Chapter 87

Bianca

Day 77 of First Landing

Population of Thornhill - 71

Watching Crag, my quarry golem, ford the river was terrifying enough, but seeing him hoist a pink-blossomed tree straight from its roots was even more unnerving. In his massive flat hands, it looked like he was lifting a cotton candy stick. Nearby villagers stared in awe as he carefully planted it in the hole we had dug earlier by the main road.

Looking down the road, the pink blossom trees lined up to create a scenic view, offering shade to anyone walking through our growing village. I knew I should have Crag finish digging out the sewer system, but the blossoms had begun to wilt, and I wanted the villagers to enjoy them while they could.

Besides, today was special. I wanted the village to feel festive, even if the celebration only lived in my heart. Of course, I wasn’t going to make a fuss. Stopping everything for my birthday would be vain. Instead, I settled for this quiet gift to myself—making the village just a little more beautiful.

The dungeon party had the day off, so I saddled Dasher and rode through town toward Orion’s tavern to check on its progress. I needed Slate soon for our next big project: a glasswork. Wulfric, our glassmaker, had been eager to start, knowing it would open up new possibilities. Meanwhile, Sophie was asking around for tungsten so we could eventually produce lightbulbs. After the glassworks, we planned to tackle an even bigger project: a generator. At our last meeting, we debated whether to build a wind or water-powered one, but at least we had plenty of copper from the dungeon to handle the wiring.

At the tavern, the Beastkin mercenaries laid clay tiles on the second roof. A large window, fitted with wooden shutters for now, sat open to let in the sun’s light. Outside, a sign painted in red and blue read: "The Cup & Dagger." It was nailed to a plank next to the hitching post that Rudolph was tied to. Marek had designed the building to use natural elements for year-round comfort. In winter, the thick stone walls would soak up heat from the sun, keeping the interior warm. Opening the larger windows and relying on smaller openings would let cool breezes circulate inside in summer.

The mercenary builders were putting the finishing touches on a central stone-and-brick oven that vented through a chimney. Above them, Slate was lying across the last tiles of the second floor. It had two small bedrooms and two empty guest rooms.

In the back of the building, the Emancipated were helping Orion plant crops in the tavern’s garden, while others sanded and oiled chairs.

“Rye, don’t you think you’re taking advantage of this whole ‘savior’ thing with the Emancipated?” I asked.

“If they want to lend a hand with my tavern, who am I to stop them?”

“You do realize how unfair this is, right? We have other buildings that still need finishing,” I said, crossing my arms and frowning.

“I know, I know. But didn’t you say we shouldn’t force the freed slaves to work against their will and let them make their own choices? They offered to help, and I wasn’t about to refuse.” He gave another shrug as if to brush off the matter.

I sighed. “Fine, as long as they keep attending their English lessons. I’ll have to assign Slate to another project, though. The second floor of the tenement needs a roof.”

“I should be fine now, thank you,” Orion replied.

“How’s Astrid?” I asked.

He frowned. “I think it was a bad idea for me to talk to her. Pretty sure I made her even angrier.”

“Really? I thought you guys had that whole, you know… soon-de-reh thing going on,” I said with a sheepish smile.

Orion visibly cringed and quickly looked away, his face tinged with embarrassment at being associated with me.

“Astrid wears her heart on her sleeve,” he muttered, wiping his hand on a damp rag. Then, as if remembering something, he added, “Oh, that reminds me. I’ve got something for you.”

Curious, I followed him down to the cellar. In one corner, broad palm leaves, acting as insulation, covered a block of melting ice. Orion carefully removed the leaves, revealing a glass jar embedded in the partially melted ice. The jar was filled with a creamy, buttery-colored substance. Handing it to me, he said, "Happy birthday."

“Wow… thank you, Rye. How did you know it was my birthday?” I asked, my hands trembling slightly from the cold jar.

“What do you mean? We’re friends.” He smiled, leaning casually against the cellar’s chalk walls.

“Uh-huh. Sophie told you, didn’t she?”

“Sophie… hmmm,” Orion mused, his tone mockingly thoughtful. “Who’s that again? Haven’t seen a Sophie around in Thornhill that often. Are you sure you’re not making people up?”

“You know—the one you keep sneaking glances at during council meetings when you think nobody is looking?”

He didn’t even flinch, just shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure out if they’re real.”

“Ugh, that’s gross.”

He offered me a small spoon, his smirk widening. "I mean... her nose is suspiciously symmetrical."

I rolled my eyes.

"I hope you didn't get swindled for this. Did you like seriously trade a horse for some ice cream ingredients? Please tell me you got more than just this from Sophie."

