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Keeping house for Iris and Lloyd had been at my insistence. Between Beaker and Gladdy, I possessed enough means to protect them from an attack. I posed enough danger that the goblins couldn’t divide their forces between the Sternways and myself if they meant to keep Rezan safe.

I kept them company and fed them simple stews cooked over their guild house fireplace. Fletcher had been with Hawkhurst nearly from the start, and his passing felt like the failure of Charitybelle’s experiment. Even with the beginnings of a castle, we couldn’t protect caravans from a raiding party of goblins that grew in power with every passing day.

At first, I planned to go to the barbican after taking care of the Sternways, but so many citizens visited the guild house that it defeated the purpose of leaving. Humans and dwarves visited, and I received the sympathizers, adjudicating whether Iris could see company. I thanked everyone for their condolences, letting only Fort Krek veterans see the mourning family. While creating a buffer zone, I picked up news fragments from town.

When Angus arrived, I politely accepted his words of consolation.

Bernard and Blane had already been here to convey their sorrow about losing Fletcher, but Angus’s shifty eyes piqued my curiosity. He didn’t know the Sternways well, so I suspected he had ulterior motives for a visit.

Angus and I sat at an outside table the mercenaries used for evenings, as Iris prohibited drinking inside the guild house.

“How’s it going in there?”

“The Sternways are on the mend. Iris spoke to Captain Jourdain a few hours ago. He’s arranging for a memorial this evening.”

“I heard about that. I’ve never been to a military funeral, but everyone’s armor is in spit-and-polish shape. It’ll be a grand send-off for the mercs. Maggie carved names into commemoration stones. No one knows the merchants or their guards, but she figures there’s no disrespect in placing blank stones with the others.”

“Is that why she stopped work on the temple? It surprised me to hear that the quarry carried on without her.”

“Greenie stoppered up the work on the temple. He has us stacking painted rocks to mark out more walls on Hawkhurst Rock.”

“Painted rocks for surveying?”

“Ye can’t stake an outline on rock, so Greenie’s using painted rocks to mark the footprint.”

“With such low morale, building more fortifications will take months—even with our siege hammer.”

Angus shrugged.

“Greenie suspended work on the temple?”

“Aye.”

I opened my building interface and pondered the work stoppage.

Building Status

Temple

Remaining Build Time

Efficiency

Workers

999.9 days

19 percent

0

No matter how many ways I looked at it, I couldn’t understand why he’d stopped construction on the temple. “And you’re saying he’s marking out castle walls?”

“Nay. Not a castle or towers, but a great hall. Wee stone markers show where walls and buildings go. ‘Tis a grand design that smacks against the side of your manor. It should make for a stately feast or two. Seeing something new boosts me spirits, but I’ve heard talk of humans wanting to flit back west.”

“How are the dwarves hanging in? Do your people want to return north?”

Angus shrugged. “I don’t know. Pulling roots sounds a bit daft, with gobs mucking about.”

“I understand. Without caravans, there’s little reason to settle here.”

“Oh! There are caravans. Merchants pile up from Fort Krek across the river. But Greenie kept them holed up at the Eastbank Inn. He told ‘em we’re working on ferry repairs and assured ‘em a crossing within days. To my knowledge, the merchants across the river know nothing of our troubles.”

“Have there been signs of goblins?”

“Nay. Buggered off to their hole, but that’s what I’m here for. Greenie wants me to deliver a message. He wants ye to see him after the memorial tonight. He says he has a solution for all our problems.”

I studied Angus’s face. Angus enjoyed chattering about the day’s comings and goings, but news of castle plans and eastern merchants egregiously buried the headlines. Had I heard him correctly? Greenie had a solution for defeating his brother? It seemed off that he hadn’t paid his respects.

Angus’s troubled demeanor hadn’t changed when he saw my expression. “I confess, it makes no sense to me. He holed up in the woodshop last night—keeping it locked, so no one but himself knows what he’s up to.”

“Good. He needs to finish those stupid ballistas.”

Angus spilled even more curious news. “Yula is off delivering a message to the gobs. Ally knows some goblin script, but she can’t read what it says.”

