Gertrude questioned silently why she even talked to Fionn. Free information, sure. Though she hoped he'd be smitten with a bald head for his insolence, Gertrude's gut told her that the Moonlit Queen would be amused. She seemed a fanciful sort, and altogether unbothered about her guardian's defeat.

Gertrude was proven, of course, to be correct in this assessment. If that was the case, then it would likely prove more treacherous to be boring than to stand out. The trick was not to stand out too much, which either the other knights picked up on or they were just dreadfully dull by default. Since Gertrude was the only smart person here, she'd assume the latter.

But that left her in a spot. I can do magic? I'm good at exploding things? I'd show you if I didn't want to ruin your pretty little enclave? If she were to interrogate the purpose of the question...

Their best chance was to entertain, if they wanted the woman to listen to them. And that meant standing out, as opposed as Gertrude was to drawing the fey's attention. She sighed, and released the broom from her hand.

Gertrude's broom twisted and contorted, splitting and splintering and segmenting, the straw smoothing and weaving until...

A miniature wooden Gertrude doll appeared, hands on her hips.

"Trudy, we've been welcomed into this glade. Show the Moonlit Queen a little dance, would you?"

The doll looked away, obviously embarrassed.

"Get at it, you daft bint. The lady wants to be entertained."

The doll rolled her eyes, and started doing a fun little traditional Thalnish peasant dance. Not usually a proper courtly exposition, but certainly more entertaining than anything the nobility got up to. Despite being a cute little dance, the act on display was impressive magically for its acuity and spontaneity. There were probably a few ways to replicate this trick in other ways, but none were so accurate and efficient as literally having a portion of one's soul contort the object it was bound in to its most familiar shape and begin to dance.

Arken would likely either find it impressive or borderline impossible, but she could deal with that later. Gertrude had determined that they'd likely need a show to catch the woman's waning attention, and she wouldn't suffer her first real task as an Iron Roses employee to be a failure.

Gerard Segremors

@Octo

"Oh, hey, she does a little Csárdás. That's cute." an idle observation floated in from behind, in the undertone of the others who stepped forward and said their piece. Fundamentally, the Moonlit Queen's implicit demand for intrigue crashed against the iron wall of Gerard's own self-concept and summation of his time beneath Reon's Light— his prized humble origins working as a grand detriment against him, in a way he had forgotten they could. "I didn't know you could breathe animus into little dolls this way, too. I'd figured it was just blasting things with shooting stars."

His words were cloaked in no facetious slime, nor anything that could be believed artifice— he had even now only a piecemeal knowledge of how magic worked and what one could do with it, beyond "grand and terrifying marvels"— but one of the pieces of truth he had managed to glean, in some respect, was that most practitioners did have their special niches they tended to stick to. Having seen the breadth between this tiny little wonder and the overt destruction the false maid could wreak in battle, the former mercenary, current knight, and eternal oaf found himself locking the memory away, for the next time he thought he had her or anyone here completely figured out.

He closed his eyes, and exhaled through the nose. Even if he had little to offer, they couldn't risk a potential insult that came in holding silence. And what was more... there was a way to phrase what he could speak to that just might have piqued the interest of someone with the Moonlit Queen's personality, as he had heard it spoken and seen in action.

When a lull allowing it appeared, the scarred knight spoke evenly, some warmth upon him.
 
"As my friend said just a moment ago, I too hold a lifetime on the battlefield as the main locus of my skillset. It was once my trade, and is still my craft. Before that I was a peasant boy from the fields to the west, and you surely have seen scores of men like me in that regard. If I were to put this to words..."

What she coveted, regardless of the tacit relationship between the object and true value, were things that signified the grandeur of her station and title. The moonlit queen was most covetous of symbols— that which projected her image of strength, wonder, and dominion. He had a guess that it was why she had taken the Duke's rationality only after he had, if he was hearing this right, brushed off her summons. He'd cited his duties as being of more import, in so many words. To offer collateral against that demanded attention, then maybe... the part of him he refused to let go, so mundane in the world of man, might hit the mark of what the Moonlit Queen sought.

"I would say I am set apart most from everyone here in how I behold them. I am a humble man, of humble means, hailing from a humble home. I have been blessed to bear witness to wondrous things each day, and am routinely amazed by what company I keep. At times I can hardly believe myself as standing among them in my own right, rather than watching from below a high pedestal."

A little florid, especially for somebody like him, but a sentiment that still rang true enough. If the Moonlit Queen wanted her greatness to not go unacknowledged, then the best idea Gerard could muster was to invoke a core part of the man he'd become, the one his friends within the Order had rightly tried to see him pare back—

"I know quality when I see it. And I think the world of these people. I apologize it is so meager in the face of them, but I could at least offer you captive audience for your words and deeds. That which Duke Thedric couldn't manage."

