His dark green clothing blended well with the foliage around him, the lighter green feather in his cap looking like just another long leaf. He narrowed his eyes, a smile playing on his mouth as the ornately decorated carriage finally rolled into view on the path. The Gelert quietly withdrew his bow from behind him, fitting an arrow expertly and sighting down the shaft. He waited, calming his breathing and focusing on the direction of the wind. When the carriage drew parallel to him, he took a deep breath and let the arrow fly.

The carriage continued forward unhindered for just a moment, before wobbling as the left front wheel popped off and rolled away, loosened by the perfectly timed arrow.

“Hey, what was that?!” a rough voice shouted from inside.

The Gelert bounded from his hiding place, rushing around to throw open the door of the carriage. He drew his sword, pointing the glittering blade straight at the throat of the Camouflage Skeith in front of him. The tyrant’s red hair was wild, his crown askew as the gravity of the situation dawned on him.

“What was that?” The Gelert asked, grinning smugly. “THAT was Favin Dangerwatcher, protector of the small and meek! Your days of tyranny are over, ‘your highness’. Step out of the carriage, return the money you have stolen from the people of your kingdom, and never return. If you do this, I will spare your life.” Favin levelled a hard gaze at the Skeith, knowing he had the upper paw, but fully expecting some sort of trickery. The Skeith’s face twisted in a snarl, knowing he had nowhere to go-’

“No, no, no, that doesn’t sound right!” Philip sighed in frustration suddenly, throwing his quill onto his desk with a clatter. “It’s too flat, too predictable. This was too easy for him. A character like Favin Dangerwatcher deserves better than such a cliché story…”

The Ice Bori removed his spectacles, rubbing them on his vest. Replacing them, he peered at the pages of the manuscript he had already written, hoping for some sort of inspiration to jump out at him. His latest book, despite featuring one of his favourite characters, wasn’t going well. He was struggling with large sections of the plot, with the wording of paragraphs, and with visualising Favin’s surroundings. What kind of Kingdom did the Skeith rule over? Where was Favin camping while he pursued his latest enemy? Did he have any assistance from other heroes? All these questions were things the writer could not answer.

He sighed again, rising from his wooden chair and pacing over to the window. He peered out at the snowy landscape as the wind whistled past his cabin. The cabin was quite isolated, almost all the way at the top of Terror Mountain. Perfect for writing, really. There were no distractions, plenty of quiet nights to write, and a nice cosy vibe with the roaring fires in the evenings. But perhaps… perhaps this was really the problem?

He’d been so isolated recently, not seeing anything other than his snowy surroundings. What if he couldn’t get in the mindset of the story because the setting was so different from his own? After all, he had never been to the lands around Meridell or Brightvale, where the story was supposedly set. Maybe he needed to feel the warmth of the sun on his face, feel the grass between his toes, and get to know the Neopets in the area before he could truly bring his story to life?

Suddenly excited, Philip rummaged around in one of the drawers of his desk for the stack of letters from his pen pal Ronald. Good old Ron was a constant source of support and inspiration whenever Philip was struggling with his writing, and Philip tried to be the same for his friend. The two writers had been in communication for a long time. More importantly, he lived in Meridell - just the place Philip wanted to visit!

As he was double-checking Ron’s address and preparing to write a quick letter informing his friend of his visit, a knock came at the door. Philip froze, confused. Nobody had come calling to his cabin in about two years. Who could it be?

The knock sounded again, resounding and confident. Before Philip could bring himself to answer, the wooden door swung open. Snow swirled dramatically behind the figure standing in the doorway, and Philip’s jaw dropped in shock at the Neopet now shaking the snow off his hat. There was no mistaking the familiar figure, seen many times in Philip’s mind as he imagined scenes for his stories. The Gelert standing before him - though it made absolutely no sense - was the fictional Favin Dangerwatcher.

The Ice Bori looked up once again, hoping to find the doorway clear of any fictional, completely not real, Gelerts, but sure enough, there Favin Dangerwatcher stood. His eyes had shifted from proud and heroic to slightly confused and concerned. He took a step forward, clearly happy to invite himself into Philip’s house, and spoke with rumbling bravado.