"Oh, this? Just one of the many things she's giving me," Orion replied with a sly grin. "The real price, though..." He let the words hang, raising an eyebrow. "Well, let's just say it’s... compromising. If you catch my drift."

"Men are such pigs."

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence. "I meant Super's location. What exactly were you thinking about?" He leaned in, his infuriating smile widening.

I slapped him on the arm before grabbing his spoon and digging into the jar.

The first bite was pure magic—creamy, sweet, and utterly surreal. Ice cream. I couldn’t believe he’d made it. The rich vanilla melted on my tongue, and for a moment, the world disappeared. Cold as it was, it warmed me.

A tear welled up, and I let it fall, not bothering to wipe it away. For an instant, I was back home, sitting on my couch with a pint of Häagen-Dazs, Netflix casting a soft glow in the background. That simple taste, this ice cream, felt like a thread pulling me back to a life I thought I’d left behind.

“This is so yummy. I’m so sorry, but I’m going to demolish this entire jar,” I said, my words muffled by another mouthful of ice cream.

“Hey, it’s yours. Go for it,” Orion replied. “Just, uh… if you could return the jar when you’re done?”

“Oh my god, I feel like such a pig,” I laughed, covering my mouth, and turning away to finish off the rest. “Don’t look!”

“Don’t worry, I’m not judging,” he teased, though I caught him sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye.

Half of it was gone before I wiped my mouth and asked, “This must’ve cost a fortune to put together. Where did you even find vanilla?”

“Uhh… do you like beavers?” he asked, completely out of nowhere.

I blinked, unsure if he was joking. “Yeah? They’re adorable.”

“Oh, well…” He trailed off, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

“Don’t tell me it’s…?” I narrowed my eyes, suspicion creeping in.

He shrugged, failing miserably to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

I glanced at the half-full jar, then shrugged too and polished off the back of my spoon with my tongue. “Rye, I’ve been so hungry out here I actually considered eating slugs. You’re not going to freak me out.”

His smile vanished, replaced by a look of utter devastation.

Together we shared a moment before he spoke again and I spooned more ice cream in my mouth.

“How was your day?” He asked.

“It’s been wonderful. Thanks for this.”

Later, he invited me inside his tavern, and we sat together over tea. Orion brewed it in the teapot I’d given him for his birthday, and we spent thirty quiet minutes talking about everything and nothing. Eventually, I had to excuse myself to handle my daily tasks. Before I left, I pulled Slate from its work in the tavern. Orion didn’t seem to mind and even invited me back later for a mini pizza party.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

That night, after finishing my chores, mainly making new teapots for trade, I returned to Orion's tavern. It was nearly complete, lacking only a few finishing touches. Though the building was roofed and bricked, the interior still felt barren. Four plain wooden tables were scattered across the room, a long bar stretched along one wall, and a solitary stone oven stood behind the bar. The walls were bare, begging for paintings or tapestries to bring life to the space. More furniture was needed—chairs, stools, maybe a bench or two—and the shelves behind the bar were empty, save for a single keg with no glass bottles in sight. At the heart of the tavern was a stone hearth that warmed the room, where people gathered, listening to Gabriel play music.

The White Fang Legion had been dismissed, heading back to Kronfeldt for new orders from their captain. A handful of Emancipated lingered to help Orion place cups, arrange furniture, and sand down the new tables and chairs. Though half-furnished and sparsely decorated, the foundation was solid. I could already imagine the cozy hangout it would become.

Behind the bar, Orion was firing up his brick oven while Cass served sweet tea to the small gathering. With the practiced hands of a seasoned pizzaiolo, Orion stretched out dough, smooth and confident. He spread a green marinara sauce—something like pesto—onto the dough, then shaved thin slices from a wedge of goat cheese, scattering them across the surface. Using a large wooden peel, he slid the pizza into the stone oven, watching as the cheese bubbled and the crust charred to perfection.

The smell was heavenly, filling the air with warmth and comfort. Orion had invited the Emancipated who worked on his tavern and some of his dungeon companions to the party. They drank Father Gallagher’s watered-down fruit wine and joined Gabriel in a lively rendition of “Still Crazy After All These Years,” the sound of his guitar pulling everyone together.

Each of us grabbed a slice as Orion churned out pizzas, two at a time. The Emancipated were awestruck by their first taste of pizza, while the rest of us were transported home by its familiar flavors. It was chewy, and crispy with a slight funk from the goat cheese, but I loved it. Eating Orion’s cooking always felt like a taste of home.

