Issue 1.0: Fairies
The Tale of Pippa Moonwing and the Queen’s Curtains
If you had told me hours ago that I would end up here, trapped in an iron birdcage staring at my admittedly beautiful human captor, I would have laughed my little wings off.
Yet here I am.
Not laughing. Not one little bit.
You might be wondering how I ended up in this predicament—how Pippa Moonwing, Queen Lorelei’s top-performing procurement agent, tarnished her perfect track record of never getting caught on a job. Well, it all started when the Queen sent me to the human kingdom of Briarcliff to bring back a page out of their ancient text, “Principia Historia.” She believed a page from this tome would be the perfect material for the curtains in her new library.
Let’s just say, my gambling debts—accrued due to my terrible poker face and overindulgence in mead —made me highly motivated to take the job.
It all went downhill when I knelt on the musty pages of the “Principia Historia”. The thing was an absolute thorny beast to open, a downright humbling reminder that I need to get back to my training regimen. But I digress.
Just as I began to run my quartz blade down the length of the page, the palace library doors swung open with a heavy groan. The door’s groan was followed by a very human-sounding groan. The deep reverberations of both sounds nearly sent the blade flying out of my nimble fingers. I would need to work quickly and get the seven hells out of there.
The human male strode by without a glance in my direction. In a huff, his tawny hands slammed on a mahogany desk, the papers on top swathed in moonlight from the ajar window through which I’d flown. In the tense seconds that I was rolling up the page for the Queen, I noted his huffs devolving into sniffles. Was he…crying?
Surprised by my unexpected intrigue into his emotional state, I dropped my blade before I could fly off with the paper. It clinked and clanked off the podium on which the “Principia Historia” rested and clattered to the stone floor, right next to the sobbing man’s shiny leather boot.
He straightened. I did the same, frozen in place. He turned sharply, eyes bloodshot and full of something like despair and shock. The effect of his realization hit me harder than a third dram of honey mead from Adelina’s tavern.
Well, thistles and thorns! He had the sight.
“You can see me?” I asked him stupidly.
“What are you doing here?” He hissed, reaching for the iron cage that would become my prison momentarily. “Why have you cut a page out of Briarcliff’s most revered text?”
“I can explain!”
But he didn’t want to hear it. The next thing I knew, I was shoved roughly into the cage, swathed in the smell of whatever avian resident had last used it. My wings trembled. My hands burned as I attempted to rattle the tiny door.
“Wait until I show you to my Father,” the man crossed his arms, his emerald eyes piercing my racing heart.
“How about you don’t show me to your Father, eh?” I gave him my most charming pixie smile.
“You want me to simply let you go?” He raised a bushy eyebrow.
“I heard you crying,” I pulled one card I hoped might work. “Something is troubling you. You might even have a problem that needs solving, but you don’t know how.”
The man glanced back at the desk and the tear-stained parchments, then back to me, warily.
“How do you—“
Before he could finish, I interrupted with an impish grin. “Let’s make a bargain.”
Which brings us to the present, where an unbearably awkward silence has filled the air between me and my captor, and I am still very much trapped in a foul fowl lock-up. Perhaps I should have anticipated this, but I was preparing for an explosion of emotion from the man, a spewing of vulnerability, or even a slightly weakened resolve. He wasn’t even pouting.
Note to self: In addition to an upkick in exercise drills, throw in a few training sessions involving impish influence and pixie persuasion.
“You seem stressed,” I try again, gesturing to the surrounding, messy emporium, “I imagine managing all of this can do that to a person.”
His crossed arms tighten in heightened defence, but I can see the glimmer of relief in his eyes. He’s touched by someone noticing his suffering.
“It isn’t exactly simple,” he says gruffly, shrugging one shoulder up, “I do what I must.”
“And you must…?”
“That’s confidential.”
I scrunch my nose, “Not quite confidential. Am I not in here?”
He flushes a deep crimson, all the way to the surprisingly sharp tips of his ears, “How dare you question my abilities of protecting and preserving Briarcliff’s sacred compositions! It’s my responsibility to safeguard these works. My job. My inheritance. And I am more than capable of performing the role bequeathed to me, no matter what you or my father say!”
He blanches, and then he blushes, and the fluctuation of his colouring has made his green eyes all the brighter.
Am I swooning? Oh, for thistle’s grief!
I give a nod in understanding, “So, it’s a familial distress. Those can be the toughest to tackle.”
He is reluctant to engage, but his emotions are finally getting the best of him. I can taste his surrender in the air. I almost press my hands against the bars, stopping myself just in time, the heat of the moment no doubt getting to my brain.
“We can help each other. You know what I need: a tiny bit of paper and a kind, understanding human to open this iron cage for me,” I flutter my lashes. “So, how can we meet in the middle? How can I assist you?”
He blinks in response, swallowing a lump in his throat.
“Alright—okay,” he gives a fervent nod, “I’ll let you go, and I won’t show you to my father,” he says dryly, almost repulsed by whatever he plans to say next, “If you’ll give me a piece of your wings.”
