Secret lessons

A story inspired on Changeling: the Dreaming, the RPG by Jorge Arredondo

Some years ago, back in the eighties in the old country and cradle of Eire, a group of noble gwydion knights decided that an unseelie freehold near their barony had been an offence for too long, and prepared for a war march against its commoner inhabitants.

Before they entered the place, an empty and dead place in the woods near to a small town, they were asked to stop on their intentions by a mere mortal. Who was that mortal, what was he doing there, and how did he, a lowly human, know their intentions and dare to ask them to leave?

"Who are you?" asked the oldest knight "and how do you know what we've came to do here?"

"It's easy to know when you're old but your eyes and ears are still young, sir" he replied. "I must insist in my request, knights. You must return to your barony before the hostilities begin".

"I've said, who are you to ask us to leave, mortal!" he asked again, raising his mighty voice as the terrible awe of sidhe begun to awake following his wrath.

"I'm just a watcher, sir, and you may not pass".

"Do you dare to order us!? Do you know who are we, human?"

"I do, indeed. though you don't know who am I, sir. The very air proclaims your presence and the winds carries your glory, the Shining Host raids again. But you may not pass".

"Run now that you're alive, mortal, or my blade shall bite your very soul". He was now painful to behold, pure beauty and fury in one word, an angel of pure glamour: sidhe.

"Mortal I may be, and older than you all together. And the years have brought me wisdom and knowledge. Thus I know you can't win this fight. You may try, nevertheless, but the prize will be high".

The knights looked at the mortal, surprised. Above all, surprised of a mortal who both could see them for what they really were, and weren't cowering in fear. And surprised of its arrogance in presence of the mighty sidhe.

The oldest knight unsheated his sword "I shall make the earth taste your blood to prove your mistake, mortal".

"I knew it couldn't be otherwise, sir" he replied and sighed, as if he had wanted badly there could be other resort to violence. He covered his face with his hands and pulled off the mask of autumn.

His glamour was strong, and in fact older and more powerful than any of the sidhe had thought. How had he managed to hide it so well, it would be hard to guess, but he was fae. He looked older in his fae seeming, with wrinkles on his tanned skin and wrinkles on his brown hair. Thinner and shorter than his mortal half, he grew animal ears and some kind of bushy tail. He was unarmored, but had a longsword hanging on his belt. He unsheated it slowly.

"I'm Siamosel, of the Tylwyth Teg, and you may not pass" he said.

The sidhe were astonished at first, confused at the show of glamour hidden behind the mask of banality, then they were enraged at what they thought was a pooka.

"What kind of foul magic is this, pooka! I shall have your head for your insolence, that will be your last prank!!!".

"You may not win, because you don't learn from what you do. You'll lose the fight even if you kill me, because I learn from everything I do, from mortal deeds to faerie exploits, no matter if I succeed or fail. No wall nor blindfold nor arrogance hides my eyes from the truth. And you may not pass, because you can't fight against yourselves, the Dreaming itself has decreed no more fighting between its sons and daugthers will be go unpunished. Thus I've spoken, I'm Siamosel, of the Tylwyth Teg, and you shall not pass".

And his glamour grew to levels of power unseen in the world for years, for he was one of the siochain, and his power was old and deep.

He was struck with both the fires of pyretics and primal, but he was unscathed because his mind and decission was cold and clear. He left the firestorm with a mere burns on his clothes, taking the knights off guard and knocking down senseless two of them with two quick strikes of the blunt side of his sword.

Then holly strikes fell over him, but to one who is one with the Dreaming, primal energies were just a cycle of death and rebirth so he didn't fell. But another knight fell unconscious down when he hit him on the nape with the hilt of his sword.

Then Sovereign cantrips tried to bend his will but it was stronger than a troll's, forged with siochain willpower, unbreakable in his quest for the Dreaming. He disarmed a knight and with a well placed hit on his chin he joined the other three unconscious knights.

Only the older knight was still on the fight, surprised of the strange fae's abilities and powers, but his wrath was like a red hot iron, searing and blinding, Gwydion's curse made him fight like a berserker. But his wrath only helped him to hurt the siochian lightly, while at the same time he dismounted his armor plate by plate. And when he had no more armor left, Siamosel put him to sleep with a casual wave of his hand.

And there he was, surrounded by five unconscious sidhe, senseless though relatively unscathed, for he didn't like violence and didn't want to punish those who thought different than him.

Someone else came. The commoners of the unseelie freehold had heard the fight and had came armed for war. Their leader, a knightmare of an unseelie redcap, saw the sidhe and laughed "We're just in time for dinner, I see! Good work, pooka, I'd say, wonderful work! Who are you, beater of sidhe?"

Siamosel sighed again and turned round to face the commoners. "I am Siamosel of the Tylwyth Teg, and you shall not harm them".

"There are thirteen of us, will you dare to fight us all together, little snack?" he snorted.

"I'd rather prefer not, it will be an unfair fight. Perhaps if you were thirty instead of just thirteen... but go ahead, I know we'll have to fight, anyway. I just hope you'll learn something today..."

.....

Silence was the only thing which was heard in that place for quite a long time. All the fey who had come there that day were sent back to where they came, just barely hurt, their memories a hazy scene of power and a strange feeling of having done something wrong.

Who knows, perhaps they learnt something. Siamosel did.

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