"Had me playing at mazes, being a soldier, riddles."

Lancelot hesitates, sets down his knife and fork to take a sip of his drink.

"When you're among court fae it feels... as if you are dreaming. Things have a certain... logic to them. Forgive me, it's difficult to describe if you have not felt it... yet it is as if your mind forgets to panic. You feel compelled to... simply go along with things, as if they make perfect sense even when they clearly make none at all."