He was effusive with complimenting those around him, and stingy with complimenting himself.

For a fae that had been slighted by being considered second fiddle to anything, there was a chance this could resonate.

---

He had been as sure that he had the right idea as Fiadh seemed sure that he had the wrong idea. Tyaethe, Gertrude, and some of the others no doubt shared the sentiment or one similar—he was certain the former would have some choice words for him later, and the latter just as quickly pulled back away from him. Unsurprisingly, he was right; their Moonlit Queen clapped her hands, her delight likely only tempered by the fact that she hadn't been able to watch the proceedings.

That tale alone was enough to sell his talents in combat, most likely. It seemed just as likely that they would need to focus in on other things, as this diminutive fairy wasn't likely to focus on the same things any of them were.

He raised his hand, adjusting the lay of his hauberk over his shoulders. As he did, he pulled a small twig out from between the links, likely broken off of the construct that they'd fought not long before. "You get lonely, don't you?" he mused out loud, turning the twig around in his fingers. He thought for a moment, before his grip tightened for a moment—

"Aletou."

—and the twig grew, lengthening in his grasp before splitting off at the end into a small bouquet of the same white blossoms that had bloomed all over the remnants of the tree-snake they had felled. He cut the flow of mana off quickly, rather than letting it continue to grow until it would try to root itself again.

Then he stepped forward, leaning down and holding out the flowering twig to the Moonlit Queen. "It's not much, like, but I'm good at entertaining little girls," he said brightly. "Why, not long ago a local princess declared me her Stalwart Ball Knight, and of course..." He held up his left hand, freed of its gauntlet and showing the mark that Fiadh had left in his palm. He was, of course, entirely straight-faced...though he didn't know whether or not Gerard or Renar would manage to maintain such after the reminder of what Maletha had dubbed him. "She likes me too, at least. You're both kinda little right now, I assume that's on purpose."

Fleuri Jodeau

Fleuri watched and listened to the captain negotiate with the Moonlit Queen. Ever the straightforward one, Fanilly wasted no time getting to the point. Unfortunately, but perhaps not unexpectedly, the Moonlit Queen didn't want to bargain for the Duke's sanity. Instead, she ranted about the Duke, her words hinting at a belief that her victim had somehow wronged her.

In other words, they were dealing with what by human standards was a petty, spoiled child with vast magical power.

Fanilly's negotiations would ultimately come down to an offer of a wager. While the Moonlit Queen seemed to initially reject it, she seemed to have enough interest to ask what the knights could do. Whether it was genuine curiosity or rhetorical, it's be the one opportunity for the knights to convince her that their capabilities were great enough that they'd make for a wager more interesting to her than watching the Duke.

Fleuri took a moment to ready himself, silently formulating the introduction that he would present to the Moonlit Queen. He'd have only one chance to make any manner of impression. Ordinarily he'd consider this to be making a fool of himself, but now was not the time to shirk making a spectacle.

Following Fionn's words, Fleuri stepped forward. "If you've spent time with the Duke, then perhaps you have seen or heard of me," he said, drawing his sword, holding up upright, then swinging it diagonally and behind as he bowed to her- his tournament salute.

"Sir Fleuri Jodeau, Flower of the North, champion of the Brennan tournament two years back, at your service, my lady." After sheathing his sword, he plucked one of the griffon feathers from his helmet and offered it to her as if it was a flower. "For you, my lady- a token of one of our band's victories."

As everyone introduced themselves and tried to explain their abilities and skills, the fae girl watched, her shiny, black eyes gleaming as she took in every detail of the explanations. Lord Arken, too, was watching closely, his eyes particularly focused on Lady Gertrude's demonstration of power as she animated her broom and altered its shape into a wooden replica of herself.

While the Moonlit Queen did take the flower offered by Sir Fionn, it was with an irritated huff.

"I'm a Queen, I'm not a child," she complained, raising her right hand and snapping her fingers, "The flower is nice, but I won't let you get away with that!"

A faint, itchy sensation would spread over Sir Fionn's skin, and though nothing drastic happened---

Fanilly wasn't sure how to react, as she witnessed every single hair on the knight's body turn a bright, luminescent pink. With a huff, the Moonlit Queen turned away, arms folded.

"And you---"

The other Knight she gave a... special response towards was Sir Gerard.

"Are you trying to offer yourself to me?" she replied, cocking her head quizzically as she did. It was the mention of seemingly replacing the Duke that made her particularly annoyed, however, a frown crossing her youthful features.

