image [https://i.imgur.com/xSLDgqf.jpg]
The town meeting ended, and everyone broke into small groups until we readied for bed. We’d long since given up our bunks to the newcomers before our trip, so we remained in the Dark Room with the Sternways until the second roundhouse finished. Stragglers, including the newcomers from Grayton, found a spot in the town hall to sleep.
After we climbed into the Dark Room, Charitybelle took advantage of its unique security features. Conversations in the transdimensional space risked no eavesdropping, allowing her to broach a sensitive subject. “Can I float an idea before we go to bed?”
No one objected.
“I think Yula is homesick—or rather, she doesn’t want to replace her clan with us. That’s why she’s been avoiding making friends.”
“Really? How did you figure that out?” I’d just assumed Yula’s orcish ways made her standoffish.
“I get the sense that Yula feels guilty for abandoning her clan and mountain. I think that’s why she eats alone or at off-hours. Or maybe she doesn’t have a place with so many citizens running around. Maybe orcs don’t do cities.”
I’d noticed none of this, but it rang true. “What do you think we should do?”
“Making Yula an officer forces them to engage. She’ll eat with the mercenaries and assign guard rotations. It also frees Iris up to concentrate on quartermaster duties.”
I didn’t know what quartermaster duties included, but my girlfriend knew how to manage people. She recently corrected me about being callous with Greenie’s formality. When I called him aloof, she pounced on me. “He’s doing his best to fit in. He’s comfortable playing the role of a chancellor, and you keep undermining him. It’s not very nice.”
I nodded and agreed to behave.
Charitybelle made sure everyone in town felt as comfortable as possible. Her protective behavior possibly came from the lack of maternity in The Book of Dungeons. For the time being, she protected us like her family.
Charitybelle continued on her promotions. “Fab, you’re an officer now too.”
“I don’t need—”
Charitybelle uncharacteristically interrupted. “I know, but a chain of command is important. If there’s an emergency and you need to issue orders, it must come from a position of authority. Besides, I made you Yula’s second, so you’ll have less responsibility.”
Fabulosa nodded and waved, dismissing her previous objection and moving the conversation forward.
Lloyd held up a finger. “With Yula in charge of security, the Krekie’s will toe the line. Besides, if she’s chief, they’ll resent her anyway. ‘Tis the natural order of things, but they’ll obey and show ’er due respect.”
While paternal endorsement encouraged us, Charitybelle needed to hear it from Iris and Fletcher. “Iris, what are your thoughts? Will Rachel, Val, Sami, and Jahid straighten up?” She rated the matter high enough to level a severe tone. My girlfriend sought no middle ground—either the guards cleaned up their act, or she’d banish them.
Iris crossed her arms and spoke with assurance. “If she’s an officer, they’ll snap to. We learned to hate orcs in Krek, but we also learned to abide by the garrison. If she’s brass, lifers will fight and die for her.”
I turned to her hopefully. “So they’ll show Yula respect?”
Iris curtly nodded. “You can bet your life that they will. But behind her back, they’ll grouse and second-guess her until sundown. As Pop says, it’s the military way.”
Lloyd twisted his hand. “But in a fashion, that’s a mark of acceptance. Soldiers begrudge individuals more so than orcs. Free agents have no place in the militia. Giving her the wheel is the right course. At least now, they know what to make of her.”
Yula’s promotion ended the meeting. We covered the glow stones and retired to our respective Dark Room bunks.
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Yula’s promotion in Hawkhurst’s chain of command changed only a little. The Sternways called the shots regarding their people outside settlement operations. But in joint maneuvers during a crisis, the guard guild followed orders given by governors, then officers, and then from Iris and Fletcher.
I accompanied Fabulosa and Charitybelle to the tree line the following day to look for garlands for tomorrow’s ceremonies. The effort to beautify the camp felt akin to decorating armor, but doing something brainless for a change relaxed me.
Charitybelle and Fabulosa told me what plants to gather, and I dutifully obeyed. Ferns, berry branches, and evergreens with pinecones counted as their favorites. Fabulosa found a batch of ivy vines with white flowers. We coiled it like a rope before stowing it in our inventory. I kept the town’s radar interface open for emergencies, but all remained quiet. It would have reassured me if Yula returned from the forest, but she hadn’t yet.