“A piece of my wings, huh?” I mull it over for a moment.
He never clarified when I need to give him my wings. I bite my lip to keep from smiling. Reader, I hope that if you ever come into such negotiations with a fairy—or any other fae being—you consider your words much more carefully than this human did.
“Deal. Now let me out.”
“Well, that was easier than I thought,” the regrettably handsome but unfortunately dim human mutters under his breath as he searches the desk drawers. “It’s got to be around here somewhere… Oh, bollocks, what did I do with it…”
“I’m waiting, human…”
“Conrad. Please, call me Conrad.” He turns to face me, sweat beading along his smooth, unblemished skin. “Now, where is that key…”
Aha! Pippa: two, Conrad: zero. Now, reader, I’m sure you are much more well-read than this bumbling fool, and know to never, under any circumstances, share your name with a fairy.
“You mean to tell me you have lost the key?” I peek through the slots between the iron bars of the birdcage.
“Not lost, just simply… misplaced.” He starts shuffling the papers atop the desk around in a fervent search.
“Did you check the pocket of your cloak?”
“Of course I checked— Oh.” His cheeks flush as he pulls out an iron key from deep within his rust-colored cloak.
I can’t keep my eyes from rolling as he opens the cage door and finally releases me from my iron prison.
I beat my translucent-blue wings as fast as I can as I dart forward, grabbing the page from “Principia Historia” off the desk, and barrel towards the window.
“Oi! You said you’d give me a piece of your wings! We made a deal!” Conrad swipes at the air with his strong, masculine hands, but this time his attempt to catch me is futile.
“You can have them when I’m dead!” I shout back at him, and a maniacal laugh erupts from somewhere deep within me as I vanish into the night.
I flapped hard, thankful to still have both wings attached, until the palace shrank behind me. Out of breath, no plan, no clue. Until, oh yes. Salvation in the form of a miracle from the far-off dwarven lands: Adelina’s tavern. Lit up, glowing like the gates of paradise.
Hydration was calling.
I landed, tucked the parchment tight under my arm, and waltzed in.
“Aw, here she is, my favourite fairy,” Adelina purred, sarcasm dripping.
“Good morrow to ye, Adelina,” I replied, matching tone for tone.
“Enough of the pleasantries. You owe me six farthings and a quart to clear your tab. Oh, and word of advice: don’t let the Trowbridge trolls catch you in here. Seems you’ve gambled with the wrong crowd. Lucky you haven’t had your wings clipped.”
“Well, pour me a dram and an ale chaser and I’ll tell you a little story.”
She rolled her eyes but fetched the drinks. “Christ, what’s it this time? You’ve got trouble written all over your wings.”
I slammed back the dram. “Let’s just say I was… shopping for the Queen’s curtains. Haberdashery out of an ancient book. Ended up in a king’s son’s birdcage. Conrad, thick as porridge.”
Adelina froze. “Conrad? The king’s Conrad? That wretched goat’s teat?”
“You know him?”
“Oh, aye. Comes in here bawling into his ale. Daddy’s boy. Pathetic.”
My stomach sank. Brilliant. If he was half as miserable as he looked, he’d be on his way here right now to drink his grief dry.
I downed the ale. “Stick that on my tab. I’d best be off to the Queen.”
I didn’t even make it to the street before fate spat in my face.
“’Ello, if it isn’t my little pixie prick.” A stinking sack of offal stepped out of the shadows. Fangle. Trowbridge troll, ugliest of the ugly, and unfortunately, the one I owed. “Glad I bumped into ye. You owe us farthings from our last little game.”
Perfect. Just perfect.
“Funny you say that,” I grinned with all the sincerity of a snake. “I was just delivering these curtains to the Queen, then we can sort it.”
“Curtains?” Fangle squinted. “Looks like parchment to me. Hand it over.”
Before I could blink, he snatched it clean out from under my arm.
Bloody, thistle-pricked bollocks.
Brilliant. First the cage, now the troll.
Now, fair reader, this may be the part in the story where you were expecting me to wax poetic about my duty to the Queen, and how I must finish my quest for curtains, no matter what. I hate to break it to you, but if that is the case, you're reading the wrong story. Pippa of the Pixie Lands has not survived as long as she has by throwing her life away for something as foolish as selflessness.
To throw the wretched troll off-yes, his name doesn't even bear remembering - I dove towards the stolen parchment. He held it close to his chest, which needed a rather good cleaning if you ask me, before sweeping over his head and soaring up into the sky.
The troll shook his fist at me, shouting curses that shouldn't grace anyone's mouth, no matter how vile. But they were lost to the wind, just as I was. Weaving through the clouds with my thoughts spiraling into a tailspin.
Should I go back to the castle for another piece of decor? I wasn't willing to go up against a troll, and a troll who I owed money to no less, but I still needed to fulfill my contract with the Queen, not only to avoid her ire, but to avoid my mounting debts. But going back to the castle meant I maaaay run into that overly stimulated fool Conrad. A fate that I would rather avoid, in case he was smart enough to have a trap ready to snag some of my wing.
