Arthur tossed another cherrywood log onto the smoldering flame in the small smokehouse. The meat would be ready by dinner time, a long slow smoked brisket that he was sure the elves would enjoy. Human cuisines tended to be meatier than their native dishes, but they always begged him to cook for them during his scant time at Tyrael’s observatory at his normal size.

He wiped sweat from his brow and walked back to the towering dome at the top of the large hill. It was the only dwelling for miles, an elaborate and beautiful mansion with a small barn and vegetable patch at the bottom of the rise. The true gem of Tyrael’s home though, was the massive telescope in the domed structure on top of it.

He wondered idly if Tyrael would be spending the night looking through it, or if he might have the opportunity for a turn himself. Tyrael, being a mage, was connected to the stars in a way he, as a mere man, didn’t quite understand. Still, she did let him use the telescope when she or her apprentices weren’t, and he’d enjoyed gazing at the heavens, an opportunity never afforded to him at home in the Human Empire.

He was wrapped up in his thoughts when he stepped into the mansion, almost running into the elven apprentice carrying a stack of books.

“Lookout!” Elwyn shouted, tumbling over him, her books flying to the floor. His own cry of surprise was muffled as her breasts blocked his view, and the elf’s body pinned him to the floor easily no matter how much he struggled.

“Arthur?” the elf asked, slowly getting up. She giggled as she realized he was not quite as big as he should have been. “Did Tina steal a little of your height away?” she asked in mock sympathy.

“A little,” he said with a weak smile as they both stood up, collecting the apprentice mage’s books.

Elwyn and Tina were the only two apprentices studying with Tyrael for the moment, and he often found himself at their mercies when the older mage was away on business. Not that he minded of course, and he couldn’t help but grin as he looked up at the brown-haired elf. Like most of them she had an almost regal looking face, with pointed ears poking out of her almost impossibly silky looking hair.

“Tyrael is usually pretty strict about not reducing you on your big days,” Elwyn muttered, “I don’t know if she’s going to like this.”

“It had to be done,” the other elf mage said, grinning as she walked over to them, “it was disgusting, a human looking down on me, an elf! I had to make him smaller!” Tina, he’d learned, had a rebellious streak of sorts, often testing the boundaries of Tyrael’s rules. She’d also done some manner of spell to render her own hair a vibrant pink. She pulled Arthur close to herself, wrapping arms around him and giving him a lustful grin, “besides, our little human likes being tiny and pathetic, don’t you?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a goofy grin.

In truth he’d fantasized about being shrunk and toyed with by elves for years. Where other humans read stories of the war between the two races and elven treatment of human prisoners with fear, he’d always felt something else… When Tyrael and her apprentices had found themselves in his home town of Gustavsberg, he’d all but begged to leave with them.

For Tyrael’s part she’d been delighted to have a human to take home, and he’d lived with her in her observatory for the past year, serving her and her apprentices in any way he could.

“You are such a strange human,” Tina scowled, “you’re supposed to be afraid!”

“Leave Arthur alone!” Elwyn said, playfully coming to his other side, “he’s just more in touch with his true nature than most humans!”

They were all interrupted by the mansion door opening, and a tired looking Tyrael walked in, her blue mage robes glittering slightly. She sighed as she kicked off her boots, pulling her robe off and hanging it up and revealing a plain brown tunic underneath. In spite of how tired she was her long blonde hair seemed impossibly clean and straight, and while there was a slight sheen of sweat on her from her travels in the late summer, she looked immaculate.

“Hello everyone, I’ve-“ she frowned as she saw Arthur was the perfect height to stare directly into her chest. “Arthur,” she said calmly, “why are you so short?”

“Maybe you got bigger?” he joked.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes, “Doubtful…” She gestured for him to follow, and he suddenly felt tugged, as if on an invisible leash as her telekinesis gently pushed him. “Come Arthur,” she said mildly, “It’s been a long day, I want you to attend to me.”

He followed her, tugged by the invisible threads as they walked to Tyrael’s master bedroom, leaving the two apprentices to smirk knowingly at him as they went. With a flick of her wrist the elven mage opened the doors to her room, revealing the soft four poster bed, bookshelves, and the mage’s writing desk and crystal ball.

Atop her nightstand was what at first appeared to be a dollhouse, but upon closer inspection revealed impossibly precise design, and furniture and lodgings inside fit for a tiny human. Arthur spent many nights in “his” home, waking to the grinning face of his elven mistress, stretching like a sunrise outside his window. Of course he hadn’t slept there for the past two nights, when he was at full size he took one of the plain apprentice quarters on the far side of the mansion.

