While I sit pondering what I just learned from the Cosmic System, I hear shouting coming from behind me. I look back to see a large number of people passing by the end of the alley. The mass of people shout, “See the truth - Hear the truth - Speak the truth” while holding signs that say things like, “Believe your eyes,” “Trust your ears,” and “Ordinary, not extraordinary!”

I flinch when something creaks in front of me. My head swings forward, discovering light leaking from a hatch built into the roof of the RV. The hatch swings open, sending some snow flying to the ground. Out pokes Lorcan’s head. Facing away from me, he stares out into the dark alley and then yawns. He lowers himself back into the RV, shutting the hatch.

‘I suppose the crowds woke him, but he must still be drowsy because he was staring in the wrong direction… I think.’ I look back once more, observing the crowds walk through the frigid, snowy night, one after another, chanting loudly. It takes nearly fifteen minutes for the crowd to march past the edge of the alley. With the masses gone, my gaze drifts forward once more. ‘I presume this is the type of unrest Terra spoke of in the past. It must be frustrating to hear denial from the royalty. People can be naive, but they are only so gullible. Most people that is; some have nary any limit to their gullibility.’

Just as I am about to experiment with my Mana Crunch, the RV’s hatch creaks open once more and someone pokes their head out. “Hey, Fairy, seems I found you,” a man says.

Expecting Lorcan, I recoil and unravel the cattail but stop upon noticing it is a familiar face poking up from the RV’s hatch. This time it is not Lorcan, but rather Leo, the noble’s guard. “Relax, it’s me. I just came here to give Galtry the bag of evidence we collected on you.”

‘The dullard, I prefer to not be seen in my haze form. It merely makes things complicated. Did Lorcan tell him I was up here? Nay, Lorcan did not even see me.’

Readjusting, I tuck my legs beneath me and float a tad forward, glaring at Leo. My eyes reflect off his face and the snow-cloaked surface of the RV.

It seems he could not see me very well because his expression freezes upon me moving a tad closer. His eyes run up my body, scrutinizing me. “Wow, are you really a fairy,” he murmurs.

‘Another fopdoodle; I am aware my shoulders are exposed; there is naught I may do!’ I narrow my gaze, wrap the cattail around my shoulders to cover them. ‘Mayhaps I should give him a taste of the sable haze on this occasion!’

He blinks. “I-I wasn’t...” He coughs and raises his arm, revealing he is carrying my whiteboard. “I’m just here to talk. The big guy with red-hair is going through the stuff, so I took the opportunity to climb up here.”

‘Ah. It was not the crowd that woke Lorcan; he must have been waiting on Leo and was looking for him.’ I peer at the front of the RV, where the door is located. ‘I should not have been snuck up on like that. I was too distracted. He better not try to steal my whiteboard; I shall fight him.’

Tossing the whiteboard toward me, it lands a couple feet short of reaching me. He climbs up what must be a ladder, wipes some snow from the RV’s roof.

His eyes glance around clumsily until he finally attempts to change the mood. “Weird seeing protestors so late, huh? Some twenty-four-hour march or something. Didn’t believe the whole system thing myself until after I got ripped apart in the tutorial thing,” he says, shivering with a chuckle. “Being stabbed and burned was not fun...”

I raise one of my eyelids, making a questioning expression. ‘Stabbed and burned in the tutorial? He must mean the tutorial’s battle portion; I did not have to do that part, thank the lord.’

Taking a seat five or so feet away, he sighs. “Jessica told me about the red…” He pauses and then shrugs. “I don’t know, fairy, I guess. The Red fairy that looks like you.”

I take the whiteboard, squint at Leo once more, and write, “Aye, I do not wish to speak for long. What is this about?”

“Jessica is worried about Red and I’m worried about Jessica.”

‘Wait, Jessica is worried about Red? That is just my vermillion form.’ Erasing, I use my marker to write, “What doth thou mean, worried about Red?”

“Jessica thinks you did something to Red and stole her suit. At first, she thought you were Red, but she figured out you weren’t, cause of the eyes and all.”

‘Oh, at the time I was in my vermillion form and had pink eyes. She believes we are two different creatures… Explaining would be difficult and I prefer to keep my abilities secret.’

