Pay What You Can

The magical and the mundane intertwine like enchanted locks in a tangled mane in the fantastical realm of The Barbærian, which I invite you to explore with me once again, my dear reader. Today's tale is one of royal visits, sartorial surprises, and the ever-complicated rules of fairy curses. So, settle in, perhaps run a comb through your own locks, and let's begin.

The sun had just begun its lazy descent towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose, when a familiar ripple shimmered through the air of The Barbærian. Time itself seemed to hold its breath, and into this frozen moment stepped Princess Aura, her wolfish grin as mischievous as ever.

Æon, ever stoic, merely raised an eyebrow at her sudden appearance. Umu, on the other hand, nearly dropped the stone tablet she'd been using to sketch new logo designs. Abun, being Abun, couldn't resist a quip.

"Well, well, if it isn't our favorite royal troublemaker. Come to check on your pet project, Princess?"

Princess Aura's eyes sparkled with amusement as she glanced at the magical barber's pole. "Nine hundred and ninety-eight cuts to go, I see. Not bad for a reluctant barber and his motley crew."

Abun, his cloud-like form shifting restlessly, suddenly furrowed his brow. "Hold on a cotton-picking minute. What about that Lily girl? The one with the heartbreaking story and the new pixie cut? Why isn't she counted as a 'being'?"

For a moment, a flicker of something—was it sadness? Regret passed over the princess's face. But it was gone so quickly, one might have imagined it. "Ah, Abun. Always the observant one. There's more to my father's curse than meets the eye."

With a graceful wave of her hand, Princess Aura transformed the nearest styling chair into an exaggerated, fairy-tale throne, complete with glittering gemstones and delicate filigree. She perched upon it, looking for all the world like she was about to decree a national holiday for bad hair days.

"You see," she began, her voice taking on the tone of a teacher explaining a particularly tricky math problem, "the curse works... differently for humans. After sunset, the magic barber's pole begins to sip Færie energy from non-human beings. Earthly humans, however, are skipped entirely."

Umu, her emerald-to-tomato hair quivering with excitement, raised her hand as if she were in school. "So, from sunset until morning, the magic pole absorbs celestial beings, but from morning to sunset, it's not absorbing other non-human beings?"

Princess Aura clapped her hands delightedly. "Oh, Umu! Your mind is as brilliant as a star sapphire! That's exactly right."

Æon, who had been listening intently despite his apparent lack of interest in schedules, grunted softly. It was a sound that could have meant anything from "Fascinating" to "I'd rather be fighting a hydra right now."

The princess's eyes twinkled with mischief. "You know, this gives me an idea. Why don't we make it official?" With a wink at Abun and Umu, she suggested, "Perhaps a sign with 'working hours' for The Barbærian?"

Before either assistant could respond, Princess Aura's magic swirled around them like a glittering tornado. When it dissipated, Abun and Umu found themselves clothed in vintage barber's outfits: brown leather aprons over short white shirts and stylish denim jeans, all perfectly tailored to their humanoid forms.

Abun examined his new attire with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Why now, Princess? If you'd done this earlier, it would have saved me a trip to that fancy mall and spared that poor shop lady from falling head over heels for our hirsute hero here."

Princess Aura's laughter rang out like silver bells. "Oh, Abun. Where would the fun be in that?"

Turning her attention to Æon, she asked, "And what about you, oh reluctant barber? Are you amenable to a uniform?"

Æon's response was a noncommittal grunt, which the princess took as enthusiastic agreement. With another wave of her hand, Æon found himself similarly attired, the leather apron a stark contrast to his battle-scarred skin.

As Princess Aura prepared to depart, she offered one last piece of advice, her voice taking on a hint of her father's cryptic tone. "Remember, you can still capture the Earth's essence to reduce the curse from human beings, but it must be done before sunset."

Æon opened his mouth, a question about 'passion' and the Dream Dealer on the tip of his tongue, but the Princess was already gone, leaving nothing but a trail of stardust in her wake.

Abun scoffed, shaking his head. "Like father, like daughter. They both have a flair for the dramatic exit."

As the trio adjusted to their new attire and pondered the princess's words, Abun began to doodle ideas for the chalkboard announcement. Umu joined him, insisting on making it "cute and artistic." Meanwhile, Æon found himself drawn to the magic barber's pole, its numbers fading in and out as he approached.

And then, dear reader, something extraordinary happened. Æon, the man of few words, the barbarian-turned-reluctant-barber, spoke. And what he said caused Abun and Umu to nearly jump out of their new uniforms.

"Pay What You Can."

The words hung in the air, as weighty as a dragon's scales and as unexpected as a phoenix at a plucking party.

Abun's jaw dropped, a feat that caused his cloudy form to momentarily lose cohesion. "I'm sorry, did you just suggest a pricing strategy? You, the guy who once traded a magic sword for a bag of beans because you didn't understand currency?"

Umu, ever the supportive one, clapped her tiny hands. "Oh, Mr. Æon! That's brilliant! It's like...like..."

"Like a way to capture the essence of human generosity," Æon rumbled, his voice softer than usual. "The princess said we could capture Earth's essence. What's more essential to humanity than the choice to be kind?"

And so, dear reader, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the magic barber's pole began its nightly sipping of Færie energy, a new sign appeared in the window of The Barbærian. In Umu's delicate, swirling script, it read:

Hours of Operation:

Sunset to Sunrise—Celestial Beings Only

Sunrise to Sunset—All Welcome

Pay What You Can

As Abun and Umu marveled at their handiwork, Æon stood silently, his golden scissors glinting in the fading light. For the first time since his curse began, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, this barbering business wasn't so bad after all.

But what adventures await our trio in the coming days? Will celestial beings flock to The Barbærian under cover of night? How will Earth's humans react to the "Pay What You Can" policy? And will Æon ever unravel the mystery of the 'passion' the Dream Dealer spoke of?

Ah, but those are tales for another time, dear reader. For now, let us leave our friends to ponder their new schedule and uniforms, and remember—in the world of The Barbærian, where scissors cut through dimensions and a good haircut can change destinies, anything is possible.