“Fiona, you’re singing again.” Greg let out a sigh as they closed up early on Siertsday for the harvest festival. It was hard to not notice it--the city had been getting underway for the past week by the outskirts, in the open fields where she could see it from her apartment, just barely. But she wasn’t going to stop humming for Greg, this was going to be too much fun! “Fiona, you’ve been humming for two hours.”

“But I loooove autumn! It’s the best season! It’s crisp cool weather, jackets, and cozy clothes, but not needing my mittens! It’s the perfect blend of seasons! And you need singing to seal the deal!” she stated. To hone the point, she wrapped a soft crimson and gold striped scarf around her neck, made of the softest wool she’d ever felt. She would have said it was magically enchanted, but Bonnie hadn’t done any work on it yet, and she’d gotten it for a steal at a craft fair the previous day. “C’mon, Greg, we’re ahead for the week, waaaay ahead!”

“I would like to state that I am cautiously optimistic about our projections. Kali, are the sensors all working now?”

The avian teen popped up between rounds of connecting small mage steel wires, and was carefully threading connections together under the kiosk. The wires were fed through harnesses and pre-cut holes under the floorboards to a small room that they had set up for logistics and security. threading wire through utility areas could be such a pain, until Fiona tethered a gold coin, and pulled it through using her ability to make gold weigh nothing--and apparently, snap it to her hand?

This thing had immense potential, she was realizing.

“Almost done. Hah. The teachers were laughing when I told them I wanted to switch classes at my budget school. I can’t wait to show off my new skills.” He was gritting his beak with a wire hanging out gently, and then grabbed the loose end and threaded the last one to the array of circuitry. “Job’s almost done. I need to run a quick check on Lunesday, we’ll be good to go.”

“Ooh! Working industriously, young man! Here’s a coffee to go,” Darla gently set down a waxed paper cup, filled with an aromatic delight that Fiona got jealous of–until Darla handed her one. “I was gonna have to dump it at the end of the day anyway, now it won’t go to waste.”

“You’re a gem, Darla. Oooh, I smell hazelnut!” Fiona beamed after she took a sip. “How do you do this so easily?”

“Class perks, dear. Just like you’ve likely picked up some intuition for business?” she added as she threw on a jacket. Even for Darla, it was becoming a tad too cool outside, and Bonnie was dressed up in a light sweater and leggings, and her fashionable witchy-looking hat. She was springing on her feet, and eager to go. “Oh, what’s got you excited, Bon-bon?” Darla asked casually.

“The harvest festival has the best sweets!” she exclaimed with a spin on the hardwood floor, and she rubbed her hands together. “The best part is Marita’s homemade pies! Ground bison, a little bit of mashed tuber, just a sprinkling of orange root, a little bit of seasoning…it’s sooo good! She tosses in a good squash mash on the side, and she makes it every year! It’s savory, with a tiny bit of sweet!”

“Save room, there’s plenty of festival to go around,” Greg suggested. He threw on a dark jacket over his regular business vest and collared shirt. Fiona swore he never dressed down for just about anything. “Kali, c’mon, we’re closing up, you can finish after the weekend!”

“Alright, one last thing…there.” Kali let out a squawk of excitement as the displays lit up, and the arcanist circuits started glowing with blue and golden lights, and he flapped his wings in excitement–except he forgot that he was scrunched under a console. He dinged his wings on the edges, and let out a squawk of pain.

“Okay, easy there, don’t clip your wings before we go have a good time!” Fiona sighed, and he rubbed at his wing knuckle gingerly with one arm. “Seriously, how do you guys fly? My math isn't bad, but uh--where I come from, birds only get so big, before the maximum thrust generated from your wings, is exceeded by the weight to sustain such a body.”

“It's a trace of magic,” he shrugged. “But there is a limit to it, and I’d rather not become a lead bird, ya know? We can’t just fly from coast to coast. Didn’t they teach you anything in school about the various folk?”

“Still kinda learning the ropes. I was summoned, and said summoner is nowhere to be seen,” she answered.

“Wow, really? I wouldn’t have known, till you said that.” He grabbed his bag, and they all headed out together, after she and Bonnie locked up the door.

“Yeah, let me cut you in on a little secret. Weird stuff happens around me, Kali. Roll with it, you’ll be fine,” Fiona answered him back. “I’m still, you know, learning. About Cepalune. This world is…” she trailed off. “It’s beautiful, Kali. Don’t destroy this world, like we did ours.”