Nodding, I write, “She is fine. We are very close and share everything with one another. Why art thou worried about Jessica?”

“No reason in particular, just worried.” He taps against the roof of the RV. As the taps echo, he continues, “She doesn’t have any family or anything, so I try to look out for her if I can. Got my own family, wife, and two kids. Jessica usually comes to our place for Thanksgiving and a few other major holidays.”

“I do not know what holiday that is. What is it about?”

“Thanksgiving? It’s mostly about just getting together with family and giving thanks, but the short version of the story has to do with the colonists traveling to America and sharing food with the natives.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in and when they do, I shake my head. Frowning inwardly and squinting, I write, “Nay. Thou hast been lied to; the natives likely shared the food. The colonists were stubborn. Many had nary an idea of what they were doing.” I erase the whiteboard and then continue, “They just despised the crown and thought the God in Light would provide for them. Nary an interest in associating with the natives unless it satisfied their immediate needs.”

“Y’know, you’re the one that asked,” he responds. “I was just answering your question.”

I shrug and erase my whiteboard. The wind howls through the alley as things turn silent for a moment. I fiddle with the piece of starfish-shaped glass I made earlier.

‘Like most things, I shall lose this if I try to keep it. It is too small. Still, it would be a shame to not do something with it.’ Glimpsing at Leo, I smirk on the inside. ‘It would look excellent on a ring of some sort. I should say something mystical so that he shall actually do it.’

Writing a message on my whiteboard, I stand and walk over to him. “A gift from a Fairy. Fashion it into a ring for thy wife, tell her of thy concerns, and she shall unwittingly infer a truth upon thou.”

After reading my message, he stares at it and then raises his palm to receive it. “It kinda looks like a starfish.” I drop it into his open palm. “Wait. Actually, this is a gift from a magical creature. That’s something that only happens in books.”

I am about to refute him, but I realize that it is in a way. “Aye, it would appear so. I am going to return to the RV. Fare thee well.”

“Y-yeah, fare thee well and... thanks, Black.”

As I reenter the small room through the window, I overhear Lorcan burst through the hatch on the RV’s roof. “Fuckin’ shit, man, I’m freezing my goddamn balls off! What are you even doing up here!? You could at least close the hatch!”

A half-hour later, the sun has risen and a trickle of light is shining in through the window. After leaving Leo to be yelled at by Lorcan, I returned to the small bedroom, waiting for him to leave before I go back outside.

Terra sleeps on her side with her feet dangling off the bed after she fell asleep sitting up several hours ago. Hearing the sheets rustling, I lay a sign language book I was browsing on the floor and peer up to see her rising with half-closed eyes and a half-open mouth. She draws a few strands of hair from her mouth and glances around, attempting to understand where she is, I assume.

When our eyes meet, she recoils, blinks a few times, and then relaxes. I wave at her with wiggling fingers, “Good morrow.”

“G-good morrow?” she says, looking out the nearby window with tired eyes. Reaching for her eyepatch that has moved to the side of her noggin, she slides it back over her green eye. The inky rings around her silver eye sway as she gazes into my violet eyes. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be around... I think I might have fallen asleep.”

‘It seems Terra must wear that eyepatch a lot. Perhaps to hide her natural eye color?’

Terra tilts her head at my lack of response and runs a hand through her long silver hair.

I wave her away, saying, “Nay, it is fine! As I said earlier, thou requires sleep.”

“...Thanks for not being mad.” Tossing the blanket off her, she slinks to the floor opposite me. She takes a deep breath and lifts one of the drawings with a pair of signing hands sketched upon it. Flipping it around, she asks, “What does this one mean?”

“Uhm, ah, that is one of the few I recognize. It signifies ‘mercy!’ I presumed it might be useful in a variety of circumstances.”

Shaking her head, she makes a drowsy laugh and then stands. “...I need to brush my teeth, fix my hair, and get back to work. When your suit is ready, we’ll get you into it. Keep studying, but I doubt you’ll be able to learn your lines in time.”

I lift one of the papers. “Perhaps we can just use the papers for the first one.”

“Possibly, but I think we can feasibly find an easier way to work around it.” Brushing any wrinkles from her attire, she asks, “Do you know what your first action will be? I know you have the vents and I believe you said another gate as well?”