With a wave of her hand, the Knight found his appearance afflicted in a similar fashion to Sir Fionn's, every hair upon his body now pulsing with light and letting off a rainbow glow that was rather surreally reflected by the chill-less snow that lay upon the ground.

Needless to say, it could have gone better.

Finally, there was her response to Sir Fleuri.

"I haven't heard of you," she said, flatly, narrowing her eyes, "But I suppose it sounds like you do a lot of fighting. You all do."

A more thoughtful expression crossed the fae girl's delicate features.

Fanilly hadn't missed it. In spite of everything, she'd been doing everything she could to pay attention to the way that the Moonlit Queen reacted to every explanation of their capabilities by her knights. She could worry about the... odd new hair colors and the length of her own hair later.

And she'd seen it.

After Dame Tyaethe mentioned Rozenalt, the Moonlit Queen hadn't spoken. Instead, she'd simply turned her attention to the next knight, Sir Rolan.

But Fanilly had seen her expression.

Those lips had curled into a wide smirk.

The very smirk that now occupied the girl's lips as she regarded the Knights as a whole.

"As you can see, Moonlit Queen, as the Iron Rose Knights we are all quite capable, in combat for certain and many of us in other areas, such as Lady Gertrude's magic, or in dealing with words."

Though it seemed she hadn't approved of Sir Fionn and Sir Gerard's words, given the perplexing colors of their hair.

"If there's any wager you may accept---"

The small fae girl didn't wait for her to finish speaking.

"As it turns out, there might just be a wager for you, Children of Man," the Moonlit Queen said, leaning towards them. That playful smirk had only grown.

"I'll even let you set the odds, if you accept it," she added playfully, straightening, "It's a task~!"

A task?

The wager was going to be in the form of a task?

Fanilly took a deep breath.

"What task is it, Moonlit Queen?"

The fae girl's lips parted into a grin.

"Why, to defeat the Midnight Hunt, of course!"

The way she spoke made it sound as if she thought this was the most obvious thing in the world. As if there was no other possible wager she would have offered.

When Fanilly saw the way she reacted to Dame Tyaethe mentioning Rozenalt, she'd had some kind of suspicion, but she could never have guessed that they'd be tasked with defeating the Midnight Hunt.

"Defeat them?" Lord Arken asked, incredulously, "Not just surviving the night against them, but defeating them?"

"Of course!" declared the Moonlit Queen brightly, "You were all so keen to point out your skill in combat, so I'm sure it's a fair wager! I'm letting you set the terms, after all---Ah, aside from what I'll get if you fail."

The pallid girl extended a single pitch black finger towards the knights.

"You. All of you. I won't let you die, but every single one of you will be mine."

At the wager, the paladin tensed, naked curiosity on her face, "And who would be leading the Hunt today, perchance?"

"Why, Rozenalt, naturally! I had wondered what caught his interest from your arrival."

The air was seized with an uncomfortable feeling of static, something invisibly dancing upon it, all the worse as you stood closer and closer to Tyaethe. As for her expression… the fanged grin on display was an uncomfortable reminder of just how much of a monster a vampire really was.

The overall reaction of the Moonlit Queen reminded him why most stories suggested simply not dealing with the Fae whenever possible, as two of their number were, well, cursed was a tad strong of a word to use in the situation. Garishly bright pink hair for one of them, and another turned into a walking, glowing replacement for a torch. That would have been useful not too long ago with the damned Gannek and its attempts at blinding them with darkness, but such was life. What usefulness that came from a spiteful being's decisions were often too little, too late, though he knew better than to even bother saying it out loud. Still, the combined efforts of, well, mostly Tyaethe given the look that the Moonlit Queen had furnished her with before moving on to at least acknowledge his little speech said enough. It was enough, combined as it was by the far more impressive presentations of the other Knights, to bring some form of wager to mind after all. One that, had it offered just a year ago, he'd have balked openly at and fled at all reasonable, and likely unreasonable, speed. He still balked, mentally though, at the task.

Hunt the Hunt, a task that was absurd at the face of it, something that Lord Arken openly questioned to no serious rebuke, just a simple, by Fae terms, confirmation. Boasting about combat seemed to have come around to haunt them already, but it wasn't strictly speaking impossible. Anything could die with enough effort, and if he was going to pick any band of knights to pull it off he'd have chosen the present company without hesitation, but that didn't mean he was eager for the matter. Doubly so since it would cost him his freedom should he fail, and he would inevitably have to break his oath to the Order to serve another if they failed, which was perhaps more important to him than freedom. Of course that same thing kept him where he stood, and he focused on what he could at least attempt to control, and that was the prize required for her Sister. They were being allowed to set the terms of the contest, for the most part barring the Moonlit Queen's prize, and he was going to take advantage of that.

