"Ah, M'lord, I see that you are refreshing your spirit by sitting upon the bare earth, listening to wind, taking in the sweet scent of the grass and communing with nature." Twitterberry had set the three tree-wrights to work on the staircase and gone in search of his Lord, finding him sitting in his meadow. He noticed that a few of the unicorns were around, all obviously ignoring him.

"I compliment you on your fine grasp of the situation Twitterberry. I am doing just that." Alwyn leaned back and looked at the night darkening sky. It was much nicer than the sky in his realm. Illusions of that size and quality were expensive to maintain. His grandfather had settled for a very simple one that never looked as real as it should.

"I take it things went less splendidly than they could have. I'm sure you did all you could and paid close attention to the Hound. He really is good at reading the emotions of those around him and guessing their intent. A fine animal and companion. Stealthy too, as I can't ferret out his hiding place." Twitterberry pretended to scan the horizon in each direction like a lookout checking for a white whale.

Alwyn wished he had some wine. It was one of the great joys in his life, and made things so much easier to deal with. He really hadn't wanted to take over his father's position in Underhill. He had wanted to travel with his mother to far lands, hear the roar of the crowds, and see strange new things. But when his father had died, she had been adamant and insisted that she was leaving and that now he would join the ranks of the Summer Lords. It was difficult to be a Lord of the Fae. The rules were strict and Fae society was vicious to those who didn't live up to their standards. One needed the proper clothes for the season to attend the never-ending events. Fashion changed on a whim, and Alwyn had been forced to become a more provincial and stay-at-home Lord.

Of course, that had its own troubles. Those Lords who were always in their own domain were expected to entertain the hordes of traveling party goers. His food and wine bills were astronomical since his realm didn't produce enough of either. Added to the cost of maintaining the unicorns, the amount his demesne could produce was far less than it consumed, and had driven him to near poverty, as it had his father and grandfather. In fact, it was hard to find a Lord of Summer from his family that hadn't been on the poorer side. His own father had married well, and his mother had come with a considerable dowry. (There were hints that the dowry included stipulations that his mother would behave herself and curb her love of performing on the high wire. And except for one memorable party, she had. Until his father had died. She declared that with her husband dead and the dowry spent she was under no obligation and ran off to chase her dreams.

Alwyn was left with an impoverished realm, and a constant stream of visitors coming to attend his feasts. And he had to admit that he hadn't been working too hard to make them memorable. The most talked about event he had held had been when he let Lord Hound run the feast. Maybe he should just let the hound do everything and name him Lord? The problem with that was Alwyn knew he was ill-suited to anything else. He knew his etiquette, was passable at entertaining guests, could play three instruments, was an expert on fine wines, and enjoyed hunting what few beasts his realm produced. Being a Summer Lord was really the only thing he was good for. Which was depressing with how he had screwed up today.

"I may have erred, Twitter. I think the Hound was trying to guide me, but I may have missed some clues and not puzzled things out. The mortal was quite tricky."

Twitterberry sat himself down on a large toadstool that had sprouted while they talked. "Ah, they can be. It's all about finding out what they want and then making a trade. More difficult here since the boons that were asked have been paid for. But every mortal wants something else. I'm sure you learned her desires."

Alwyn smiled ruefully. "Why yes, she wants us gone from here. Or else. Also, that I should never seek her hand in dalliance."

Twitterberry slapped his forehead. "Oh, please tell me you didn't make advances on the mortal we are here to forge an alliance with. That never ends well."

"I can only say that at the time I thought she was a simple peasant wench with a bit of our blood in her veins. I don't speak mortal well, and made some poor assumptions. I think she came out to meet me with an offering of wine. I may have missed that and insinuated a few things about the mayor, which she took poorly, because of course she was standing right here. I may have compounded the problem after that. It's so confusing. Why was she trying to talk like we do, I shall never know." He stood up and began brushing grass from his clothing.

Twitterberry was used to figuring out what his Lord had done. "Oh, boy. That might be bad. I expect she isn't coming back."

Alwyn summoned his Cloak of Mundane Concealment. "She will be back. She promised to bring her village, armed with axes of iron to chop down the tree."

Twitterberry looked at the tree. "That's a big job. I don't think mortals would be able to do it."

Alwyn gestured around him. "Remember that this all used to be a forest of oaks until recently. Come, I need wine. The mayor is off to the city to meet with the Baron, we can see what her village has to offer."

