Chapter 41: The Fairy in the River

To unravel these mysteries, Joan had to find a way to have an honest conversation with those two aquatic faeries. However, he was neither skilled at negotiation nor fluent in the language the faeries spoke. Relying on his own abilities, he could not hope to solve this problem, so he had no choice but to return home and seek help from Conti and Mira.

The thought of asking for help, even from his own friends and family, made Joan sigh. He felt a peculiar melancholy settle over him.

“Mr. Vida, what should we do next?” Tom’s face was full of confusion. “Should we tell my uncle about what just happened?”

“Let’s not rush to Mr. Flint just yet. This matter isn’t over.”

“What? It’s not over yet…” Tom’s face turned ashen.

Joan glanced at Tom and said calmly, “Leave the rest to me. Go back and change out of your wet clothes so you don’t catch a cold.”

The dwarf nodded gratefully, then asked, “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“Just stay in the workshop and wait for me to return.”

“Oh, all right! Please come back soon!” Tom looked thoroughly frightened by the faeries, his anxiety plain on his face.

Joan hurried home to find that Conti’s room was already dark. He returned to his own room, picked up his pen, and recorded the extraordinary events at the forge that night. Then, with the paper in hand, he walked to the door of the next bedroom. After hesitating for several seconds, he finally knocked.

The door opened, and Conti emerged, bleary-eyed, wearing only a loose robe that revealed her smooth arms and pale, delicate feet.

“What’s the matter, Joan? It’s so late…”

Joan silently handed her the note.

Conti yawned, took the paper, and unfolded it. Instantly, her eyes lit up, sleep vanishing in a flash.

“You met a faerie again?”

Joan nodded.

“You know, that makes three faeries in less than a month. Maybe you have some special constitution that attracts them?” Conti regarded Joan with a meaningful look.

Joan found it strange as well. In the first twelve years of his life, he had only glimpsed a single faerie—one that looked remarkably like an insect—by the pond, and even then only from afar. Yet within this past month, he had encountered first the young tree spirit Mira, and now two unknown aquatic faeries. Something was indeed unusual.

“Well, let’s not dwell on that. We should quickly find Mira. She might know those two mischievous spirits who live in the river.”

With that, Conti darted back to her room, swiftly put on her coat, and pulled Joan along toward the forest behind the house.

As they passed Grandfather’s cabin, Joan signaled for Conti to tread lightly so as not to disturb the old man. Conti stuck out her tongue and stifled a laugh, tiptoeing into the woods until they reached the black oak tree. There, she called Mira out and, in the language of the woodfolk, recounted the strange events Joan had experienced by the river that night.

Listening to Conti and Mira converse, Joan suddenly had an idea: given the frequency of his encounters with faeries lately, it might be wise to make a serious effort to learn their language—one never knew when it might come in handy.

At that moment, Conti and Mira ended their discussion and turned their solemn gazes on Joan.

“Mira and I have discussed it,” Conti said. “The two green-haired faeries you met by the river are most likely ‘Nixies.’”

“Nixies…” Joan repeated, unfamiliar with the name. “Would you say they’re good faeries or bad faeries?”

“It’s hard to classify Nixies as simply ‘good’ or ‘bad.’ These water-dwelling spirits have a very different sense of morality from us humans. They call themselves guardians of ponds, rivers, lakes, and springs, and prefer to dwell in serene, beautiful, and peaceful places. If any creature threatens what they consider their ideal environment—whether it’s a ferocious beast or settlers clearing forests and draining wetlands—the Nixies will view them as enemies and do everything they can to drive them away.”

Conti’s explanation gave Joan some clarity. The Nixies’ habits resembled those of certain radical druids who worshipped the natural order and opposed industrial civilization. Fortunately, Conti belonged to the “Circle of Harvest,” a reformist druid order that strove to protect nature while not rejecting the progress of civilization.

“If Nixies prefer quiet, natural places, why would they choose to live in a human town, right in the industrial heart of the riverbank, surrounded by factories and workshops? Doesn’t that go against their nature?” Joan asked in confusion.

Conti spread her hands with a wry smile. “I can’t figure out what they’re thinking either. That’s why we need to talk to them—Mira agrees.”

“I don’t object to negotiating with the Nixies,” Joan said gravely, “but you’d better be careful. Those two are skilled in enchantment magic. If you’re not careful, you could become puppets under their control.”

“In truth, nearly all fae folk are adept at enchantment, but some use their powers with restraint—like Mira, who never causes trouble. Others are more capricious—like those two Nixies, who misuse their magic for mischief without regard for consequences.” Conti smiled, self-assurance shining in her eyes. “We druids often wander the forests and mountains, and we’ve had our share of encounters with mischievous fae. Over time, we’ve developed ways to resist their enchantments. Those Nixies won’t find it easy to trick me.”

“That’s good,” Joan said, rubbing the back of his neck. For reasons he couldn’t explain, his recent experience suggested that the deformed eye growing on the back of his neck might help him resist faerie enchantments.

It was already past midnight. Worried that Tom, left alone in the workshop, might fall under faerie control again, Joan hurried back with Conti and Mira in tow.

“Mr. Vida, you’re finally back!” Tom breathed a sigh of relief.

“Anything new?” Joan asked.

“It’s been very quiet. So quiet it’s frightening.” The young dwarf was visibly shaken, his face pale with lingering fear.

Conti, seeing his anxious state, couldn’t help but laugh. Tom shot her a resentful look, and then, noticing the sharp-eared, green-haired, naked little girl by Conti’s side, his eyes widened and he stammered in alarm.

“M-Mr. Vida, a fa-faerie! By the Hammer, weren’t two faeries enough? Now there’s another one!”

“Calm down, Tom. Mira is my friend.”

“Oh? So you have a faerie friend, too? That’s… well, that’s just what one would expect from a wizard, sir!” Tom looked at Joan with newfound admiration.

Joan had no desire to listen to the excitable dwarf’s chatter. He told Tom to stay in the workshop and wait, then took Conti and Mira down to the banks of the Derlin River.