The sprites and fairies of Seroco were as varied in form and function as the flowers of the field and the birds of the air. Water fairies plied the rivers and streams, wind sprites gusted along the air currents, earth sprites made their home underground and moved through dirt and stone as if it were water. Grass fairies danced among the meadows, blood sprites stood watch over the fallen… The list would go on and on into infinity it seemed.

But among all the little folk, there exist subtypes that are rarer and more valued than all the others. They did not have their own domain, as did the wood sprites or the lava fairies. Instead, they could be born from any one of the other fae, their powers coming to the forefront regardless of parentage or station.

They were the Administrator Fairies, and their power was legendary.

Chief Clennais of the Starlight Tribe was one such administrator. For over fifty years, ever since his awakening, he had seen those placed under his care through both the good times and the bad.

He was an unassuming fae, narrow of shoulder and face and stride. His whiskers barely reached the end of his chin, his ears were stubby and rounded, and the corners of his mouth always seemed to be drawn earthward in a perpetual frown. He knew he was not as handsome as the dancers in the moonlight, nor as swift as the river sprites, nor even as strong as the timber fae.

But when the great drought had loomed, it had been his authority that had prevented a lean year from becoming a full-blown famine. And when the Wizzos from the north had begun encroaching on fae territory, it had been Chief Clennais whose honeyed words and sharp wit had drawn up the treaty that ended up benefitting them all.

The power of the Administration Fae was unmatched. Who had need of a strong arm when he could delegate such matters to ten strong fae? Who had need of a comely appearance when he could request entire troupes of dancers perform for him and his guests?

For years, chief Clennais had led his people as best he could. And, if he said so himself, his best was pretty darn good.

I should not boast, Chief Clennais thought now, seated behind his desk and staring morosely at the the fae in front of him as reports were presented. Clearly someone was listening, and has decided to punish me for my hubris.

"The southern edges are becoming more dangerous, Chief," said Pennat, his right-hand fae and assistant. "We nearly lost two entire patrols yesterday. One encountered a Bog Wump and had to evacuate before the corrosion set in. The other stumbled across a corrupted Spawn Point that was already spitting out those great bug monsters."

"Another one," Clennais echoed, pinching the bridge of his long nose with even longer fingers. "That makes three this week."

"Four, if you count the one that we found simmering in Widien Sparrowthief's pantry," corrected Pennat.

Clennais made a face. "I am not convinced that what we found in Widien's pantry was not the result of her own depraved culinary experiments. Remember that business with the pudding golem last year?"

"In her defense," Pennat said with a pencil-thin smile, "it was delicious."

"It ate half of my house before we finally put it down," Clennais grumbled. "But regardless. Tell Amant to put a heavy team together. We will deal with the spawn point, and leave the Bog Wump to its lair. Dealing with those things is always such a nuisance, I'd rather not attempt it unless it becomes absolutely necessary."

"Right away, Chief," Pennat said, making a note on his ledger with his small magical pencil. "In better news, the garden gnomes tell me that our expected harvest will be greater than we anticipated at the beginning of planting season. We may have to construct additional storehouses to hold the added bounty."

Chief Clennais blinked at that. "Really? That is good news." It had been some time since the tribe had a true surplus of the foodstuffs and herbs they grew in their magical plots. Perhaps he would earmark a portion of it to be used in the upcoming trade talks he was preparing to send to the Oomphs. Those furry buggers were always clamoring for more fresh produce. It might be an effective way to gain some more concessions from them. The Tribe's metal stores were running a little low, and the Oomphs had the finest veins of ore on the island.

"We are also getting reports of disturbances deeper inside the Edges," Pennant said, flipping to the next page in his ledger. "Details are slim, but we have dispatched patrols to the areas, and they should be returning soon."

Clennais sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. Up until only recently, these meetings with his aide would have lasted barely ten minutes unless it was an odd day. But for the last week or so, they had been getting progressively longer. Today's meeting was already in the third hour, and he was getting tired.

"Alright Pennat," he said, standing from behind his desk. "I cannot take any more of these dreary discussions in this dreary office. Come, we are going outside to get some sunshine and to see the Tribe while we talk."

