn't even need to think about it. Whatever my father said about him, King Edward was the king, and even if they weren't always enforced, he had laws against the murder of innocent changelings. To prevent another death like Michel's, I would work with the misguided light himself.
“I want to prevent war.” I muttered. “If spying will keep them from using some piece of outdated sorcery to wage war on peacefull people, then I'll spy all you want. Aye, and kill too, if that's what it takes.”
“Whoa, whoa.” chuckled Mathew, raising his hands “Such a feirce little puppy you are. No one will know who you are, or for who you're working, so there is no chance you'll have to kill, except to protect yourself.” He smiled. “Are you ready, young Tyler?”
“As ready as I can be.” I responded.
And that was how I entered the king's service.
It began, as many things do, with a death. I'm lucky I guess, that I got to watch. It would have been harder if I'd had to wonder if it had really happened. But I was there, close enough to see his eyes blink once more as his head was held up by the hair. It would take more than a changeling to live through beheading.
While I think of his execution as the beginning, I suppose it began earlier than that; when my mother died. I can't remember much about my mother, which isn't surprising given how young I was when she ran into the woods with me in her arms. If she hadn't done that, dying alone on the hill, I wouldn't have learned to talk with the fairies, and that was the only thing I really had to offer.
While most people can see fairies, few people can recognize them no matter what form they wear, and fewer still can talk to them.
I am quite blessed in that not only can I do both of those, I can even convince them to help me, for whatever reasons, they have always liked me. If they hadn't I suppose my bones would be resting on that hill with my mother's.
But they did like me and raised me as best they could, and even found a changeling to bring me back into the human world when I got to be too big. Michel even managed to find my father, and being the stalwart type he was, returned me to him.
My father... well he was surprised by me to say the least, and I was surprised by him. Growing up with the faeries, all I really remembered from being a human was my mother talking about God,and since the faeries were my mother, I figured God was my Da. Since fairies don't talk, not really, I would talk to God. He didn't talk back this isn't one of those stories, but it was comforting to have someone to talk to none the less. But back to my father.
My father was nice enough, and he taught me about the human world. He taught me about the revolution that didn't happen, and the rein of 'we could do worse' King Edward. I was born in the colonies you see, but my father went back to England to negotiate with the King and Parliament, and that was when my mother gave birth to me, and ran into the woods to the fairy hill. Wait, let me tell you about King Edward and the revolution that wasn't; it isn't the proudest point in history, and a lot of people over look it.
About oh... fifty years ago, King George realized that England was in a spot of finantal trouble. Rather than do what any good housewife knows to do; that is trim sails, cut expenses and wait it out, he turned his eyes to the colonies. At that point the colonies were just starting to get things set on their own, building up cities, and organizing communities. Loyal subjects paying normal taxes, mostly in coin, because it would be a pain to ship farm animals over the Atlantic for taxes. But King George thought to himself that since they could pay in coin, then they could pay that AND more normal taxes. The people of England wouldn't mind, it would be solving the problem in a way that wouldn't result in more taxes for them, and if the people in the colonies minded, who cared- while they were getting onto their feet, they still couldn't survive without what England sent them. So there wasn't much they could do about it.
Sadly he was right, there wasn't much they could do about it. Some people grumbled, some people groused, and some people were delinquent, but in the end, most of them paid the raised taxes. And if it had stopped when England got out of the financial trouble, it would have been fine. But King George was never one to let a good idea die. He decided to sq ease the colonies for all that they had. After all, what did it matter? The colonies were filled with thieves, and brigands, and religious nut cases. The land over there was filled with sprites, savages and land witches, so no one important would be put out.
No one 'important' was, but many many 'unimportant' people were and the longer it went on the more annoyed they got. Things heated up and protests were made. There was even a few battles. But before the disturbance got to a full fledged war, King George died. His son, Edward at the time fairly young, took over, rescinded most of the ridiculous taxation that his father had put in place and formally apologized to the colonies, offering each of them a seat in the parliament to insure that it would never happen again.
Right, so the reconciliation ended the war before it became a proper war, and each of the colonies got a seat in Parliament, so everyone lived happily ever after, right? Unfortunately, not quite. There were will malcontents in the colonies that wished the revolution had gone through,and that they could be their own country, not simply part of the English empire. One such was my grandfather. He was a great mover in the revolution that wasn't, and my father, a boy of no more than ten did his part as well. Which is probably why in what time he spent with me, my father painted the Resistance in such colorful and glowing colors, when most people regarded it as nothing but a nuisance. But I had hardly spent any time with my father at all before I was alone again. He disappeared, leaving me alone in a house that I had hardly learned my way around, in a town where I knew almost no one. I would have been in much worse shape if Michel hadn't come back to see how I was doing. His return was unexpected, to say the least, and I nearly died of shock when I saw him.
