“Really? Is this everyone? A couple of long ears, a spirit child, a cat, some women, and two koena? That’s all the guild has coming my way today? Bah! I suppose Arcton’s more important, huh? Just leaving the scraps to me?!”

  The dwarven foreman shook his head as he jumped off a wood pile. He sighed as he leaned against his sledgehammer. It was almost taller than him.

  “Eh? You forgot about me,” Percival said, pointing at himself.

  “A pretty boy like you? Hard bor? Are ye trying to make me ugh?”

  “Is it so hard to believe that I can do this? I prefer handsome, by the way.”

  “Yer’ muscles are thin like string, boy. You may be a bodyguard, but I doubt your stamina. Feel free to impress me.” The foreman waved him off and said we had a lot to do. The quest was ongoing until the construction ceased, probably due to funding or some other issue, like a certain Arcton Mountain Cataclysm requiring resources the guild couldn’t spare. Or it finished. The foreman made it clear he didn’t expect much from anyone but the koena.

  “I mean, that’s not nice. You don’t even know what we’re capable of,” said Momo.

  “Then prove me wrong, cat.”

  “Oh, I will!” Momo’s tail was frazzled.

  “You!” Our boss pointed to Cire. “What the hell are you wearing, long ear? You can’t work in that. Go find a desk to sit behind.”

  “I’m not working. I’m here—”

  “Eh? A freeloader, then? What--”

  “Why don’t we have a little chat?” Dineria’s cold words could cut va. The dwarf froze, his words stubbornly clinging in his throat. He tried to speak, but the elf grabbed his shoulder. "Let's go for a walk, shall we? My, oh my, that pile of mulch looks like the perfect pce to talk."

  “Umm... She’s doing it again... Maybe I should’ve gone home. Maybe--”

  “No. Don’t say that. We want you here with us! Call it selfish, but it’s okay to be selfish. Anyway,” Momo said, turning to the two nearby koena. She held out her hand. “I’m Momo.”

  “I’m Bianco,” said the silver-scaled koena, taking her hand. “That’s Nero.” He pointed to the bck-scaled koena. “He’s my scalemate.”

  “Scalemate? I don’t follow,” I said.

  Nero exposed a single silver scale near his elbow after lifting his sleeve. It was like a shining light in a sea of darkness. Likewise, Bianco had a bck scale in the same spot, but it was like a beacon of the abyss.

  Fisher saw my confusion. “It’s a marriage ritual called the Serpent’s Pact. It’s practiced by those who follow the Great Scaled Serpent.”

  “The child is correct."

  “Aww... That’s so cute. I didn’t know Koena had traditions like that. Anyway, I’m Servi. That’s Finn, and she’s Itarr.”

  “I’m Cire. I’m...not exactly supposed to be working.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” said Bianco.

  “Well...” Cire expined that she was supposed to be resting. Except she didn’t want to be alone. “Maybe it is selfish, but I take my job seriously. I always want to learn everything I can about our adventurers to best help them!” The elf could really make friends with anyone. Her heart was far more massive than Momo’s endless appetite.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” said Percival, butting into the conversation. “Selfishness makes the world go around! People like to think that it makes it stop, but it doesn’t.”

  “Care to expin?” asked Cire.

  “Gdly. All advancements in life are linked to a selfish desire. Take the wheel, for example. Someone wanted to make a tough job easy, so they selfishly devoted their time to discovering a solution. People selfishly wanted to cure disease, so they devoted time to making medicine.”

  “That’s...”

  “Speechless, are you, Cire? It’s not a big deal. I’ve read your files. Your employment record is impeccable, so Dreadwood Shadow is right. Be selfish. Take some time for yourself. You’ll come back refreshed, recharged, and ready to go, so treat today like a vacation.”

  I didn’t expect something like that from Percival. Neither did Momo or Itarr. He had this look on his face. “What? I’m far more than a handsome face,” he ughed. “That’s a 10 out of 10, but my mind? That’s a 20 out of 10. Others lower their guard when they see my dazzling smile, and I strike while the coal's hot.”