“You don’t mind if I invite myself in, do you?” It clearly wasn’t a request as he proceeded to push past the still slack-jawed Bori and began to fiddle around with the heaps of unorganised parchment on the desk. He continued speaking, not looking up from whatever he was doing. “I’m terribly sorry for the intrusion, citizen, but if my senses are correct, then this location holds vital information on where to find the Treasure of Meridell.”

“The treasure of- What?! Huh?!” Philip began, scrambling forwards in an attempt to gather at least some of his bearings. The Treasure of Meridell was a long forgotten draft, another story with Dangerwatcher that he’d never been able to complete. A hidden, mythical object that could make those you spoke to do whatever you wanted. It wasn’t real... This wasn’t real!

“No, you- you can’t be here!” Philip shouted, stamping his paw to the ground before raising it to his head. “That’s it... I knew I should have listened to Amelia when she told me I needed more sleep.”

Dangerwatcher seemed completely oblivious to Philip’s mental peril as he continued to shift papers around with devoted intensity. “Of course I can be here.” He said offhandedly. “I am, aren’t I? A-HAH!”

Philip jumped at the sudden declaration, blinking a few times before scurrying over. He glanced over his character's shoulder and realised that he was holding the unfinished draft of The Treasure of Meridell. Philip had written a few possible locations for where the treasure could be found in the story, but still, it was a story! He turned to the Gelert, pointing at the many mentions of the fictional character among the scrawls of plot.

“Look!” He cried. “I wrote this, I wrote.. you! This is all fictional.”

Favin Dangerwatcher didn’t seem to care, humming at the sight of his name on the sheet. “It seems that I’m more popular than I realised.” He turned to Philip with an amused stare. “And it seems you were anticipating my visit also, you’ve certainly done your research on this stuff.”

It was at this point that Philip decided it was fruitless to try and question what was going on anymore. Dangerwatcher was clearly not going to listen. He simply sat there and listened blankly, confused and slightly awed, as the Gelert continued.

“Now, I say we must move with haste! I have information that the Skeith king is already hunting down this treasure as we speak! Should he get his hands on it..” the Gelert shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about how he would use it to harm the helpless.”

Dangerwatcher grabbed a blank piece of paper and began to scrawl down all the possible locations Philip had written. The Bori was still trying to wrap his head around all the words before he realised he had been invited too.

“Wait! We?” He argued. “I’m not-“

“Of course you!” Dangerwatcher held up his new list, examining it closely. “Someone who was able to gather this much information on the location of this treasure is sure to be a useful sidekick!” He winked at Philip, eyes full of adventure. “Now come on! First stop.. Err.. Ron’s house. Ha, kind of a weird place to hide something but eh, worth a shot. Come on!”

With that, Dangerwatcher bounded out the door. Philip frowned and turned to see that his letter to Ron, including his friend’s address, had been lying beside the draft for his old story. And now Dangerwatcher was headed straight for him... He had mistaken the letter for a possible location. Uh oh...

Philip knew his Shadow Uni friend hated unexpected visits, and if Dangerwatcher came bounding up to his house... Well, he didn’t know what he would do. Philip knew he needed to follow, if only to prepare his friend for whatever was about to happen or to try and stop Dangerwatcher... Though he seemed a little too focused to listen to Philip.

“Hey, wait up!” The Bori called, bounding after his creation.

And thus, the story began…

Dear Ron,

I really appreciate the tips you sent in your last letter. I'm having a hard time figuring out the plot of my next Favin Dangerwatcher story, but you're right - I should try to look for inspiration in the places where I least expect it, try new ideas, go against the flow. Even heroes like Favin Dangerwatcher, after all, have their share of trials and tribulations.

I'll let you know how my next draft goes. Hopefully, this time I can finish the next Dangerwatcher novel before my deadline. I know, I know, I've missed quite a number of deadlines getting caught up in planning my stories. I can almost imagine your face right now as you read this.

I hope I can do more than write you another letter and come visit you there in Meridell. How's the weather? Still nice and balmy? It might be a nice change to be in Meridell - assuming I don't melt.