"If we are to set the terms, my personal participation in the matter comes with a humble request should we complete your task. A simple trinket of your own collection to add to my own, I am sure a powerful and capable Queen such as yourself has quite the selection to choose from." Rolan focused on accomplishing what they owed to others, to allow the others of the Order to focus on other possible boons or rewards that would aid them in the future should it suit them. Or at the very least, he could shoulder the ire that may come with requesting such a thing, and doubly so having to fulfill such a request. On the face of it, one could naturally assume a hunter would want a trophy of a successful hunt, even one playing at knight, and if questioned it would be the defense he took. He would not be exactly lying either, no hunter alive could claim to not have taken at least one trophy in their life to commemorate a worthwhile hunt. To face down the Midnight Hunt and win, not merely survive, would be a story none would believe without proof.

Of course, actually accomplishing this was another matter completely. Rolan knew the stories, though Tyaethe was practically eager given her inhuman grin, in spite of the odds. It was easy to forget the monster that hid beneath the child like form, much of which could be said of the Moonlit Queen as well. For that matter, what was it with impossibly powerful beings galivanting about in the form of children? He refocused himself, putting that question away for another time as he wasn't going to get an answer anytime soon. His attention was squarely on the Moonlit Queen and her response in the interim, while considering how to fell the Hunt. Maybe not fell, defeat and death did not mean the same thing, if they could be broken and routed it would be as slaying them to the last. If the opportunity arose to make that happen it would be worth considering, especially since none of them would be granted the luxury of death should they fail after agreeing to such an undertaking.

Then – this was it. After two centuries of waiting, she could finally check one of the few remaining things off her to-do list and all without the inconvenience of actually needing to go out and track the Midnight Hunt down. There would be no need to keep relocating to avoid being pulled into some fae realm in this case; and Rozenalt wouldn't be able to use that as an opportunity to break off and sic the rest of them as soon as the advantage started to swing their way. “Ah… that's good, very good. I've been waiting so long for another go at him.”

But… she should ask, first. The other knights had improved by leaps and bounds over such a short time, they might be more eager to test themselves now, without being torn apart in the process.

“Captain, I can fight Rozenalt, or I can thin out the Hunt. What do you want me doing?”

Even if she still couldn't keep the anticipatory smile off her face.

Gerard Segremors

@The Otter

A grunt heralded narrowed eyes and a low, simmering knot to the brow, as the newly polychromatic knight quietly made an effort to adjust to the new distractions in his field of view— the eyes knew how to filter out the blurry, dark lines of black lashes more than well enough after twenty-one years' practice, but the sudden phosphorescence that had been laid onto them was wreaking havoc on his saccades. From the sound of things, that peripheral vision would need to be back up to snuff as quickly as it could.

"The Midnight Hunt." he repeated dryly, testing to see if slicking his bangs back would provide a little relief from the burgeoning headache of his eyes forcing themselves to figure out relative brightnesses all over again. "If I heard that one a year ago I would have damn near lost my mind, let alone hoped to recover another's."

Her tone had given away the error in his approach— it was less sore that she no longer had somebody in the role of herald, or witness, or whatever, but more... well. If someone he'd met four seconds ago had implied they could replace one of his friends just by doing the same things, he was certain he'd also react poorly. Granted, he didn't have the ability to turn every single hair on their head into a rainbow, but he'd probably just deck them and then swing a few more times until he felt better.

In realizing that? This was far from the worst he could have gotten off when stepping onto a rake of that proportion— and he'd at least learned the value system a little more completely than the admittedly mostly blind guess he'd gone in with. To be honest, he was largely basing things off of the vibe he'd gotten from her Sister—

It's getting really annoying making references through relational abstraction like that. When we get out of this, I need to find a way to get that lady's name without pissing her off like I did this one. Maybe if she offers up a small boon for retrieving the token of authority. I'd take that.

A glance to the side, eyeing the pinkest man he'd seen in his life so far.

"You always told me you managed to nick one of their helmets, Fionn. If you were screwing with me, I'd better know before I ask for advice."

In Shilage, the Midnight Hunt was a bedtime story you told kids that you were angry enough with to wish nightmares upon. You rarely heard anything more about surviving, let alone defeating them, than "you'd need Reon herself to step in and put her finger on the scales to pull that off, little shit".

Even as the Moonlit Queen decided to tamper with Fionn and Gerard in the same way she had Fanilly for whatever inane perceived wronghood that passed for logic in her shrunken fae brain, Renar couldn't help but crack a gleeful smirk underneath his helmet as she dismissed Fleuri entirely. Completely deserved, in his humble opinion. Just for that, Renar's view of the fae queen eased up ever so slightly. Enough to take what she was saying into account.