After the mini-party wound down, I found Orion tidying up, and washing his tools and cups. He’d rigged a surprisingly clever water system, likely with Molvin or Marek’s help. A wooden tank, perched on sturdy supports, fed water through a siphon from the nearby moat. Gravity did the rest, funneling it into a trough and through a hose, all controlled by a simple wooden valve. With a turn, water flowed steadily, making cleanup remarkably easy.

“Thanks for inviting me,” I said. “Even though I didn’t help much with the tavern.”

“You sent Slate and Crag—that was more than enough,” Orion replied with a smile, scrubbing his wooden peel before dumping the wash water back toward a drain.

I stretched, letting out a tired yawn.

“Busy day?”

“Yeah. I’ve been making more teapots and overseeing the groundwork for the glasswork,” I said. “We’re setting up the glasswork next to the smithy, and I need to prepare a manifest for what Wulfric needs. After that, I attended James' Lokan class.”

“Lokan, huh? Good idea. The whole village should probably learn it. But James is heading to Kronfeldt soon, so you might need to find another teacher. Ask Cameron.”

“Figures, James and Sophie already leaving me here to deal with you on my own,” I said, sighing.

After a pause, Orion looked over. “Since you’re learning Lokan, how about coming to Kronfeldt with me?”

“Kronfeldt? You’re going back already?” I asked.

“Yeah, though not right away. Lumindawn’s in a few weeks. Thought it might be fun to check it out.”

I sighed, torn. “Rye, I’ve got too much going on here. I can’t just disappear for a few days.” The idea was tempting, but I couldn’t afford to leave with responsibilities piling up.

Orion shook his head. “You need a break. The village will survive. Trust me, I thought the same when I left, like everything would fall apart the second I stepped away. But it didn’t.”

“That’s not true,” I said. “As soon as you left, a thief helped the enemy find us.”

“Even if Super had shown his true colors while I was still here, it wouldn’t have changed much. I’d have pushed for his exile, and the Red Scythe was going to find us sooner or later,” Orion said with a shrug.

“I’ll think about it,” I replied, wanting to say more, but Orion’s gaze shifted behind me.

“Jim,” Orion called, “you’re late. You missed the pizza party.”

“A bloody shame,” James said, strolling up the path with a wave. “I was busy prying details out of Cameron and some of the locals.”

“Did you read Sophie’s letter?” Orion asked.

“Yes. It’s… rather eventful, but there might be opportunities in it.”

“Sophie’s letter?” I asked. “What’s this about?”

“We should sit down and talk,” James said, his tone serious, before he glanced me over and smiled fiendishly. “Oh my... you look quite lovely this evening, my beautiful mayor. Special occasion?”

I'm glad one person noticed I tried to fix myself up.

The tavern was quiet now, save for Alex, Cade, and Sasha in the corner, laughing drunkenly over a card game. Orion poured us mugs of spice, watered-down wine. James sank into a seat, tossing a folded parchment onto the table. I picked it up, unfolding it with curiosity, but the contents didn’t immediately make sense to me. A lot of names I didn't recognize.

“It’s as I expected,” James said, sipping from his mug. “Duke Aulric won’t be with us much longer.”

“Who’s Duke Aulric?” I asked.

“My time with the Red Scythe has taught me a lot about the land and its rulers. As you know, we’re part of a larger kingdom,” James explained. “Technically, this land falls under the Duchy of the Southern Crown, which Duke Aulric governs.”

“So, does that mean we owe him allegiance?”

“Well… yes and no. He and the Southern Crown’s nobles don’t know about us. For now, we’ve managed to remain independent, like a micronation. But once they discover us—and believe me, it’s only a matter of time—they’ll assert their claims. They’ll demand loyalty, taxes, and military service. And they’ll demand you, as the acting leader of this village, to bend the knee to Duke Aulric.”

“But isn’t this Duke Aulric guy dying?”

“Yes, but regardless of who holds the seat of the Duchy of the Southern Crown, they’ll expect us to bend the knee,” James replied.

“I don’t want to be part of this... Duchy thing—or their kingdom,” I said, frustration rising in my voice. “Can’t we just be independent, James?”

“Well... not really,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Orion and I have discussed it, and it might be in our best interest to fold ourselves into the Azure Reach Duchies. Right now, they act as a buffer against those who’d send legions to enslave all of us.”

“But they let us get attacked by slavers!” I snapped, the memory of the raid stinging. “They did nothing to help us. Why should we pay taxes or send villagers to fight for them when they won’t even protect us? No taxation without representation.”

