Fiona looked up at the two-story apartment of bright red brick and black-painted window frames, and took a deep breath of floral-scented air. She was home. This cozy, small series of apartments sitting on the edge of the park in the nicer part of town, with a few large maple-like trees with teases of gold and orange on the leaves now. Small potted flowers lined the walk up to the front door. “Man Greg, I dunno about you, but I am glad to be home.”

“The city of Fiefdala is picturesque, isn’t it?” he asked casually, and sniffed the air gently. “Granny’s been busy with the decor. I also think her husband made brisket, I can smell it. I do love a good brisket with mashed tubers.”

“You’re a regular meat and potatoes guy, aren’t you?” Fiona said with a smile. He shrugged lightly.

“I do have my comforts, yes.”

The lock clicked without resistance, and Fiona pushed the chestnut-colored door open to her apartment, a building of wooden trusses, a few accent paintings of landscapes, and bright lit halls. She was greeted by a pair of ears peeking over the counter of the office window, and she let out a cooing sound. “Bonnie, I’m back!”

That pair of ears turned into a pair of blue eyes, bright white and orange fur, and Bonnie, her part-time mage and full-time friend. She was a lithe and bouncy kitsune that stood almost as tall as her, and she let out a squeal of delight as Fiona gave her a loving hug. She spent more than a second nuzzling at that silky soft fur.

“Fiona, goodness, I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for a few days! What, was the party lacking to your tastes over at the palace?” Bonnie teased. “Oh goodness, you’re still in your armor, let’s get that off, and get cozy! I see that my freshener runes are still working, and with a high charge left!”

“Yeah, it was great to not smell like…you know, smelly monster carapace, swamps, or the greasy, slimy scent emanating off His Highness,” she said as Bonnie snapped her claws a couple of times, and waved her hand as if trying to do recall something from muscle memory. “Something up?”

“Oh! Forgot that one doesn’t work by simple telekinetics, I need the wand.” Bonnie held up her silver-clad enchanting wand, with a blue crystal embedded in the tip. The armor buckles and snaps all came off effortlessly, and the metal pieces all hovered in the air. With a twist of her wrist, Bonnie guided the levitating pieces toward the armor stand in a nearby walk-in closet. With a quick flourish tap in mid-air, Bonnie set the armor pieces snugly onto the wooden mannequin where she stored her equipment. Armor was a statement on fashion, not just practicality to Fiona.

“Ah, thanks, Bonnie! I feel a little sweaty, but nothing a little freshening couldn’t fix!” Fiona declared with a deep sound of relief, now adorned in her soft doeskin tunic, stretchy leggings, and the light layer of padding she wore underneath the armor to keep blunt blows from ruining her day. She tossed her gauntlets and greaves onto a shelf in the closet.

She glanced in out of habit, just to take inventory. A few other armor sets were stored there–one that was ruby red metal with glowing blue runes. Adjacent to it was a bluish-colored scale set that almost looked like fish scales. The last one was a plain green tunic with mail mesh with a funky lengthy green cap sitting on the head of the mannequin. A broad sword with a blue grip, and a yellow gem in the center was stashed on a rack on the wall–that one was still a favorite. “Bonnie, I gotta be real with you, you do fantastic work, that armor didn’t have a spot of rust or corrosion! Maybe a couple of dents, but I can get Luke to go smooth those out.”

“Ah, don’t mention it, Fiona. Welcome back, and–oh, sorry Greg, didn’t see you there!” Bonnie corrected, and smiled broadly at him.

“Not a problem, Bonnie. Where’s Tucker, by the way?” Greg asked, glancing around the quiet apartment.

“Oh, the kitty is out on a walk with Granny. I swear, that hellcat only behaves for her and Fiona! He tried to use my tail as a chew toy!” Bonnie complained. She smoothed the wrinkles in her flowing skirt with light gold embroidery. “Fiona, how’d it go? I heard you gave a mighty beating to Douglas the Red! Did you kill him?”

“Nah, but I left him crying in a swamp,” she said proudly while puffing her chest. “He was kind of a pushover! And beating up those big-eyed little kobolds? I kinda felt bad about it, almost! I swear, it’s getting harder to find a bad guy to hate. But then, Greybeard Junior stuck me with a tax bill for all the loot sitting in storage! Greg stopped me from wrecking the place.”

“You are not the only person with powerful strength in the world, Fiona,” Greg cautioned. “That was my immediate concern. But, at least we have a plan now.”

“Oh, that’s awful!” Bonnie gasped, and her ears drooped a little. "How could that jerk do that to you?!"

"Bonnie, he didn't just stiff me, he stiffed the whole guild!" she replied and let out just a little bit of fury and frustration. "But, Greg here is a good voice of reason. I can’t beat all my problems in the face, unlike monsters. Hammer time always works on monsters,” she suggested with an oozing smile.

"Attacking a king is generally frowned upon, Fiona. You did right by not giving in to your urges," Greg offered as a small concession.

"But not mine," Bonnie uttered with her teeth gritted, and a dazzle of blue light dancing in her hand. "I'm gonna go give that little creep warts!"

