Over the next few days, Arvel, Rain, and Fidget began to settle into a strange new ‘normal’ around the farm. Arvel had given up his bedroom to Rain in favor of sleeping on a pad of blankets by the fireplace, while Fidget had made herself a small ‘den’ for sleeping in, inside an emptied-out cabinet in the kitchen. The windstorms blew hard for a couple of days, but they eventually began to calm down, and Fidget and Rain started to get along a little better, though just a little.

This was owed in part to the delegation of chores that Arvel set up, with Fidget handling the cleaning inside the house, Rain caring for the chickens and watering the crops, and himself handling the goats. He thought himself quite the tactical genius for the maneuver, which not only kept the girls separated for much of the morning when he wasn’t around to arbitrate their spats, but it also kept Rain far away from his precious billy goat Tim, with whom she’d sworn a terrible grudge.

It had been a week since the marchioness, Lady Deleraine, arrived in her fancy carriage at Arvel’s doorstep. Now, the recently dubbed ‘Rain’ was sitting by the fireplace with the tattered remains of her once elegant blue dress, carefully cutting away the most damaged parts with a pair of shears she found in Arvel’s tool drawer. A sewing kit sat on the floor beside her, not yet opened, but clearly communicating her intent.

While Arvel worked to scramble eggs in a pan over the fire, he tensed as he heard Fidget approach. The two girls had only just recently started mixing better than oil and water, but he still worried that any interaction could turn into a catfight.

“What you doing?” Fidget asked, flopping down on her bottom beside Rain.

“I’m about to start sewing,” said Rain, “This was the dress that I wore the day I came here. I can’t exactly wear it anymore, but I can’t keep running around in hand-me-down shirts forever either.”

“You think about clothes too much,” Fidget said, picking up some of the dirty blue scraps from the floor to play with, gently fraying the edges more between her fingers.

Rain looked down at Fidget, still dressed in the rags she’d arrived in; a swath of fabric hanging over her chest that barely counted as a shirt, the curves of her large breasts hanging out from beneath the tatters, and a loose skirt made of scraps of hide roughly stitched together. Rain smirked at her and said, “And you think about them too little.”

“Supper’s almost done,” Arvel said, “Potatoes and eggs.”

“Again?” Rain asked, the disappointment evident in her voice.

Arvel sighed and said, “Yeah, again. Listen, it might be obvious by the lack of space, but I ain’t real used to having house guests. We’re starting to go through my food stores pretty fast, so I can’t get fancy if we’re going to expect things to last.”

“Fidget will hunt!” the goblin announced firmly.

“Aren’t the mountains dangerous?” Rain asked, “Even if the goblins have moved out of the area, there are still ogres, demons, and all manner of monsters.”

“And hares! And wild sheep!” Fidget replied, licking her lips as she began to salivate, “And lots and lots of wild goats! They think they’re safe up on the sharp rocks but Fidget can throw rocks really hard.”

“There’s also bears and mountain lions,” Arvel added, tilting his pan to scrape a pile of scrambled eggs onto a plate, “Hunting is a last option, not a first option. Life’s a whole lot less risky down here on the farm.”

Rain looked down at the dress as she worked to carefully rip out a line of stitches and said, “You’re surprisingly risk-averse for someone born under the Warrior Star.”

“Warrior Star, Warrior Star,” muttered Fidget, “Farmer said that too when we met. Who cares about stars? They’re pretty but don’t mean anything.”

“The stars above us mean a great deal,” said Rain, “You may not learn about them, but they affect goblins too. Didn’t you know some goblins who came back after they died?”

“Sure!” said Fidget, “Because strong warrior spirit!”

“Not just strong-spirited,” Rain explained, “There are certain stars that shine in the sky at different times, and some brighter than others. There are hundreds of them, even. But among them, one of the most powerful is called the Warrior Star, which burns so brightly that it can even be seen during the day. Babies born while the Warrior Star is shining will possess that same power, to be reborn when they die in combat.”

“Lotsa stuff can still kill us,” Arvel added, setting a pair of plates down in front of the girls before he sat cross-legged with his plate on his lap; “Starvation, disease, and old age can still take out any warrior, no matter how strong they are.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Fidget’s brow furrowed as she looked down at her plate of eggs and skillet potatoes, and said, “No star for Fidget.”

“Nonsense,” Rain replied, waving a hand dismissively before setting aside her project to pick up her own plate; “Everyone is born under a star, and some are rare, while others are more common. One star might only shine for an hour out of an entire year, while others last for days on end. I was born beneath the Noble Star, and I was bequeathed with the blessing of grace and eloquence. Both are traits important for a leader.”

“But not level-headedness,” Arvel said with a grin.

Rain glared sharply at Arvel.

“How do you know?” Fidget asked, before shoveling a bite of potatoes into her mouth.