“It would be simpler to do the gate first since the vent would be near the Consortium’s position. My plan was to place the gate in the chamber pot tunnels because I did not want people using it, but affairs have changed since then. Now I do not know.”

Raising her hand, she covers her mouth, a tiny squeaky yawn escapes. ‘I do not know if I have seen her acting so unguarded before. It’s a tad… winsome.’ [1]

“Excuse me,” she says, exhaling. “But I’ve been thinking about your gate as well. I wasn’t going to say anything since I thought you had decided, but I have a few properties I own through the Helping Hands.”

“Properties? Thou mean for the gate to be placed?”

She nods. “Yeah, two hotels; oh, and hotels are places people pay to stay the night at. I set them aside in case I ever decided to run away. They're also good for storing funds.”

“So they are inns? How did thou manage to acquire those?”

“No one expects the young, naive pawn to find a way to gradually siphon money and then work through a shadow organization like the Helping Hands.”

“As always, thou art rather impressive…” Terra smiles at my words as I begin to fiddle with the end of the cattail. “But which of these properties wouldst thou recommend?” I question.

Closing her silver eye, she purses her lips, contemplating my question. “...Ah.” She opens her eye and gestures vaguely. “The hotel on the far side of Central Park. It’s an especially luxurious one, so a gate there would look quite amazing. It also makes it so we could keep an eye on it while controlling the flow of people at the same time. Plus, that means it’s on a property I own directly, that could save us some headaches in the future.”

I glance at the wall she gestured and then turn back, asking, “And thou art certain I may place it there? After placing it, I doubt the gate can be removed.”

“Like I said earlier, make use of everything; we can’t afford to be stingy. If you can make use of it, please do so.”

“Aye… Since I have decided to commit to relying on the interior of the Tower, I shall once again accept thy offer.”

“Good. Then we’ll make that the theme of your first public appearance. Anyway, I need to continue working. If you need anything, I’ll be in the next room.”

With one last small wave, she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

‘I suppose if she is leaving, I may simply linger here.’

I return to my study of sign language until a few hours later, someone knocks on the door. “The Helping Hands dropped off your suit,” Terra’s voice states.

Back in the room of mirrors, this time alone, I sit in the chair peering at the unfamiliar person before me.

‘I have never seen such vibrant clothing.’ I gaze upon the woman that appears as if she is from some fantastical painting. ‘I cannot believe that is me.’

I run my eyes over myself as I have several times already.

My body is concealed in a cerulean robe, stitched in silver threads that flow from my neck to my ankles. Over the robe is an embellished cerulean tunic stitched in the same silver thread. Yet a third item sits above those two, a stunning silver-tinted chest plate, nay, rather it is a cuirass. [2] This silvery plate embraces my chest, stomach, back, and lower abdomen and it sparkles in the bright lights overhead. I raise my leg, staring at the glistening boots that run just short of my knees. Dropping my leg, they click against the tile floor.

My hand moves to a cloak of the same cerulean color. The cloak has both a hood and cowl capable of obscuring the lower and upper portions of my face. Following the robe’s sleeves, they fall halfway between the pit of my elbow and my wrist, but from my elbow to just below my knuckles is a silver metal bracer. The bracer is so tight it almost seems as if it’s just over the surface of the arc suit—I would imagine a normal person would find them to be painful. Where the bracers end, a pair of cerulean leather gloves reach outward, forming my palm and fingers.

Rubbing the bracer, my fingers drift to the helmet that covers my head. They somehow managed to shrink it to something closer to the natural size of an ordinary person’s head. The helmet resembles what I believe is called a ‘gas mask’ except without the protrusions near where the mouth is. Instead, the whole front is like a curved glass window constructed of an amalgam of blues, purples, and reds.

I draw the cowl and hood over the mask’s window. When I do this, all that remains is what resembles a mysterious woman hidden behind fabric and armour with a stained window where her eyes should be.

With the radiance of my eyes behind the stained window, the blues, purples, and reds resemble the sky in the early hours of twilight.