Defeating the Midnight Hunt? With the wager being, presumably, their souls? A rigged bet, most likely. Renar had heard the stories growing up, as everyone else had. One could defeat individuals within the Hunt, but the entire, endless, tireless raiding party? And yet...

Renar glanced aside to Tyaethe, who was showing signs of actual life for once. Others might be perturbed by the increasingly monstrous grin she was giving. Him? He was just glad to see there was literally anything that could turn the Roses' most revered member into something resembling a functioning person. Parvan's words passed through his mind briefly, but Renar dismissed them just as quickly. He wasn't her minder. Nonetheless, Renar did spot Tyaethe a brief nod of approval.

"That's a good expression on your face, there. Would that you showed signs of life like that more often." He murmured quietly to the vampire before stepping forward, bowing his head as he spoke to the Moonlit Queen.

"Majesty. A clarification before we begin, if you would be so gracious. What, in your view, would constitute 'defeat' of the Midnight Hunt on this task? Felling Rozenalt? A given number of their members brought low? Virtually none among our number have ever heard of outright defeating the Hunt, merely surviving them. If we are to take this wager, fairness would dictate that we are aware of our exact condition for victory as well as defeat, no?"

"Yeah," Gertrude mumbled as Gerard aptly pointed out the dance Trudy was performing, "it's the Csárdás."

She didn't know whether to feel some sort of rural kinship with the oaf in this moment, or to be mad that he knew she was as caked in mud as he was. You never could quite wash it all off. That's how she'd made him earlier, at least. Jeering at Gerard for being a gussied up farm animal was tempting, but the area on that particular spell would be just as unkind to her.

Oh, who was she kidding? She was angry at him. Apparently, so too was the Moonlit Queen. Gertrude snorted as Gerard began glowing. The amazing technicolor oaf.

The lout got it too, but Gertrude was decidedly less keen on his transformation. Now they shared a hair color, and that grossed her out. Interestingly, these weren't the only shifts to the ambient magic in the air. Tyaethe was positively glowing at the mention of their task being to defeat the Midnight Hunt and Rozenalt, who she'd apparently had a grudge against. It was downright uncomfortable for Gertrude to be near her. She hadn't known Tyaethe long, but felt it was novel to see this much passion from the woman. Normally she'd pat Tyaethe on the head, but it would probably make her a little sick to get that close. Instead, she shook her head.

"Come off it," Gertrude addressed Tyaethe, rolling her eyes, "it's obvious you want to have a go at him. The mistress isn't going to give you small fry duty. Isn't that right, mistress?"

Gertrude grinned smugly at Fanilly, as if daring the woman to contradict her.

Trudy began contorting back into a broom, which she gently took into her hand as the scoundrel stepped forward. As was too often the case, he had the right of it. As was too often the case, she would refuse to ever admit this out loud. Of course the stakes would need to be defined before they set off as well, but that would come after they defined a win and a loss. They were dealing with a fey, so these things needed to be made clear.

As for the stakes, Gertrude felt it wouldn't be too bad to have the Moonlit Queen herself. The question was how to phrase it without getting smote like the two dunderheads.

---

Fiadh may well have continued worrying over it, but Fionn's reaction was just to grin once he realized that all his hair was now a bright, vivid pink. Even the fine, still-essentially-translucent hairs that absolutely covered any adult—without a doubt, his overall apparent complexion must have been something interesting at that moment. Gerard's certainly was, given that the man was now a pulsating rainbow. Sure, he may have suffered the little fairy queen's displeasure, but it was entirely performative.

Perfunctory, even. She had all the power in her realm, and they were all already aware. If she was truly so put-out, there was much more she could have done.

He had a sneaking suspicion that somewhere deep down he must have been right, and she might appreciate it...even when she had to look stern.

"Oh, dear, I've been pinked," he muttered, turning to Fiadh where she was finishing up with the captain's hair, as the Moonlit Queen turned her attention to Fleuri and eventually back to the captain. "Do I still look good?" Their host didn't waste any time, however, in giving them the task she expected as part of her wager.

Defeating the Midnight Hunt? Arken may have been dumbfounded by the idea, and mere weeks ago Fionn may have shared in his trepidation—but nearly all the knights present had found their individual capabilities greatly raised recently. Beyond that, they had Tyaethe with them, who truly had first hand experience fighting their targets. He was quite nearly the opposite of worried about it.