It feels useless to talk about him. Other than Da, he's the only one who ever seemed to actually care about me. I knew God loved me, like a Da should, because if he didn't I would have died. Some days, it was all I could think about. As long as he loved me, that was okay. And he always would. And he'd always be with me. Though the night that Michel was executed, I'd never felt more alone. It felt like God had abandoned me, just like my Father, my mother, the fairies, and now, Michel. I was sixteen years old. I guess I should have been used to being alone, but it still hurt. Michel had been executed for no good reason. A stupid witch hunt. They said that he'd killed someone but that's not true. Michel had never hurt anyone. The king had laws in place to protect people like Michel, but people ignored them, and they were in turn ignored by the law enforcers, who probably agreed with them anyway. There had to be something that I could do. But I didn't have any skills, the only thing I could do is talk to faries.
Compared to the ones in the colonies, the fairys of England were polite, and almost as well mannered as the humans. But they still loved to gossip. They told me of a place where I might meet an agent of the king. When one gets advice from fairies, it's best to follow it, so off I went.
The tavern was smoky, and filled with the stench of unwashed men. As soon as I entered the tavern's fairy set upon me, landing on my shoulder and tugging my hair from it's que. I whispered my question to it. It led me to the back of the room, where no one seemed to look, but many men whispered to each other in hushed, earnest tones. It landed on the wall and tapped a few times, then transformed itself into a disk, and fell to the ground. I bent to pick it up and as I did, the wall in front of me opened. I barely had time to gape before a hand reached out and dragged me into the break.
“You have a message, boy?” growled a voice. I didn't answer until my eyes had adjusted to the dark. The man facing me was dark haired, with a thin beard tracing around his chin in a terribly unfashionable manner. His suit was dark brown with simple black patterns traced on the vest, and no other adornment.
“Nuh... no.” I whispered. “I... I was...”
“How'd you know I was here then?”
“The fairies told me.”
“The fai...” he stared at me for a long moment. “You're serious, aren't you, boy?”
“Yessir.” I replied, heart in my throat. I could tell he wasn't very impressed with me. I was a pretty young man with dark blond hair pulled back into a que. My waist coat had roses embroidered on it, and my neckerchief had lace.
“You sidhe?”
“No!” I opened my eyes as wide as I could, to show their very natural hazel.
“But you talk to fairys. You a changeling, then?”
“Ah, yes, I guess so. I just talk to them, sir. They said to come here.”
“Did they.” He gave me another appraising look. “And why-” he broke off and turned away from me, pressing something to his ear, and swore. “I missed it.”
“Missed what?” I asked.
“They were plotting something and I missed where they were going to meet next.”
“Just now sir? Out there?”
“yes” he growled.
Pursing my lips I whistled soflty, and the fairy that loved the tavern came to me. I explained what happened, and gleefully it answered me.
“The house fey says that they were speaking of the docks, a shipment of tea that will be going to the colonys.” I said. “They're going to put... I'm sorry it didn't know the word, something, into the shipment, and someone is going to get it when it goes into port.”
He stared at me, hard for a long moment. “The fairys told you this?”
“Just the tavern fairy sir. Most older houses attract a fairy that likes them. Some have more than one.”
“What do they call you, boy?”
“John Tyler.” I answered honestly. “But mostly just Tyler.”
“Well young Tyler, why did you listen when the fairys said to come here?”
I opened my mouth and closed it again, then to my deep shame I started crying.
The spy, whose name was Matthew, was a great deal more kind than it appeared at first. He kindly waited for me stop crying, and got me a cup of tea. Then he paitently pulled my story out.
The disappearance of my father, and Michel's return and subsequent execution.
“I remember that.” he said absently. “A few towns over. So he was sidhe then?”
“A changeling.” I said, wiping at my eyes. “He brought me over from the colonyies. Helped me find my father.”
“Changelings aren't very popular.” he pointed out. “Surely he knew that.”
“That's why he wouldn't stay while I got settled. I didn't expect to ever see him again.”
“SO that's why you were weeping, young Tyler, but that doesn't tell me why you sought me out?”
“And I don't know why you were spying on those men.” I returned. “But when the fairys give advice, it's best to follow it, and they led me to you. Something is coming, sir. And I don't think it's good. Da's given me good sense. It'd be foolish of me to ignore it.”