Someone knocks on the door. “I’m coming in; I have the rest of your equipment. You should be ready to go after this,” Terra says, sliding the door open and squeezing into the tiny room. “Woah, Constance, you look so great!” she remarks in my head.

Upon seeing her, I find myself lost for words. “I… if I did not know better, I would believe a tangible, real person was underneath it all. I do not know what to say; I have never had someone give me anything like this before.”

She smiles and waves away my words. “Please stop worrying about it. I’ve only given you things that are essential for our plans.” With a laugh, she continues, “If I ever do anything purely out of the goodness of my heart, then you can thank me and I will accept it happily.”

“Nay; It is appreciated! I will cherish it.” I touch the exterior of the cuirass. “Oh… speaking of hearts, I have never seen a chest plate like this one before. Granted, knights had already mostly faded by the time I was born and I had only observed male knights in paintings a few times and never seen a female knight before, but…”

“It’s called a shaped cuirass. It’s a practical piece of titanium armour.” Motioning for me to stand, she spreads the belt of a set of brown leather pouches. “This cuirass was fitted specifically for you and outlines the hips and bust more without curving inward. So since there is no hollow between the breasts, it’s still an effective and functional piece of armour.”

I stare downward, tilting my head. “A hollow between breasts; like undergarments would have?”

Setting the belt and pouches to the side, she motions at her clothing. “I guess, but this one is shaped more like a metal top. It might be a bit uncomfortable for women of flesh and bone, but to you, comfort isn’t as much of a concern since you can’t really feel that kind of sensation anyway. To be honest, we are fortunate that one of the Hands is an over-the-top blacksmith and had some pieces he made sitting around.”

“I suppose it looks rather beautiful; it is reminiscent of a metal bodice without the lacing, but…” [3]

“It was a decision they made after your fitting. They noticed when they were sizing you that your body isn’t, uhm... ‘sturdy,’ so they chose armour that would fit snugly, which is why they were so careful with your measurements. If it didn’t fit tightly then, say if someone squeezes your shoulder, then your haze would be pushed from around your shoulder to any empty space around your chest or hands. With the tight-fitting cuirass, bracers, boots, and gloves, however, your body will be a lot more resistant to shifting around in your suit.”

“So making it resemble a bodice was intentional then?”

She reaches out her hand, meaning for me to take it. Staring at it, I shake my head.

“It’s fine, you can take my hand. With the suit on you can’t hurt me,” she says in a gentle voice.

Raising my hand halfway, I hesitate to go further, but before I can withdraw my hand, she seizes it. We stay like that for a moment, staring at one another, before she pulls me from the chair.

As if she was never concerned she begins speaking, “With this armour your body will keep its shape, and it looks good, doesn’t it? I made it clear that it should be in good taste.” Releasing my hand, she moves away and looks me up and down, saying, “And I think it looks very classy and you look really nice in it.”

Gazing at my palm, I peer into the mirror. ‘I have not touched anyone in quite some time. I could not feel anything, just the sensation of my kiln moving into a different position.’

Terra waves her hand in front of my face, smiling.“Try to walk a bit. See how it feels.”

I drop my hand and nod. While she watches, I lift and lower my legs, stepping around in my new armour. ‘It is so light, how did they manage this, and what did Terra mean when she said I look classy…’

Picking up the belt and pouches, she says, “Now spread your arms, so I can put this on you.’

I raise my arms, but before she can put them on, Rabbit knocks on the side of the door and performs a small bow to Terra.

Terra’s smile vanishes; she stops being Terra and returns to being Galtry. “Shriek, Lorcan, and I will be waiting on you. Rabbit, help Fairy finish dressing and then bring her into the main room,” she says out loud.

Without another word, she hands the pouches to Rabbit and leaves the room.

‘But… I wanted her to see me wearing the pouches.’

When Terra vanishes, Rabbit enters the room, moves in front of me, and leans forward. “You look ridiculously fantastic!” I lean away to place some distance between us. “Honestly, I had prepared everyone to resize it because I thought there was no way you’d be able to get into it; we only left a twelve-inch hole in the upper back!”

‘Prithee, cease moving so close to me. I do not like it.’

Backing away, she says, “Sorry, I can’t help myself around you, but anyway, spread your arms again so I can put these leather pouches on you.”