“Well, if no one observed what star you were born under on that night,” Rain said, “a priestess could tell you if she were to read your aura. You might be born beneath the Hunter Star, or the Wayfinder Star.”

Fidget glared down at her plate as she listened, deep in thought.

“Stars don’t decide your life for you or anything,” Arvel said comfortingly, “There’s some of them that give special powers, like me and the Warrior Star, or priestesses having the power of foresight because they were born under the Mirage Star. But most of them just influence little traits. Either way, you don’t have to let it change a thing about you.”

Rain ate quietly as she listened, before noticing that Arvel was looking pointedly at her as he spoke. Though he’d already told her several times, it was clear he was driving home his point. He was not the Immortal Knight she came searching for.

By the time the three of them had finished eating, Fidget was standing on a chair to wash the dishes in the sink. Though she was surprisingly strong for her size, she still depended on Arvel to pump the well water up before she could clean, but as soon as the plugged sink was filled up, she immediately ran him off. Arvel had barely settled back by the fire again when he heard a strange growling sound.

Fidget was gripping the edge of the counter, staring out the window, clenching her teeth, and growling like a feral beast.

“What is it?” Rain asked, looking up from her sewing project after she’d just finished threading a needle with faded blue thread.

“Soldier!” Fidget barked, “Soldier!”

Arvel stood and went to the window, looking outside, and spotted the source of Fidget’s frustration. A single knight on horseback, clad from head to toe in polished silvery armor with a heavy blue cape draped about their shoulders, was riding up the winding trail. They slowed as they passed by the broken down carriage, and whatever remains had not been carried away by scavengers, before urging their horse to race faster up the path toward the farmhouse.

“The hells is a knight doing all the way out here?” Arvel asked.

“Ser Goldmane!” Rain exclaimed, tossing her project aside as she leaped to her feet and raced toward the front door.

“Hold on!” Arvel said, hurrying to get between her and the door, “You don’t know who that could be! I know you want it to be your knight in shining armor but there’s bandits that steal fancy armor too.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Arvel said, “You let me go out and meet him and I’ll let you know if it’s safe.”

The wind fell eerily still as Arvel stepped outside, only elevating his tension. Though his favorite pointed shovel was left in pieces up on the mountainside, he had retrieved another of the square-headed variety from the shed on his return, and he kept it at his side now in case he needed a weapon.

The rider approached the gates but did not dismount, instead calling out from the end of the path. From beneath their helmet, a muffled voice said “Hail, good sir. Have you seen a woman traveling in the area, perhaps alone? A beautiful maiden with lilac hair and blue eyes, by the name of Deleraine.”

“Who’s asking?” Arvel questioned, lifting the shovel to rest across his shoulder.

“My name is Ser Lunette Goldmane,” the knight said, lifting her gauntleted hands to raise her helmet off of her head. Waves of golden curls tumbled from beneath the polished steel armet, which she tucked under one arm to hold against her side. Her skin was golden brown, a hair darker than just the tan of the sun, while her eyes were a verdant green, and her lips were painted rich red. She looked down at Arvel with a sharp glare, and said, “If you have seen my lady, I strongly urge you to be truthful.”

The front door flew open behind Arvel with a loud bang, as Rain raced past him and toward the knight. By the time Rain could open the front gate, Ser Lunette had already dismounted from her horse, and in one smooth motion, she lifted Rain up off of her bare feet, sweeping her into the air. Though Rain giggled like a child taking flight, Lunette looked positively shocked.

“My lady, your clothes!” Lunette exclaimed in a near panic, “What has happened to you? Did that farmer...”

“It’s okay!” Rain said as Lunette sat her back down on her feet, “I’m fine. Thanks to ‘that farmer’, I am still alive today.”

Lunette removed her long blue cape and draped it around Rain’s shoulders modestly before the two of them approached Arvel.

“I apologize for addressing you so coldly,” Lunette said, bowing to him, “I have been wracked with fear over the condition of Lady Deleraine ever since her carriage failed to return, and I behaved improperly.”

“No harm done,” Arvel replied with a nod, lowering his shove at his side.

“Arvel, this is Ser Lunette Goldmane,” Rain said with a smile, “She is the captain of the guard at my manor and one of my oldest friends. Lunette, this is Arvel, the son of... the late Sir Elediah.”

‘The late Sir Elediah’ took a moment to sink in, but when it did, Lunette’s spirits visibly fell. She exchanged a saddened look with Rain, before bowing her head before Arvel and saying, “I see. I am deeply sorry for your loss, as it is felt by the whole of the province.”

“His father’s strength and bravery live on through him,” Rain said, “Arvel came to my rescue when my carriage was attacked by goblins and I was kidnapped. He too was born beneath the Warrior Star.”

Rain paused for a moment, before looking at Arvel, and casting him a sad little smile before she added, “...but I’m afraid Arvel is no Immortal Knight.”