I grunted. “That’s okay. Greenie’s probably sending them on a wild goose chase of some kind.”

Angus’s eyes brightened. “Or mayhap a trap!”

“It’s doubtful. He can’t harm his brother.”

After the memorial, the Sternways should move to a more secure location. They needed a place to spend the night in the barbican. After the ceremony, I would need to take their temperature and offer them the Dark Room if they required privacy. Greenie won’t need it to hide his dreams from Rezan after he transfers the governorship back to me. Besides, he slept during the day.

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Greenie’s switching me to the lieutenant governor remained another one of the day’s lingering mysteries. I considered myself a crafty person, but with nothing else to do in the guild house, I still couldn’t piece together what settlement functionality he needed to defeat his dreaded sibling.

“Have there been any messages in the mail addressed to me?” Governors could view incoming messages, though they couldn’t retrieve them. Perhaps Greenie retained the title because he knew I awaited word from Fabulosa or any outside help. I’d hoped, in vain, that someone had mailed Greenie or Ida from Grayton or Malibar—unexpected resources from incoming merchants and business partners that might aid us.

Angus shook his head.

“Well, I’ll see you again at the ceremony then. I’m heating some stew so Lloyd and Iris eat before coming down.”

Angus grabbed my wrist in a familiar gesture of support. “Anything ye need from me or mine—just ask.”

“Thanks, my friend.”

When the time approached to head south for the memorial, Lloyd emerged from his room clean-shaven and combed hair. He gave me a reassuring nod to let me know he approved of my doting on him and his daughter-in-law. When we exited the guild house, rows of guards and mercenaries stood in formation to escort us in the dark.

If we spotted Rezan’s eyes or red blips on the settlement’s radar, the flagpole stood close enough to the barbican to get everyone inside safely. It had been several nights since they attacked. I’d been in the Sternways’ guild house since, but the town’s guards hadn’t alerted me about enemy sightings.

I summoned Beaker once we started moving south at sunset. The novelty of the nighttime gathering held his attention for only so long. He took to the air for things more interesting than a procession of slow-walking humans.

For Charitybelle’s memorial, citizens formed a loose semicircle around the old settlement flag, but tonight’s ceremony proceeded with a more militarized flair. When we neared Hawkhurst Rock, guards in full uniform and armor escorted us into squared formations. The only ones not partaking in the ad hoc regiment were parents and children, who loosely crowded together along the side. Everyone corrected their position, making the rows of onlookers formal and dignified.

Around us, stacks of painted stones demarcated the walls and buildings of the castle. As expected, the castle layout looked promising—the project’s scope impressed me.

Despite the pomp and formality, the memorial for our fallen friends became personal. Fort Krek veterans told old war stories, or rather, how Fletcher, Sami, and Val spent time between battles. Most anecdotes involved humor, though we wiped our eyes throughout the affair.

Torches lit the proceedings, hissing and crackling as the winds from Otter Lake blew. We paid our dues to the stone markers around the flag. It wasn’t a proper graveyard without bodies, but the nighttime event lasted hours.

Captain Jourdain and the veterans ran the event, and neither Greenie nor I played roles nor stood in honorary places. Neither of us took offense, although Greenie looked downcast. At the ceremony’s conclusion, people surrounded Iris and Lloyd, who kept a stiff upper lip and thanked everyone for their condolences. The pair seemed well enough to spend the rest of the night in the barbican or Dark Room.

The ceremony broke up well after midnight. Usually, we’d all be asleep, but our schedules adjusted to late-night dealings with the goblins.

Greenie approached me as things quieted down. “Hey, Greenie. I’m sorry I’ve been away. Angus updated me on settlement news.”

“I understand. Angus didn’t understand everything, but I trust you have time for clarification.”

“Angus said you wanted to talk. Did you want to do this inside? It’s late, and we should have been in the barbican hours ago.”

Greenie unraveled the Dark Room rope around his waist and handed it to me. As I wrapped it around me, he walked past Rory’s new smithy, and I followed. As the crowd dispersed to the east, we spoke without prying eyes and ears.

Out of earshot of the settlement, the goblin looked at me with his usual formal posture. He looked tired but spoke stiffly, and it cheered me to hear him returning to his usual self. “I want you to know that you have been an excellent leader and how grateful I am for freeing me from my captivity in the iron mine.”