"As you say, Chief," the wood sprite said, bowing slightly from the waist. "May I suggest a route that takes us near the southern gate. I am expecting our patrols back at any moment, and it would not be a bad idea to greet them on their return."

"Splendid." Clennais slipped into his coat of office and strode with Pennat out of the room. "Let's go."

The Chief's Office was a small building build into the main trunk of the village Kel'Darshein tree. Even in slumber, the ancient guardian looked out for the Tribe by providing them shelter and nourishment through its fruit and sap, and the Chief's office being built into its trunk was both practical and symbolic.

The Starlight Tribe's village spread out from the Kel'Darshein's trunk. It was a mishmash of styles, everything from small thatched-roof huts to stone edifices that stretched towards the treetops to homes actually built into the tree trunks surrounding the Kel'Darshein tree. Each type of fae had their own preferences for living conditions, and it was the creed of the Starlight Tribe to include and accommodate everyone as best as they could.

Small stone paths led through the village, guiding feet towards domiciles, storefronts, bazaars, and all manner of other interests. There was even a haberdasher–though she had only managed to sell one hat to a very peculiar earth sprite. Most fae were not well-known for their taste in chapeaus.

The two fae let their feet lead them down the paths towards the southern gate. Which should have been odd, because the village didn't have walls per-se, so it shouldn't have had gates either. But sometime back in the mists of time, one of their ancestors or one of their ancestor's allies had set a warding spell around their village, and anyone not entering or leaving by the gate was marked as an enemy, and there were certain… deterring factors that would be activated, were that to happen.

You only had to be grabbed by pricker vines and held upside down over a carnifflower's toothy maw once before making the decision that going in and out of the gate was probably the better choice. But like clockwork there were always one or two younglings who rediscovered that fact every month or so.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

And as they went, the fae around the village greeted them.

"Afternoon chief!"

"Good to see you, Chief!"

"Hoy, Chief-o! You're coming to the bake-off tomorrow, yeah?"

Clennais nodded to each one in turn as he walked, and felt his spirits lifting slightly. It was good to remember that there was more to life beyond the little room and the heavy concerns of his office. It was good to remember that he was liked by those over whom he exercised authority. It meant he was doing well.

And let's be honest, who didn't enjoy having their praises sung?

"It is strange," Pennat said as they neared the gate. "So much has been happening recently… And now with the impending bumper crop, I can't help but wonder if it is all connected. It is almost like the island is… waking up."

"Let us hope you're wrong," Clennais said, shooting his aide a glare. "Because we both know what it means if you are right. It's centuries since the Emperor, and I want no part of another Sojourner." He spat the name like it tasted rotten on his tongue.

"I think it may be more that the world is finally starting to heal itself," Pennat said thoughtfully. "Perhaps the damage the Last Guy did has at last run its course and we will be seeing things become better across the board."

Clennais considered this for a moment, waving at a fire sprite who waved back enthusiastically.

"It could be," he allowed, even though in his mind he didn't believe it for a second. He was almost two hundred years old, old enough to know that the world didn't simply get better on its own. It was rough and mean and took power to tame and toil to polish.

But let the other fae have his dreams. Clennais had no need to crush them. Yet.

They continued to speak of various trivial matters as they walked, until they drew near to the gate and suddenly a commotion went up from the guards.

"Ah," Pennat said, snapping his ledger closed. "That will be our patrol coming back in. They are…" he glanced at the sky and frowned slightly. "Late. Curious."

"Well then," Clennais said, "let us go see what has kept them."

They pushed their way through the small crowd of fae that had gathered before the great obsidian pillars that comprised the southern gate, until they cam to a small clear space right before the big black doors, and saw two fae step through.

The patrol consisted of two of their finest scouts: Peate the earth sprite, and Bindea the wind fae. They made gestures of respect to Clennais as he stepped up to them, and he returned the gesture and took a moment to get a good look at them.

And in that one look, he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

"What happened," he said without preamble.

"Sojourners," Peate said, equally bluntly. "A whole mess of them, just past the Southern Edge."

Clennais swore in his mind but kept his face impassive, even as Pennat's eyes widened.