Always your faithful friend,

Philip

Ronald smiled as he folded up the last letter he had received from Philip, all the way from Terror Mountain, tucking it away into a small shelf over his desk. He had been looking forward to the next Favin Dangerwatcher novel, and though he understood his friend's difficulties in coming up with a new, entertaining plot, he was admittedly becoming impatient to see what that intrepid Gelert would be up to next.

Just as he was reaching for his quill pen and inkwell to write a reply to Philip, a pounding on his door made him stand up from his desk and call, "Who is it?"

"Open the door in the name of your king!"

"My king?" Ronald couldn't help but repeat those words. "King Skarl? Your Majesty?" Yet there was something about that deep, booming voice that wasn't the Blue Skeith's voice. After all, as a resident of Meridell, Ronald had heard Skarl speak - and shout - on a myriad of occasions.

But when he opened his door, he knew instantly that who was standing there was not the king he knew. Instead, it was a Camouflage Skeith with wild red hair and a crown askew over his head. Behind the Skeith, parked in Ronald's yard, was an elaborate carriage that Ronald could never afford even with an impeccable Kiss the Mortog winning streak.

"Er...w-who are you?" the Shadow Uni asked.

"Who am I?" The Skeith pushed him aside and stepped into his house, turning up his nose. "Didn't I say I was your king, peasant? Bow to me, King..." He paused and frowned, scratching his head. "King...er, anyway, the point is, I am your king, and you will do as I say!"

"Wh-What?" Ronald blinked, but he didn't bow. "I'm not going to bow...um, what did you say your name was?"

"That's not important!" The Skeith began looking under Ronald's desk, digging through the author's papers and letters, even taking out books from their shelves. "Where is it? Where are you hiding the Treasure of Meridell?"

The Uni gaped at him. The Treasure of Meridell had been one of his friend Philip's ideas, but eventually, the Bori had given up on it, and shelved it away in favour of other possible stories.

But that was the thing. It was supposed to only be something from Philip's story. Surely the Treasure of Meridell didn't really exist...and surely, only Ronald and Philip would know about it, as they talked about it in their letters.

"The Treasure of Meridell isn't real," said Ronald, finding his voice again. "Sir, Your Majesty, whoever you are, it's not here. And you're not a king. You're not any king I know."

"Oh, but it has to be here, somewhere. Are we not in Meridell?" The Camouflage Skeith carelessly tossed one of Ronald's manuscripts aside, and the Shadow Uni winced as several pages fluttered to the floor. "And you are in the presence of a king." He drew an ornate sword from his belt and pointed it at Ronald's throat. "You should be taught a lesson, insolent fool! You haven't bowed or paid me the proper respect since I came in! To pay for your transgression...you will help me find the Treasure of Meridell!"

* * *

"My, what a lovely crowd that was!" Favin Dangerwatcher remarked, putting his arms behind his head and stretching as he and Philip walked down the path toward Ronald's house. "Everyone seemed to know me - and you, too! That one Ruki told me I was a great...what did she say that word was? 'Cosplayer'?"

"It means she thought you were in a costume. Pretending to be Favin Dangerwatcher instead of being the...um, real Favin Dangerwatcher." It felt so surreal to refer to his character as "real", even if right now, Favin was as real as he was. "Like I said, I wrote you, I created you and all these stories, and others have read them..."

"Is that the house over there?" Once again, the Gelert took off without a care for whether or not Philip could keep up.

Philip groaned as he jogged along. "Please, stop running like that! And wait for me! If Ronald sees you..."

His words died on his lips as they arrived at Ronald's house. The door was open, and inside, Favin and Philip could see numerous papers, pens and sofa cushions strewn everywhere. Drawers were opened, and closet doors were ajar. But there was something - or rather, someone - they couldn't see.

Philip whispered, "Ronald's not here..."

"Absolutely not," Philip scoffed, but soon caught himself. Favin raised a brow at the Ice Bori in confusion. In the Gelert's mind, who wouldn't want to search for the Treasure of Meridell?

"What I mean by that is, uh, there isn't a chance anyone knows that the treasure's here. Ron keeps much to himself and isn't connected to Meridellian royalty or guard in any way. There's no reason for anyone to suspect him or this location," Philip reassured his character-come-to-life.

"Well, do you know where your friend hides the treasure? We should make sure it's still safe and not in the hands of the Skeith king!"