With a sigh Tyrael flopped herself into a chair next to the bookcase, gesturing to her feet. Arthur didn’t need to be told twice, he knelt and slowly pulled her socks off, revealing her pale, soft feet. An odd stale floral smell wafted off of them. One of the things he’d learned about elves was that their sweat carried a soft flowery smell to it, and it filled his nose as he gently rubbed Tyrael’s feet, causing the elf to sigh contentedly.

“You really shouldn’t let my apprentices shrink you on your full-size days,” Tyrael muttered, closing her eyes as she relaxed. “I’ll have to punish Tina… it was her, wasn’t it?”

“W-We were just goofing around,” Arthur insisted, “and she didn’t shrink me much.”

“I’m sure she took advantage of your current size to pin you to the bed and give you the amazon treatment,” Tyrael said with a small smile, causing Arthur to start as she guessed exactly what had happened.

“I uh… might have egged her on a bit,” Arthur said sheepishly, “please don’t punish her.”

“I insist on keeping you at your normal size for two days every week as a way to help you, to help us, keep things in perspective,” Tyrael drawled, playfully lifting her slightly damp foot and dragging her toe across his cheek.

“I’m not sure I follow,” he said, smirking as Tyrael’s foot lifted up, ruffling his hair and marring it with the elf’s sweat. “I love being tiny, and I know you and your apprentices-“

“Yes, we elves have a certain natural inclination for shrinking and toying with others,” Tyrael mused, opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling for a moment, “given the prevalence across the world’s elven cultures for reducing you humans I suspect the desire is innate, a divine decision by the goddess that sculpted us perhaps.”

“So what’s the harm?” Arthur asked with a grin, “why not simply leave me tiny for weeks, months…”

Tyrael gave him a soft smile, “because Arthur, as much fun as it is to keep you small and do all manner of lewd things with you, to treat you like a bug who is a slave to my whims… you are not actually my pet, you are my friend.” She sighed, leaning back as he gripped her foot, rubbing it again and squeezing her arches just right. “Having you clomp around here a head taller than all of us a few days a week helps remind all of us, you included, that we’re all people.”

“I suppose so,” he admitted.

Tyrael smiled, “and besides… you have your uses,” she said playfully, “was that smoked beef I smelled coming up the garden path?”

“It was,” he said with a grin.

“Delightful,” Tyrael said, standing up. “Since today’s attempt to stay big was a dud, I’ll have to use you to freshen up before dinner…”

Arthur watched as the world seemed to stretch and the familiar tingle of magic being applied to him coated his body. He dwindled quickly, watching his clothing billow around him like a circus tent, slowly falling around him.  

The elf’s hand stretched down towards him, slender fingers that were still thicker than his legs curling around his body as she lifted him out of his pooled clothing. He was brought up to the smug and grinning face of his elven mistress, a massive smiling cliff face that dominated his vision as her thumb playfully stroked the back of his head.

While he’d been fumbling in his own shirt, Tyrael had stripped down to her underwear, and she lifted her arm while he looked on, exposing a hairless armpit glistening with sweat.

“Whew,” she laughed, “I do so hate traveling during the summer months…”

Arthur was suddenly plunged headfirst into her sweaty pit, the stale floral smell of the elf’s sweat assaulting his senses as she slowly dragged his head along her skin, using his hair to mop up stray droplets of sweat. A salty taste filled his mouth as he coughed, letting the warm perspiration flood in, stinging his eyes and nose slightly as he was marinated in Tyrael’s scent.

“Ah, that feels so nice,” Tyrael sighed, looking pleased at her now dry armpit, and her now soaked and disheveled tiny man. “Now the other one!”

Arthur’s world lurched slightly as he was slowly rolled into Tyrael’s other palm. Her fingers once again coiled around him, holding him tight as he was brought to the elf’s other armpit. He grunted as his face was once again dragged roughly across Tyrael’s smooth pit, gathering up every drop while she giggled at his expression. His hair was thoroughly soaked now, mussed and sticky from the elf’s salty sweat. He could feel the heat of the day radiating off her as she used him to clean herself, and when she was satisfied he was left soaked, his hair sticking to his face and his mouth and nose still full of the salty wet taste.

