Page 76 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

They came buzzing right between us and thrust something towards my face. It took a solid second for my eyes to focus and realize it was a biscuit. A lumpy, beige biscuit no bigger than my thumb.

I blinked between it and Eilir, and the sprite scoffed.

“You can’t go without eating, princess.” They forced the unappetizing-looking morsel into my hand and pushed at my back a second later, steering Jasper and me towards the door. “Eat that on the way and get going, both of you!”

For only having half his face not obscured by hood or wisps of shadows, the mage looked wildly amused when my door clicked shut behind us.

I sighed. “You want to split this, or…?”

Jasper shook his head and left me to take a cautious bite on my own. It dissolved on my tongue instantly, tasted like nothing at all, and left me infinitely more confused.

“Deceiving, I know,” the mage chuckled. “But it’ll keep you going. Eilir does their best, even though sprites don’t eat.”

Taking the scenic route through Grimm’s Keep was a thoughtful gesture from Jasper, but one that ultimately felt pointless. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to tell the sprawling buildings and pathways apart—just a sea of dark stone and lush foliage in every direction.

The mage kept his commentary light as I took it all in—he seemed to be a man of selective words, after all—but when we’d turned down the supposed final path to the garrison, I knew a handful of mildly interesting facts about the construction of my new home.

“Is it always this…wet here?” I swept my hand through the air.

It was thick with mist, like the morning Maksym brought me up from my cell, and I was getting the impression Grimmoria saw more humidity in a day than Odessa did in an entire season.

“It is.” Jasper winced. “You’ll get used to it, though. It doesn’t bother me much anymore.”

I hadn’t intended to pry into the mage himself, seeing as Maksym had forcefully injected me into the poor man’s routine, but when given the opportunity…

“You’re not from here, then?” I asked. “The Wilds?”

He hesitated before shaking his head. “Wastes, actually.”

“Oh.” I realized a second too late that his sudden shift in demeanor felt an awful lot like shame, so I plastered on a smile and added, “A lot of folks from the Wastes make their way to Odessa, you know that? Many settle in the lowlands, but plenty make it up to the fortress, too.”

“I’ve heard that.”

Clearly, I’d fumbled our conversation entirely, because the mage’s downward tone hadn’t recovered at all.

“Probably half of my friends growing up came from there,” I added again, in a hurry. “I think I got along better with them than I did with any of the Odessa-born kids at the fortress.”

The mage nodded slowly. “I’m sure you did. You know, we should probably chat a bit about the Agōn Ferr. I assume Maksym didn’t go into any important details about it last night?”

Well, that was one way to kill a topic and start one I had little interest in discussing. Not the impending test of my merit, of course, but Maksym. The soldier in me was looking forward to these events, despite the circumstances. I wish I could say the same about my future nuptials.

“Are you asking if anything useful came out of that dinner?” I scoffed. “No.”

“I figured as much.” Jasper sidestepped a passing farmer rolling a cart with ease and steeped in a thoughtful pause.

“The Agōn Ferr is as old as Grimmoria, even though it’s not quite the same now. Once, in privileged times of unprecedented peace, to even be considered being a foot soldier, you had to pass all twelve of its gauntlets.”

“Twelve? Eilir said⁠—”

“It’s only five now, don’t worry. It dropped over the millennia—one here, one there, more often than not when times of conflict arose and the king and his generals felt a pressing need to add to their ranks. Eventually, they did away with it as a requirement for entry, and it became a test of merit for only the highest banner under His Majesty’s service.”

For once, I was confident I knew something.

“And that’s the Elixia?” I hedged, and Jasper nodded.

“They’ve evolved over the decades as well. For a long time, they were the king’s personal mercenaries, issuing executions to anyone who so much as looked the wrong way at the king. But, as you may think, that caused a lot of…hostility towards Grimmoria’s kings. So, they evolved into more of a personal, specialized guard than anything, and the Agōn Ferr became mandatory for them, but no one else.”

As much as my head was spinning just a touch from the dump of information, I appreciated that at least one being other than Eilir was taking an interest in educating me.