"About that... I've got both good and bad news," Philip said, trailing off and thinking of an excuse as to why he, the author and creator of the Treasure of Meridell, wouldn't know its most recent location. "Good news is, Ron hid the treasure exceedingly well. Bad news is, Ron hid it so well that even I don't know its top secret location."

"Then let's look," Favin Dangerwatcher replied without missing a beat. He looked around the room and approached a tall bookshelf filled top to bottom with novels, biographies, encyclopedias, and dictionaries.

"C'mon, c'mon. Where's the hidden door?" The green-clad Gelert said to himself as he tilted each and every book on its spine.

While Favin was occupied, Philip wanted to aim his efforts toward his friend, Ronald. Even though absolutely nothing made sense at the moment, Philip knew that Favin was right. There was a struggle here, and Ronald could be in danger.

The Ice Bori scanned the papers both on the floor and on Ron's desk. Suddenly, something caught his eye. It was his own handwriting. For some reason, the only tattered or crumpled papers were letters he himself had written. The other papers, while scattered, seemed intact.

"Whoever was here wanted to read my letters or needed them for something..." Philip said to himself. "But why?"

Favin ignored his companion and continued his search for the book lever unfazed, making his way diligently through his third shelf.

After collecting the letters he had sent his friend, Philip realized that one correspondence was missing. It was the letter where he had pitched the possible locations of the Treasure of Meridell...

Favin didn't even bother him a glance over his shoulder, instead choosing to rummage through his friend's books.

"Favin."

"Hm? Still busy looking. Could use a hand though to make this go fas-"

"FAVIN!"

At that, the Gelert jumped and finally brought his gaze to Philip's. "What?! We need to hurry and find the Treasure of Meridell before that wicked king does, or else-"

"Well, we won't find it here. In fact, I KNOW it isn't here," Philip argued. Favin opened his mouth, about to protest, but Philip cut him off. "Whenever I was stuck or had writer's block, I would confide in Ron and pitch my ideas to him in our letters. In one such letter, I told him my ideas for where the Treasure of Meridell could be. That letter is missing, so whoever came and took Ron, also took that letter."

"And where exactly would they be heading?"

Philip thoughtfully folded a paw under his chin, recollecting both the contents of the old letter and how Ron had responded later. The first option had been somewhere inside Meridell castle, though they had both agreed that was too cliche. The second had been under the giant Turmaculus, though Ron had seemed to think that was too "juvenile." The third option, however...

The Ice Bori gasped. "What time is it?" he suddenly blurted.

Favin cocked his head. "It's an hour more 'til sunset begins. Why?"

Philip's mouth set in a thin line, heart hammering in his chest. Without a second thought, he headed for the door. "I can explain on the way."

Favin followed closely behind. "You're starting to get the hang of this adventuring thing."

"Only because I want to save Ron."

"We will."

****

Ron stared up at the sky, the mango-tinted sun crawling towards the horizon. In another half hour or so, he would brew some elderberry tea for himself before retiring to his beloved armchair to read one of his friend's novels. His favourite thing to do at his favourite time of day. He sighed wistfully. The thought was nice.

The sword pointed at his back was not.

"You better not be lying to me," the King barked behind him. "It took a lot of time to figure this out."

Ron rolled his eyes. Was forcing the answer out of him really figuring it out?

He gazed once again to the horizon, recalling the words he and Philip had written together:

When pink and orange rule the sky

Look above to seek below

A lone shadow blooms from rock up high

Guidance waits to bestow

He originally had thought Philip adding a little riddle would create more suspense for his story. "It's for more excitement! More drama!" he had feverishly written. But now, standing here, LIVING out that suspense, Ron wasn't so sure he felt "excitement" was the right word.

Terror seemed to be more accurate.

This time his eyes wandered to the only rock up high: Darigan Citadel. Its bleak stone towers pierced the warmth of the sky, an obsidian ghost hovering above the rolling green hills of Meridell. He let his gaze drift to the highest tower, before bringing his line of sight to the ground. As the sun sunk further in the sky, he observed the highest tower's shadow shift and stretch, creeping along the grass, as if pointing towards...