"Defacing a king is also frowned upon," Greg cautioned. Bonnie's muzzle curled into an evil smile.

"Well, they weren't gonna be on his face, if that's what you're asking--"

"Okay, okay, yes, we get the idea,” Fiona interjected rapidly. Even though that idea tempted her. “We need to figure this one out with brains. Much as I hate having to say that, brawn and cuteness only solve so many problems.” Bonnie's ears drooped again, and she pouted.

"Maybe one bad luck hex, so he slips on his horse's droppings?"

"Subtler, but still too much. Humiliation has to be returned in kind, Bonnie! And that's by beating him at his own game!" Fiona declared, and punched her fist into her open hand. Bonnie's ears turned up just a little bit. “I am very good at zeroing tax bills.”

"Girl, you give the word, and I'll help you on that front! Anyway, I got sidetracked. I filtered through some messages that were dropped off here. A few are suitors from…sheesh, Barnathi? Do the elves have mail couriers in the plains? Also, a Stonelord from the Karave mountains left a similar note.” She wrinkled her muzzle at that mention. I don't really see. you dating a dwarven, though. “There were a few bills, I paid those from your bank, nothing too big there. I also have a flier for a steampunk jacuzzi that you were all up in arms about, it’s on sale over at Bridget’s place. Oh, and a letter here from Jake.”

“Jake?” Fiona gasped. She’d met up with him briefly when she got back into town, but he’d been super busy taking care of the post-battle actions. “What’d he say?”

“Don’t know, didn’t read it. I figured that one might be a little…private,” Bonnie said with a foxy grin. Fiona was feeling a little rosy-faced, too. More than her hair. “Ooh, someone has a cruuush?” Bonnie asked with sharp eyes and an even sharper smile.

“Oh, now you wanna get nosy, you lovable vixen?” Fiona said with feigned annoyance, and Bonnie laughed in that high-pitched cackle that she’d come to know her by. “Jake’s a friend from the guild of adventurers, and yes, he is an utter smoke-show wherever he goes. He’s dateable material,” she offered as a concession. “Plus he’s the one that got me a shot in the guild.”

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“Just dateable, you say. He’s the envy of the town! Even Lucy, first in line to the throne, was turned down by him. I think he’s very picky. Anyway, I have his, and a few other odds and ends on the desk.”

Bonnie padded over around the counter, eyes on Greg. “Hey, are you busy this afternoon? I need to go over some paperwork with you, too, I wanted to get a lease on the mage shop I was planning on opening. I had some ideas!

"Yeah, why don't you guys head out for a bit? I need time to destress a bit, and figure out some plans. We could meet up this evening over at McFly’s place? Oh right, money--"

"Take a small victory lap, it's not the end of the world," he assured her.

"Alright. But, I can't spend money willy nilly until we work past this,” Fiona proposed, and Greg nodded confidently.

“They have the best sandwiches! I’ll be there! I figure you need some time to decompress and find–”

The sound of a rattling bell rang through the air, the sound of something panting, and a loud call of a cat came from the hallway. Greg looked like he was about to have an instant panic attack, eyes wide and looking left and right for an exit.

A middle-aged lady called up the stairs. “Fiona, I heard you were home!”. The thump of multiple legs bounding up the stairs and a primal yowl was all Greg needed to break out into a run, and try to dart for the balcony doorway. Fiona would have suggested the stairs. Flights out of balconies were not pleasant.

But it was too late. A bundle of black and blue fur, blue eyes, and massive paws skidded past the doorway and pounced on Greg’s back with a crackle and a flash of blue light. The massive beast the size of a large dog pinned him down on the plain throw rug between the living space and the balcony, stopping Greg’s momentum. Greg grappled with that massive feline beast, trying to ward off the sandpaper tongue and adoring eyes of her pet phase cat, Tucker. Fiona giggled, that furball of joy loved it when Greg was around.

“Ow! Fiona, get this menace off me!” he pleaded, even as that sandpaper tongue grated along his neck and face. “Tucker, stop it! I’m gonna get abrasion burns from you, c’mon!”

“Someone missed him,” Bonnie giggled while holding her belly and trying not to laugh. Fiona joined in as Greg gave up and sprawled out on the floor, with that beast now curling up on his back and continuing to lick him affectionately. “Fiona, you might wanna do something, before Tucker figures out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Gregory roll.”

Fiona took the initiative and scratched the neck of the black and blue striped feline, who let out a happy purr and kneaded his claws into Greg’s back. “Tucker, you walked right by mommy, I need cuddles!” The cat, however, let out a soft meow and continued to use Greg like a pillow.

“This is not helping, you red-haired elven fiend,” Gregory groaned, and Tucker let out a yowl of mild protest. “You do this to no one else, cat.”

“Tucker, stop using him for a napping spot! I like Greg enough to not wish for him to serve as your cushion!” Fiona said with a laugh and pulled the sleek cat off of him, with an errant spark of energy trailing off her fingers. She was used to it, and Tucker rubbed against her arm and chest, nuzzling affectionately. “Aw, I missed you too, Tucker. Mommy’s home, and for a while this time around!”