James let out an exasperated breath. “I understand. It’s complicated, but if we’re in their fold, any attack on us becomes an attack on them. That’s the leverage we need. Seraphina is the only one keeping the Emperor and his Eldrins at bay. If we declare independence, not only will Auriel come for us, but so will whoever takes over the Southern Crown Duchy. And let’s not forget the pirate isles, the free states, and the other nations. We’d be easy pickings.”

I rubbed my temples, the weight of it all pressing down on me. Why can’t we just be left alone? Why does everyone seem to want this place in particular?

Whenever I felt lost, I knew where to turn. “Rye, what do you think?” I asked, looking to Orion.

He paused, frowning as he chose his words carefully. “There’s a way for us to survive, but I agree with James. We’ll need to ally with the Southern Crown Duchy... and yes, come to some kind of military pact. But we can plead for some form of autonomy—maybe negotiate a small tribute.”

“How would we even get them to agree to that?” I asked.

Orion leaned back, folding his arms. “We support the right side in the fight for the duchy. James and Sophie can make diplomatic moves to align us with a candidate, ideally, one who’s a long shot but might owe us favors for our support. If they win, we get favorable terms.”

“A fight for the duchy” I repeated, incredulous. “Why doesn’t this... Queen Seraphina, or whatever, just appoint a new Duke?”

James chuckled dryly, his tone tinged with bitterness. “Seraphina, or the so-called Immortal Phoenix Queen, doesn’t operate like that. She’s... indifferent to the governance of her kingdom, to put it mildly. From what I’ve gathered, her only real interests are her harem, throwing lavish banquets, and her dungeon. She lets the Dukes and her countless descendants manage the kingdom for her. As a result, whenever one of them dies, things get... violent.”

“Violent how?” I asked, even though I had a sinking feeling I already knew the answer.

“Infighting, assassinations, proxy wars—whatever it takes to secure the seat,” James said grimly. “It’s not pretty, but that’s how it works. And we’ll have to pick a side before the dust settles if we want to take advantage.”

“So you want us to get involved in the fight over Duke Aelric’s seat? Like... drag us into a civil war?” I asked, disbelief clear in my voice.

“Not drag—support,” James corrected, though his frown suggested even he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea. “Economically and technologically. We won’t be sending villagers to the frontlines, but Sophie’s already leveraging our crops and trade goods. She’s using Thornhill’s treasury to hire mercenaries. And don’t forget, we control the iron mines in Kronfeldt. That’s a resource every contender would kill for.”

“How long do we have?”

James leaned back, thoughtful. “By the end of winter, I’d say. If the Duke lasts a few more months, no one will make moves during the snow. It’ll also give Lady Evilith time to come of age.”

“So... we’ll be fighting against this Lady Evilith?” I asked, trying to follow his logic.

“No,” James said, shaking his head. “We’ll back her. She’s the rightful heir but in a weak position. Her uncles are circling like vultures. She’s got barely any backing—just two mercenary companies and no standing army to speak of. The only thing keeping her afloat is the Mayor of Kronfeldt’s support.”

I frowned. “And what should we do until then?”

“I need to head to Kronfeldt soon to establish some contacts,” James replied. “Right now, Orion and I have made a plan to infiltrate the Southern Crown nobility using my skinchanging abilities. We don’t have to act immediately, but this is a path we need to consider as we move forward.”

“We should focus on the harvest first,” Orion interjected, his fingers tapping impatiently on the oak table. “Make sure no one starves or freezes this winter. This is just one potential path, but eventually, we won’t be able to keep Thornhill a secret—especially with a civil war brewing right in our backyard.”

I hesitated, still unsure. “Can we even help her? I mean... no offense, but we’re just a small village. How could we turn the tide, even with gold?”

James’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “Don’t sell us short, Bianca. We’re more than just manpower. Technology, supply chains, production know-how—those are game-changers. I’m not saying we hand over our trebuchets, but imagine her army armed with rations, antibiotics, or Thornhill-forged weapons.”

He turned to Orion with a sly grin. “And let’s not forget, we’ve got the Stalker of the Azure Reach himself. A living legend. If things get bad, I’d bet Orion could slip a knife into the right back and end this war before it starts.”

Orion exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. “Jim, I’d rather stay out of this entirely. I’ll fight for Thornhill, no question, but I couldn’t care less who sits on the Southern Crown’s ducal seat. Let Sophie’s mercenaries do the fighting.”

James stepped closer and gave Orion a firm pat on the shoulder, his grin turning vengeful. “Ah, but you know better than that, lad. If Thornhill wants to stay safe, Evilith has to win. We’ve all got our roles to play. You’ve got your skills, I’ve got mine, and like it or not, we’re in this together.”

The tavern keeper, cook, and Stalker of the Azure Reach let out a deep groan.