Twitterberry looked around the wide meadows, devoid of trees. "Iron axes you say. Yes, let's go have a drink."

"I blew it, Ben. I was trying so hard to follow your rules, and then I got mad. He was pretending to misunderstand me, and then insulted me while at the same time trying to sleep with me." Suzette was pacing back and forth in the Tavern. Rolly and Ben had come to relay the information from Joe, and work on their plans. Instead, they found a very upset tavern keeper hauling barrels of fermented apples into her tavern. They got the story from her as they helped with filtering the fermented drinks through cloth mesh put the wine or cider into smaller firkins.

"Did you maybe take something the wrong way? Are you sure he was insulting you?" Ben hadn't dealt with the Fae, but Mattias had told him a lot, in his training as a courier, and Diego had told him some stories.

"Let’s see. He called me a wench and said I was sleeping with Billy. Then mentioned that I'd come running to him the next day, and when I got mad, he said he would 'shower me with his attention'. Then we started yelling, he said I couldn't insult him like that, and I said I was cutting down his tree."

Rolly yelled out: "You can't do that! That's a sugar maple! We can have all the syrup we want for our pancakes with that tree!"

Suzette shrugged her shoulders. "Don't worry, the lumberjacks already told me no. They said it would upset both groves, and might kill a dryad or treant that was growing inside the tree. The downside of having a lot of our lumberjacks pick a heritage that made them part tree."

"Whew. You had me worried. So just go work it out with him." Rolly bent down to pet the dog at his feet. It was a great dog with a thick coat and intelligent eyes. If he didn't have Squirmie, this was the perfect dog for chasing sheep and sedge beasts.

"So how the hell do we fix this? Any ideas? I really don't want to have a Fae Lord as a pissed off neighbor."

The dog barked and rolled over for Rolly to rub its stomach. Rolly was vigorously rubbing the dog's belly, but looked up as an idea hit him. "Why don't you dictate to Ben exactly what you said to the Fae, and what he said back. Maybe that will give us some ideas?"

Ben took out his pad and paper. "Sure. It might let us know where the conversation failed." Suzette did her best, going over her words carefully. It helped that she had been thinking about them hard at the time, and trying to listen to the Fae Lord. The dog tired of Rolly's attention, and moved over to Ben. He absentmindedly rubbed the dog's ears as he studied the paper. "You know, I think I see it. He didn't know who you were until you told him. And right here? He really jumped to bad conclusions when you said you were meeting with the Baron at night. He probably couldn't conceive of any other reason a woman would go visit a noble for the evening."

Suzette thought about it. "Maybe? But how would you explain that? It's like saying he made a mistake?"

The door opened and two weary travelers came into the tavern. One was a courier dressed like Ben, and the other was just a common person doing common things for no strange reason. They hesitated when they saw Suzette, but she waved them in. "Don't be shy. Everyone is welcome here. I have some new apple wine to try out tonight. On the house if you try all four and let me know what you think."

The dog walked over and sniffed the two travelers. The courier bent his head low. "We would be delighted to partake of your hospitality. My friend will sit at that table and sample your fine wines. I would be delighted to discuss some things with a fellow courier. I'm sure it's no problem for all of us to sit at the table and talk quietly about nothing of importance."

Ben and Suzette looked at each other as the small speech rolled out. Suzette looked very hesitant, but Rolly took her arm and sat her down across from the weary traveler that she had never seen before. "Take a seat for a bit, Susy. The dog has a good plan. Trust the Hound." Both the Hound and the small courier looked at Rolly through narrowed eyes, then relaxed.

Ben took a mug of wine and got one for his fellow courier. Ben looked hard at Twitterberry and then said. "I heard an amusing story today, it was about a carpenter who upon seeing a village maid in a meadow, tried to impress her by claiming to be someone he wasn't. The maid did the same and they each became confused and angry. But in the end, it doesn't matter because they were no one of importance."

Twitterberry took a long sip of his beverage, noting its sweet taste and bubbling energy. This was a brew to take for long rides. "Interesting. I think I heard the same story, but of course, it's not something I would repeat, because as you say, nothing that was said, matters."

His Hound lay down underneath him, and Twitterberry pulled a meaty bone from his small pouch and tossed it to him. As usual, the Hound had done the heavy lifting and he just had to follow the plan. Alwyn was happily sampling the apple beverages, commenting and rating each. By the end of the night he'd probably order a dozen casks of his favorite. Twitterberry would have to find something in Lord Alwyn's realm that they needed.