Tyrael pinched his arm, dangling him in front of her giggling face as she took in his soaked form, “You did a wonderful job Arthur,” she teased, lifting her arm playfully to let him see his “handiwork.” “Look,” she said, “nice and dry!” She leaned in and sniffed him, wrinkling her nose playfully, “you seem to have gotten a little dirty though…”

“Yes Mistress,” he managed, blinking the flood of her sweat out of his eyes. The smell of lilac was almost overpowering, a marking of ownership, a reminder that even the smallest and most insignificant parts of the elf’s body could easily overpower his senses and dominate his world.

“How does that taste?” she asked curiously, “I know that we elves smell… different, to humans, but does it-“

“Your sweat smells like flowers,” he managed, grimacing as he licked his lips, “but it definitely tastes like sweat.”

Tyrael smirked, “a pity…” her gaze drifted down between his legs, where his erection was standing proudly at attention. “I wonder,” she mused, “do pheromones have a greater effect on you at that size, or are you simply the sort of deviant who enjoys the torments I put you through?”

He fought a laugh, “I uh… suppose I’m a deviant Misstress Tyrael!”

“I will enjoy cooking up some experiments to determine the truth of the matter,” Tyrael murmured. She glanced out her bedroom window, seeing the slowly rising white trail of Arthur’s smoker at the edge of the estate. She turned back to him, “Tell me human, how long until my dinner is ready?”

“Uh… a few more hours,” he said, smiling weakly.

“I suppose you can’t rush good food,” Tyrael said with a wink, “but you won’t be needing your size back until then.”

She walked back over to her chair, collapsing into it while she gazed thoughtfully at the tiny human dangling from her fingertips. Slowly she lowered him down to her underwear, pulling the white cotton fabric away from her skin and giving him a view of her bare womanhood, glistening in anticipation of his arrival. She released his arm, letting him flail as he fell through the air, landing with a soft thump on the inside of the outstretched panties.

Tyrael slowly released her grip on her panties, letting the fabric carry Arthur up against her womanhood. She groaned, her pointed ears twitching slightly as she reached down to press through the panties, moving him into position.

Arthur could smell the flowery scent of her stale sweat soaked into the fabric around him, combining with what he’d picked up from her pits moments before. The smell of her arousal was beginning to waft over him too, a tangy musk that invited him to Tyrael’s slit, a pink opening that was eager to swallow him up.

The elf’s soft womanhood welcomed him in, and he heard her rumbling sigh as he shoved his way deeper in. Idly she began toying with herself through the panties, rubbing her pearl slowly as the tiny human squirmed within her.

Arthur’s world was dark, warm, wet, and silky. He felt the sticky juices slide against his skin, lubricating him and slurping him further inside the elf’s womanhood. Every movement triggered sighs from outside, and he could hear Tyrael’s heartbeat as she toyed with herself, enjoying the way he struggled inside her.

Her juices were rising around him, bathing him in the sweet musky taste of the elf’s arousal. He couldn’t help but gasp himself as the contraction and quivering of the flesh around him brushed against his own erection, and he wondered how long he’d last in here without reaching climax himself. A final feathery brush against him caused him to go rigid, crying out in pleasure as the motion of the elf’s womanhood finished him off.

“Wonderful,” Tyrael sighed as felt a wave of bliss coming of herself at the same time. She felt him start to work his way out, and just chuckled, crossing her legs and blocking his path. “Oh no you don’t,” she murmured, feeling him squirm as the little space he had disappeared. “You’re staying in there for a while…” Tyrael flicked her finger, causing a book to fly off the shelf, lazily floating through the air and into her hands.

“It’s good to be back home,” the elven mage said happily.

…

“Oh gods it’s so good!” Tina moaned, cutting herself another slice of the smoked brisket.

“What did you say you did back in the human lands?”

“I owned a candle shop,” he said with a smile, laying a plate of meat in front of Tyrael. She’d kindly washed him off in her sink, returning him to his full size so he could finish preparing their meal.

“Well, you missed your calling,” the pink haired elf muttered around a mouthful of brisket.

“Can we reduce Arthur back down after dinner!?” Elwyn asked eagerly, “I had some charms I wanted to try on him!”

“Uh… what sorts of charms?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow as he cut into his own dinner.

“Why spoil the surprise?” Elwyn giggled.

“I suppose there’s no harm,” Tyrael said with a smile, “but I want to make it a little bit of a lesson.”

“Are shrinking spells really that hard?” Arthur asked, “none of you ever seem to have any trouble with them.”