Ron could see the main barn of the farm at the top of a hill in the distance. The view was actually rather picturesque--gently rolling hills, rows of flourishing crops, Zebies and Babaas grazing peacefully in the fading light... one could imagine such a scene being put on a postcard.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to properly appreciate the pastoral beauty of the scene with a sword at one's back.

Unfortunately for the King, and by extension for Ron, the farm was quite large; a person could spend days upon days trying to dig up treasure from the fields, not that the farmers would probably let you stick around for long once they realized what you were doing.

The King had a sword, sure, and he seemed to know how to use it. But pitchforks had a longer reach, and it would be one Skeith against multiple farm workers who really wouldn't appreciate some weirdo in a crown trying to dig up their crops in search of a fictional treasure.

No, wait.

The King had a sword and a potential hostage.

Ron sighed. He definitely wasn't getting his elderberry tea any time soon.

The King growled. "The farmlands. I suppose it would be easy enough to find a place to hide a treasure in the fields."

Thankfully, the King didn't try to threaten Ron into helping to narrow down the location of the supposed Treasure of Meridell. That might have ended quite poorly, as Ron simply didn't know.

He'd helped Philip write the riddle. He'd even confirmed the direction that the tallest tower would point at sunset, but beyond that...

He couldn't even be entirely certain that Philip had decided to have the treasure hidden on Meri Acres. The archery range was in the same general direction, though it seemed a somewhat-less practical place to hide a treasure--but then, that might make it more appealing to Philip. More of a twist, that way.

"Well," said the King, "it would appear the treasure is straight that way." The King removed the tip of the sword from Ron's back for just long enough to point in the direction the tower's shadow pointed.

"Get moving, churl," said the King, poking the sword back at Ron's back.

Ron swallowed. He had no choice, really.

He could only keep putting one hoof in front of the other and hope that somehow, some way, this waking nightmare would come to an end.

****

As Philip and Favin approached the probable location of the Treasure of Meridell, Philip had cause to deeply regret his authorial choices.

Especially since they were approaching it from downwind.

"I suppose no one would think to look for the fabled Treasure of Meridell in a rubbish dump," said Favin, his words coming out a bit funny since he was pinching his nose shut.

Philip nodded mutely. He feared to open his mouth in case the air had a flavour as well as an odour.

It had been a warm, warm day in Meridell. Thankfully, Ice Boris actually weren't prone to melting in warm weather... but he still found himself deeply missing the lovely cool temperatures of Terror Mountain.

I thought it was clever, Philip thought. I thought it was poetic, even--treasure found amidst things others had discarded, to be found by one with a curious mind and discerning eye.

Philip wished he'd just gone with the Turmaculus.

"Well," said Favin, his spirits seemingly only slightly-dampened by the overwhelming fragrance of the area. "Any idea where to start?

Philip swallowed. He'd... never gotten much farther than deciding on the Rubbish Dump. He vaguely remembered brainstorming what sort of hiding place would work--something the average person wouldn't want to investigate, but something that could be readily found by someone who knew exactly what they were looking for.

But...

As impossible as it seemed, this whole situation seemed to have been pulled out of one of Philip's stories.

So maybe... maybe it didn't matter if he'd never written out the exact location of the treasure.

Maybe he could write it now.

He closed his eyes.

Maybe, he thought, there's a... particularly terrible pile of rubbish. Nobody wants to move it, because...

He suddenly remembered how, in one of Ron's letters, Ron had mentioned going berry-picking at the Pick Your Own fields, and how he'd come home with, not only a basket full of berries, but a piece of barbed wire that had snagged on his clothing when he was reaching into the bush.

...no one would want to touch a pile of bits of barbed wire, Philip thought. It would probably stay right where it was for a while. If it somehow got covered up, you could find it with a metal-detector... though we don't have one of those. So... suppose it isn't covered up. Suppose it's visible right near the edge of the rubbish dump. Maybe it's got a Zeenana peel or two hanging off it, but you can still easily see all the bits of barbed wire. The treasure is hidden underneath it.

He nodded, eyes still shut. Yes, that would work.

He opened his eyes, scanning the area. Sure enough... there was a pile of bits of barbed wire, right next to a pile of soggy cardboard boxes, with a squishy rotten tomato on top of the pile like a strange, smelly ornament.