“Huh...” Mathew leaned back and studied me for a long moment. “A boy that speaks to fairys delivers himself to me, and give me dire warnings that something is coming. You're not the only one with sense, boy.” He clasped a hand on my shoulder. “I won't make bones about it, young Tyler, I could use you.”
“So there is something coming?” I asked.
“Yes. There are people who want to separate the colonies, make them a separate kingdom, under a separate rule.”
“I thought that they died out when King George passed on, and King Edward took the throne.” I said, surprised. “There are still revolutionaries?” My father had always spoken of them in the past tense.
“Yes. And not having the numbers to win a war, they seem to be turning to magic to do it.”
“Sorcery?” I asked, shocked. “But... that's hardly reliable- most sorcerers can barely be trusted to raise a wind with any regularity, let alone actually do something that would turn the tide of war.”
“Yes, but they seem sure that it's going to work, and that's got me worried, what do they know that you- or any of us, don't?”
“Do you think something might have changed?”
Mathew stared into the distance for a moment, then into his beer. “How much do you know of your history?”
“Not as much as some, but more than most.” I responded. “I can't think of anything that has to do with the situation.” I blushed. “I'm afraid my father concentrated on more recent history.”
“Ah.” he sighed, and ran a hand over his head. “Well, it's said that long ago, sorcerers could cast spells that would turn the tide of war. Great magics, that would tear apart the very fabric of the world.
“Folk tales-” I said dismissively, and drank my tea.
“Says a boy who's traveled with a changeling, and speaks to fairys.”
I nearly inhaled my drink.
“Touch a nerve did I?” he said dryly as I coughed. “There are stories of the things the greater fairys can do, are those folk tales as well?”
“No, they really can do great magics, but they aren't human, that's different.”
Mathew smiled, a strange mixture of triumph and resignation. “Is it now?” he asked me “Why shouldn't humans learn to do the things that the fairys do? After all, we live side by side with them.”
“But if that's true...” I choked, wiping at my mouth with a handkerchief. “then how did we loose it?”
“Now then, that's a whole range of studies for head much older and wiser than we, with more time on their hands than we have.”
I must have looked as confused as I felt, because he took pity on me.
“No one knows how humans lost the ability to use sorcery, Tyler.”
I thought about this for a long moment.
“Since no one knows how we lost it, there's a chance that we didn't really loose it, we just... forgot.” I thought for a moment longer “And what's forgotten can be remembered!”
“That's right. That's why the rumors are such a real danger.” Thoughtfully he studied my face before continuing. “There are artifacts, that prove that humans one wielded great magics. Some even call the church's miracles magic.”
“I don't see ow people could get those two mixed up.” I muttered. “Church is church and magic is magic.”
“Ah, the world of the young. Such an unshaded world.”
at the amusement in his voice, I began to blush again, and fought it back. He waved his hand, dismissively.
“Don't worry.” Mathew said. “It is refreshing, you'll come to the end of it in your own time. But do you understand the point I'm getting at?”
“You think that the rebels have found one of the artifacts, and made it work?” I hazarded.
“At least one.”
He paused, and took a drink. “They've caught every spy I've set upon them, it's getting harder and harder to get reliable information from the colonies.” He stopped and looked at me. The look was peirceing, like he was staring right through me. I could have sworn he could see right through my soul. It made me break out in a cold sweat. Everyone has secrets they don't want others sharing.
“But you, you can talk to the house spirits, right?”
“Yes.”
“That means you can hear things that you weren't even there to hear. A perfect spy.”
“A... a spy? Me?”
“Well, if you don't like the term; an information collector.” Again, the look like a gimlet. “Someone I can trust.”
“Wha... what makes you think you can trust me.”
“You're transparent, young Tyler.” he chuckled and shook his head. “Full of dreams, ideals and hopes. Not trusting you, would be like not trusting a puppy.”
My face felt as hot as a stove, and I was sure I was as cherry red as a coal.
“That's a good thing.” he said soothingly. “You came to me, wanting to help, and I can give you that opportunity. If you still want to.”
I didn't even need to think about it. Whatever my father said about him, King Edward was the king, and even if they weren't always enforced, he had laws against the murder of innocent changelings. To prevent another death like Michel's, I would work with the misguided light himself.
“I want to prevent war.” I muttered. “If spying will keep them from using some piece of outdated sorcery to wage war on peacefull people, then I'll spy all you want. Aye, and kill too, if that's what it takes.”
“Whoa, whoa.” chuckled Mathew, raising his hands “Such a feirce little puppy you are. No one will know who you are, or for who you're working, so there is no chance you'll have to kill, except to protect yourself.” He smiled. “Are you ready, young Tyler?”
“As ready as I can be.” I responded.
And that was how I entered the king's service.