When Lord Kellian’s horse arrived at the front gate of Arvel’s farm, the lord promptly dismounted before helping Rain down next.

“This is where you’ve been living?” Kellian asked.

“It is,” she replied, “Ser Lunette and I have been staying with a pair of local farmers who have generously opened their home to us.”

Rain wasn’t exactly lying. But she was wording the truth very carefully. She let her uncle open the gate for her, before she led the way along the path between garden plots and up onto the porch. She reached for the door handle, but paused, and then lifted her hand to knock. Her fist struck the door only once, before the door quickly swung open and out of the way of the second rap.

“My lady,” Lunette said with a smile, trying her best not to look as though she were still catching her breath, “And Lord Kellian. Welcome. Please come in.”

Rain gave Lunette a concerned look, before turning and smiling pleasantly at her uncle, and gesturing to the door as she stepped in.

The living room had been tidied quickly, and motes of dust still danced in the air, not yet given time to settle. The heavily abused broom was leaning against the wall, crooked as it balanced on its disheveled straw bristles. Fidget stood by the hearth in her best dress, the blue one that Rain had sewn for her from fancy fabric, and Arvel stood behind her with a hand resting on her head to gently pet her hair. They might have looked like any picturesque couple on a remote farm, were she not a green-skinned, snaggletoothed goblin.

Lord Kellian lowered his head a bit to avoid skimming his hair on the top of the door frame, but paused before he raised it, staring at the ‘odd couple’.

“Lord uncle, this is Arvel, the owner of this farm,” Rain said, “And this is Fidget.”

“...I... see...” he said quietly, biting back the many questions he had for concern of offending their hosts. The tall, broad-shouldered knight unclipped his cape from his shoulders, and offered both his cape and helm to Lunette, who obediently received them.

“So yer Rain’s uncle,” Arvel said, giving Fidget’s shoulder a squeeze, “Welcome to our home.”

“Um, hi!” Fidget said quietly, squirming a little.

Lord Kellian gave Rain a quizzical look as he pulled out a chair, and she smiled softly as she took a seat in it.

“A nickname,” she said, “Mr. Arvel was the farmer who rescued me from the mountain, and while I was staying here, he began to call me Rain, and others have followed suit.”

“The farmer who saved you,” Kellian said, before looking at Arvel. The older man gave Arvel a long, appraising look, before he said, “I can see it in you. A younger Elediah, indeed... Though you got your mother’s nose, for a blessing.”

Arvel was stunned quiet. He had been told Kellian was a contemporary of his father, but to hear the lord speak of him on such familiar terms came as a surprise.

Lord Kellian gave Arvel a faint smirk before he took a seat across from Rain, the old wooden chair creaking beneath the weight of him and his armor.

“How is Fairvale, uncle?” Rain asked.

“Missing its lady,” he replied, his hands resting on his legs.

Rain flinched faintly at his reply, before offering a small, delicate smile, saying, “It is kind of you to say. I had been preparing to make the journey back to Fairvale soon, to return to my duties and see that all is well. Perhaps we could travel back together, if it pleases you.”

Kellian let out a slow exhale, and said, “The country life suits you, my dear. I worried you’d struggle away from the comforts of the manor, but like a flower, you seem to be flourishing with a little dirt and sun.”

“You’re too kind,” Rain said with a shy smile, “But I assure you I’ve not forgotten my manners, nor my obligations. I shan’t turn up in front of the lords of Nathulan in muddy boots.”

Kellian chuckled and said, “I had no such concerns. But I don’t believe that there’s any need for that.”

“Any need?” Rain asked, surprised, “For what?”

“For you to return to Fairvale,” he said.

The room fell quiet. Lunette stood back like a dutiful attendant, but her back stiffened and her jaw set firmly. Arvel’s fingers tensed on Fidget’s shoulders, and she looked up at him, confused as to why the atmosphere in the room had changed.

Quietly, Lord Kellian reached into the leather bag that hung from his belt, and from it, he removed a thick scroll of paper with ornate spindles on either end. He laid it on the table between them, before resting his hand on his thigh again.

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Rain swallowed, steadying her voice before asking, “What is this, uncle?”

“These papers would authorize me to become your regent,” Lord Kellain said, “To manage the day-to-day matters of governance, while you focus your interests on this settlement that you are clearly most passionate about.”

Rain’s fingers curled, gripping her apron on her lap.

“So that is why you came,” she said quietly, “I am being deposed.”

Kellian relaxed his shoulders as he sighed, before saying, “This is not a coup d’etat.”

“Of course not,” she replied, “You’re not exercising violence or force, and you’re working fully within the limitations of the law.”

“You are not being removed,” he stressed, “You will remain Lady of Nathulan.”

“In name,” Rain said curtly.