  “Right... That’s the perfect strategy for a pretty boy like you,” I teased him.

  “Umm... It’s handsome? I know you’re not an elf. You don’t have their excellent hearing, but come on.”

  “Sure. Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

  “Oh, now you’re taking the piss. Fine. I’ll show you what I can do.” Percival rolled up his sleeves before cracking his knuckles. “I’ll work harder than everyone and show off my gusto!”

  “Sorry for the wait!” Dineria said. She had her hand around the dwarf like he was a drinking buddy. It wasn’t hot, and dwarves were known to endure incredible heat since most loved to excavate the earth, but...

  Man, he was sweating profusely.

  “I’m... My prior words weren’t in my best interest. I’m old. I wasn’t sure what I was thinking. But ye are welcome to stay if ye want, long--”

  Dineria squeezed her hand. The foreman’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. “Cire. I mean Cire. Feel free to stay if you wish.”

  “She’s...scary,” whispered Bianco. I saw him flinch when Dineria turned her sights on him. She happily cpped, raised a fist, and told everyone it was time to start!

  Cire tried to hide behind her hands, but it wouldn’t work. The foreman was in charge, but we all knew who the boss really was.

  *****

  *****

  In short...

  There was much to accomplish, but we had a silver lining. The homestead-- as big as it was-- had everything marked off. So, we knew where the guard towers would go—construction hadn’t even started on those. The barns and houses already had foundation frames. The gardens’ perimeters were surrounded by wooden logs to indicate where the mulch would go, and the fence line was already measured out. The spot where each post would go had a sb of paint to indicate where to dig.

  The supplies we were to use were covered under a rge tarp to protect them from the elements.

  So...

  We weren’t hurting for options.

  Momo and I were assigned to mix and pour the limestone concrete with our koena friends. Itarr, meanwhile, was tasked to use the wheelbarrow to move the mulch to the garden. Fisher and Dineria were assigned shovels to dig the holes for the fence posts. Pretty Boy Percival was on cutting duty to ready the lumber for the barns, buildings, and fence posts—while focusing on the tter. The former wouldn’t be ready for weeks, but the foreman wanted some prepared.

  The wells needed to be dug. I was told the storage buildings would have basements, so that had to be prepped. The project required a lot of effort. That mountain of supplies? It wasn't even half what we needed to see the homestead through to completion. With the deys...

  There really was no telling when we’d get additional deliveries.

  But again. We had a good start. The annoying work was done. We didn’t have to pn much, so it was a matter of doing what we could with the avaible resources. Being able to visualize the completed product helped a ton.

  Really, who better to help than a squad of immortal, tireless beings?

  The foreman ate his words almost immediately when Itarr used her ring to absorb the tall mulch piles—to nearly everyone’s surprise. She then manufactured a ‘hole’ to our soul world. She walked along the marked areas, depositing mulch like cement pouring from an invisible truck. Hours of work had finished in literal minutes—hundreds of pounds were transported. It still needed to be smoothed out, but that wasn’t too difficult. That kind of work would almost be therapeutic.

  “What else can I do?” Itarr innocently asked, the fmes of helping fshed bright within her eyes. Dineria erupted into ughter. Cire was more mesmerized than anything else.

  “What else...” The dwarf was shocked silent. He tried to speak, but no other reply left his gaped mouth. But then he coughed, found his voice, and said the irrigation pipes needed to be id. Those would connect to the well and allow water to flow to the buildings, eliminating the need to fill buckets. Instead of manually ferrying them, you could have clean, fresh water at any moment by simply turning a knob.

  The designer had impnted pre-installed cut-off valves that increased water pressure when needed.

  The foreman had mentioned the underground aquifers the dowsers had found were enough to st a fully furnished orphanage for two decades. Canary was often rainy in the spring, so the water would be refilled.

