There was a little bit of crying in the house–Fiona knew that was unavoidable, but she also saw that Margarette’s home was filled with love and laughter after she stepped inside. After a while, friends and extended family slowly made their way to the quaint two-story house. It wasn’t a huge house. Or flashy.

But to her, it was filled with warmth and love, and extra space became unnecessary. She was surprised at the lack of mourning, but after thinking about it for a moment…she realized they’d had a chance to mourn, months ago. Now, was a time to regale about a life beyond.

Of course, they wanted to hear the whole story–how she met Regis, how he came across her yesterday, and of course, her exploits in helping him find the bracer, one that Marielle’s mother allowed her to strap on, and try to demonstrate.

Much to Fiona’s surprise, the device activated and the metal of the bracer unfurled; Marielle blinked out of existence in a flash of light. Everyone panicked for five seconds, until they heard a squeal of delight. Fiona glanced upward, and let out a palpable sigh of relief as Marielle appeared by the second-floor landing, jumping for joy.

“Mommy look! I teleported!” Marielle squeaked, and her mother let out a palpable sense of relief.

“I had been told that there were two functions for it: The safety of heart, and the safety of home. You picked the safety of your bedroom dear,” Margarette said after Marrielle bounded down the stairs, and bowed to the amusement and soft claps of friends and family. “While it is limited to the Tel’darn family…it is very potent.”

“Uh, hang on.” Fiona squinted and saw a faint shimmer in the air where Marielle had just been–like the mirage of a desert, distorting reality ever so slightly. But, when someone walked through, nothing happened–it was as if the space were unoccupied. She glanced down at her wrist, where Wingding was flexing her new pauldrons. The discussion got her thinking about what Wingding might have acquired this time. “You said it has two functions? But, how do you discern the two?”

“Oh, I know! The magic sequence is baked into it! I can see the images of what to do!” Marielle giggled. “Fiona, take your hammer, try to swing at me.”

She gasped at this rather dangerous request. “Uh, Marielle, my hammer isn’t a toy, it’s a dangerous weapon, and should be treated as such.”

The chipper girl frowned and pouted–and added a foot stomp for emphasis. “Mommy, she thinks I can’t take it!”

“Oh dear. I don’t doubt your tenacity and your early weapon training Marielle, but this is not a game. I believe a demonstration is in order.” Margarette took the bracer from her daughter, who pouted a little, flexed her wrist gently, and took a defensive posture like she was sparring. “Fiona, you don’t mind if you take a light swing, do you? My husband may have had the expertise of communing with the beyond and working through labyrinths, but I was his sword and shield.”

“You look ready,” Fiona smirked as the rest of the room gave her space, and she pulled her weapon. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t swing at full force. It’s meant for fighting monsters, not people.”

“Aye. Take your best shot, ginger snaps!” Margarette challenged.

Fiona grinned at the playful tease, and brought her weapon up in the air, intending to strike. Margarette stood there, waiting, and just when she was worried this woman might suffer serious harm, snapped her wrist upward to block.

She saw the plating unfold from the bracer and rapidly take the rigid shape of a shield her hammer bounced off of with a deafening ringing sound. More telling was the resounding blow knocked her backward, leaving her staggered, and she stared bewildered at Margarette, giving a respectful bow.

“Wow! Okay, that’s kinda cool!” Fiona quickly put away her hammer onto her compact haft form, and examined the shield, which Margarette was showing to her daughter, clapping and jumping excitedly. “Safety of the heart, and safety of the home! I love it!” She noted the gleaming metal bands were similar to a camera iris from the center of the bracer; the crest of the griffin was still visible, and a few gems adorned on the edge.

“Aye, it’s a prized possession of the family. It was made generations ago, and it’s passed from mother to daughter, father to son, and so on. Fiona, you took such a risk, fighting against dangerous thieves, to bring this home to us…Thank you. I know we can't offer much--”

“I would have done it for any adventurer, and without asking for a thing. The guild put me on the map, when I was nobody in a world I didn’t understand. And…maybe it helped me discover a piece of myself.” Fiona tried not to think of Regis's parting words of wisdom–of trying to find her center.

The more she thought about it, she realized maybe Greg was right. She’d replaced a gaping hole in her heart with distractions, when she needed to focus on things like this. She gazed at the gathered friends and family, and nodded slowly. “Regis was a good man, the little I knew of him. He was quick with a joke, always the first to guide the new guys to keep them from getting on the sticking end of a goblin, or bitten in half by a nasty monster. Poor Virgil though–he wasn’t sitting comfortably for a few days, this one time, after he cut it a little too close.” This elicited a few heartfelt laughs.

