Most surprising was the king himself, who appeared to be human; an Irishman who said he could "smell the English" on me as we approached. Liam O’Leary was his name. He was not forthcoming about how he came to lead a Faerie kingdom. Though, it was clear that he had lived for centuries at that point. “I’ve seen what your people do,” said the king, referring, I presumed, to my nationality.

“I saw it at Kinsale, then again when I led The Folk in their flight to America. You think you have a monopoly on civilization. That you have a mandate to murder and enslave to build the world in your image.” “I’ll not defend the legacy of the empire,” I replied. Then, thinking of what Seneca had said of the demons of Wyrm Holler, I added, “That ain’t us. These folk right here need your help against exactly the evils you rail against.” At length, O’Leary gave his word that, when the fight came, the Fae will be there. Then he sent us on our way. I didn’t know if I could take him at his word, but I hoped.

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