Chapter 4: The Waters of Menehune

The mist thickens, swirling, as the river stills to an unnatural calm. Then—movement.

A ripple forms, spreading outward as Queen Naidra steps onto the water, her bare feet leaving no disturbance upon the surface. The silver threads of her gown shift like liquid strands that join the river.

Her eyes, deep as dark waters, settle upon the skiff, unreadable. She does not speak immediately.

Then, at last, she addresses the party—her voice soft, yet impossible to ignore.

"You have called, and I have listened. Now… let me hear only your choice. Quickly, I have given you ample time," she demands in a calm firm tone.

But before anyone could begin to respond another voice is heard from beyond the lingering mist. It is also calm, but male and sarcastic."

"Ah, and I feared our Queen would deprive the members of her court their right to demand their own challenge of newcomers."

As the words unfold, a pale, ethereal fey noble with long white hair emerges through the mist, draped in a flowing, mossy-green gown.

Well... shit.
"Well... shit."
I wager this just got a whole lot more complicated.

Regans eyes scan his companions, then the fey, trying his best to determine what's about to happen. His grip on his warhammer tightens, but beyond that his body stays relaxed -- not because he is calm, but because he may need to move, quickly.

Admiral remains silent, ostensibly not wanting to interrupt the conversation between the Queen and the fey noble, though his claws brush the gem in Reaver’s pommel. The gem glows subtly and the red and blue colours swirl mesmerizingly as Queen Naidra hears a whisper in her ear: "We have information for your ears alone, your majesty. It’s about the falls at the end of the babbling brook downriver."

The fey lord casts a glare at Admiral, his expression darkening before he shifts his gaze back to Naidra, who had momentarily lost her composure at Admiral’s illusionary whisper regarding the end of the Babbling Brook.

"And now these intruders whisper private secrets to you in the presence of the Court… Insulting."

As he speaks, the mist stirs, revealing three more fey nobles emerging like specters from the haze:

A fey lady, her amethyst-colored skin shimmering in the moonlight, tilts her head, the dark waterlilies of her headpiece swaying as she steps forward.


A fey lord, tall and composed, his flowing silver hair shifting like mist, watches in silence, his hand lightly gripping a single unbroken reed at his side.


A fey lord, regal yet unsettling, stands cloaked in tattered, damp robes, his piercing eyes glinting with amusement as the boggle perched on his shoulder lets out a random, chittering laugh.


The amethyst-colored fey lady's lips curve into a slow, taunting smile. "Whispered secrets?" she muses. "Naidra, what games do you play without us?"

Naidra straightens, regaining her regal poise, her tone sharp and unyielding. "I am your Queen, Lady Virivelle. It is within my right to grant or deny newcomers passage to the lake with a game of my choice."

The amethyst-skinned fey lady gives a silky chuckle, taking a measured step forward. "Of course it is your right, my Queen," she concedes. "But it is also custom that, as nobles of the River Court, we may make our own challenge to any newcomers… should we find yours unamusing."

The first-appearing fey lord nods in agreement, his voice smooth but edged. "We must be sure that your game is thrilling enough. But if we are not called to witness your challenge, then how would we know if it was any fun at all?"

At that, the boggle on Etrivel’s shoulder cackles, its high-pitched laugh ringing through the mist, as if mocking the entire exchange. The boggle's laugh is followed by his master's suggestion, "Perhaps we should ask the newcomers what games they play with our Queen."

The unsettling eyes of the tattered fey lord pierce Admiral as if they are demanding an immediate response.

"It’s a surprise," Admiral blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "We can’t tell you what the game is without ruining the whole thing."

The composed fey lord with the silver hair—who has not yet spoken—finally exhales, his grip tightening on the unbroken reed in his hand.

"If it is to be a surprise, then we shall be all the more eager to see whether it is worth the anticipation," he states flatly. His gaze, however, lingers on Admiral with a level of scrutiny that suggests he does not believe him.

Another other fey lord, regal, unsettling, draped in tattered, damp robes, lets out a soft chuckle and glides gently toward the skiff. He runs his thin fingers over the lantern hanging from the skiff's bow. His eyes flick briefly toward Queen Naidra before returning to Admiral, and for a brief moment, his lips curl into something that is not quite a smirk, not quite a sneer. The boggle perched on his shoulder lets out a wet, garbled chuckle, mimicking Admiral’s words in a whispering mockery: "It’s a surprise... a surprise... a fool's disguise..."

