The Fisherman and the Mermaid

’Twas a radiant Summer’s day, perfect for fishing on the West Coast Sea.  Jeremy had rowed his little forest-green boat all the way out of the Greenlandian Bay and into the big blue.  He was alone and he preferred it that way.  Audrey didn’t care how he went about his business, so long as he brought her back a catch.

And so long as he met her in secret to satisfy her other appetite, as well.  Truth be told, Jeremy didn’t know if their meetings really were a secret.  He suspected that his majesty, King James, did know, but didn’t care. 

Or at least, didn’t care enough to actually do anything about it.  Perhaps King James was too busy keeping his unruly daughter, Princess Aurora, in line.  Come the Full Harvest Moon, she would be seven Solar cycles of age; and with each trip around the Sun, Princess Aurora seemed to grow more and more unhinged. 

So, perhaps James was too busy dealing with Princess Aurora.  Or perhaps he was too busy satisfying himself with elven mistresses in the Solar Kingdom.  Or perhaps both.  Rumour had spread that little Aurora Green wasn’t really Audrey’s child, after all; that she was some half-elven bastard.  (Jeremy’s older brother, Raymond, who lived in the Solar Kingdom, often gossiped about King James, King Reinhard and even Emperor Sola in his booze-infused letters to Jeremy.)

Regardless, King James was busy.  And Audrey was lonely.  And she had quite the appetite for Sir Jeremy’s fish. 

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The Golden Candle

Buttercup, a low-elf twelve Solar cycles of age, was sitting in the bay window of her family’s tree-house, reading a book of low-elven folklore, when the first snowfall of the Solar Cycle began covering the Greenlands.

She had first felt a chill—although this did not bother her, seeing as she was a low-elf. Then her long, pointy ears had noticed how peculiarly quiet it was, even with her three adoptive brothers—Alder, Pine and Chestnut—playing up in the loft of their tree-house.

Yes, Buttercup had sensed the winds changing, so she paused her reading to gaze out the large bay window and was startled to see snowflakes. They were almost like falling Stars, their whiteness contrasting with the deep blue twilight.

“Cosmos,” she breathed, not believing it. “Snow? This early?”

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The Trial of Titania Brown

“Greetings, folk of the Solar Kingdom. Today we gather for the trial of Misses Titania Brown, a mundane—or so she was sentenced to be!”

As Sola made his little speech, Titania shut her eyes tightly. She had never exactly been one for Divination or Metaphysical Magic, but she had to communicate with the Cosmos, beg the divine to just let her die.

“Yes, she was sentenced to a mundane life,” Sola continued, “as she was not deemed royal by the Cosmos, nor was she deemed noble. She is a giantess after all…”

At this, the Solar folk jeered:

“Disgusting giant!”

“A tainted folkian breed, indeed! Just filthy!”

“The giant race is too stupid to work with the Craft!”

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