The three of us passed mercenaries felling trees and visited Lloyd in his watchtower. Lloyd clapped in approval after I used Hot Air to reach his perch. I promised him he’d receive the ability after Charitybelle and Fabulosa received theirs.
“I appreciate the offer, cap’n, but climbing lines is the only thing giving these old bones exercise. A man of my vintage needs to feel useful.” Even though he looked rail-thin, he slapped his stomach to emphasize his need for physical activity.
We rendezvoused with Val and Jahid on patrol. The pair showed a mild temperament and contented themselves with making rounds through the territory. They enjoyed scouting. We chatted about their trek from Fort Krek, their life in the East, and the monsters we’d fought.
When we reached the river, Charitybelle spotted the otters and waved them over. They swam to us, and we enjoyed a telepathic conversation with Mara and Poppy. I could join them since I, too, could cast Animal Communion. While my girlfriend caught up on the goings-on with her furry, adopted family, Fabulosa and I played with the pups. We watched them tirelessly wrestle one another until squeaking from Mara and Poppy signaled the time to leave.
It felt good to decompress for a day after weeks of investigating clues, blazing trails, haggling deals, and fighting monsters. We brought our collected foliage into the town hall and wove the vines and branches into decorative garlands. For the short sections, we fashioned wreaths and hung everything around the town hall. The weather warmed, so we set up a few tables outside for people who wanted a break from the party noise inside.
In the evening, Yula returned from her walkabout to report news of the vargs.
After minimal salutations, she reported her findings. “Vargs are busy een mating season. Ees best time of year to track. Zey use brooks and reevers to hide. Very clever doggees.”
Fabulosa’s eyes opened in a hopeful look. “Did you find the den?”
Yula gave only a slight nod. “Yes. Beeg den. Many vargs. Weel stay unteel pups are born.”
Charitybelle turned to her. “How long will that be?”
Yula looked at the sky and calculated the time of the year. “Seven, eight weeks.”
“If you haven’t seen the settlement interface yet, we’ve made you our security officer. Is that okay?”
“Yes. Yula ees good at dees. I teach Bernard and Blane already. Strong togezer een battle.”
“And how are you with the rest of the mercenaries?”
“Humans complain, but ees natural weakness, no?” Yula inadvertently told a joke, but her expression remained earnest.
I snorted and nodded. “Yes. It’s definitely our weakness.”
As our town grew, more guards would fall under her charge, but now Yula had only the dwarves and mercenaries to command.
Even before festivities began, garlands and wreaths created their desired effect. The colliers assembled a bonfire beside the town hall and arranged tables outside. Everyone moved the chairs and benches around them, and we ate beneath the stars. Others lay canvas out like picnic blankets.
Gunny and Angus kicked things into gear by singing in their native tongue. They started a spirited tune, and Angus kept the rhythm by slapping two pieces of wood together. Laughs and choruses joined, and the dwarves formed groups and performed a complicated dance. Even the mercenaries clapped in rhythm.
I looked at Charitybelle to see if she wanted to dance, but she only grinned. “Don’t worry. You’re off the hook, buster. My legs are still too sore.”
After the upbeat melodies ended, the dancers broke apart for a rest. If it weren’t a holiday tomorrow, we’d all be getting sleep, but the bonfire warmed us enough to keep us outside on the early spring night.
Despite our snuggling, the ground felt chilly, so Charitybelle summoned Bruno. She coaxed the animal to sleep on her lap with morsels of food, but he proved too heavy to hold comfortably and ended up cradled between her legs. Glints of his rhinestone collar reflected the flickering bonfire flames.
Ally and Gunny sang a solemn hymn as we watched the fire die. We didn’t understand dwarven language, but the rest of the dwarves hummed along. Soon, the humming grew louder than their lyrics—the bass and soprano voices split into separate harmonies. I wondered if the anthem celebrated their homeland, a legendary mountain range, or an epic poem, but it might spoil it to ask.
Though haunting, it surprised me to see the tune bringing tears to Charitybelle’s eyes.
“What’s wrong, babe?”
Charitybelle shook her head and wiped her eyes. She laughed at her tears and smiled to reassure me that everything was okay. “It’s just a silly thought. Don’t pay me any mind. I want to keep memories of this bonfire and this music after the contest. In the real world, I’ll worry about leaving home for a big city college, making money, and growing up. If I skim over the playback, I might not remember this. I’ll probably focus on fighting and adventure—which is fine, I guess, but it’ll be a shame to lose moments like this.”