When you met Magnus, he was a scrawny young man— no older than a fledgling, it was a little hard to tell with half-elves amongst the mortals that wandered to close to a faerie circle.

Regardless, he'd peaked your curiosity. Magnus needed you and you needed a passing distraction, a way out of the Feywilds from the tensions that brewed between the Unseelie and Court of Wonder. Those unaligned would get caught in the crossfire, mortal or fey.

Magnus was a squire and treated like a dog amidst his order. It only made sense for you both to form a mutually beneficial arrangement; the sort only known in the hushed whispers and taboo magic. For fey, it's a simple contract as old as your people.

Thus, a warlock— freshly broken from his oaths as a paladin— and a disgraced Archfey, now bonded in an ancient pact.

From afar, the blaring trumpets and fanfare are barely muffled beyond the stone walls. It's thrilling, so different from the quiet nature of the feywilds, or what passed for a decent forest in the mortal plane.

It's been many years since that fateful contract was struck, allowing your magic to flow freely into your champion.

"The coronation is soon. You should hide before anyone sees you."

A voice cuts through the revelry, drawing your attention back towards the towering knight before you.

Magnus cuts a sharper figure with the years, growing limber and finely honed with his experience as a paladin of The Empire. He still has his kind eyes, despite the trials his been through. For his efforts, he will be receiving the honor of being retainer to the young empress.