‘Nay!’ I hold out my hand, pointing at the pouch and then my palm. ‘I shall do it myself!’

She clicks her tongue and hands them to me. I wrap the pouches around my waist and notice the belt buckle is also rather interesting. The buckle is in the shape of a tower with a pair of fairies on either side, holding the tower steady. Tightening the belt, I recall where the cloak ties together; there was a similar design. I pull on the cloak and gaze at it, finding the image of two fairies that hold either side of the cloak.

“Those were my ideas. I spent most of my time working on the helmet with some of the best glassmakers in the city, but I had someone 3D print those based on some of my old sketches.”

‘She made these as well as the helmet? Well, I suppose I should not be so surprised. She is eccentric, but if she is a Helping Hand, she has some type of talent, I guess.’

“Anyway, let’s get into the main room; Owl is here with one last surprise.”

I tilt my head. ‘A surprise? Did something bad happen?’

With heavy steps, I follow behind; together we enter the room of white couches. As soon as I enter, I hear a pair of gasps. Glancing over, I find Lorcan and Shriek with wide eyes. “Goddam, Fairy, who knew you’d look like that if you didn’t walk around dressed as a blue condom.”

‘A what?’

“Lorcan,” Terra says in a biting tone.

A second gasp escapes Lorcan and Shriek. “I-I don’t think he meant it,” Shriek responds in a shaky voice.

“Y-yeah, sorry, boss. It was a compliment that just slipped out,” Lorcan says.

She sighs and crosses her arms, returning to her Galtry demeanor. Taking a few strides backward she exits the group to stand in the back by herself.

My gaze drifts to Owl, who starts to step forward. “Ah, just who we’ve been waiting on.”

‘What is happening exactly? Did I do something?’ Owl pulls out an item from behind him, and despite its sheath, I recognize it immediately. ‘A sword!? A real sword!?’

“This is yours,” he says.

‘Mine!?’

Stopping in front of me, he lifts the sword in his hands. Its sheath is silver and has engravings of a Tower obscured in leaves on it. On the crossguard, two miniature figures are standing on each of its tips, outside the sheath. Each tip has one figure resembling a winged fairy with a hand against the hilt and leaning outwards with an arm outstretched.

“This is a 15th-century Hand-and-a-Half Sword to complement your ensemble. The hilt, pommel, and crossguard were lost to the sands of time, but the blade itself was salvageable. We had a professional restore and service the blade the best they could while our companion Ferret constructed a sheath and crossguard.”

I shake as I raise my hands, palms up. ‘A genuine sword!’

Thoughts of all the time I spent as a child racing about pretending a tree branch was my trusty sword come flooding back. I waited a long time for this moment, and I shan’t lie, I tried many times to steal swords from those that turned their backs. Yet, it was always denied to me as if I was not meant to touch them.

Owl places the sword in the palms of my leather gloves; astonishingly, it does not disappear the moment I touch it. It’s a tad heavier than I imagined, or perhaps I am simply comparing it to a tree limb. With the sword resting in my hands, I gaze upon the odd sheath and then turn my attention toward the handle.

“The hilt, pommel, and sheath follow the same theme as your attire. Though the hilt seems simple, we in fact repurposed a 16th-century hilt that had lost its blade and then covered it in galuchat leather. [4] Like your armour, everything is titanium, save for the blade, hilt, and pommel. The blade and hilt are steel, the pommel is high strength acrylic. It is usable, but, being an antique, we recommend you use it ornamentally unless you decide to replace the blade later.”

Glancing at the pommel, I find it is a teal glass orb with butterfly wings on either side. ‘Now that I think about it, the other fairies all had wings too… I do not know how butterfly wings and fairies are related, but I still adore it!’

I brace myself for the reveal and draw half the sword from its sheath. It glistens in the bright lights. Near the bottom, I notice some writing on the new crossguard, “A Sword Fit For A Fair and Brave Lady Knight - From T.I.G to C.N.”

“Miss Galtry actually had us acquire and overnight it from a London dealer a few days ago,” Owl’s voice says.

My head shoots up, where I discover Terra smirking. She glances back and forth to ensure she is not being watched before giving a small wave.

“I… I thank thou,” I whisper.