  Unfortunately, Itarr couldn’t proceed with the pipes because the buildings needed to be made. The wells had to be constructed, which meant it was time to dig. She listened to the foreman’s instructions and quickly got to it, breaking four shovels because she didn’t know her strength. The loose dirt was absorbed immediately. We couldn’t manufacture an ‘object’ of absorption energy, or this would’ve been a thousand times easier.

  Her determination lit a fire in my heart.

  “Servy, do ya think you can do it, too?” asked Momo as she dumped a bag of mixture into the mixing cauldron like it was nothing. Bianco and Nero worked the oversized spatus while I poured a few buckets of water.

  “Maybe? I think I can.”

  “Do you possess the same ability?” inquired Nero. “Are you sisters? You look alike.”

  “I don’t know.” The answer confused him until I told him we found each other in Arcton. “We have a ring. That’s…that. I believe they hold the same power, but…”

  The concrete mixture was about ready. Momo pushed over the slimed wheelbarrow since we would distribute it in parts. The coating prevented it from sticking. The same solution was applied to the foundation frames, but it was a different type that encouraged the concrete to harden and stick to itself, not the wood.

  I was told it wasn’t cheap. Duchess Ashford paid the premium. She went beyond when it wasn’t necessary.

  Upon focusing…grasping the identifying shape…squeezing it until…

  “There!” I excimed, storing half the mixture.

  “You too?!” barked the foreman.

  I did what Itarr had done while walking along the primary building’s perimeter, slowly ‘leaking’ concrete from a hole connecting to where I had stored it onto the frame. Momo hopped into action and grabbed a specialized broom to spread it out. That adorable mirror helped out, fttening as much as it could.

  Someone pointed, and that got Percival’s attention. He looked up from his cutting duty and locked eyes with me, but his friendly expression didn’t change.

  “What are you doing?! Drop it!”

  “Eeh? But—I”

  I turned to the source of the commotion to find Cire holding a shovel.

  “But nothing! We had a promise, Cire-Bear. Drop it. Sit down. Rex. Where are your heels? Who gave you those boots?” The questions came like thundering wildfire.

  “Umm… Itarr did…”

  “Sorry,” said my goddess, looking apologetic. I hadn’t noticed it, but she rocked those overalls. I knew the outfit was almost the standard uniform of a blue-colr farmer. Maybe any other goddess wouldn’t be caught dead wearing those, but she looked fantastic.

  “It’s… It’s just one hole… Come on, Dineria.”

  My mentor tried to keep a stern face, but she sighed. “You’re not even getting paid for this.”

  “...”

  “Fine… Go ahead. Elrune above knows you’ll do it anyway when I’m not looking.”

  “Thanks.”

  So...

  Cire began working while promising to pace herself. She didn’t go too hard and took constant breaks under Dineria’s watchful eyes.

  The boss had changed his tune about everything by lunch as a wagon came around. It had sandwiches and soup prepared by a few contracted restaurants—another perk of the job.

  When we enjoyed our food in the shade, Bianco asked further about the ring. He found it curious and asked to hold it. The koena was a connoisseur of jewelry. Before he and Nero arrived, they used to work in a mine near their birth vilge in Westera while dreaming of owning a jewelry shop together. They were on a journey to travel throughout Inith. Life took them to Canary.

  The two knew a lot of metals, but the ring’s material stumped him.

  “How astounding… The two are identical in every way,” said Nero. He pulled a handheld magnifying gss from a pouch before closely examining the ring. He then asked Momo and Itarr for theirs, who handed them over. My ‘spirits’’ rings were inside their bodies since it was hard enough to expin why three people had one, let alone two spirits. Luckily, when they were brought to that rest house, they wore gloves, so the soldiers from Lando’s Nail didn’t see the jewelry.

  I wouldn’t force Fisher to use the ring or anything else.

  Nero hinted that even a master of their craft would find it tediously difficult to perfectly recreate something multiple times. Cire wracked her brain while rehydrating with a gss of cold water-- her sixth cup since lunch started. Her clothes weren’t so much stained with sweat as lightly quenched. She looked happy even though we all knew she wanted to do more. However, true to her word, she had taken it gently while enacting a more supportive role instead of charging headfirst into straight-up digging.