She barely registered the door opening, and saw Greg and the others had come in, looking relieved. “Anyway, I wanted to introduce a few friends. Some of you I think know them from my shop, since I do a few return customers. Greg, Darla, Bonnie? Are we all set?”

“We are,” Bonnie replied warmly before taking her fancy hat off her head–they hadn’t had time to clean up except for a cursory dust-off from the sewers and the fishery, but she was still bright-eyed and confident. “Hey, I’m glad we were able to help. I knew Regis a little bit more than Fiona–he had a kind heart. And it showed.”

“I knew Regis, too. Quiet, but well rehearsed. He was always a good source of insight when I interacted with him,” Greg chimed in after a moment. “Anyway, I didn’t want to intrude, we came here in a hurry so that we could at least leave the town watch with some information, before we departed.”

“If you guys could stay a little, it would be appreciated. My husband…” Margarette took a small breath, trying to fight back an errant tear, “He wasn’t a big person dwelling on the deceased. He celebrated the life people lived, the good times. He saw…even in their deaths a bright ray of light, most of the time.”

“Aye.” Darla nodded solemnly with a few people gazing at her curiosity. “I remember Regis, he used to frequent my shop, something like…oh, I dunno, maybe a couple of times a week? He’d stay for a while and always ask for my light roast blend. Hah. He always liked it hot, it didn’t matter if it was the heart of summer or the depths of winter. He always liked it piping hot. I told him he was going to burn his mouth, but he didn’t listen.”

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

Darla finished with a coy smile, flipping her hair gently. “He was a creature of habit. Same coffee, same way every time. After a while, I didn’t need to take his order–I knew what he wanted, while he read a newspaper, early in the morning, before going to the adventurer’s guild hall. He was an early riser. Always telling me what the fallen were saying at any given time. He said he learned a lot of things by listening when other people turned a deaf ear. I remember one time, he was conversing with a specter, early in the morning. He gave her the courage to move on from the world. Only in Cepalune is it routine to see the fallen walking about, and able to find closure, if they look for it.”

Others chimed in about Regis, regaling about some interesting stories of the places he traveled. Margarette knew many of them, and laughed at more than a few of the stories.

Eventually, though, the evening waned, and people slowly made their way home, looking brighter than when they had entered. After a short period, it was just Fiona and her friends. “You’re all welcome to stay the night. We do have guest quarters, on account of a travelling family, but I also know you have a shop to run–”

“We’ll stay. I expect the town watch will want to interview us tomorrow, I told them we’d be here,” Greg answered.

“Yeah, we should get some rest. Though, I think a certain miniature adventurer was eyeing a blanket fort for the evening.” Marielle more than nudged her, now with the bracer firmly back on her arm and grinning lightly.

“When’s the last time you made a blanket fort? Aren't elves supposed to be super graceful as they age?” she asked, looking smug in that statement.

“Hey, I’m not that old! Only thirty…ish.” She really should take a count of just how old she was. What if she got transmigrated, with fewer years on the clock?

Eh. That's a problem for another day.

----------------------------------------

The next day was pancakes with the Tel’darns…and an interview with the Town Watch, who were busy taking statements. Most of them were inane questions by some rookie officer, and Greg had to keep course correcting him to the facts.

Fiona did, however, appreciate the presence of Detective Pierre, the wolven investigator they'd met earlier, who was in attendance. “So, you guys decided to break up a gold smuggling ring. With no backup," the wolven stated dryly, and clicking her claws against a table gently.

“We didn’t know it was a gold smuggling thing! We were helping a recently deceased person get back a family treasure!” Fiona willed herself to be patient–luckily, Marielle slid a plate of chocolate chip pancakes to her. Pierre got one too, and she saw a gleam of delight in her eyes when the little girl used the doll-eyed look, poking her fingers together.

“Fiona helped my dad. That means a lot.”

“Aye, Marielle. But there’s a proper way to help.” Pierre had softened her tone, her ice-blue eyes surveying the room. At the least, her posture was more relaxed, and her tail bobbed gently. “I will say though, Mister Lockheed reminded me your adventurer license is still active. You did act within your rights. The property damage was minimal, and there was a pseudo forced servitude situation that needed to be resolved.”

“I do tend to keep my friends out of trouble when it comes to understanding the law,” Greg responded after a second, before taking a bit of whipped cream and putting it on a pancake. Fiona grinned–he could indulge, after all! Bonnie and Darla did too, leaning in and occasionally filling in the gaps. “At any rate, Detective Pierre, we found some disturbing things. The druid was transfiguring debtors into ratfolk. There was a lot of gold recovered. And some of it seemed to be targeted at Miss Swiftheart’s vault. This was quite organized and under the city watches’ nose.”

