Of course, the fairy was right. He didn’t draw the sword.

‘Lothar, how do you not understand this?’

‘What is there to understand? The sword is mine. It’s mine to wield.’

‘But that’s not how deals with fairies work! Father said if he drew the sword, the fairy would slay his enemies. It’s useless now he’s dead. Corpses don’t have enemies, and they can’t draw swords!’

‘I get that you’re upset, but you need to stop. You’re not the King. I am. If I say the sword works this way, then the sword works this way.’

‘Sure, you’re a King, but you’re not a fairy!’

‘Bernard, you’ve misunderstood his point. Let it go.’

Bernard turned on the middle brother, Pepin, almost ready to scream in frustration - but there was a look there. Something that stopped him cold.

‘Ah. Right. How silly of me. I’m worrying about nothing - he’s the King. I’m just saying useless words.’

Lothar had understood from the beginning. He was just deliberately refusing to acknowledge the truth because it didn’t benefit his position. Their father had drilled it into them from a young age; ten-ninths of kingship is making people believe you’re the only one capable of the job. Lineage could be faked - glory and honour were imaginary. Competence didn’t mean anything unless you already held the position. Some kingdoms had gods who chose their kings. This kingdom had a fairy.

‘You’re a Duke now, Bernard. You know you can’t speak like that.’

‘Yes. I must project unity and peace in the kingdom. I’m sorry.’

‘Good. Now, off you go. The two of us have things to discuss.’

Bernard closed the door behind him as he left. He felt terrible. It wasn’t simply because his ‘defeat’ was unfair - he was used to being forced to concede unfairly. That’s just the curse of being the youngest. Rather, he felt bad because neither of them seemed to take it seriously. Lothar was newly crowned. He’d be challenged. There was a very good chance he’d need to draw the fairy sword - and when it did nothing, what would he do? Apologise? Beg forgiveness?

At the very least, someone should verify the terms of the contract. They only had retellings of their father’s story to go on - the agreement was never put down in writing. As such, the wording of the agreement changed from telling to telling. Even a small difference could drastically change the implied result.

The thing that bothered him most was that the stories never referred to a cost. Even the simplest of children knows fairies don’t do favours like that for free.

Someone had to check.

Realistically, that someone had to be Bernard. He was the only one that seemed to care. He was also the only one not presently ‘burdened by matters of state’. His title was just a formality - he didn’t really have any lands of his own. Not yet, anyway.

He had no clue where the fairy was though; the story said she moved to a mountain after she left the woods. A mountain near some woods - that could be anywhere. Most of the kingdom was forests and mountains. At this stage, he wasn’t looking for a needle in a haystack, he was picking the haystack he thought a needle might be in.

He strode out of the castle and down the path toward the stables. The oldest man in the castle worked there. He wasn’t much use as a coachman anymore, but he knew everything there was to know about horses and their ailments. It was possible he knew some other things too.

Bernard spotted a youngster carrying a bucket and called out to him.

‘You there! Where’s Gus?’

The kid pointed inside.

‘Miss Aggie was feelin’ sick yesterday, so Granpa Gus is seein’ to ‘er.’

Grandpa Gus? Bernard wasn’t sure if this child really was related to the old man. He didn’t see the resemblance. As far as he knew, the old man had always been a bachelor.

Bernard went in and approached Agatha’s stall. She was one of Pepin’s horses, though he didn’t like her much. She’d tried to kick Lothar once, and she’d bite anyone that got close enough when she was grumpy. She made up for her temper with her beauty. Snow white dappled with gold, blue-eyed, slender, and more graceful than any other horse by far. If someone had told Bernard that she’d been sired by a unicorn, he’d believe it.

‘Gus? Are you there?’

Gus shuffled around the side of the stall, as bent and haggard as ever.

‘Your Highness! Forgive me manners. I didn’t know you was coming. I’d have got your horse ready.’

‘Not to worry. I came because I wanted to ask some questions. Do you remember anything about Father’s trip to see the fairy on the mountain?’

Gus looked thoughtful.

‘I suppose I might. Don’t know if any of it’s useful. He took seven horses on the journey, I think he had a rider on every one. He was awful scared he’d be caught, so he rushed out at night. Didn’t take a lot of bags. No pack horses or mules.’

‘Do you know which mountain he went to?’

‘No. He went through the east gate both coming and going, though, so probably one more easterly.’

Bernard nodded. That was useful to know.

‘Was he gone for long?’

‘No, not really, maybe two weeks. The horses was barely living by the time they got back though. He must have rode them mighty hard.’

Bernard nodded again, considering. If the journey there took a week, they had very good horses, and they were going as fast as they could… the very furthest they could have gone would be… far enough that he would still have an unmanageable number of mountains to search.

‘It’s not my place to say, but, if you want to find her, maybe you should start at the fairy’s manor instead. I heard she left a secret map there.’

‘A map? Wouldn’t Father have taken the map when he went to the mountain?’

‘I think it was some kind of a riddle on a wall. I never saw it.’

‘And, you called it a manor. I thought she lived in a cottage in the woods.’

‘That’s what the old king used to call it. The Cottage. It weren’t really a cottage. It also weren’t really in the woods. It was next to them.’

‘Do you know where it is? Is anyone still living there?’

‘I know where it was, but if it’s still there, or if people are living there, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. It’s not too far away, but I haven’t been there in years.’

‘Could you have a horse saddled for me?’

‘Certainly, your highness. How many attendants will you be bringing?’

He didn’t want to bring any attendants. Bringing attendants made it more likely his brothers would hear he was going out. He wasn’t being disobedient, they hadn’t told him not to investigate the agreement - just not to speak of it. That didn’t mean they would be happy to discover he was still looking into it.

‘None. It will be quicker if I go alone.’

‘Won’t that be dangerous?’

‘Why would anyone bother attacking me? I’m Duke of nothing. There’s nothing to gain from killing me.’

‘But even your clothes and your horse is worth money to a bandit…’

He really couldn’t argue with that. Bandits were a problem.

‘Then could I borrow some clothes and an inexpensive horse?’

Gus sighed.

‘Yes, your Highness.’