Kellian’s eyes narrowed, and he replied, “A name carries more weight than you seem to realize, my dear. Our family’s name is what entitles and obliges us to our stewardship of Nathulan. You remain Lady of Nathulan ‘in name’ because your name is all that you require to sit upon your throne again.”

Kellian lifted one of his hands to rest his fist on the edge of the table.

“However,” he said, pointedly, “That throne has been left to collect dust since you elected to gallivant off to the south with your pet expedition. I bare you no ill will and I do not think poorly of you, as you are a young woman under a great burden. You have been given little time to breathe and enjoy your life since your mother passed. That said, your people deserve better.”

“They deserve you?” Rain asked quietly.

“They deserve someone who is present,” replied Kellian.

Rain looked down at the scroll in silence. After a moment, she slowly reached toward it.

“Rain,” Arvel said.

She froze, her hand hovering above the scroll.

“You ain’t gotta sign nothin’ you don’t want to,” he continued.

Kellian looked at Arvel, his eyes narrow.

“Thank you,” Rain said softly, “I respect my uncle. I will read these papers, and respond appropriately.”

She picked up the scroll from the middle of the table, and placed it more directly in front of herself.

“If it would not be too much trouble,” Rain said, “I would appreciate having the room, so that I may speak to my uncle in private.”

Arvel slowly nodded, and said, “We’ll be outside.”

Arvel, Fidget, and Lunette made their way outside. Lunette left Lord Kellian’s helmet and cape behind at his behest.

“What’s going on?” Fidget asked, the concern evident in her voice, “Rain is upset.”

“Rain’s uncle, Lord Kellian, is offering to rule in her stead,” Lunette said.

“That’s good!” Fidget replied, “It’s good, isn’t it? So Rain won’t have to leave?”

Lunette smiled down at her, and reached down to take Fidget’s hand, saying, “I’m afraid she has some complicated feelings about it. Instead of sitting around and waiting, how about we go and check up on the goats?”

Fidget squeezed Lunette’s hand, but looked back at Arvel.

“Y’all go on,” he said, “I’ll wait around in case Rain needs me.”

Though she seemed reluctant, Fidget nodded, and headed off through the garden with Lunette. Arvel watched them go, before he lowered himself down to sit on the edge of the porch, letting out a heavy sigh.

Over the next little while, Arvel watched Fidget and Lunette in the yard. They fed the goats and gave them attention for a while, before going to inspect the garden patches, picking out the vegetables that were ready for harvest. Fidget was holding out her apron like a basket, and letting Lunette load it up with an eggplant, two bell peppers, and she was beginning to pick spinach leaves. Though Lunette was the one doing the picking, Fidget was very vocal about what needed to be picked, running from plant to plant and gesturing as best she could, even pointing with her bare toes when she needed to.

Arvel couldn’t hear Rain and her uncle’s conversation from outside, but he could hear the heavy footfalls of Lord Kellain approaching the door roughly half an hour later. When the door creaked open behind him, Arvel slowly pushed himself up to his feet, and dusted off his backside.

“I appreciate you inviting me into your home,” Lord Kellian said, tucking his helmet under his arm, “I’m glad to see Ser Elediah chose a peaceful place to settle down.”

“I didn’t know you knew my pa,” Arvel said, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looked toward the settlement down the road.

“I fought alongside him on many occasions,” said Lord Kellian, “Though he was not a particularly social man, I’d like to say I could call him ‘friend’.”

Arvel looked up at him and asked, “You’d know about his ‘artifacts’, then? His armor ‘n stuff?”

Lord Kellian raised an eyebrow, before smirking, and said, “I’m surprised that’s the sort of thing you’d ask me about, rather than old war stories, or tales of our adventures together.”

“I know what kinda man my pa was,” Arvel said, “and I know ‘war’ wasn’t a real good measure of who he wanted to be, or remembered as. But the part he left me in the dark about is the part I might need, to protect the people who’re real important to me... I got no clue where he might’ve left the weapons and armor he used to fight and protect people.”

Kellian nodded slightly, before looking to the horizon, and said, “The Elediah that you knew was likely very different from the one I knew. I could not hazard a guess as to what he did with those artifacts, but it does not surprise me he hid them away. He changed, in the time that I knew him, and by the time he moved out to the wastes, he was a broken shadow of the man I had first met.”

“Broken?” Arvel asked quietly, “What broke him?”

“Imagine for a moment,” Lord Kellian said, “You’re sitting around a campfire with your allies, your friends. In one moment, you’re all talking, laughing, eating your meal. In the next you’re waking up, and everyone around the circle with you is dead, full of arrows. You have no time to tend your own hurts, no time to mourn, because you were so ‘blessed’ that now you must pick up your sword and go defend whoever is left.”

Arvel fell quiet.

“It drains a man,” said Kellian, “By the time he met your mother, she was the perfect excuse to leave everything behind.”