  She said the most famous jewelry makers resided in the Divine Principality of Tobris since it was the most affluent country on the Eastern Continent. It was also the headquarters of the Tobristic Order, named after Tobris, its chief deity.

  My phone made a noise—it was a message from my goddess. A chief deity? Should that be our destination? Tobris might be there. I have a lot of questions.

  Yeah, but not now. It’s far too soon.

  You’re right. We need Srassa. I want to finish the homestead, too. I’m having fun, Servi… I… My chest feels warm.

  Enjoy it. Remember the feeling because it’s a good one.

  Nero raised a scaled eyebrow at our phones. It was getting annoying expining them.

  Fisher kept quiet. He nibbled on a cheese sandwich like a squirrel. Cire casually struck up a conversation after sliding over. She did the same with Itarr, using the skill gained as a communicative, open receptionist to form a bridge. Fisher was smiling—barely—but Cire sensed that this orphanage was dear to him. He asked how she knew.

  “My Elvish intuition!” she proudly stated. “It’s never steered me wrong!”

  “Until it does. May I remind you, young dy… That you’re supposed to be… Oh, I don’t know… Resting?! Your intuition about others? It’s enviable. About yourself? A bat flying through a loud festival has more sense!”

  Cire became defensive, but she couldn’t argue. She adorably pouted and returned to her sandwich.

  “Okay. Is no one else going to ask?” We turned to Percival. “The mirror? Have you ever seen one that does…that?” He pointed to the twirling mirror that had been bancing on Momo’s head for ten minutes.

  “I am curious about it, Momo. Is that a new ability?”

  “Umm… Kind of? I…” She looked to me for help.

  “It’s a Skill Path. One we found while investigating the tunnels in the ravines near Arcton. The guild initialized it for her. We left for another mission and couldn’t finish the paperwork. The incident happened not long after that. It’s been hectic. Things have been moving fast.”

  “Oh, ye were in that whole mess?” The foreman looked astonished. Maybe he felt regretful for his initial behavior. I assumed he was annoyed. Or maybe upset. He knew Arcton needed help more than the orphanage, but if he was the project lead, then the homestead was like his child.

  I didn’t think Percival bought the expnation. His face said he did, but I had doubts.

  He could’ve asked why Momo unlocked the power. Why not me? Why was a Skill Path orb sitting in some random spot? But no. He kept quiet like he knew…we weren’t truthful.

  But Cire threw us a bone. “I’ve heard of a dungeon being near the ravines. They can sometimes hide Skill Path orbs, so it’s not crazy. But to manipute mirrors? That’s a new one for me.”

  Lunch was soon over, but we ran into a problem. We had run out of the limestone concrete mixture. The foreman didn’t expect that, so we moved to other jobs. The following delivery wasn’t scheduled for another few days, so we grabbed some shovels.

  The hardest part should’ve been wheelbarrowing the dirt away, but a ring solved that problem.

  The stuff also had to harden, which took a few days. Usually, the foreman said you’d put it in a kiln to hasten the process, but a building’s foundation was too big. You’d have to contract fire mages—which was the pn—but they weren’t scheduled to arrive soon.

  The ones they’d hire were in Arcton, so who knew when they’d show up. They weren’t necessary, but the mages’ presence would accelerate the schedule by a couple days.

  Or I could manipute the earth… I gotta figure out the mechanics behind it. We absorbed some dirt, so I’ll experiment ter. I texted Albert for an update, but he was stumped. He took a break while watching Olga read a storybook to Merka. The gesture was sweet. I was sure he was having fun.

  The foreman had Itarr stop progress on the well because she was going too fast and asked if she could help dig the fence posts instead. As the hours passed, Cire cracked Itarr and made her ugh. It looked like my goddess found out how to love herself. Her beautiful smile deserved to be shown. That partly mencholy frown? It didn’t suit someone as kind or loving as her.