After a moment, the fey lord withdraws his hand from the lantern, smoothing the damp fabric of his sleeve as though brushing off dust. His gaze sharpens, and he says in an almost bored tone:

"A surprise, indeed... Then let us hope it is worth its realization."

Regan heaves a sigh and stands. "Look, I don't mean any disrespect and I appreciate your court politics or... whatever this crap is... but we're tired. We're just trying to get to his stupid ship," Regan says, exasperated, jerking his thumb towards Jin. "We've already been damn near killed by a sea hag and rescued a Fossergrim and a bunch 'o fey kids. Oh, you probably want proof about the hag. Ummm... ok, here. This dumb mirror was the hag's."

Regan stands the mirror up and removes the covering, the reflective surface facing the fey nobility of the river court. "I think her name was 'Rydyiwy' or some shit? Maybe that wasn't her name? I dunno. Whatever. Not my language."

As Regan yanks the covering off the mirror, its surface ripples like dark water. The moment the fey nobles of the River Court glance at it—drawn in by a mix of Regan's urging, vanity, and curiosity--the air hums.

One by one, nobles vanish in soft whoosh of air. There’s no scream, no flare of magic—just a faint pull and they’re gone.

The boggle lets out a warbled shriek as it’s sucked in mid-mockery, its form twisting like ink in water.

Then—stillness.

Only Queen Naidra and Lord Etrivel remain among the fey nobles.

Naidra's eyes go wide--more in surprise than fear. Then she smiles unable to hide the rush of pleasure she feels.

"Clever... brutal, even. A mortal trick with fey consequences. You’ve removed half the court, knight, and yet—you still breathe. You continue to reveal your exceptional flame."

She gestures, and the mist thickens, forming a protective ring around her and Lord Etrivel. She glides on the water’s surface, moving closer—but doesn’t attack. Instead, she studies Regan.


Lord Etrivel's reaction involves no shock—just a slow blink, then a long, disappointed sigh as his boggle is ripped away. He says in a dry, disaffected, almost amused tone, "Oh dear. I quite liked that one. It took months to get the scent right."

Already close to the skiff (near the lantern), he does not step back, but his damp robes begin to writhe subtly, unnaturally, defensive magic flaring as mist circles him.

He leans toward Admiral and murmurs, "If this is your surprise, it’s... audacious. I’m not yet certain if I’m amused or irritated. Such a beautiful challenge you've created."

Holding his hands out to his sides and wiggles his fingers, Regan replies with, "Surprise!"

He places the cover back over the mirror, obscuring its surface in a gesture he hopes is interpreted as removing the threat. "So, the good news is, I am almost like 70% sure we can probably get your... companion? Retainer? Um... pet? I'm sorry, I'm not sure what the proper title would be. Anyway, yeah, like 70% sure we can probably get him back for you. Probably."

Turning his attention to the queen, he offers a shrug. "Highness. I don't know what was being said about 'whispering secrets,' but if one of us was trying to speak with you in private would now be a good time? It's probably important." His eyes scan the group, resting on Admiral as if to imply it was his stage now.

Admiral smiles at Etrivel in a smug, I-told-you-so way, and then turns to grin at Regan in bewildered excitement. "That was brilliant!" he silently mouths. "Spectacular thinking!"

Recovering some composure, he turns back to Etrivel and says, "Aye, if you would be willing to grant us a private audience with your queen, we would be happy to return your little mate."

To Naidra, he says, "We’ve been told our conversation is being spied on by the birds. Can you ensure we aren’t overheard?"

Lord Etrivel responds to Admiral:
"Yes, yes… I would prefer the little nuisance back."

Lord Etrivel waves one languid hand.

"He surprisingly knew a half a dozen languages…and the spoken keys to many of my wards."

He tilts his head toward Admiral, eyes narrowing with calculated detachment.

"If it affords me back the boggle, then by all means—have your audience."

He steps aside with casual elegance, his voice lowering as he adds, just for Admiral, with a subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth—half a smirk, half a signal of something else.

"And should her poise...falter...well, chaos is always able to fill the absence of command."

He turns his attention back to the water. Feigning indifference as the mist coils protectively around him once again, he retreats toward the river bank.


Queen Naidra responds to Admiral:
The mist stills as Admiral speaks. Queen Naidra’s star-flecked eyes narrow—not in anger, but calculation.

She steps forward, her movement fluid, unnatural, as if the river carries her rather than obeys her. The mist wreathes her shoulders like a mantle.

