A few days later, at the end of the week, Fiona was squealing for joy at her new favorite thing in Cepalune:

Holidays.

“So, let me see if I get this straight, Fiona. Earth had this holiday called Halloween.” Bonnie stood there, arms folded and eyes glimmering with interest at her red-haired friend, now carefully balancing on a ladder to hang up a garland of arcane lights–all properly ran to display orange and purple lights.

“Yep. It was a day of festivities! If I’m the last woman alive from Earth, I’ve gotta make sure to spread the best traditions!” she beamed with shiny green eyes, and tacked the strand of lights in place on the second-floor railing, with the cashier kiosk just below her. She fed another strand of lights and pinned it in place, humming merrily. “This is Cepaween, This is Cepaween, Cepaween, Cepaween! Eh…doesn’t have the same ring as the original,” she sighed.

Greg peered up at her practically dancing on the ladder, and held it steady. “Miss Swiftheart, if you crack your head open upon the floor, you won’t be able to enjoy any festivities whatsoever! Do be careful and come on down from there, will you? I feel my blood pressure being uncomfortably tested in our joint venture. And not because of financial challenges–we’re actually ahead of schedule.”

“Greg, Elves are fleet of foot, like cats! We’ll always land on our feet!” she cackled. She hadn’t tested that theory, but her dexterity was unprecedented. Then, a thought occurred to her. “Hey Greg. there are periodicals about elves, and all the various Folk biology, right?”

“Biology?” he squinted at her, as if unsure of what she had just said. Then, he snapped his fingers. ‘Ah. Anatomy, physiology, and the various sciences of the human body. Yes, there are quite a few. Why?”

“Because I’m an elf now, and I don’t know how uh…everything works just yet?” She earned herself the blank stare special from Greg, on that statement. “Look, just roll with it, okay?”

“Fiona, are you saying you never even looked up any biology of elves?” Bonnie queried, trying to stifle a snicker. “Girl, how you run a business, and not know these things about yourself, is as amusing as it is horrifying, just saying.”

“I mean I’m just a human with pointy ears, right? And slightly sharper canines. I don’t really get that one, but whatever. I’m in a magical world with red-furred fox girls, demoness baristas, and a remarkably vanilla guy who could very much pass as a normal dude back on Earth!”

“I revel in normalcy. It is my center, to remain abjectly plain and uninteresting. Thus, allowing me to achieve my lifetime goals uninterrupted, and with few adversaries to stop me.” Greg even did a meditating monk pose in the process. Though, she had to wonder: if there were gods in this world, people worshiped them, right? Clarke had indicated as such. This was going to mess with her head, the fact that at least one of them had taken an interest in her. Probably.

“Yeah, that’s boring for me,” Fiona grunted.

“I also think you’re suffering from some seriously unresolved issues from your arrival here,” Greg stated candidly. “My conjecture? You’re still trying to find your center. Maybe slow down a bit, and…try to do that?”

She needed to focus on the immediate things, first. “Look, Greg, there’s a day coming up where the literal undead roam the streets in parade floats, among other things! I think I better start brushing up on more than the basics. Sheesh, how do the other summons do this? Or, do they just not care?” She did ponder this–were all the summoned a bunch of selfish, murder-hobo gamers?

That would explain the remarkably short life expectancy of them. So far, she’d managed to study and train under the best and brightest of the Adventurer’s guild. If she hadn’t stumbled into Jake and company, her odds of becoming monster chow might have been a lot higher, early on. “I mean, look, I’ve been to the library to brush up. But there’s so much to learn! Elven Biology 101 really didn’t register, ya know?”

“Well, at least our girl here has the initiative to become a part of Cepalune, rather than raze it to the ground,” Bonnie called out as she got the last light strand up and connected The common area was basked with an orange and golden glow, with motes of purple light intervening. “Oh hey, you know what? I love this color scheme! Greg! We’re keeping this forever!” she declared with a cackle, and a fist bump with Fiona as she dismounted the ladder.

“This will drive customers away, for sure,” he grumbled. “Darla, what color schemes do they use in Underlune?”

“Wait, do you guys use an on-the-nose name for the deep depths of Cepalune?” Fiona asked.

“We do, and no one ever really objected to it. We also have the market cornered on tours for caverns. Strangely, many people are willing to pay money to dive deep into the world in search of secrets and treasure. They usually just find lava. It’s not a fun thing for them to find,” Darla explained, all the while balancing a cup of coffee on her tail–how did she do that, exactly? Fiona figured it might be a class power–exceptional balance.

She’d waited tables a time or two in her youth, and she hated every waking moment of it, and Darla continued. “Anyway, golds and reds are seen a lot, but you’ll also see a lot of royal greens. The mushrooms that grow in the caverns have a natural pigment that can be used for dying fabrics, to surprising effect.”