"There," he said, pointing. "See all that barbed wire? That's to mark the hiding place."

Then he winced. Yes, the air indeed did have a particular flavour to it.

Favin nodded. "Fortunately," said Favin," a true adventurer is never unprepared." He pulled a pair of thick leather gloves and a little trowel out of his pack and set to work carefully moving the bits of barbed wire out of the way, then digging into the soil beneath.

Of course, the hiding place of the treasure wasn't the only thing Philip had left undecided when he'd set the draft aside--he hadn't decided what, exactly, the Treasure of Meridell looked like. He'd tossed a few ideas back and forth with Ron: an amulet with an enchanted emerald in the middle; a wand engraved with runes in a forgotten language; a silver crown crafted in the shape of thorny vines...

"Ah," said Favin. "I think I've found it--"

Favin pulled a box about the size of a dictionary out of the ground, brushing the soil off the top. Philip couldn't help but lean in closer as Favin carefully opened the lid...

The Bori and his creation turned around to see Ron and the Skeith King, the latter still cackling madly. "Finally, Dangerwatcher, I will get my revenge on you for shooting arrows at me and my carriage on that fateful day, for taking back the Neopoints I stole!"

The Shadow Uni gave a sheepish wave of hello. "Er, sorry about leading him here, but I am at sword-point." Ron laughed nervously as the King maintained a tight grip on his tail.

Favin righteously pointed a paw at his nemesis. "You let him go this instant!"

"Give me the box first," the King demanded. He again raised his ornate sword to the innocent Uni's throat.

Ron's eyes went wide with fear. Philip's gaze darted wildly to his character; he was not about to let the only other real life Neopet here get terribly injured, or worse. "Give the King the box," the Bori ordered Favin, attempting to maintain a cool outward composure. "Now."

The Gelert was flabbergasted. "But with this treasure we can--"

"Now," Philip repeated, unwavering. Whatever the treasure was could be re-retrieved when his friend's liveness was guaranteed.

Favin gave a solemn nod and tossed the still closed box in the direction of the King, who let go of Ron and deftly caught the treasure in one fluid, seemingly practised motion. Ron galloped quickly to Favin and Philip, hiding behind them for safety.

The King, his bellowing laughter resumed, peaked inside the box. "With this, Dangerwatcher, I will have the power to command you to do my bidding -- including returning to me all the loot you've liberated and redistributed over your years of virtuous vigilanteism!"

Favin, Philip, and Ron looked on in anticipation as the King dropped the box, his paws clutching the treasure...

"Is that what I think it is?" asked the Bori quizzically. It appeared to be pleather-bound, with maybe 250 pages, and very book-shaped.

It was, indeed, a book. The Skeith King groaned; this was clearly contrary to his expectations. Likewise, Philip frowned. A book? How would that help control anyone? Maybe there was some spell hidden in its pages?

Nevertheless, the King pointed the book at Favin. "I command thee to return my Neopoints to me!"

Everyone held their breath, waiting to see what would happen.

Favin exhaled his in a single bark of a laugh. "Not today, Kingy!"

The Skeith started to sweat and flipped through the pages, clearly thinking along the same lines as Philip. "T... huh... ree... ssss...?" He started to cry. "Dagnabbit, I can't read or write!"

The Gelert seized this as his chance, tackling the King and retrieving the book. But in a moment, the King was back at his full height, his ornate sword drawn. Favin ditched his arrows for a shortsword. The fight went on for a minute -- whilst Ron and Philip simply looked on, for neither of them were battlers -- and then Favin managed to gain control and hold the book long enough to toss it to Philip before the fight resumed.

Philip quickly flipped to the first page, and his eyes scanned it with more haste and care than he used whenever he endeavoured to steal from the Snowager.

The sun was bearing down hard on the audacious Gelert, but his gaze was trained ahead, unheeding of the sweat rolling down his nose. Nothing could distract him from his quarry now. This was too important.

He looked further down the page.

"THAT was Favin Dangerwatcher, protector of the small and meek! Your days of tyranny are over, 'your highness'. Step out of the carriage, return the money you have stolen from the people of your kingdom, and never return. If you do this, I will spare your life."

