[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: The Great Forest]

[Elfame]

Grimm watched in silence as Cobweb drained yet another wooden mug, the liquid disappearing down her throat in a handful of aggressive gulps. She slammed the mug onto the table with a dull thud, the sound barely registering over the noise of the tavern. Grimm's gaze drifted—not to her face, but to the cluttered tabletop. At least a dozen empty mugs lay scattered there, some tipped on their sides, others stacked haphazardly.

Puck hovered nearby, sagging slightly. Cobweb, infuriatingly, didn't look even remotely drunk.

"Is the ale really that good here?" Puck asked at last, genuine confusion in her voice.

Cobweb wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a small, unapologetic burp. "Tastes like piss," she said flatly. "I'd know."

Puck blinked. "…Then why are you drinking it?"

Cobweb waved a dismissive hand. "To feel something."

Grimm leaned back in his chair, arms folding slowly across his chest. "You don't appear to be feeling intoxicated."

"I'm getting there," Cobweb replied without looking at him. "Anyway—let's stop circling. We want this to be mutually beneficial, right?"

Grimm inclined his head slightly.

"Well," she continued, gesturing vaguely around them, "you've seen Elfame now. The forest. The people. This tavern, even. You should have a sense of what kind of place this is."

Grimm's gaze drifted outward again. Fairies of wildly different forms laughed, argued, drank and hovered—coexisting in noisy, colorful disorder. Despite the differences, there was a strange cohesion to it all.

"Elfame is peaceful," Cobweb said. "We keep to ourselves. We don't care much about what humans do."

"You don't sound pleased," Grimm observed.

Cobweb snorted. "I'm not. You said you're a commander. Then you know how exhausting it is to keep things running." She paused, jaw tightening. "Especially when you're not liked."

"Your soldiers seemed loyal," Grimm said.

"They're loyal because they're idiots," she muttered. "Everyone else just resents me more the harder I enforce rules."

Puck shifted. "You're the one who enforced the law against mingling with humans, right?"

Cobweb's eye slid to her. "Yes. The Queen opened those ties. That was naïve. Humans exploit what they don't understand—and they already have." Her voice lowered. "I don't agree with everything she did. But she's necessary. And now she's gone."

Puck froze. "I thought she was searching for Albion."

"We haven't heard from her since," Cobweb informed. "I don't need to tell you just how troublesome it would be if it were known Elfame was without a Queen. Our military might is nothing to scoff at, but our would-be enemies make us look like wailing children."

"Would humans really attack us… if they discovered us?" Puck asked quietly.

Cobweb didn't answer right away. She stared into her mug, the surface of the drink barely rippling as if even it knew better than to disturb anything. When she finally spoke, her voice was stripped of its earlier sharpness.

"We fairies are a unique race," she said. Not proudly, merely matter-of-factly. "Not just in form. In our very function as beings. Our magic is different—how it behaves, how it's shaped." Her fingers tightened around the wood. "Especially in how we use the Thaumatarchic Pyramid."

Grimm tilted his head a fraction. "The Thaumatarchic Pyramid?"

Cobweb glanced at him, then sighed through her nose. "Right. Of course." She rolled her wrist lazily. "That's… the formal term. A simpler way to put it would be the structure of magic itself. The framework everything else hangs on."

"Curious," Grimm said, his voice attentive. "The magical theory I studied spoke only of a more basic model. Branches of magic. Effects. Applications." A pause. "Nothing too layered."

Cobweb scoffed, a sharp sound. "It is layered. Magic's hardly that simplistic, doesn't matter which realm." She leaned back, eye narrowing slightly. "Still… if I expect you to be useful, you'll need at least the bare minimum." Her tone hardened. "So listen."

Grimm inclined his head, wordless.

"First," Cobweb said, raising a finger, "Forma. The way magic is expressed. Gestures. Symbols. Spoken language. Emotions. Glyphs. Even music, in some places." Her gaze turned briefly around the tavern. "Every realm manifests Forma differently."

"I see," Grimm murmured. "That aligns with what I know." He paused, then added more quietly, almost to himself, "Though I can't use magic, I studied sorcerers extensively. Still I assumed there were further structures."

"Obviously," Cobweb snapped. "So don't interrupt me, fool." She exhaled, regaining her focus. "Second is Ratio. The internal rules of the system. The language magic obeys. Costs and exchange." She tapped her chest once. "Personal mana. Lifeforce. Or external channels—leylines, artifacts or conduits." Her finger lifted again. "Third: Voluntas. Intent and self-image. The user's psychospiritual resonance. What you believe you are matters more than you think."