Someone else seemed at least as inclined not to worry, though perhaps the technicolour knight was not so relaxed about it either. "Oh, aye, I nicked one of the knight's helmets alright," he replied airily. "Was hiding up a tree, saw an opportunity, reached down and plucked it right off the head that was wearing it. Hopping between the trees until I could find a good one to go back down and run was the harder bit."

Of course, he'd never revealed that the one he yanked the helmet off of was not a Knight of the Midnight Hunt himself, as Fiadh had been sure to correct him once she learned of it. He found out later on that there was a band of mercenaries that their core had managed to survive against the Hunt, and had claimed as much of their gear as was possible in the aftermath and made it part of their company's distinctive character after. A decent number of the helmets to go around, some of the spears that they kept only for ceremonial purposes.

Yet, for all he'd told the story, he was careful to make sure he didn't lie and claim that he got it off a Knight of the Hunt directly.

Given the state his sword was in, though, he was in for some trouble in the fight if he couldn't get that taken care of. "So, after we win, would you still like me to come by and visit?" he joked at the diminutive queen, before laying a hand on the misshapen pommel of his weapon. "If so, could I ask you to fix this, if you're able, to keep things sporting? Or lend me a good blade if you have one in your collection, for the same purpose, just for the course of this challenge."

Fleuri Jodeau

The Moonlit Queen proved to be quite easily offended, cursing Fionn and Gerard by turning their hair luminous. Fortunately Fleuri's etiquette proved sufficient to not invoke any retaliation beyond a blunt expression of ignorance of him. While some might perceive it as an insult, Fleuri could concede it was a not-unreasonable reply for an otherwise unreasonable fae who spent most of her time within her private little world.

What Fleuri was not prepared for was where the Moonlit Queen's line of thought would lead. It was clear that they'd have to wager for it, and she seemed to have recognized their skill and experience in combat, but he did not anticipate the queen announcing that they'd be facing the Midnight Hunt.

He had heard the stories of the Midnight Hunt. It was an evil tradition by evil beings that saw all others as nothing more than prey to be hunted. In his eyes, the mere notion of a Midnight Hunt being held within Thaln's borders ought to prompt as strong of a response as when Anzel Cazt rose up against the crown in rebellion.

This time, however, they'd be forced to face foes that could fight back.

The odds were lofty for sure, however. It was not enough to survive, if they wished to win the wager they would have to defeat them. From what Fleuri had heard of the tales, the hunters would keep coming endlessly until the night ended. Even so, Fleuri knew all too well that you didn't necessarily need to kill an enemy to subdue and defeat them. Fleuri couldn't help but wonder if this was the challenge that Merilia foresaw the Roses facing, and the reason that she helped to strengthen them.

Facing a legendary figure like Rozenalt would be a monumental challenge in and of itself, but they had Tyaethe on their side, and from the look of her manic grin, this was a rematch she had been waiting for.

The Moonlit Queen's terms were not negotiable and very lofty- if they lost, Fanilly and the Roses would belong to her. This wasn't up for debate- but it sounded like her wager was. He wondered- just what would the Moonlit Queen be willing to put up to match the bet that she demanded of the knights? Could they gain boons from her? Or, perhaps they could compel the Unseelie queen to release some unjustly stolen souls.

Fleuri said nothing at this time, but looked to Fanilly to see what her reaction would be.

"To win? It's simple!"

As if fighting the Midnight Hunt was a simple matter. Fanilly had a hard time even wrapping her head around it, but---

Dame Tyaethe had done it. By her words, they'd nearly defeated the leader of that hunt, the Bloody Lord Rozenalt himself. And now it was Rozenalt once more.

It was an impossible scenario. It was one that made it feel like she'd stepped right back into that world created by the Knight-Witch. Her heart was beating so quickly she thought it would erupt from her breastplate and into the strange air of the fae realm.

And yet, it was their only path forward. To recover the Duke's wits. To escape this place, now that they'd come here. She'd placed all of them on the line by this method of negotiation, and now they had no choice but to follow through.

Was this foolishness? Was this idiocy, unbefitting of the Knight-Captain of the Iron Roses?

---Maybe.

Deep down, she felt certain it probably was.

But they couldn't go back now, could they?

"The Hunt originates from its leader, you see," continued the Moonlit Queen, brightly, "So you just have to slay that rotten-blooded boor Rozenalt and it'll become much weaker! ... Nobody's ever done it before, but you all sounded like you'd be really good at it!"

Despite everything, that bright, childish smile from the Moonlit Queen appeared entirely genuine. Fae were difficult to understand, but Fanilly didn't doubt that she was being honest. If she had to guess, the fae girl was probably happy with either outcome. The way she described the spirit of Lord Rozenalt certainly sounded as if she'd have preferred him being gone.