With a growing frown of contemplation, he hurriedly flipped to the next chapter.

The Treasure of Meridell was a long forgotten draft, another story with Dangerwatcher that he'd never been able to complete. A hidden, mythical object that could make those you spoke to do whatever you wanted.

A feeling of nervous excitement washed over Philip. This... this was his story! He turned to near the midpoint.

"And you are in the presence of a king." He drew an ornate sword from his belt and pointed it at Ronald's throat. "You should be taught a lesson, insolent fool! You haven't bowed or paid me the proper respect since I came in! To pay for your transgression... you will help me find the Treasure of Meridell!"

The Bori almost dropped the book. This... this was not his story. This was THEIR story.

Ron watched in an amazed trepidation as his Bori friend neared the end of what had been written.

The fight went on for a minute -- whilst Ron and Philip simply looked on, for neither of them were battlers -- and then Favin managed to gain control and hold the book long enough to toss it to his author before the fight resumed.

Philip snapped his fingers. "Wait!" he started to his Uni companion. "I get it now, it all makes sense!" He paused for dramatic effect. "Quite literally, the Treasure of Meridell -- what I'm holding right now -- is the 'long forgotten draft' of my story! And in terms of it being a mystical object that can make those do whatever you want..."

Ron's eyes lit with recognition. "Who has more power in that regard than an author!"

"Precisely," the Bori affirmed. "The author has the power to make others -- their characters -- do whatever they want, simply by writing them that way." He retrieved his quill pen from his pocket and thought back to what Favin remarked when the Gelert proudly displayed his gloves; I suppose that does make me a true adventurer. He chuckled and scribbled whilst the Uni looked on, awestruck by the writing prowess of his author friend.

"You're trapped now!" triumphantly began Favin. The Skeith was pinned, though otherwise unharmed, to a nearby tree via the archer's precise arrows.

Philip thought about Favin's speech. Sure, he could write his most beloved character to say, "I will release you and spare your life if you promise to return the money you have stolen from the people of your kingdom, and never return." But that was what he was trying to avoid, wasn't it? Something so predictable. So cliche.

The Bori's thoughts drifted to the Skeith King. The King... a no-good, corrupt, illiterate leader. Apparently, such a stock character that he hadn't even been named.

And then it struck him. How to add depth to both their arcs. Philip continued writing.

"I see that you do your evil deeds because you know no better!" decreed Favin. "You're not any king I know... I bet you aren't even a real king!"

The King sighed. "You caught me," he winced. "To make a living, I impersonate a king, go to different kingdoms, and trick people out of their Neopoints with bogus taxes. But with no education, and no ability to read and write, what else am I to do?"

The Gelert grinned. "You need to be educated in the school of chivalry! And, simply, in reading and writing. I think I can help you with those things."

"Why... thanks! My name is Larry..." the Skeith continued, much more amicable.

With that, Philip took his leave from the scene. He could tell the story was in its falling action, regardless.

Ron ran up alongside him. "I see what you did there. Clever twist. Not sure if it's entirely in character, but it works."

The Bori gave a lopsided smile. "Worst comes to worst, I can write a bad ending."

The Uni nodded slowly. "Who do you... what about... Er, well, I still can't even believe any of that actually happened. I wouldn't believe it, except you're holding the proof."

Philip shrugged and held the book higher. "Maybe it was some crazed shared Grass-induced fever-dream hallucination, and we wrote this during it." His smile grew wider.

"Heh. Anyway," Ron continued, his mind not yet satisfied but willing to drop the topic. "I guess all you have to do now is tie up some loose ends, and The Treasure of Meridell is good to go?" He was trying not to let his excitement show too much.

The Bori grinned. "You bet. Amelia, my publisher will be so happy." He paused. "You know, I haven't properly paid you a visit at your home. I was there a bit earlier, though I'm sure it would be much nicer there with you around, too."

"Oh, of course." Ron smiled. "Follow me, let's go now. I'll make tea, and you can tell me all about your next NEXT Favin Dangerwatcher novel."

Philip chuckled, happy to have such an enthusiastic fan -- and friend. A friend that was not fictional. At least, only as fictional as Philip himself was. "That sounds lovely."

THE END