  The st thing we did before heading home was grab the posts Percival had been cutting all day, who griped and moaned about still being called pretty by the foreman. He said he hadn’t spent a decade cultivating a handsome look just for it to be ignored.

  Our boss did not just bark orders—he got his calloused, thick hands dirty.

  “Aye, guess you are for more than just your looks,” grumbled the dwarf. He used his mighty sledgehammer to ram the posts into the ground. Concrete would be needed ter, but it was enough to pce them all.

  We didn’t finish, though. There were still a couple hundred more to go. At least a few weeks of work was needed before the orphanage was complete, but we had accomplished more today than in the past two weeks.

  The foreman said a few final words before we departed for Canary.

  “Hmm…” Dineria intently stared at Cire like she was an extraterrestrial. “Maybe you really didn’t overexert yourself… Your knees aren’t buckling under your weight. You don’t seem sore… Your clothes aren’t even that sweaty. Huh… Guess a stubborn wallflower like yourself can learn.”

  “I’m not a wallflower…”

  “So speaketh the wallflower.”

  “I’m not—whoa—” Cire tripped over her feet, but Itarr caught her.

  “Here. I have you. Are you okay?” Cire nodded.

  “I spoke too soon… Itarr, do you mind?" Dineria asked. She supported Cire’s right side. Itarr said she didn’t.

  Cire swore she was okay. It was just a little trip, but my mentor wasn’t having it.

  “I’m sorry for the trouble, Itarr.” The two elves and my goddess began talking. Fisher walked beside Momo and me, lost in thought.

  He hadn’t been that chatty, so I wondered what swirled around his mind. I had a few guesses, though.

  The foreman offered to take us to his favorite pub entering the city. Percival was all for it. He patted our boss on the back and said his wallet would hurt.

  “Eh? Think a pretty boy like ye can drink me under? I'll have ye know I conquered the Scale Shredder.”

  “So? That’s just potent. The best alcohol is the one you can drink until time’s end. It isn’t too strong, but it isn’t as weak as water. It has to be a fine bance.”

  “Fine! Pick your poison. I’ll drink ye under the table!”

  “You’re on! Hey, you guys want in?”

  “Cire?” Dineria looked at her friend.

  “I can handle it! I swear I’m fine. I’m not exhausted or anything.”

  The two koena didn’t have any pns. Fisher, however, excused himself. Yes, he was a child, and most bars wouldn’t serve someone as young as him, but others—unconcerned with their reputation— only cared if you could pay. Besides, you were considered an adult at 15.

  I stealthily texted him to let me know when he arrived at the Crimson Grotto. It wasn’t necessary. Immortals didn’t have to worry about certain things like mortals. But even if I knew they’d be safe… I still wanted to know. That was why I texted Albert when we arrived at the homestead.

  “I’m down for a drink or two,” said Momo. She couldn’t handle her liquor, but something told me that wouldn’t be a problem. “What about you, Servy?”

  “Sure. It sounds like fun.”

  “Great!” Percival pointed to Itarr. “Are you in? It’s bound to be fun.”

  “Fun? I’d go, but…is it okay to have fun? I…” Itarr looked away.

  “Worried about something?” Percival threw an arm around Itarr like they were old drinking buddies. She didn’t shrug him away.

  “It’s…a guilty feeling. I feel guilty-- like I shouldn’t be having fun. It makes my heart feel weird.”

  “Did you have fun today?” Itarr nodded. “Now it doesn’t feel the same?” She nodded again. Percival removed his arm. “Sometimes… You have to accept them. The guilty feelings, I mean. Maybe you’re like Cire. You know, a wallflower with a bleeding heart.” That earned him a piercing stare from the elf. “You can do everything right and succeed where no person has succeeded. But you know what? Guiltiness will come crawling behind your neck. It’ll creep into your ears. It’ll make you feel like the worst thing in the world when you believe there’s no reason for that sensation to send shivers down your spine.”