What to do, what to do…I swerved around an owl as they carved through the sky, heading towards the Twilight Wood. Wait a minute, an owl?
If anyone could solve my problem without me putting in much effort, it would be a wise old owl from the Twilight Wood. The best part of it was, they didn't take traditional payment in coin. Opting for growing their library of knowledge by exchanging factoids for their help instead.
Let's see…I've already told them about enough gambling games for them to start their own casino, but I may be able to bargain with a tastier morsel like…the name of the Crown Prince? Uwee-hee-ee.
“Wait up, kind sir!” I called as I changed course to follow the owl. “I have a business proposition to share with you!”
Now, I know that I may seem like someone who just floats through life and survives by getting lucky occasionally - someone who isn’t actually loyal or trustworthy or skilled in any capacity, whatsoever. That is correct, but no need to nod, reader. You’re supposed to say, “Of course not, Pippa! There’s no one as skilled as you in all of Pippa Lands!!” But hey, you don’t know my entire story after all! Maybe I should write my autobiography soon!
Back to our owl business now! The owl signalled me to follow, and we sat on a thatched roof to discuss my business proposition. I started my pitch eagerly saying, “Thank you, dear sir! I appreciate you making time for me”. I know it’s too polite, but you know how owls are… being polite is very important to them. The owl started speaking. “First of all, it is ma’am and not sir. You have addressed me with prejudice not once but twice! I am not keen on hearing anything more from you”. Oh dear!! What have I done! Why is nothing going in my favour today!! I caught myself slipping into a pity spiral and thankfully snapped out of it.
“Oh, I do apologise, ma’am! I only made a quick, albeit false judgment there because I’ve got myself in quite a pickle! And I need your help to get out of it and return to my normal life again. So, please could you forgive me and hear me out?”
The she-owl looked at me for a moment and realised that I was being sincere. For the record, I was sincere! Although telling you this again and again is making me sound like I’m not sincere. Ahhh, I really need to up my training game so I stop babbling so much.
“Alright, let’s hear it! What’s your business proposition?” Before I could start speaking, I found myself trapped inside a net that was thrown by - yes, you guessed that right - Conrad! How did he even find me here on the roof?! However, I was caught by surprise when the she-owl started talking. “Co… Conrad? What are you doing here? How do you know Pippa?”
The she-owl and Conrad knew each other? Wow, what a small world! Hey… hold on a moment! How does the she-owl know my name?! Is this all a setup?
“Don’t flatter yourself, darling”, said a strangely familiar voice!
He is full of confidence. I need to escape!
I huff while I try to fight against the prickly rope. I stop when the owl's feathers brush against my back. Wings. I flatten them on my back—as if glueing them to my skin.
The privileged information I held is not as privileged as I thought... The owl knows Conrad already! And she doesn’t seem to be too keen on either me or him…
Conrad scratches his head. As I look at his empty eyes, I get a tiny bit of hope... maybe he forgot about our deal. He is bright as a star during the day, after all.
"I'm only here to collect my payment!" Conrad continues.
My hope dies.
"I don’t care! Let me out! I don't want anything to do with you," the owl points her feathers towards Conrad. "...or you," she says before pecking my head with her beak.
"Auch!" I rub the spot.
Conrad laughs and opens the net on her side. I stretch out my wings again. She exits... Now's my chance!
I jolt after her and I can feel the cool air rushing against my skin...
BAM!
Conrad clenches his fists, but he’s not fast enough!
As I fly away, I mutter some curses for him—the creative pixie insults we all learned as the Queen spat them at us.
It takes me three days of uninterrupted flight to reach the castle.
Exhausted, I anxiously walk down the throne room. I bend the knee and lift the page:
“Here is the material for your curtain, Your Majesty.”
She scoffs. “You useless twat! What am I going to do with just one page! I said I want double curtains! Double!!”
Luckily, I’m not any pixie. I am Pippa. And Pippa knows her Queen a little too well.
“Our beautiful Queen cannot have double curtains! In my mission, I saw… All humans, even peasants, have double curtains! Of all Pixies, Your Holiness cannot be seen adapting human style!”
I look up, probing her face for a reaction. She ponders. And ponders. Until she flips her hair back.
“Of course not. Well done, Pippa. I’ll clear all your debts for this thoughtful interior design advice.”
Pippa-1, everyone else-0.
Thank you so much for reading the first-ever issue of The Round Table! I hope you enjoyed it! All of these amazing authors did an amazing job and deserve their flowers.
Also, I need to give a shout-out to my sister-in-law, Hanna, for the amazing artwork she created for this story! Isn’t she amazing?!
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I love how we all got Pippa's voice down so well haha. That ending made me cackle out loud, go Pippa! This story turned out amazing, great job all :D
This artwork is incredible!!!! Everyone did such an amazing job 💜 I'm so excited for October 🎃🎃