“Not hard at all,” Tyrael said with a smile as she reached for a goblet of wine, “but I think dear Elwyn here should practice performing one under real world conditions.”

…

Arthur hefted his musket, one of the few possessions he’d brought with him when he’d come to live with Tyrael.

“Uh, Tyrael,” he called, “I’m not entirely sure I feel comfortable with this!”

“Just relax Arthur!” Tyrael called from a few dozen feet away, “I’ll intervene if things look to be going south!”

He shifted uneasily as Elwyn stood across from him, grinning, “I can do this Arthur, it’s not dangerous at all!”

“You’re asking me to point a loaded gun at you!” he protested, “this goes against a lot of what they teach you about firearms in the militia!”

“I’m pretty sure that your militia spends a great deal of time telling you that you should point guns at elves,” Tyrael chuckled. “That’s why I find this to a be a suitable test of my apprentices’ abilities, stopping a bullet with one’s mind is critical to survival for an Elven mage in this day and age.”

“I suppose,” Arthur muttered.

“Ah, I do remember when it was just crossbows and the occasional catapult to worry about,” Tyrael said wistfully, “they weren’t as loud… it was easier to focus.”

“All right, let me have it!” Elwyn said, grinning as Arthur sighed and raised the musket again.

*Boom*

There was a flash as a magical shield popped into being just in front of Elwyn, but then she squeaked in surprise and tumbled backwards.

“ELWYN!” Arthur shouted, dropping his gun and sprinting towards the trio of elves.

Elwyn sat up, a dazed look on her face, then a sudden predatory grin. Arthur had only a second for a sigh of relief when her spell lanced out at him, causing his world to spin as he shrank into the towering grass. He looked around at the suddenly shaded world, forcing himself to his feet as he took in the jungle of the estate’s front lawn.

“Got ‘em!” Elwyn crowed excitedly, standing up and blocking out the sun. She quickly went to her knees, gently brushing the grass aside as she looked for her victim.

“That was a decent recovery,” Tyrael said mildly, causing the ground to shake as she came to her immense apprentices side, “but you should be able to both block the bullet and shrink an attacker in the same spell.” She chuckled as she looked down at the grass, spotting the stunned bug sized human, “Most humans will not hesitate nor show concern for you like our dear Arthur, a followup shot or a bayonet would have been the end of you.”

Arthur felt a pair of soft fingertips the size of his body pinch him, lifting his flailing form up out of the grass like a captured beetle. The three smiling elven faces crowded around him like faraway mountains, their expressions growing smug as they took him in.

“Now what should I do with my captured human?” Elwyn taunted, “Hey Tyrael, you fought in the Human Conquest, what did you usually do with these guys?”

“Treat them as respected prisoners of war of course,” Tyrael said in an amused tone.

Arthur snorted, “Yes you started treating us well after you started losing battles!” he shouted.

“You couldn’t win a battle against my big toe at this size,” Elwyn mocked. She turned to Tyrael with a giggle, “Mistress Tyrael, would it be okay if I showed the prisoner to his cell?”

“By all means!” The archmage laughed, “Goodbye Arthur!” she said with a taunting wave.

Arthur gulped, already knowing what was coming next as Elwyn slowly kicked off her boot. Elven mages typically wore tall leather boots, occasionally with stamped patterns around the mouth, usually indicators of their school of magic or family lineage. As Elwyn giggled and lowered him down towards the mouth of her own footwear he saw the familiar shooting stars of Tyrael’s own house crest, followed by the wave of the hot and humid lilac smell of stale elven sweat.

It was far from the first time he’d ended up in an elf’s boot, but he felt his manhood rising as the elf teasingly realesed him, letting him tumble down the dark tunnel. He hit the padding with a soft thud, and quickly forced himself to his feet.

“Meet your new jailor human!” Elwyn said, slowly sliding her socked foot into the boot and closing him off from the light outside. As her foot slipped lower the smell of her sweat became heavier, the air more humid. In the dark Arthur turned and scrambled along the bottom of the insole, trying to reach the open space of the toe before the elf’s sock collided with him, pinning him to the bottom. “Caught again!” Elwyn laughed, scrunching her socked toes over his body hard enough to make him grunt.

He felt himself growing hard as the elf’s toes casually played with him, and he gasped as the musty sock overhead coated him with a thick layer of grime from the elf’s foot. The elves at Tyrael’s estate were very aware of his tastes, and he could just barely make out a rumbling giggle overhead as the socked toes padded over him, searching for, and finding, his manhood.