“What happened there?” he asked. She took a sip of her coffee, and winced.

“Bad stuff, kid. Someone yanked me from certain death. Which is…kinda why I’m a bit, the way I am. At least I’ve still got it in me to enjoy festivities.” It was the most forthcoming statement she'd given anyone, beside Bonnie, Darla and Greg, about her past.

“They had that, back where you came from?”

“Absolutely! Fall was the best season for festivities.” Fiona took a deep inhale of that crisp, cool air. A light breeze played with the leaves on the ground, and scattered a few more that were clinging to the trees, now in shades of purple, red, and gold. “Now, it is festival time!” she beamed and practically sprang down the steps, and spun a whirl on the pavement. “You know what that means? Food, fun, and fine crafts!” she skipped along under the bright blue sky, with a few puffy clouds floating overhead.

She was just too excited about this, because a harvest on a whole other world? There was so much new to try.

“Oh boy, there goes our girl again,” Bonnie called out behind her, moving with the group in unison. “Fi, I’m convinced that you’re some kind of immortal spirit or something, because you almost never run out of energy!”

“Nonsense, my sweetheart fellow fox! There are adventures to be found! Food and wine shall indeed be mine, away we go, to the fairground!” she sang as she skipped along, and started humming again.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I am fearful when Wintertide starts,” Greg chimed in with a chuckle. “This town will have never experienced that level of infectious enthusiasm.”

Fifteen minutes later, they crested the low hill on the city outskirts, where the harvest festival had been set up, adjacent to the lake. It was a large meadow with low trees, and various tents, sundries, and a stage had all been set up. Nowhere else in the city was there enough room to set up such an event–not even the market she frequented had quite enough room. There had to be thousands of people already milling about at the dozens of tents and displays.

Fiona paid for the entrance fee, which was a pittance–only a few silvers total for everyone, and sprang to action. “Okay, it’s my first time, I want the tastiest, most savory meats, first! Bonnie, where’s this meat pie place that you were talking about? It sounds almost like Shepherd's pie, back where I came from.”

“We’re gonna skip the magical displays, baked delights, jugglers, magitech demonstrations, and more?” Bonnie asked with a clap on her shoulder, grinning delightfully. “Girl, pace yourself! We’ve got all day, there’s plenty to see. They also have sparring rounds and a tournament melee Last I heard, it was an open invite, anyone could join!”

“Who would I face?” she asked. Bonnie put her hands up in the air.

“Could be anyone. Even Greybeard could join in! Though he’s probably soaking in a hot spring right now, so maybe not him." Fiona glared at Bonnie at this mention. "Also, you're kinda pissed at him, and I feel like you'd make it an unfriendly melee."

"Dude stiffed me. One more attempt to screw me, and I'll tell Jake that we're putting Greg on the throne! I like Greybeard, but he's acting so sus right now," she growled. "Something rotten is going on, I can sense it now. Something else is going on, which is why he didn't dropkick Barry into the lake himself yet. I'm calling Lucy later, she must know what's going on with her dad."

"You would seriously do that, toss Greybeard out of his own kingdom?" Bonnie looked fearful. Fiona doubled down and grinned. "I don't know what's more terrifying. You, getting pushed to limits, or that you could possibly pull it off, and still be loved for it."

“It's hypothetical! I just want to run a shop, and not have to worry about palace intrigue crap. Because this, is what this smells like,” she added, before she wrapped her scarf around her neck, having come loose in the breeze. “Tournament, yes, by the way, I’ll at least watch a few rounds. But first, food!”

“They have a barbeque boar that’s really tasty,” Kali suggested, and pointed down the row. “Usually, they set up in a purple and yellow tent. The festival was a nice break from the orphanage. Ugh, memo to not have sticky fingers," he sighed.

“Yes, please refrain from that,” Greg said dryly. “Darla, not working here today? It’s quite a crowd.”

“Nah, even this barista needs to take a day off,” Darla said with a twirl of her hair, now let down. Her nails were also painted a festive red and orange, to match the fall colors. “Plus, it gives me a chance to sample the market, and have fun. I wanna do axe tosses, by the way.”

Bonnie gulped at this. “Where on earth did you get the ability to throw axes?” Darla smiled and flexed a toned muscle in her arm.

“Culinary stuff requires muscle to chop through fresh butcher meat, which I’ve done on occasion, and it’s baked into my class. Plus, my dad had me practice. Of course, he was throwing axes recreationally, and not at other darklings. I wonder, how our dear retired hero would do?” Darla added while elbowing Fiona.