Lord Rozenalt, said to be so vicious and cruel that his antechamber was permanently stained red. Lord Rozenalt, who lead the Crimson Knights that wallowed in blood. Lord Rozenalt, the vicious, conniving monster who used magic and blade to nearly bring ruin to his own nation, all for nothing more than his personal gain.

It was no wonder he'd lived on as a stock villain in literature, from his reputation alone.

Fanilly steadied herself.

"... Dame Tyaethe, I'm entrusting you with the matter of striking down their leader. For the rest of us, we'll isolate Lord Rozenalt and slay the remainder of his forces once he's been defeated."

She tried not to allow her voice to waver. She couldn't deny Lady Gertrude's words, Dame Tyaethe was the obvious choice.

They could do this.

They had to do this.

"Then, Moonlit Queen, our terms are thus: If we win, the Duke's wits must be returned. Per Sir Rolan's request, you must also grant us an item from your collection."

The childlike fae simply smirked.

"Then it's settled~ I'll arrange for a guide to where the rotten bloody dummy has been sculking around, and---"

She paused for a few moments, considering Sir Fionn's request. It appeared that inflicting the minor alteration upon him had soothed her irritation, though she pointedly did not address his joking offer to visit when she next spoke.

"I suppose it's only fair. Súileabhán?"

The crow-man, who had been silent so far, stepped forward and raised one hand.

Darkness rose and twisted together, coalescing into a shape unmistakable.

It was a thin-bladed sword, roughly a meter in full length and pitch black. Unlike a certain blade of legend, however, it gleamed and shone like metal, or perhaps glass. It lacked a crossguard entirely, and the hilt was wrapped in a smooth, unidentifiable material.

"I do not like this, milady, but by your word," said the raven-man, taking the blade by its hilt and offering it to the knight.

"Súileabhán will lend you one of his feathers for the night."

It was almost entirely weightless, but the extraordinary sharpness of its edge could not be understated. Even the slightest touch would draw blood.

The air grew subtly warmer, and Fanilly became away of an orange-yellow glow. When she followed its source, she could only describe it as a young girl, smaller than a human, who appeared to be composed entirely of fire. At least, save for the large black taloned hands, spine-like feet, and horns protruding from her blazing hair, which appeared almost like they were made from burnt wood or black stone.

Despite being composed of flames, she also appeared solid, almost like human flesh. Her eyes were brilliantly yellow, and she appeared to lack a mouth.

She gazed inquisitively at the knights, drifting back and forth slightly through the air.

"She will be your guide~" explained the Moonlit Queen. If Fanilly remembered the names of fae correctly, then the one that had been called to guide them was a Feinyar.

They were not particularly malicious, but had a habit of tricking travelers into following them. Either by deliberate prank, or by accident while playing in the forest in the darkness.

"Now, go ahead and pray for victory to those ladies you worship!"

With that final declaration, the fae realm suddenly receded.

They were in the forest once more, beside the strange tree that had been born from their defeat of the Moonlit Queen's guardian.

A rather uncomfortable-looking Lord Arken quickly made some distance between himself and Dame Tyaethe before speaking.

"Well, now we hardly have a choice, do we?"

The changes inflicted upon Sir Gerard and Sir Fionn faded. It was likely that the Moonlit Queen was aware leaving them to glow brilliantly in the dark was an unfair disadvantage. Despite everything, the fairness of the wager did appear to be important to the childish fae.

Fanilly noted with dismay that her hair was still long enough to be a potential issue, but for the moment---

"We'll take a few moments to prepare, and then we'll follow the feinyar's lead."

At being mentioned, the fire fae spun briefly in the air before quietly drifting from knight to knight, investigating them curiously.

Soon, they'd face the Midnight Hunt.

At the confirmation of her orders, Tyaethe once again broke into the alarming-looking grin, even tossing her sword from one hand to another in a way that would have been alarming even if the blade alone wasn't longer than the diminutive vampire's height. If she was praying, she gave no outward sign despite her position – in truth, the only thing around Rozenalt she had been praying for in the past two centuries was this opportunity. Victory… in this situation, that was something she wanted on her own merits.

Though, there was nothing there about not making the process easier. For instance… when the Feinyar came drifting by, Tyaethe reached out to stop her for a second, ignoring the way her bare arms immediately started to burn at the sensation. "You must know some Nithyr, right? Once you've lead us to the Hunt, do you think you could send some along to play with us? I remember they liked it, last time."

So long as there was more of the Hunt than there was of them, getting the Nithyr involved would balance the scales a little. They wouldn't want the fun to end too soon, and she doubted they'd realise that the goal was only the defeat of Rozenalt.