"Spied upon by birds…? Yes of course. Rookstem."

Her tone is airy, amused. But her gaze sharpens.

"In my court, nothing sings without my permission. And nothing listens without my notice."

She raises one hand, fingers splayed. The mists above the skiff part—just slightly—revealing dozens of small, feathered shapes hovering in the gray. Not birds at all, but delicate mist-fey, suspended mid-flight like sleeping thoughts. They blink once, then scatter silently into the fog, creating a dense misty dome around her and the skiff.

She lowers her hand.

"There. Our privacy, purchased in mist." She smiles.

Then a long pause before she continues with a hint of concern in her tone.

"Speak, then. Tell me of the falls at the end of the Babbling Brook. But know this: you gamble in a place where truth echoes, and secrets leave footprints."

Admiral clears his throat and stands a little straighter. "Right. Well, we’ve discussed the matter and I’m sorry to say, we will not be accepting any of your bargains, but we’ve come up with one of our own that I think will interest you. Like Regan said, we had a bit of an adventure on our way upriver. We were approached by a group of fey children, who told us that their falls and their brook had been taken from them by a hag and that their friend, the Fossergrim, was being held prisoner. We agreed to help them and, to make a long story short – we killed the hag, freed Aldran the Fossergrim, and returned the falls to the children. As I understand it, you have a bit of personal investment in those kids so we thought that, upon hearing of this, you might grant us passage – as repayment for our good deed. In exchange, we will offer you our silence. We will never tell anyone about the falls… or anyone who happens to live there."

Queen Naidra listens. When Admiral finishes, the mists shift—not with wind, but with her will.

"So... you’ve slain a tainting hag, restored the Brook, and returned the melody to the falls. And you do this without parading your triumph before my court… choosing instead to speak in whispers, and leave secrets where they were meant to sleep. For that, I am... thankful—though I may not show it in the mortal way. Well played, pirate."

A pause...

"And you, knight…"
Her eyes settle on Regan, gaze lingering.
"…you’ve made quite the impression. Chaos with a sense of timing. I find it... effective."

Then, her tone cools, just slightly.

Queen Naidra’s gaze lingers on the edge of the mist, where Etrivel once stood. Her voice remains low, intimate—with both amusement and calculation.

"Lord Etrivel will want explanation. He always does. I will make it known to him that this game was worthy of its stage. Your cunning meets my challenge. You are granted passage under my name."

She turns back to the group, her fingers idly brushing the mist at her side.

"I’ll tell him your test was one that you passed with enough flair and danger to make it entertaining—enough cunning to make it useful."

Her tone sharpens—just slightly.

"He’ll nod. Smile, perhaps. Pretend he’s interested. But he’ll be wondering which of his minions can fill the holes left in the court… and whether he can claim those gaps for himself."

A pause.

"I’ll let him wonder. It will keep him busy."

She smiles faintly—more ice than warmth.

"And so, passage will be yours, and the court will believe it was all... part of the game, their entrapment and all"

Without awaiting reply, she moves to the covered mirror and gestures.

"The mirror stays." she demands firmly.

She lays a hand lightly upon it. Instantly, her features tighten—just a fraction. Her voice lowers.

"Makai… and Fey... but corrupted. Touched by infernal flame that does not belong."

A pause. Her hand lingers.

"If I free the nobles now, they may carry that taint with them. I will cleanse it. On my terms. In my own time."

She lifts her gaze to the mists beyond.

"I think I shall visit the falls again soon. It has been... too long since I last spoke with Aldran and layed eyes on the child."

Then, finally, she returns her attention to Admiral and Regan.

"You have earned your path forward."

And to Regan, with a tone both teasing and imperious:

"But you, knight, need not return to your tedious world just yet. There is room at my side for something... charming. Perhaps a partner. Or a pet. You would find eternity here far less dull than your mortal dealings."

"Full disclosure -- if you worry about imprisonment in the mirror affecting or "tainting" people, you may want to give the kids downriver a good once-over, since once of 'em went ahead and got another one trapped while we were trying to get this crap away from them, so they couldn't do... well, exactly that," Regan informs the queen. And then, Regan smirks. "As for your offer... as appealing as that sounds, I'll have to put a pin in it for later. I've got business to attend to. Specifically, I have a whole bunch of slavers to kill. Afterwards though..."

Admiral raises an eyebrow at Regan, amused, before bowing his head to the Queen. "Thank you," he says. "We’ll leave the mirror with you, to do with as you like."