“A mushroom kingdom,” Fiona breathed. “Any chance you guys got plumbers in overalls down there?”

“I feel like this is something that only Fiona would get,” Greg grunted as he ran his fingers through his wavy hair, and adjusted his glasses before peering at his arcanist datapad. “You know, this does feel on theme with the day of lost souls.”

“The day of what now?” Fiona asked, confused.

“The day of lost souls. As you’ve witnessed many times in your treasure dives, death is not always a constant. Reanimated bones are rather common. I find it’s better when they reanimate after the rest of the uh…filling…is all properly gone,” Greg added hastily.

“Yeah. You and I both. What’s with that, how’s dead, not dead in this world?” Fiona asked with great curiosity, as customers filtered in and walked by the cashier station.

“Well, as you told me from your earth history, you had a day called…what was it? Día de los Muertos?”

“The Day of the Dead. It’s a holiday that originated with a country on the southern border of my home nation,” Fiona explained politely.

Greg nodded softly at that. “It is much like that. Remembrance, or honoring the dead. It starts at the end of this week. There’s usually a small celebration, a parade by the main commercial square every year, and a small festival. Not to the same level as the Harvest Festival, but quite manageable on its own. The dead may indeed rise from the grave, in a way, on Cepalune. People with unfulfilled dreams, or last wishes they want to carry out.”

“But, how? Dead’s dead, isn’t it?”

“We theorize it’s the energy from our marks, from the classes. It is not a fulfilling life after death, though. Most become compulsive over their last quest, so to speak. However, strong-willed and strong-souled individuals tend to keep their mental facilities at capacity during this transition process. It doesn’t happen to just anyone. It does seem a bit random, who can, or does want to come back.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Do me a favor. Lock my coffin if I die. The world does not need another dose of Swiftheart, should my fleshy, meaty part of me expire,” she stated with an air of permission. “Also don’t let a necromancer raise me. That would just be uncool, for too many reasons.”

“Well, here’s an idea. Do you want to go to the parade? It’s typically just after business hours. We could easily finish up a bit early on Fiersday, and work our way to it, with no impact at all, on our end,” Greg proposed.

“I’d get to sample more of Cepalune history and traditions. Oh heck yes, please!” Fiona called out gleefully, a smile emerging on her face like a kid on Christmas. “I’ve been waiting for this day when I would be in awe of all this world has to offer! Now tell me, the skeletons I’ve met seem to be complete…well, how does one word this?”

“Stiffs?” Bonnie suggested with a curling smile on her muzzle.

“Hey. Shush you, I thought I was the pun master,” Fiona scolded, narrowing her eyes as Bonnie laughed softly. “But the ones in the dungeons seemed to be pretty…uh…not all there. They were kinda almost mindless. Except for playing cards. They cheat every time. I don’t even know how they see the cards, they don’t have eyes!”

“The glowing orbs in their eye sockets weren't a clue that magic might have played a role?” Greg asked with a wince.

“You know what, it’s probably better if I just automatically assume ‘it’s magic’ when I make future observations,” she conceded. A ping on her relay got her attention, and she peered at the number. “Oh hey, I guess I better take this one in private. It’s my favorite snack thief in training.”

“Snack thief isn’t a class,” Greg sighed.

“Prove it isn't’! It could be an extremely niche class, but it could still exist! Wingding, tell him!” she stated as she unfurled her sleeve and gave Wingding a gentle tap. She shook her wings as if she’d been just napping, and Fiona could almost feel a huff of indignance in her head.

That had been another strange development. She could almost feel fragments of emotions she wasn’t sure were hers. After a little experimenting, she theorized that Wingding was giving off moods. How, exactly, she was doing that, she didn’t have a clue. But it also meant it was time for more experimentation. “Okay, Wingding, remember the code we talked about?

One flap later, Wingding was trying to give out answers in crude Morse code. They didn’t have that here on Cepalune to the same capacity, but the arcane relays that had been around for decades could serve a similar purpose, or anything programmed to run on them. “Be sure to…” she trailed off, and glared at Wingding. “We don't have Ovaltine on this planet, Wingding. Wisearse.”

She responded with a single, exaggerated flap, and Fiona groaned. “I swear, this mark gets weirder and weirder. It’s like a teenage version of me!”

“The world should shudder in horror at a preadolescent Fiona,” Greg stated dryly. Her glare failed to intimidate him–-his glasses must protect him from her attempted emulation of a basilisk glare. “No really, there’s only enough room in this world for one of you, dear. Much as I question some of your decisions on a personal front, you are savvy with money. When you aren’t looking in a brochure,” he finished with a wry smile.

