"I could have assisted you on my own initiative," (Patreon)

Ash shrugged.  "But before wasting my time I needed to know what kind of elf I was dealing with.  The stories portray you as either a mass murdering despot or a spineless, incompetent fool.  If you were the former, you would have welcomed my help gladly.  If you were the latter, there was no way of knowing if you would ever do anything useful or even have a plan which would be worthy of my involvement.  I do have a certain amount of professional pride, and a modest but solid reputation to uphold.  Your decision to start a cult of hairdressers as your first move did not inspire confidence.  As it turns out however, you are somewhere near the middle, neither a tyrant nor a booby.  My mistake for assuming you would necessarily be one of the two extremes.  Elves don't lie; the main reason I offered to do all the work while you skip to the end is because ... well ... after hearing your life story and the way all of your exploits seem to turn out, I was worried that having you directly involved would jinx the whole operation."

"If I was a murderous despot I might not need your help," I pointed out.  "And if I did accept, you'd be in constant danger from me as well as from my enemies."

"Believe me, I'm used to that," Ash replied.

"Well, I don't know -" I began, then reconsidered.  "Or let's say I don't WANT to know exactly what you can do for me.  The hair cult isn't a strong-arm racket, and I've already got Lysander looking for Zandar Skönk."

"Lysander works for me," Ash declared.  "You had him investigating Skeorlesburg, correct?  That place burned to the ground almost 150 years ago.  An outbreak of witchcraft, according to the official reports."

"Was Zandar there?" I asked.  "Did she escape?  Why did she not come to the Ferifax Festival with the other changelings that year?"

"I don't have answers for those questions but I will get some," Ash replied, then tipped his hat and walked away.

"Sire, Sire," an Ixie whispered urgently.  "There is someone outside the scrying tower, on the porch, trying to get in!"

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