I backed away, bracing myself for some terrible news—this wasn’t the direction I expected this conversation to go.

“The question I have to ask is important, and I want you to devote your full attention to the answer. Sincerity is of paramount importance.”

After his recent dissertation about deceiving constituents, it seemed a bit much to ask. I wondered if he tested me, but his eyes earnestly searched my face for doubts or grievances.

“Sure, go ahead. What’s up?”

“Do you trust me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you trust me to make decisions for the security of Hawkhurst?”

“Yeah. I mean, what decisions?”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t have to trust me.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because I need you to trust me.”

This conversation had the makeup of a comedy routine, one whose punchline might be at our expense. Rezan possessed mind-reading abilities. Perhaps that’s why Greenie wanted me in the dark, and it looked like the less I knew, the better. I stifled my questions.

Did this have something to do with Greenie keeping governorship? He hadn’t turned it over yet. As far as I could see, the only functionality governors needed during times like this involved spending favor to either rush projects or bestow blessings on followers. 15,000 favor could barely rush the construction of the temple.

What ploy could Greenie possibly be playing? The temple only provided a new place for Forren’s statue and unlocked Holy Smoke, a defensive power. He could give four more citizens Glowing Coals. Even if we corralled the goblins into the quarry and lit the barbeque with Glowing Coals, they’d jump out or let the king’s healing erase their burns.

If fire offered no solution, neither would water. After one drowned during the conjunction attack, there would be no way to coax them near the river. They learned how far Compression Sphere bounced them—and that I could cast it multiple times.

I couldn’t ignore that we’d entangled ourselves with the goblins, not because of Greenie’s royal blood but the relics. Fabulosa and I pried out the gold cylinders from the worm’s lair. If Greenie knew of a dodgy plan to get us out of this jam, how could I say otherwise?

“Yeah, I’m on board. I trust you.”

His face fell as if my answer saddened him. “Very well, then. You’ll need to do as I say.” He looked up once more to see if I objected.

I shrugged and nodded, wondering how offensive his scheme could be.

“It’s this way. Could you flash Presence to give the signal?”

Seeing no one in the barbican or ships offshore, I wondered what the signal meant. The spell would be highly visible at night.

I looked for lanterns across the river and saw none. I turned Presence on and off.

We rounded the smithy, and Greenie addressed the congregation. “Attention, citizens of Hawkhurst.”

The dwarves, who usually shouted “Greenie” whenever he spoke, possessed the decency not to goof around after the funeral. The weight of the event still gripped us, and everyone gave the goblin governor their attention.

Greenie continued walking toward the barbican. “There is one more ceremony I wish everyone to attend. Please follow me to the great hall—or rather, the layout I surveyed earlier. We’re holding a state function. Please conduct yourselves appropriately.”

“Yula, please debrief the company while the lieutenant governor and I take our places.”

I looked around for clues and spotted a large shape between the barbican and the manor. Greenie headed toward it, as did the rest of the congregation. As I approached, I noticed the object rested on a wooden platform. He’d finished his war machine!

I picked up my pace. The thing looked to be the size of a furnace, and resisting the temptation to unwrap the present wasn’t easy, but I waited for everyone to gather for its unveiling. It must have been the solution Angus alluded to earlier, although why they hadn’t raised it on top of the barbican, I couldn’t fathom.

The goblin stood next to the shrouded object and spoke only loud enough for me to hear. “You said you trusted me.”

I nodded eagerly. Of course, I trusted Greenie. He served as our chancellor, part-time governor, and engineer—the bringer of war machines.

Our governor pulled the canvas away from the object without the enthusiasm a grand reveal deserved.

Red blips moving across the interface map caught my attention before I saw what Greenie had unwrapped. The dots drifted from the northern tree line of Hawkhurst Meadow in larger numbers than before. Their timing couldn’t be coincidental—flashing Presence signaled Rezan’s army.

I searched Greenie’s grim expression for an explanation.

The canvas unveiled the assembled pieces of lumber that our engineer decorated in the woodshop. Centered on a small wooden platform stood a throne.