A thicket of woods once again gave way to lush grass fields, with spots of farmland in the distance, as the rental car cruised through the French countryside. While the snazzy driver was content with the scenic view and gentle tunes on the radio, the casually dressed, dark-haired passenger shifted and readjusted often, as his mind kept focusing in on an incessant itching around his right eye that had left him more than a bit irritable over the last couple of days. The change in scenery seemed to coincide with a shift in the passenger’s focus, and once more, the twenty-four-year-old relic-hunter was trying not to tear at his face because of the heavy paste that was smeared all around his eye. The strange concoction the alchemist had sold him was nearly invisible when applied, blending in and covering all the scarring, but it irritated the skin and itched fiercely.

“What’s the matter? Gotta pee?” the driver asked with a slight chuckle.

For a few seconds, Robbie was distracted from the burning itch as he turned to glare at the older man, blue eyes narrowing.

“Ha ha. No, really, it’s starting to get funny after a dozen times.”

“Repetition is the key to good comedy,” Gary replied sagely.

With a practiced eye roll and a throaty groan, Robbie voiced another frustration that had also been a sore spot as well.

“Remind me again, why the hell did I bring you with me?”

Gary sighed and loosened his silk blue tie. He rolled down the window, which whipped back his greying hair, before lighting a cigarette. “Because you want to walk away from this job having made some money.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do not,” Robbie lied. “All I know is, if I still have to meet the client, then it beats the point of our arrangement.”

“I’ve already told you; this client was very specific about wanting to meet you in person.”

“No, I get that part. What I’m wondering is, how did I let you talk me into paying you to accompany me?”

“Exactly what I said before, you want to walk away from this having made some money.” Sensing the argument coming, Gary added, “Look, the client is a pretty lady with a sob story. I let you go in there alone; she’ll have you eating out of her hand before you even find out what the job is.”

“Like hell I would!” Robbie fixed Gary with an indignant stare, but it only made the older man smile.

“Oh, come on, kid, you can try to put on the tough guy act all you want, but I’ve worked with you long enough to know you get suckered into every sob story. Especially if there’s kids involved.”

Robbie tried to push down the question creeping along his lips, but he was unable to resist. “Are there kids involved?”

For a moment, Gary just shook his head and finished his cigarette as he tried not to laugh at the earnest concern in Robbie’s voice. “My point exactly. Just follow my lead and let me do the talking. This should be a nice and easy job, with a nice big payout for us both.” Robbie shot Gary a look before letting loose a groan filled with genuine annoyance. “What?”

“You should know better than to say shit like that.”

Only one road ran to and through the small countryside village, Beauprè, cutting a path directly through the center and continuing right up to a lavish manor which overlooked the cottage homes from atop a large hill. They cruised through the quaint village, which was a rectangle of identical homes, whose varying gardens and fanciful lawn decorations were the only things that distinguished any individual cottage from the others. They found the place lively with people who were all too happy to see them. Several residents sat outside their homes, a few small groups gathering here and there, while others viewed the world through an open window, but no matter where they were or what they were doing, they all stopped to smile and wave. It was a diverse and eclectic mix of faces, but there was a general commonality amongst them that Robbie immediately picked up on.

“Hey, notice anything peculiar?” Robbie asked as he carefully eyed everyone they passed, while maintaining what he hoped was a friendly smile.

“Yeah. A lot of fairies about.” Speckled throughout the village was a mix of glowing, insectile Brownies and the short humanoid Pint Fairies, who buzzed and flitted about the village like birds and lay atop the roofs soaking in the sun. “I think I see some halflings too. Which, given the nature of who runs the village, isn’t too surprising.”

“Sure, but that’s not what I meant. Look closer.”

It took the driver a few seconds before he realized what his partner was referring to. “Huh. That’s a bit odd.”

“Yeah. It seems like it’s a whole village of the old and sick.”

“Hmm, not everyone.” Gary pointed at a group of kids who were coming from the manor, wearing the same white shirt and dark shorts. “The children appear to be fine.”

As far as Robbie could tell, Gary was right. None of the kids had any apparent injuries or maladies. However, unlike the adults, who all stopped what they were doing to give these complete strangers a wide smile and a warm welcome, most of the children just gave them a halfhearted wave, and several of the kids just stared at them with little to no expression.

“Well, that’s disconcerting,” Robbie frowned. “Did you know about any of this already?”