"Well," Chief Clennais said, glancing at his aide. "It would seem you were correct."

"Never have I wished more desperately to be wrong," Pennat sighed. "You know where they reside?" the question was directed to their scouts.

"They're probably occupying the Last Guy's old fort or something," Bindea piped up, the usually-cheerful fae looking grim. "We dunno where for certain, but they headed back that way when they left the hex."

"You did not follow them?" Clennais asked, arching a brow.

"No," Peate said, tapping the brim of his cap. "We figured it'd be better to report back to you. They're the real deal. System Arts, Legendary Weapons, classes, the whole berry bush."

"Well," Clennais sighed. "That is unfortunate. Still, we knew it might happen some day, and we prepared for this eventuality. We will do the best we can to stay away from their notice–"

"They already know about us. Or at least, about Peatey and me," Bindea piped up. "One of the kids, she had the Nature's Ally art. Pulled me and Peatey right off our patrol route."

There was a soft gasp from the onlookers, and even Clennais couldn't keep his eyes from widening.

"They forced you to help them?" he demanded.

"No, just asked real politely," Peate said matter of factly. "And the kid promised she wouldn't order us around. So take that for what it's worth."

Clennais let out a breath. "So they seem reasonable, then?"

"Yeah, I'd say so."

"Excellent. Perhaps we will be able to weather the storm after all then." Clennais sighed. "I suppose we should send an emissary to them, to introduce ourselves formally, if they already know about us."

"Uh, chief, you may want to do more than that," Peate said, and Clennais caught the undercurrent in the earth sprite's voice.

"But maybe we should talk about it in private?" Bindea asked, gesturing to a nearby guard hut.

Clennais considered it for a second, then nodded and followed his scouts to the little stone hut. Once the guards inside had been told to vacate, both he and Pennat turned and crossed their arms, waiting for the report.

"It's a bunch of them," Peate started. "We saw four, and there's probably more back wherever they set up camp."

Clennais cursed under his breath. A multitude of Sojourners, according to the tales, always meant trouble. "Well, that is not good. Perhaps we can–"

"They're a family," Bindea cut in, and her words smacked into the world like she had just produced a bloody axe and started waving it around. Silence dropped, and the two older fae stared.

"A family?" Clennais said slowly, enunciating each syllable clearly. "You're certain?"

"Kid called the older human 'mom'. And they were talking to 'dad' through some kind of far-talker," Peate confirmed. "We figured you needed to know, pronto."

Clennais looked at Bindea, and saw confirmation on her pretty features. He then looked at Pennat, and saw a mirror of the shock he knew had to be on his own face.

A family.

"That means there will be other groups as well, if the histories are accurate," Pennat said after a moment, recovering slowly. "They will appear soon, if they have not already done so."

"And they'll all be part of an established group," Clennais said, remembering the histories as well. "Are you certain?" he asked the scouts again, even though he knew the answer he would receive.

"Yes," they both said.

Clennais nodded once more, mind working a thousand yards a second.

A family.

This changed everything.

"We will prepare a friendship offering," he decided, looking at Pennat. "Pull out all the stops, only our finest products and produce. I shall lead the delegation personally.

"Peate, Bindea, gather your best scouts and find me where they live, but do not reveal yourself if you can help it.

"Pennat, prepare dispatches. We must alert the Whizzos, the Oomphs, and the Techies. This is a chance we cannot afford to let slip through our fingers, and they must be given the information that they may make their own decisions on it."

Clennais turned back, mind still racing.

"And gather our warriors," he added. "If they turn out to be hostile to us, we will need help covering our retreat."

Not that it would do much good, if they were like the Last Guy. But the preparations needed to be made.

"Go," he said, using his Voice Of Authority.

The others in the room bowed, and then fled.

A family.

Clennais allowed himself a deep steadying breath. History only provided so many pivotal moments to those that dwelt within her, and it was up to those who lived in such times to see it coming and throw their weight against the pivot to try and effect it for the better.

Here, now, was one such moment.

He prayed he would be equal to it. Not just for his sake, or even for the sake of his Tribe.

For the sake of the world.

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