Her preparations done, Tyaethe started humming as the fae began to lead the way to their destination – and soon singing outright, in Estrialan this time. She could have gone for one of the most traditional Veltish versions of the story, where Rozenalt was slain by Velt's Prince, and definitely the most commonly performed. Or there was the ending popularised by Ithillin, where the fiend took his own life to deny anyone else the pleasure. This song, although with so much in common with the Veltish that even the word choices were often similar, was instead one where the Princess disguised as her brother and pursued Rozenalt, while the actual Prince lead his knights to ambush Rozenalt's own men. Thus cornered alone, the Princess defeated the vile spellblade atop his own castle.

It seemed the most apt version here, and it was the jauntiest of the tunes she knew. Aside from the castle but they all had that detail, so who cared?

---

Rolan wasn't so brazen as to request to bring down the lord of the hunt himself, no matter how much he may or may not have improved over the past few months, not in an honest fight at the very least. Still, one by one the Knights chimed in, either amongst themselves or directly to the Moonlit Queen, though the huntsman was mostly lost in his own thoughts as he was already trying to come up with plans to assist in weeding out and keeping the Hunt from being organized enough to wear them down and overrun them. This would be a long night on top of a long day, and the Hunt had the advantage of home terrain in this case. Ser Renar offered the smartest question yet, clarification on what constituted besting the Hunt, and clarification was given by the Queen in due time. Slay the head, and the body dies. Or perhaps more fittingly, behead the serpent and the body spasms and sprays blood all over the place in a final fit. That made his role deceptively simple to say, keep the Hunt off their vampire's flanks and support where possible. He could do that much at the very least, though the how was always going to be the problem.

Gertrude was mouthing off again, something about the Captain not denying the vampire her hunt, and the sight of the broomstick reminded him of that flying circus of a jousting match from their post training trials. Depending on where the fight took place, or if they could goad the Hunt into open ground, that might just prove to be an edge he could take advantage of. What disrupted his thought process was the Captain formalizing the terms, noting his own request for a trinket from her collection in addition to the restitution of the Duke's wits. Fortune willing they wouldn't have to make a habit of staking life and soul in return for righting the wrongs of nobility, as thus far he didn't like any of this one bit. Not the mad duke's antics, not the Gannek, certainly not the Moonlit Queen (Though he would not be able to lie and say that her Sister hadn't been easy on the eyes at the very least), and now they were hunting one of the most favored villains of all folklore.

The crow man, who up to this point had been a silent presence, was ordered to provide Ser Fionn a blade, and was indeed provided quite the fine one indeed. While swords were not his forte, the quality of fletching for his bolts was, and the feather's on display would have made brilliant fletching for a select few bolts saved for truly dire circumstances. He wouldn't ask for any, however, that seemed rather rude given one such 'feather' seemed capable of removing his head from his shoulders without even so much as a slight strain. They might work if he had a larger crossbow, although at that point he would be lugging around siege equipment to maintain bolts of that size. Besides that, a fae made of solid flame would be their guide to the current hunting grounds of the Hunt, and with that they were cast back into the woods to go hunt or be hunted, with far worse than death on the line for all of them should they fail and fall short, something that Lord Arken alluded to, though unfortunately the walking torch was dulled for the duration of their latest trial.

"Here I was actually getting used to the walking lightshow, alas."

Kneeling down, Rolan got to work preparing in the short time they had before striking out. Several bolts got the smaller alchemist fire vials affixed into position, the most potent of his current poisons on a few of the better fletched bolts, and after a thought, careful rearranging of his alchemical satchel. He also altered how it was resting at his side, at least for now, which concluded about all the preparing he could do given the circumstances. Instead he approached Gertrude, politely sidestepping the fire fae that was bobbing between the various knights going about their own work to ready themselves for the coming hunt. He wasn't going to interfere with the fae like Tyaethe did, especially since he wasn't keen on being set on fire. He preferred to be the one setting foes on fire, it was a terrible way to go frankly.

"Gertrude, should the opportunity arise might I borrow your ability to fly? Disruption and crossbow fire always did work better with the high ground, after all."

The humming and singing was certainly an indication at least one of their number was overtly in good spirits, though Rolan wasn't exactly following the song too closely as he strategized as much as he could given the circumstances at hand. He would have to rely on his fellows to screen the Hunt from getting into melee, it would be where he was least useful, at least until he could hopefully make for the skies. Relying on Gertrude for that would grow old, perhaps he would be able to find a way to attain flight on his own? He hadn't a single spark of magic to rely on for that, however, which made that wishful thinking at best for now. Right now all he could do was hope fortune was kind and Gertrude not terribly obstinate this time. Perhaps not having to carry one of their number keen on jousting dragons might make it a more palatable request.