“Sort of. There’s precious little information about this place out there, even for me, but I know there’s an orphanage here, and I gathered that she took care of sick people. I wasn’t expecting an entire village, though.”

They pulled up to the massive eighteenth-century French manor, white walls gleaming in the midafternoon sun, and had to be let through a nearly twenty-foot-high gate by a serious-looking man in a dark windbreaker, who made sure to keep his hand on the butt of the pistol holstered to his waist while he talked to them. They drove nearly a hundred feet before they came upon a large limestone fountain that created a roundabout in front of the manor, with the road continuing around to either side of the building. As they pulled to a stop in front of the marble stairs, a man wearing a tailored jacket and pants and a woman wearing a dark, pristine pencil skirt stepped outside and came over to greet them. Once Gary handed over the rental’s keys to the overly friendly man, the woman ushered them inside with too broad a smile and led them through a large open foyer, whose rich oak floors melded with the deep marble pillars and staircase.

The pair was led to a room which appeared to be either a large office or a small personal library, as all the walls were lined with massive wooden shelves packed tightly with books.

“Madame Auclair will be with you in a moment,” the woman in the pencil skirt said, before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Robbie peered about the room lazily and waited until he was sure the woman was no longer leaning against the door, trying to listen before he asked, “Does any of this strike you as strange?”

Gary shrugged and perused the shelves like this was an actual library. “The super-rich are a paranoid lot. You should know that by now.”

“Yeah, well, I more so meant the giant hospice the manor overlooks.”

“Overlooks and oversees. Half of the shelves are full of medical textbooks. As I mentioned earlier, it fits with the little I was able to dig up about this place and its reclusive owner.”

Before Gary could elaborate further, the door opened, and a young woman in a flowing white dress was rolled in on a wheelchair by a boy no older than twelve, wearing the same white shirt and black shorts that the other kids they’d seen were wearing. The boy’s dark hair was kept short, and the woman’s long, blond hair was tied back, both displaying the pointed ears of their half-elf origins. They were followed closely by an elderly man using a walker and a woman who might have been pushing a hundred, and were flanked by two armed men who wore the same dark windbreaker as the man at the gate.

The boy kept his eyes downcast as he pushed the woman to the small but ornate desk near the center of the room, who, in turn, smiled brightly and introduced herself as Fleur Anne-Marie Auclair.

“And this is Herman Mason and Madame Bayer. They act as liaisons between the villagers and me. They are quite excited to meet you, Monsieur Erikson.”

Robbie was so surprised upon seeing Madame Bayer that he almost didn’t register what Fleur said. He hadn’t met many full-blooded elves, and to see one so heavily aged was a truly rare sight.

“I – uh – me? Really?”

Everyone but Robbie and the bodyguards laughed.

“Why of course you,” Fleur chuckled, “We may have a good mix of halflings amongst our ranks, and of course Madame Bayer here, but it has been some time since we’ve had someone around who can do the things that you do. Let alone someone of your fame.”

“My fame?” Robbie asked, eyes dropping to the floor as he awkwardly ran a hand through his hair.

“Oh yes, Mr. Erikson,” Herman began, in a slightly wheezy tone, “Tales of your exploits have been the talk of the town for the last several days.”

“That’s right,” Madame Bayer agreed, “and while the fairies like to come visit, their magic is really just parlor tricks and light shows. We’ve heard that you’re practically a spell-slinger.”

“Really? Is that so?” Robbie’s face was turning red, but a satisfied smile was tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” Gary muttered softly so that only he heard it, before turning to Fleur with a game host smile. “This is quite the remarkable village you have, Ms. Auclair.”

“Please, call me Fleur. And thank you. It is the culmination of many years of hard work. After my accident, I made it my goal in life to gather the meek and injured, to help ease their burden.”

“Oh, come now,” Ms. Bayer said dotingly, “You’ve been helping others since long before the accident.”

“Indeed. All of us would be lost without you, Fleur,” Hermon said, “We owe our lives to you.”

“Oh, well …” Fleur blushed.

“Sounds like the village is lucky to have someone like you,” Gary said. “Right, Herm?”

“It’s Hermon.”

“Now, why don’t we get this underway. You know what they say, the sooner we work, the sooner we can celebrate.”

Fleur spent the next few minutes giving them an overview of what the job would be: recovering an artifact hidden deep in the forest and protected by magical traps, which, as it went, told Robbie almost nothing. Most of the jobs he took on could be described as such, just changing out the location and whatever he was looking for.