“Eh, I bet I could hit the target. I just hated carrying around throwable items. They’re heavy. The hammer became my go-to,” she added as she patted the haft of the weapon. Strangely, the guards hadn’t even questioned it. “Plus, a bit of magic and a few items filled out my lineup nicely. No one expects an elf dancing around and smashing things with a giant hammer, you know? Wanna make it a contest?”

“I’ll join in,” Greg added with a head nod. “I’ve a little skill.”

“Oh, this’ll be good. What’re the stakes?” Fiona asked. “Lunch?”

Greg flexed his arms and cricked his neck while looking rather confident. “I’ll take that wager.”

A few minutes later, they had made their way to a platform set up in an open area, where a few targets were propped up on wooden training dummies. The announcer, a lean young man, was rallying up a crowd. “Well now, who do I see with my eyes, but the hero of Fiefdala, who has made her way to my booth! What an honor! Are you here to test your skills in the knife throwing contest?”

“Yeah, got a little wager with my friends on who can hit the bullseye the closest,” she announced, as her, Darla and Greg all stepped up to the line. The announcer motioned to his assistant, who brought out a set of throwing daggers for everyone to pull from a block, and Fiona tested the balance. It wasn’t a hammer, but she'd used them before. These ones weren’t enchanted, but they did have a bit of gold inlay on them. Real gold. But, how did she know that?

That heart of hers was fluttering again on her wrist, and she felt like an electric current ran through her arm, from the dagger. She felt utterly confident in this–the magic wasn’t in the dagger, it was in her? It was just like when she held the other gold items. What was stranger, was that she instinctively felt it was gold inlaid on the items. Her skin seemed to warm when in contact with it, like the soaking heat of a nice campfire.

She barely heard the announcement that they could begin. She glanced at Darla, Greg, and a few others who had stepped into the fray, and Darla peered at the target with the focus of a hawk. She flicked the dagger into a throwing position in her hand, and flung it with deadly precision at the target. One hit hit just on the edge of the target. Two were close to the inner circle, but not dead-center.

She peered over at Greg, with his zen focus, and he flicked the daggers by instinct into his fingertips–holding three of them at once? He threw them in rapid succession, and all three were in the outer circle–deadly aim, for sure.

She was no slouch, either, but that gold almost seemed to sing in her hands. She narrowed her gaze, and tossed the dagger in one hand, tumbling it to check the balance, the two other ones palmed in her other hand. She took a deep breath, and flung with all her focus.

The first dagger sunk into the outer circle, close to the mark. It was almost as if she’d had a faint tether to the dagger–or the gold inlaid in it? She flung the two others, willing those daggers to adjust course as they tumbled, ever so gently through the air. Just like the coin, but throwing, rather than receiving.

Thunk. Thunk.

She stared, amazed, as those daggers sunk into the inner circle, mere millimeters from the center of the target. None of the other contenders came close, and Greg went wide eyed at the precision throwing.

“Welp, guess I need to go practice again,” he finally admitted. She peered at her wrist, and that heart was flapping up and down. Did she…control the gold in that hilt through some weird connection? To guide it to the target?

A thought occurred to her. That magnetic grab…was it…telekinesis? She decided to put it to the test. “I think I was too close to the line, may I try again, from further way?” she asked politely.

“Fiona, I’m pretty sure you weren’t, and you’re an immensely accomplished–” Greg started to say, but she gave him the tense-eared elf look, and he dropped the line of thought. The attendant nodded, grabbed the daggers, and she made sure sure was well beyond the line.

“No need to show off, miss, you did excellent grouping,” the man stated with amusement before adjusting his festive hat. “Got something to prove?”

“Just giving myself a challenge,” she answered with a widespread grin, and felt the gold inlaid in the dagger, warm to the touch. She could feel a tingle of energy connecting to the precious metal–like an electric current.

Flick, flick-flick.

She threw the daggers in a rapid fashion, and the first, struck near-center. The two daggers, thrown from each hand, came practically dead-center to the bulls-eye, and the man looked on with widened eyes. “Uh, well, guess that wasn’t a fluke.”

“That’s a lie, Fiona is a fluke,” Greg grumbled, and Bonnie growled playfully at him.

“Hey, that’s my bestie. Way to go, Fi!” she cheered. Fiona, however, had learned something very interesting.

Either her muscle memory was still at peak, or she had a powerful telekinesis over gold. The implication on this one felt subtle. But immense, nonetheless.