“Ha!” Elwyn laughed, all but skipping as the trio of elves walked back up to the manor, “he loves it in there, no doubt he’ll spill his seed by the time we reach the front doors!”

“Mistress Tyrael,” Tina asked, “if being our plaything makes Arthur so happy, why do the humans resist us so? Surely they’d be happier small, like him?”

“Arthur is… unusual among humans,” Tyrael chuckled, “most wouldn’t find an hour in an elf’s boot as enjoyable as he does.”

“They surely would!” Elwyn insisted, “imagine if all humans had a luxurious dollhouse to live in like he did, they wouldn’t’ be nearly as aggressive!”

“And if a giant came out of the northern mountains and asked you to spend your life in a dollhouse on her dresser, would you go?” Tyrael asked, somewhat amused.

Elwyn frowned, “N-No of course not, but it’s not the same!” she insisted. “Our goddess Turis smiles on us and granted us our magic so we could reduce humans to their proper place!”

“That’s one interpretation of the commandment to guide the mortal races,” Tyrael said with a sigh.

Buried deep within Elwyn’s boot, coated in the rich lilac scent of Elven sweat, Arthur couldn’t make out any of the debate. His world was the playfully wrestling match against a socked foot that could pin him with a single casual wiggle of a big toe. He gritted his teeth as he was slowly shifted into the very point of the boot’s toe, doubled over as the elf gently nudged him between the legs. The world lurched as the elves began walking back to the mansion, and with every footfall a wave of pleasure rocked through his body.

Is she doing this on purpose? He wondered, spasming uselessly against the socked digit as he fought the rising wave of bliss.

In the end it didn’t matter, when Arthur shouted his pleasure in the darkness of her boot, Elwyn wouldn’t hear him anyway.

…

Arthur murmured, turning in his sleep as he felt a massive digit poke him. With a scowl he sat up, realizing that he wasn’t in his doll sized bed, but was laying on the still lilac-sweat scented insole of Elwyn’s boot. The thing poking him was the column of Tyrael’s finger, easily as long as his body, his gaze traced up to see the grinning archmage looking down at him through the open top of the leather footwear.

“Enjoying yourself?” she teased, pinching him between her fingers and lifting him out of the leather prison. “Tell me, is a life spent at the feet of us wicked elves all you imagined?”

“And more,” Arthur admitted with a weak grin.

“The apprentices have gone to bed,” Tyrael said, “if you wish, I’ll return you to your own, or you could come to the observatory and keep me company.”

Arthur paused, “Might I… look through the telescope?”

“I’m sure I can spare it for a few minutes,” Tyrael said, standing up and tucking him between her warm breasts. He let himself slide between the soft orbs as Tyrael walked, gathering her notebook, ink, and quillpen to take notes on her observations of the sky.

…

The observatory was a vast open room built into the highest tower in the center of the mansion. The domed room held a massive telescope, with glass of ancient dwarven make and elvish runes carved up and down along the sides, occasionally glowing as Tyrael stared through the eyepiece, muttering spells under her breath to activate various enhancements and view the stars in different ways.

Arthur sat snuggly between her breasts, looking up at the peeks of the sky between the observatories slit roof, the pale vapor of Tyrael’s steaming teacup wafting up and filling his nose with the rich crisp smell of the herbal brew the elf sipped during long nights at the telescope.

“And the Viper constellation has moved into an eldritch holding pattern,” Tyrael muttered, scribbling notes, “Star Cath in particular seems quite alive as of late…” With a sigh she flipped the journal closed, leaning back from the lens and grinning down at the tiny human between her breasts.

“That is all that I need to observe for tonight,” she said with a pleased smile, “would you care to gaze through the telescope?”

“Yes!” Arthur said, his excitement causing the mage’s breasts to ripple as he all but leapt up into her grip. Tyrael’s gentle fingers closed around him, slowly lowering him to her seat. She flicked her wrist, and in the blink of an eye he was at full size again, or almost full size, rather he found himself at Tyrael’s own height.

“I don’t want to adjust the telescope or the chair,” she explained with a chuckle.

Arthur eagerly put his eye down to the massive telescope’s eyepiece, taking in the burning blue star that Tyrael had been observing. The enchanted telescoped zoomed out at his mere thought, and he marveled at the entirety of the constellation. He zoomed in another of the celestial bodies, there was a low groan as the entire observatory rotated slightly, allowing him to gaze at the small planets orbiting one of the dim red suns.

