Leo's grand plan for a life of comfortable obscurity was immediately complicated by two things: the impending arrival of a homicidal training golem, and a two-inch-tall knight with a serious attitude problem and an even more serious case of wounded pride.
He remembered the scene from his novel with painful clarity. Chapter three, page four, paragraph two.
A demonstration of the academy's new and improved training golems goes horribly wrong when a rune misfires, sending one of the hulking constructs into a berserker rage through the courtyard.
Its stone fists flail with mindless fury, sending students scattering like frightened pigeons. The first casualty? An unnamed student, who was too busy admiring the intricate architectural details of the fountain to notice seven feet of animated granite bearing down on him.
That student was him. Or rather, had been him. Would be him? The temporal mechanics of reincarnation were giving him a headache.
"Right," Leo muttered, pacing his new, ridiculously opulent dorm room with its actual furniture and working plumbing. "Avoid the courtyard. Simple. Easy. Foolproof."
He made a mental note to spend the afternoon in the library, a place so boring that not even the most bloodthirsty of golems would dare to enter.
Librarians, he had learned from extensive research, were among the most terrifying creatures in any fantasy setting, capable of reducing even the mightiest warriors to whimpering children with nothing more than a stern look and a firmly whispered "Shush."
He was just congratulating himself on his own brilliance when a tiny, imperious voice shattered the peaceful silence of his morning.
"You there! Giant! I demand your assistance!"
Leo looked around, confused. The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere near the windowsill, but he couldn't see anyone. For a moment, he wondered if the stress of dying and being reincarnated had finally caused him to have a complete mental breakdown.
"Down here, you enormous oaf!"
Leo's gaze dropped to the windowsill, and there, silhouetted against the morning sun like a character from a children's fairy tale, was a figure so absurd it could only have come from the fevered imagination of a fantasy novelist who had consumed too much caffeine and not enough sleep.
It was a pixie, no taller than his thumb, dressed in a full suit of gleaming silver armor that looked like it had been crafted by the world's most dedicated dollhouse enthusiast.
The armor was complete in every detail, from the tiny chainmail links to the minuscule heraldic crest emblazoned on the breastplate.
He held a rapier that was barely larger than a sewing needle in one hand and a shield the size of a bottle cap in the other. His wings, iridescent and dragonfly-like, fluttered with barely contained indignation.
"Are you addressing me?" Leo asked, genuinely bewildered. In all his years of writing fantasy, he had never actually expected to have a conversation with one of his own creations.
"Of course I am addressing you!" the pixie squeaked, his voice a high-pitched buzz of righteous fury. "I am Sir Reginald Fitzwilliam Thornberry the Third, Knight of the Glimmering Glade, Defender of the Sacred Dewdrop, and Protector of the Royal Mushroom Circle! And I have been most unjustly exiled from my homeland!"
Leo stared at the tiny knight, a slow, dawning horror spreading across his face like spilled ink on parchment. He remembered this character. Oh, how he remembered this character. Sir Reginald had been a throwaway joke, a one-off gag designed to add whimsy to his world-building.
A pixie knight who had been exiled for a series of increasingly ridiculous infractions, including but not limited to: spilling a single drop of nectar on the Pixie Queen's favorite petal, addressing a royal mushroom without proper protocol, and the infamous "Dewdrop Sliding Incident" that had scandalized pixie society for generations.
He was supposed to be a minor, insignificant detail.
A bit of world-building fluff mentioned in passing and never seen again. He wasn't supposed to be in Leo's dorm room, demanding assistance with the righteous fury of someone who had been personally wronged by the universe itself.
---
[New Quest Issued: A Knight's Despair]
• Description: A very small knight has a very big problem. Try not to laugh at him. Seriously, he's very sensitive about his size, and pixie honor is a delicate thing.
• Reward: A loyal, if tiny, companion who will provide running commentary on your life choices.
• Failure Penalty: A series of increasingly annoying pixie-related pranks that will make your life a living hell. Pixies are surprisingly creative when it comes to revenge.
---
"You've got to be kidding me," Leo groaned, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to ward off the headache he could feel building behind his eyes.
"I do not jest, giant!" Sir Reginald declared, puffing out his chest in a manner that would have been impressive if he hadn't been the size of a chess piece. "My honor is at stake! I require a steed to carry me to the nearest center of civilization so that I may begin my quest to restore my good name and reclaim my rightful place in pixie society!"
He brandished his needle-sized rapier with what he clearly thought was a menacing flourish. The effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that Leo could have flicked him across the room with his pinky finger.
Leo, despite his growing sense of dread and the increasingly surreal nature of his situation, couldn't help but snort with laughter. The sound escaped before he could stop it, a brief bark of amusement that echoed through the room like a gunshot.
Sir Reginald's face, which was roughly the size of a thumbnail, turned a furious shade of red that clashed horribly with his silver armor. "You dare to mock me? I am a decorated warrior! I have slain dragonflies the size of your head! I have defended the Sacred Grove against invasions of garden slugs! I once held off an entire army of aphids single-handedly!"
"I'm sure you have," Leo said, trying desperately to stifle his laughter and failing miserably.
"Look, Sir Reginald, I have my own problems right now. Namely, a seven-foot-tall golem with a grudge against architecture enthusiasts and a tendency to turn people into pancakes. So, if you'll excuse me, I need to figure out how to not be in the courtyard in approximately..." he glanced at the ornate clock on his nightstand "...two hours and thirty-seven minutes."
He turned to leave, but the pixie was surprisingly persistent for someone who could fit in a teacup. Sir Reginald zipped through the air with the speed and agility of an angry hummingbird, hovering directly in front of Leo's face with his tiny sword pointed at his nose.