“Those guys are going to prison for a long time, all the evidence should be quite clear-cut,” Pierre stated with more than a hint of irritation as she tapped a clawed finger on the table. She relented and took a bite of pancakes, and her ears perked up. “This is…really good--"

"Wsssssh."

Pierre stared at the frosty elemental that had popped up from the kitchen, holding a cup of cocoa, and letting out a whistling exhale of joy. "What...is that?"

Fiona nodded proudly. "This one helped with a thorny situation. Involving the druid. Geddit?" She did the finger pistol salute--and no one reacted. This salute is so nerfed. Ugh, she thought in resignation. "So, she got a treat from us."

"Uh, Fiona, elementals aren't--" Pierre sighed, and threw up her hands. "Okay, you know what, she has to go back, elementals are supposed to tether to equipment or people."

Fiona pouted for a moment, and Greg nodded. "Alright fine, we'll take her back. I did honor a promise."

“Hey, since I'm back here, sure I can’t get you a coffee?” Darla proposed, having helped Margarette in the kitchen. She held a steaming mug of some caffeinated delight in her hand. Pierre wrinkled her muzzle and nodded with enthusiasm.

“Just milk for me, then. I know you’ll do your magical art, Darla.” Darla flashed a smile in response, then got to work, chatting with Margarette briefly. Pierre then regarded the rest of them. “Fortunately, we were able to transfigure all the Kae’s back to their base forms. They had an interesting story to tell.”

“Oh?”

“They said that money was going to the Santino family, or that’s where the money was supposed to be dropped off with, a bagman or some other burnable courier. Do you know who they are?” Pierre asked, claws clicking gently together.

“Crime family?” Fiona asked. "It sounds like a crime family."

“Bingo. I think they might be the same people that tried to torch your store a few weeks ago. That's what my contacts have been saying, they recognized the barrels."

“Aha! I knew it! They knew who Greg was!” Fiona saw Greg wag his head and look anxious. “I mean, uh, they must have recognized him from the store!”

“Maybe they were targeting Greg, after all, and it was just a coincidence it was Fiona’s shop, a couple of weeks. Much as I don’t want to believe there’s exonerating evidence for the likely culprit.” Bonnie did more than subtly glance out the window, where a tapestry of the palace could be seen.

Pierre sighed, then put up a hand of assurance to all at the table. “I am aware of who mister Lockheed’s estranged family is. They are not the only family of…questionable legality in the city. The Santino’s are another family of riverfolk who have a network of alleged thieves. This new effort is…interesting. Stealing a little, from a lot of people? Individually, the theft is small, too little for the police to notice. But this adds up. And the recovered gold shows they tried to take a lot from your vault. Several thousand gold worth of items, all recovered.”

Fiona narrowed her eyes. “To think we didn’t notice at first. But why me? I don’t suppose they’ve been seen in proximity with, say, a certain blonde with a bad haircut whose name rhymes with Harry, have they?”

Pierre frowned before she took another bite of her pancake, as if not wanting to deal with responding to this one. “No, Miss Swiftheart. It gets more interesting. They’ve made recent contacts with the new government of Vale.”

Everyone looked at each other anxiously. “Greg, want me to say it?” Fiona finally called out.

“All roads lead to…Vale?” He winced--he was still not quite on board for this, yet.

“Yeah. or, Rome, back where I came from.” She peered at Wingding, trying to get her attention with flaps of Morse code.

S…n…e…a…k…

I think you misspelled ‘snake’ dear, she thought silently, while pondering this development. She had to figure out what was happening in Vale, and the elves. Too many things were starting to lead in that direction. But, how could she run the shop, act as a negotiator for this trade deal, and keep Barry in her sights? How could she be in two places at once?

If she brought up her nagging suspicion driven by too many bad TV plots right now, they would think she was crazy, for real. And not just eccentric.

Fiona’s ears perked up, and she started giggling, once she saw Wingding flapping excitedly. Greg had his deer-in-the-headlights look, and Bonnie grinned widely. “Why do I get this feeling you had a great idea?” she asked, rubbing her hands together.

“Our shop is about to crack open a mobile branch on the road, Bonnie. Let’s talk about it later, we’ve got a shop to run today. Pierre, are we clear for the day?” Fiona inquired, eager to stretch her legs.

“You betcha. If we need any more paperwork, we know where to find ya. Also, I think we owe you a small stipend or reward for helping with that situation.”

“Cool!” Fiona straightened in her chair, her mind buzzing with ideas.

She could be in two places at once. She just needed to test this one, as the first step of the plan.