“Those are other worlds, aren’t they?” Arthur whispered.

“Yes,” Tyrael said softly, smiling as she clasped her hands behind her back.

“Do people live on them?” he asked quietly, lifting his gaze from the eyepiece for a moment, “are there… other peoples, races, in the heavens?”

Tyrael shrugged, “I haven’t seen any yet, but the universe is vast… I like to think that somewhere out there, the gods have another surprise for us.”

She thought a moment, then smiled, “Take a look at this,” she held up a finger, casually twirling it and causing the massive dome to shift once more, the low groan rumbling through Arthur’s body as she searched for one of her favorite heavenly bodies. Another flick of her finger and the telescope adjusted, the runes glowing as it homed in on the object. “Look!” she said eagerly.

Arthur peered into the eyepiece, then gasped. The resplendent colors of the comet shimmered, radiating outward in a fluorescent rainbow that almost brought a tear to his eye as he tried to comprehend their beauty. He stared at it for a moment, trying to find the words.

“What is it?” he asked finally.

“Dibella’s comet,” Tyrael said with a smile, “it enters our planet’s skies once every one hundred and eighty years… and on the one day it’s visible, they say that conflicts are resolved, and nobody dies.”

“When did it last appear?” Arthur asked curiously.

“The day the elves and your empire signed our peace treaty, over sixty years ago now,” Tyrael said. “I was Emperor Gustav’s prisoner of course, his men captured me at the Field of Thunder, the great defeat of the Elven army…” she chuckled, “I know it’s mere history to you, many in the Elven Realms are still in a state of shock over it.”

“And you?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tyrael shrugged, “I already had my doubts about our attempted subjugation of humanity before then, my time as a prisoner of your army settled them.” She smirked, “I still have the same desires as any elf, as you well know, but I no longer believe forcibly shrinking and enslaving you all is the right course… or even possible at this point.”

The two were quiet for a few moments, then Tyrael came to his side, “This comet,” she whispered, looking into the eyepiece itself, “you simply must see it when it comes to our own skies, it can best be seen at the higher mountains-“

“Well I won’t be around for it,” he chuckled.

Tyrael frowned, “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably, “Ah… you said it comes once every one hundred eighty years, and it last came sixty years ago… I won’t be with you when it returns.”

“Right,” Tyrael breathed, “yes… of course, I’m… sorry.” She looked away, “I remember when I heard Emperor Gustav had died… it seemed liked I’d only just met him.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur said with a smile. He pointed to the telescope, “I’ve already seen so much since coming here, every day is a wild and strange fantasy for me, my life is like a dream Tyrael. If I only ever get to see the comet through this telescope… well that’s more than most men will ever get.”

Tyrael smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, “I suppose…”

With a small hand gesture Arthur found himself staring up at the tower sized Tyrael, once more reduced to a handful of inches in her chair. She giggled, her mirth returning as she positioned herself over him, her perfectly round bottom visible through the simple cloth pants she wore while stargazing.

“I have a few other observations I’d like to make,” she said teasingly, “and you’re in my seat human.”

Arthur reflexively raised his hands as Tyrael slowly began to lower herself onto the chair, he could feel the heat from her body before she made contact, and he grunted as the massive elven cheeks came down, pinning him against the seat cushion. He wheezed as the air was knocked from his lungs, and he squirmed feebly as the elf’s enormous behind shifted over him, getting more comfortable.

Tyrael sighed happily, enjoying the squirming feeling of the human beneath her. She’d increased his durability slightly with that particular shrinking spell, though not so much he wouldn’t feel each movement. She ground her bottom against the chair again, biting her lip as a shiver went up her spine.

Arthur, you’re the best human there is, she thought dreamily. She glanced at the telescope, and frowned. She flipped through her journal of observations, then with a thought began to rotate the observatory to a different set of constellations. Where the western sky was associated with elemental magics at this time of year, she found herself observing the North, where the stars were said to portend darker fortunes, and give insight to more sinister spells...

…

Arthur tossed and turned in his full-sized bed. It had been a week since he and Tyrael had observed the comet, and the mansion had returned to a normal state of affairs with its mistress’s return. For his part Arthur was at full size tonight, and he reflected that his dollhouse bed was a lot more comfortable than the one in the apprentice’s chambers.