  “…”

  Percival kept talking. “It hasn’t been that long. A heart needs time to rest… It can’t be anxious all the time. All work and no py makes Itarr a dull woman, you know. So, come on! It’s time for a night of drinking with the ds and sses constructing the rgest orphanage homestead this city will ever see!”

  “Only you can turn something actually heartfelt into cheesy embarrassment.” Dineria sighed.

  “Eh? I thought it was good! But don’t call me a wallflower!”

  “Ooh! Someone’s a little feisty.” Momo made a paw pose. “Grampy said redheads are the fiery ones.”

  “Well, he’s right! I can be like this when needed!”

  “Haha! This is perfect! Onwards, boss man! This pretty boy’s going to drain your wallet!”

  “Ha! I’d like to see you try!” A rivalry was born. As we walked, they engaged in some friendly banter. Percival knew how to tickle the foreman’s feather, including bringing up an ancient myth about dwarves and elves somehow being sworn rivals?

  Maybe Cire was drunk on the atmosphere because she wasn’t taking strays. She was dishing out the banter.

  We reached a dead-end alley about fifteen minutes from the slums. The one building with nterns and torches hanging outside was our destination. We walked in—smoke filled my lungs.

  It was a bar, alright—one that exuded a rustic atmosphere. Barmaids danced from table to table with trays of food and drink. Lovely conversations sounded from almost everyone. I expected people to stare, but no. My expectations were averted.

  The foreman led us to an empty table and pulled out a pack of smokes. He reached for a match. Percival shook his head before using a spell called [Fingertip Fme]. “You’ll want to save your matches,” he said, igniting his cigars. The smell reminded me of a woman who didn’t deserve any more space in my mind. “The great divines above know you’ll have to live frugal after tonight. Barmaid! A round of drinks!”

  “Be right there!”

  Bianco and Nero looked nervous, but Percival made them feel at home. They weren’t heavy drinkers, though. He said that was fine, then looked at Momo. “Are you good with alcohol?”

  “Umm… Kinda? I’m not the biggest drinker.”

  He asked the others. My mentor said she had a lead stomach. Cire was a lightweight. Itarr hadn’t tasted alcohol before. Or at least, she didn’t think she had.

  “Well? What about you? Can you hold your liquor?

  I smugly smiled. “Better than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “Yes!” Percival smacked the table. “That’s what I’m talking about.

  “You act like a new person when you’re not around the duchess. Is it okay for you to be here?”

  “You are my assignment.”

  “Getting pstered in a bar is part of it?”

  “As long as you’re here. If you said no, I’d have returned to the Queen of Night’s apartment with you.”

  “Queen of Night?!” excimed Nero.

  Our drinks immediately arrived, and…

  The night was going to be long…

  Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad.

  Having additional friends?

  That never hurt anyone...

  Did it?

  Even if they were temporary, I could always look back on these moments as fond memories to be cherished.

  *****

  *****

  Fisher Jin didn’t know what to do with his new lease on life. His thoughts concerning his current circumstances remained within his mind as he walked the nightly streets of Canary. He intended to return to the Crimson Grotto, yet his feet led him away.

  Just why…was he living?

  What reason did he have?

  He knew Servi wanted to defend those who couldn’t fight for themselves. Itarr’s was about living for the children who had perished.

  Those were noble goals.

  Fisher…was selfish. He merely desired to become someone his wife and children would’ve been proud of.

  Was that enough?

  They knew a false Fisher—one who was a heroic man. He was his daughters’ hero—someone he had saved a dozen times from the Awful Witch when they pyed Princesses and Knights.

  “Shit… Why did I…come here?” Fisher realized he stood in front of his house. His attire looked the part. The guards defending the gates to the noble district assumed he was returning from an errand. He had hoped they would’ve stopped him.

  Fisher wanted a reason to leave, but he couldn’t. He looked at the elegant house he sweated so hard to afford. Those birdhouses hanging on that post? They were barely held together, but his children loved it. Why? The reason was simple. They had made it for their father on his birthday.