“Oh, is poor Greg serving as a floor mat again?” A middle-aged woman rounded the doorway, who had a slight stagger to her step called out as she walked in the door. Fiona glanced at the bleached blonde hair and brown eyes of Gemma Locke, her landlord and occasional lap holder of Tucker, and smiled warmly. The creases of age could not dim her expression, it seemed.

“Hi Granny, thanks for keeping an eye on Tucker! I pulverized Douglas the Red, took his stuff, and made it home early. I have some post-adventuring paperwork to fill out, but it went, you know, okay.” And a very not cute tax bill, She thought with an internal sigh.

“Fiona dear, only you could nonchalantly talk about beating up a vile beast threatening the kingdom, like you were talking about a job,” Gemma said with a pleased look, surveilling the apartment. “Hmm. This is cozier than I remember. I love the decor, it feels like you’ve finally made this a home, and not just a place to crash for the night.”

“Hey, girls gotta live, you know? Ow, Tucker, no nipping,” she protested as her cat nibbled on her finger when she stroked his head. The cat let out a snicker and bounced over to the couch, where he took up a hefty portion of the seating space. Fiona straightened and brushed a few errant hairs off her clothing. “So, anything new from you? The flowers out front look fantastic!”

“Yes, I thought the ember flowers and the moon tulips would look great next to each other, and bring some color to the brickwork. Anyway, I must be off, Bonnie already gave me the deposit for the month. I must say, I’m surprised you don’t have a roommate!”

“Eh, I might eventually,” she said in a soft deflection. It would save on some living costs, and she knew a few people who might be interested in having a place with her. She did just save the Kingdom like it was a regular day job. “Anyway, I’ll catch up with ya later, Granny!”

“Looking forward to it, dear. Bonnie, do try to keep her out of trouble? She seems to find–and fight–a lot of it,” Gemma said with a smile, and the kitsune nodded politely.

“Of course, Mrs. Locke. We’ll see you around!” she called out as Gemma closed the door gently, and footsteps disappeared to the third floor of the apartment set. “Alright Fiona, I guess we’ll head out too, Tucker might think we’re gonna steal all the attention, and get jealous.” the cat yawned from the couch, and lowered its head close to the cushion, licking its lips before closing its eyes for an instant nap.

“Yeah, I’ll head out too. We’ll see you tonight?” Greg said while brushing himself off, and trying to pat dry a bit of cat dribble. “Tucker, you’re a demon, I need to clean up again.” Fiona swore she saw a slight smirk on the cat’s face before he closed his eyes and curled up.

“Sure thing.” Once everyone had departed, she finished ungearing, and tossing on some cozy clothes, a hoodie and leggings. As for the scepter of probable evil, she tossed it into a secure safe in the back of the closet, and once again heard the scratchy whispers from it.

“I can make you fly! And give you sleek, green scales! You just need to want it!” It pleaded.

“Stupid magical artifacts. As soon as I find a wizard who won’t be tempted by evil things, I’m melting you down into a paperweight,” she growled before slamming the safe closed.

“Hey, there’s no nightlight in here, I’m scared!” she heard in a muffled cry. She let out a soft sigh.

“Tucker, I’ll level with ya. Mages and magic have a flair for being too dramatic,” she called out, before flopping down on the couch, with Tucker instantly transplanting on her lap–as if he could even fit, since he was far too big. She took in the tan brickwork, wooden truss roof, and the small decorations of the apartment

It was home. Far more than the places she’d scraped and scratched every coin she had together to keep from being homeless, in the early days. She used a bit of telekinesis–a little trick she’d learned from Bonnie–to grab the small stack of papers and glanced through them. Jake’s letter was far less scandalous than Bonnie had suggested, with a quick note of congratulations on her success fighting the dragon lord’s armies, and the minimal losses involved. They wanted her for a proper private party on the weekend, too.

At Jake’s place. She grinned widely when she read that, and clasped the letter to her chest, with warm fuzzies in her heart. Even if Jake was super picky, he was still fun to be around. Tucker put a restraining paw on her leggings, and looked at her with half-lidded eyes before yawning. This cat did not want her to get up, and she stroked the feline’s fur before reading through the rest of the papers.

That elemental-powered jacuzzi might be tempting, but it was a splurge she couldn’t do now, and she pouted her lip. That stupid jerk with a stick up his backside had taken away her ability to have fun. There was only one way to address that:

Outplaying him. She nudged Tucker away and went back to the closet, to focus on her first steps toward that goal. She circled the armor stands, past the flirty attire, and looked at a few sets that might suit the bill for tomorrow’s endeavor.

A flowing tan jacket, black slacks, a dark vest, and an emerald green tie. She never understood why people said girls didn’t need to wear a tie, but she smiled when she saw the outfit she’d bought on a whim at a thrift store, after successfully bartering the guy to a bargain price. She felt the fabric with her fingers–soft and cozy, but still formal-looking. She hardened her expression and creased her lithe frame as she sized it–still a perfect fit on her.

I can win on more than one battlefield, she thought as she set it aside for the morning. In the meantime, she glanced over the more breezy, and revealing attire for the evening, and chose a blouse, skirt, and leggings that suited her. But you know what? It’s time to have some fun, first.