“Hey, I’ve looked, but I haven't pulled out my Cepalune Express card just yet!” she countered. “I’m trying to control my spending. It’s hard, Greg.”

“You are making an effort. It is remarkable restraint, from you," he mused.

“Don’t you know it? Alright, just hold the fort till I get back. I blew off Felix while we were talking."

She headed to the small administrative office she had in a separate room in the back and latched the door with a soft clicking sound. She also placed her relay on the small, chestnut-colored desk where she had a stack of papers, bills, invoices, and various other office work, all indexed neatly with folders. A filing cabinet sat on the floor, partially filled with old paperwork that she figured would be helpful to have later, and a small holo image sat on the desk, showing the whole team smiling by the entryway to the store.

I love having a team. I wish I had…more people to help me run the whole place. Maybe it wouldn’t have gone under if I hadn’t been so reluctant to ask for help.

She activated the transmit button on the relay, and her dashing rogue friend Felix appeared on screen, clean-shaven and twitchy, like usual. He looked left and right, as if he were ready to bolt from whatever position he was in. “Felix, greetings! How's my favorite orphan thief doing? Is he trying to do good deeds, to get off of Fiona’s naughty list?”

“Gods, you cotton candy-colored elven fiend, it was one time,” Felix groaned, slicking back his dark hair and still peering around anxiously. “Okay, I did the thing you asked. I went and took a look at some records over at the tax office. Then, when they stonewalled me for a request about the royal family’s expenses, I went and uh…found an open window. At night. Where a pile of papers magically whooshed out. Must have been a storm of some kind, fluke occurrence, who knew?’

“Felix, your anxious laughs tell me you found something important. So spill it, what’s Barry up to?” Fiona pressed, and hoped that this was worth the favor she was burning for this. Because it was costing her gold, and leverage over this guy who made orphans sad regularly.

“Alright. The records for the expenses for those windows you mentioned? All recorded properly. And also rightly undervalued. I think someone’s cooking the books in the tax office. It didn’t cost thirty grand worth of coins, they only charged ten grand, tops! A guy I know said that job should have been bare bones, 20 grand CSG’s.”

“CSG’s?” Fiona echoed.

“Cepalune Standard Gold? What, did you grow up in the woods?” She did not appreciate his acidic response and gave him the leering smile. The one she reserved for when she was about to murder ugly monsters to make cute boots out of them. “The universal currency of Fiefdala, the Unified Kingdoms, and a good chunk of the civilized world?”

“I’m bad with acronyms,” she deflected. “So, he’s committing fraud? Murray, one of the builders, said the same thing. He’s good and he charges cheap, based on what I know of the going rates for labor like that.” She pressed her fingertips together, elbows resting on the desk surface, all the while peering at Felix. “Who initiated the charge?”

“Not Barry. It’s not logged. That’s kinda weird. It says Mira charged it. Mira has been with her father up at the springs this whole time, going on a month, while Greybeard soaks out some stress.” Felix pulled up a notepad and licked his finger as he brushed through the pages. “Fiona, what exactly am I getting involved in? Is the royal family committing expense fraud? I mean, it can happen, but…”

“I have a theory that Glados is behind it. Barry wants to keep a convenient girlfriend, or said girlfriend is using him like a useful idiot to get what she wants, behind the scenes,” Fiona explained while going through the logical steps.

“Glados’ records are sealed. I can’t get them from Cepalune Academy, because that is a danger level I am not prepared to enter,” Felix finally pushed back, looking like he’d seen a ghost. “I heard enough about that crazy lady to want to avoid her at all costs. She's in a bard class.”

Fiona spent three seconds processing this, then started belly laughing. Felix stared at her, face askew at her exaggerated reaction. “Uh, Fiona, what’s with the laugh?”

“It’s official! Bards suck in every universe!” she declared, holding her ribs while the deep-seated chuckle failed to subside promptly. “So, tell me, Felix, what else did you learn?”

“Nothing else I'm giving for free. Alright, hang on. I have one tidbit I thought was safe to grab. She came into an inheritance, according to the tax office. But, the details on whom it's from are missing. It sounds like…”

“Money laundering?” She proposed.

“Your words, not mine. But it was a huge chunk of change. Over thirty grand. And I've seen the way she carries herself. I'll bet there's more. but I'm not digging deeper unless you forgive all my past transgressions. Also, if I turn up dead? You'll know who killed me.”

“Oh, it's done,” she said with a clap of her hands. “The evil Blondie bard, is up to felonies. A merchant elf shall sleuth, to solve the mysteries!” she sang out in rhymes.

she was gonna nail this blonde bunny, one way or another, and Felix groaned audibly.

“Wherever you're from, please don't send any more. We're topped off on crazy in Fiefdala.”

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