  “Oh? Is that you, Finn?” Fisher’s immortal heart stopped. He had been too engrossed in the past to hear the door open.

  “Ah—” His voice vanished when he saw his wife. That apron suggested she was preparing meals for tomorrow.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked while she sat on the swinging bench. Fisher used to sit beside her. Their daughters would sit in their ps, and the Jin Family would watch the night skies.

  Oh, how his chest ached. It felt like a thousand daggers skewered the monster he had once been.

  “Servi told me you were shy. It’s okay. You can trust me.” She tapped the space beside her.

  Fisher couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take that step. Salty water welled in the corner of his eyes as he darted away.

  “Finn! Wait!!”

  Fisher bit his lips hard, leaving a trail of blood behind. He kept his legs moving, outrunning the guards who wished to stop him for questioning.

  “Why…” The tortured soul looked at the orphanage homestead. His legs had carried him here.

  “I’m sorry, kid, but you can’t be here.” Fisher saw an elf with wings on her wrist. Her vender-colored eyes, pearlescent hair, and lightly tanned skin inflicted another wound to his heart.

  A grey-scaled koena named Tim stood beside her.

  The two used to be under his command. Fisher liked them. But he punished them on the false duke’s order after they led an investigation into the slums to search for Servi when she threw herself from the city walls.

  They were ordered to work at the noble district’s headquarters, where they learned of Servi’s disappearance. Fisher remembered Siora's grim expression when she handed him that report about his necromancer.

  “Are you lost?” asked Tim. The moon danced across his scales as the wind blew his bck hair. “I can escort you to the city.”

  “No, I’m… Do you know a woman named Servi? I’m her spirit. My name is Finn.”

  Siora’s eyes widened. “So, she’s alive? We’ve read the amended reports, but they…. We’ve tried to see her around town, however…” She wiped her watery eyes after dropping to her knees. “Please, tell me she’s doing okay.”

  Fisher nodded. “She’s surrounded by friends who care for her. She isn’t letting her amnesia hold her back.” He sent a message to his necromancer, telling her where he was.

  Two pairs of eyes curiously watched a child manipute something they had never seen before.

  Servi replied, asking him to speak to the guards on her behalf until she could do it in person.

  Fisher did that. He told the two how remorseful Servi felt about it—how she felt lost and trapped-- how she saw leaping from the walls as the only solution. “She didn’t mean to get you two demoted. My summoner’s with the duchess’s bodyguard. She’ll petition her to rescind your demotions.”

  “I don’t care about that! I’m just so gd she’s safe,” said Siora. Tim retrieved a handkerchief for his close friend’s reddened eyes. “Demotions are one thing. They can be repced. But you can’t do that with a life!”

  “…” Fisher watched. When Arnold was alive, he’d only want humans in his guard. Any wildkin or non-human was sent Fisher’s way. Likewise, the foolish, pained captain would send humans to serve under Arnold.

  Fisher had met many good men and women. He owed his transformation to his wife, but being around so many he once hated—just for their looks—also altered his core beliefs.

  "Can I ask why you’re here?” Siora asked once she calmed down.

  Fisher didn’t have a good answer waiting on his tongue. He knew spirits had more stamina than humans. That was a good cover story. He knew construction. Albert’s expert knowledge would fill what he was missing.

  “I…” He told his former subordinates about the task Servi had accepted from the guild while sending a message to his necromancer.

  “You wish to continue working?”

  “I do. May I?”

  “It’s not up to me, Finn. Ask the foreman,” Siora replied.

  “I have permission,” he said when his phone vibrated, retrieving the letter the foreman had written from their rings’ connected storage.

  Servi had made him pen one.

  Siora looked it over, smiled, and wished him well.

  Fisher rolled his sleeves and got to work on finishing the fence posts. If he had time, he wanted to finish cutting the wood.

  It was easy work, but the time spent here was time saved.

  RuggyRuggy