Grimm remained still, listening.

"And last," Cobweb said, voice dropping, "Nexum. The bond between concept and reality. The moment a spell becomes real. It's what latches onto the world's underlying logic—its source, if you like—and forces it to respond."

Grimm raised a gauntleted hand, tapping the chin of his helm thoughtfully. "So akin to cause and effect. But not entirely."

"Close enough," Cobweb allowed. "Now you're asking the right question." Her eye met his. "What makes fairies special."

"Yes," Grimm said. "That."

"How we exploit the Pyramid," she answered. "We bend its rules. Jinxes fueled by lifeforce without losing lifespan. Costs that should exist… don't." Her mouth twisted. "We don't play fair. And that's exactly why others want us dissected, studied or controlled."

She fell silent after that.

Grimm understood. Trust withheld, knowledge rationed. He found no fault in it.

("Thaumatarchic Pyramid…") he thought. ("I've never heard the term, yet its foundations mirror the theories I know.")

He wanted to ask more. Many more questions. But the way Cobweb's posture closed told him everything he needed to know.

She wasn't a teacher.

Still there was one thing left he intended to ask.

"So," Grimm said at last, breaking the lull that had settled between them, "what is it you want from me—specifically?"

Cobweb didn't hesitate. Her response came sharp as though the answer should have been self-evident from the moment they met. "It should be obvious by now," she said. "I want you to help find the Queen."

Grimm gave a slow nod, absorbing that without protest. "I see." After a brief pause, his tone shifted—more contemplative than anything. "Though you haven't forgotten that this realm is foreign to me, yes? I recognize the terrain, the logic of power perhaps, but not the world itself." He tilted his head slightly. "Language seems to be the only constant. Which, now that I think about it… is strange."

Cobweb waved a hand dismissively. "You can thank the God of Navigation for that." She leaned back. "Makes it easier to move through existence if you don't trip over words every step of the way. There's a universal tongue, and then there are local dialects—like ours." Her eye shifted sideways, landing squarely on Puck. "And this one can act as your guide."

Puck blinked. Once. Then pointed at herself. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Cobweb replied flatly. "You're not exactly worldly, but you've got general knowledge. Enough to keep him from walking into trouble blindly." A beat. "And don't pretend you aren't curious about what's beyond this place."

"I—I am," Puck admitted, her voice faltering just slightly. She glanced toward Grimm, studying the silence about him. ("But traveling with someone this unpredictable…") The thought lingered. ("Is that even safe?")

Cobweb snorted. "You weren't my first choice," she added bluntly. "But if something goes wrong, I'm hardly losing anyone irreplaceable."

Puck shot her a dry, unimpressed stare.

("She could at least keep her distaste to herself,"), Puck sighed inwardly. Still, the thought refused to leave her. Beyond the annoyance, beyond the insult, there was something else stirring—curiosity. ("And this isn't exactly a casual opportunity either…")

"While this small fool thinks," Cobweb continued, "I'll tell you what's actually expected of you." Her single eye narrowed slightly, the edge of irritation giving way. "Our Queen was searching for Albion. You've already heard that much."

Grimm inclined his head as his voice came probing. "Right. But why?"

Cobweb exhaled through her nose, as if the explanation tasted bitter. "Because the other dragon—Ddraig—decided that stirring chaos in our realm was an acceptable pastime. That's putting it lightly." She paused, choosing her words with care. "Many here could face him in raw power. That was never the issue. The problem is how he fights. He adapts. Learns. Evolves mid-conflict. Most who challenge him only teach him how to kill them better."

Grimm remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"Albion was different," Cobweb went on. "He could keep pace with that growth. Answer change with change." Her gaze hardened. "The Queen thought she could play the hero—seek Albion out, stand beside him, and help bring Ddraig down before he became something worse."

"I see," Grimm said quietly. "So Albion is the true objective."

"Yes." Cobweb nodded once. "And as his kin, you might draw his attention where others cannot."

Grimm considered that, then spoke evenly. "I was planning to call for one of my own as well. A comrade—similar to me. If Albion hears, perhaps she will too."

Cobweb's brow arched. "There's someone else like you here?"

"I believe so," Grimm replied. "She's my lieutenant. She was with me when I was taken."

Cobweb clicked her tongue, rising from her seat. "This realm is vast. Finding anyone won't be easy." She turned slightly, already preparing to move. "All the more reason not to waste time. Come on. The sooner you start, the sooner this ends."

Grimm stood with her, saying nothing.

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