There was a knock at his door, startling him, and he sat up with a start as Elwyn barged in, “Arthur!” she hissed, “S-Something’s wrong!”

“There’s something cold in the air!” Tina said, joining the other elf. She shivered, and Arthur’s eyes went wide as she could see her breath mist in front of her mouth as though it were winter.

“I… I don’t feel it,” Arthur murmured, sliding out of bed.

“You’re not in tune with magic,” Tina said, “T-That might be a good thing, depending on what it is… get your boomstick and your sword!”

“Where’s Tyrael?” he asked, kneeling to grab his musket from beneath the mattress.

“She wasn’t in her chambers!” Elwyn squeaked, “W-We’re not sure what to do!”

Arthur chewed his lip, “all right, if it’s something that’s after magical beings… just stay behind me.” He buckled his sword to his belt, it wasn’t a weapon he was particularly skilled with, but the elves seemed a little reassured as he moved in front of them and began walking down the hall. He felt worry begin to knot his stomach, If something got Tyrael, what chance do the three of us have against it?

The three passed the front door, the moonlight shining through the windows, when a trio of short sharp knocks caused them all to freeze. Slowly they all looked to the front door, and Arthur gulped as he slowly cocked his flintlock musket, letting the *click* ring through the suddenly cold air.

“Open it!” Elwyn whispered, readying a glowing blue fireball in her hand as Tina did the same.

Arthur pulled the door open, leaping back and readying the gun with a shout.

“Stop!” Tyrael’s voice boomed, startling him and the two elven apprentices.

“Mistress!” Elwyn said, “There’s-“ she stopped, taking in the figure at the archmage’s side.

It was a human man, or at least he looked like one at first, but the longer Arthur stared at that pale skin, the jet black hair… by the time he saw the red eyes gleaming in the moonlight he had an idea of what manner of “man” this was.

“Lady Tyrael,” the man said in an affable tone, “clasping his hands behind him, “do you greet all of your guests likes this?” His clothing was ostentatious, a rich deep red that matched his eyes, with gilded buttons and a ruffled shirt that would have been long out of fashion in Imperial circles.

“My apologies Lord Varnay,” Tyrael said in a neutral tone, “Elwyn, Tina, Arthur, please relax, Lord Varnay is here at my summons.”

“Did you look him in the eye!?” Arthur hissed.

“I am not under hypnosis,” Tyrael said with a small smile.

“Why would you invite… him here?” Tina asked, hesitantly dissipating her fireball.

“The good Mage-General wished to discuss several schools of magic that are not well known to your people,” Varny said with a smug grin, “and speaking of invitations…”

“I invite you into my home,” Tyrael said in a firm voice, “on the condition that you harm no one under my roof, and leave when asked.”

“Accepted,” Varnay said, stepping over the threshold into the house. He chuckled as he saw the two elven apprentices shiver, “fret not whelps, I’ve no interest in you.”

Without a word he seemed to glide through the house, going to the room’s foyer with his footsteps as silent as the grave. The three of them turned to Tyrael, who had a grim look on her face.

“Elwyn, Tina,” she snapped, “swear on your magic that you will tell no one of this meeting.”

“But-“ Elwyn started.

“Swear it!” Tyrael hissed, a strange look of desperation coming over her features.

“We swear it,” the two said together. The air seemed to shimmer as the binding magical oath took effect.

Tyrael glanced at Arthur wearily, “My lips are sealed,” he said uncertainly, “but… can I ask why you’ve invited a vampire into your home?”

“Not now,” Tyrael said firmly, “return to bed, all of you… We can speak in the morning!”

The three of them spared one final glance at the elven archmage, then slowly withdrew back to their quarters. Tyrael sighed as they went, then steeled herself as she turned to the foyer. Her guest had already procured a wine glass for himself, and had helped himself to a bottle from the rack behind her couch.

“I must admit lady Tyrael,” Varnay drawled, taking a sip of the deep red vintage, “I share your associate’s curiosity… and was that a human by the way? Here?” He chuckled, “Someone’s been a naughty elf.”

“Elven magical research has delved deeply into a great many subjects,” Tyrael said, sitting across from him, “but there is one realm which we know almost nothing about relative to other races… one we’ve never needed.” She forced herself to look Varnay in the eye, “Immortality.”

Varnay’s red eyes went wide, and then he smiled, revealing his pointed fangs as he chuckled softly, “Well my dear… we’ve much to discuss then.”