“Of course, I can’t give you the details until you’ve agreed to a contract. I wouldn’t want you going and gathering it for yourself.” The halfling’s words were spoken in the same bright way she said everything else, but Robbie heard the threat underneath. He had also noticed there were people waiting just outside the room and had a sneaking suspicion they were armed. “So, what do you say?”

Gary fixed her with a grin so charming it would make the devil blush. “So long as we can come to an agreeable price, I don’t see why not.”

While Gary and Fleur negotiated and discussed the finer details, Robbie fielded questions from the excitable Herman and the stern but friendly Madame Bayer.

“How many artifacts can you use at once?”

“Do you explore a lot of underground caves?”

“Have you ever seen a dragon?”

“Where’s the scariest place you’ve explored?”

“Have you come across any living artifacts!?”

“Have you come across any cursed artifacts?”

At first, Robbie was swept up in the surprising attention, but after a couple of minutes, he wished for nothing more than to be able to fade into the background, now that the initial rush of being recognized had worn out. While he answered their questions, he tried to keep an ear on the conversation between Gary and Fleur, but it proved to be too hard, so he decided to let his usual vision fade. One moment, everything was normal, and the next, the world around him became a brilliant light show of vibrant colors, rising from the bodies of everyone in the room. With his hyperreal view of the world, he carefully watched the half-elf’s aura for any of the minute signs that would show she was lying. He trusted Gary. He knew the older man didn’t need to see auras to know when people were lying most of the time, but Robbie wasn’t used to actually working alongside him, and old habits die hard.

It wasn’t long before papers were being signed, and Gary had talked his way into an expensive bottle of wine to celebrate. Afterwards, they were fed and given a tour of the manor by the woman who had greeted them at the door, who reintroduced herself as Fleur’s assistant. She showed them to their rooms, and Robbie was handed a robust dossier and a couple of books to peruse, all about the history and geography of the area he would be venturing through with a team of five mercenaries.

Robbie read through the dossier three times before he voiced his concern to Gary. 

“You sure, kid?” Gary frowned.

“Is that a serious question?”

“Fair enough. Okay, just let me do the talking.” He asked Fleur’s assistant, who appeared to also be their chaperone, if they could speak with Fleur. They were brought back to the same room that they’d spoken with her earlier, but this time the half-elf was already waiting for them.

“Is there a problem?” Fleur asked.

“Well, more of a concern, I would say,” Gary began. “My partner here is a bit worried about the artifact you wish to recover. To be more accurate, he’s worried about its authenticity.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“You see, and keep in mind it’s all a bit complicated, the problem -,”

“The artifact is probably a fake,” Robbie interjected.

“Okay, maybe it’s not that complicated.”

“Yeah, well, what is complicated is healing magic. It may be the most complex bit of magic there is,” Robbie began. “The only people powerful enough to perform healing magic are those on par with Fae Lords. Every so-called “healing” artifact I’ve ever come across has been fake, and half of them have been cursed. And even if it is the real deal, you might not want to use it.”

Fleur’s irritation was immediate and apparent, as she failed to maintain her overly sweet persona. “And why is that?”

“Because healing magic works more like alchemy than regular magic. Equal exchange. In other words, anything you heal will come at a cost.”

“What kind of cost?”

Robbie shrugged. “Depends. All I know is that even with magic, you don’t get something out of nothing.”

As if a flip was switched, something blazed behind Fleur’s pale eyes, but before she could spit out her retort or before Robbie made things worse, Gary spoke up, stepping in between them to turn the focus on him. “What my associate here is trying to say is, you can’t always trust the rumors and legends. As a professional who takes pride in his work, he wouldn’t feel right if he didn’t give you a fair warning. After all, neither of us wants to see you disappointed.”

Fleur stared at them for a long moment with an impassive look, but Gary’s words appeared to placate the halfling. “I see. Well, I appreciate your honesty, then, but I choose to believe in its authenticity. In fact, I have good reason to believe it is real. And I will deal with any consequences that may come. So, rest assured, you will be paid so long as you bring it to me, regardless of its function.”

Robbie wanted to argue, but Gary held up a hand to quiet him.

“So long as you understand.”

“I do. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”

Again, Robbie started to speak, but once more, Gary raised his hand. “Actually, there is one tiny unrelated thing. You wouldn’t happen to be able to put us in touch with Madame Marceline?”

“The artifact dealer?” Fleur asked, then smiled, happy for the change of subject. “As a matter of fact, I can.”