Delores descended the stairs, the rich aroma of roasted vegetables and savory meat growing stronger with each step. The main room was bathed in the warm, flickering light of the hearth and several well-placed lanterns, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere that felt a world away from the mysteries and dangers of the last few days.
Everyone was already gathered. Barin, Rael, Amiri, and Oleg were seated around the large wooden table, which was laden with steaming platters of food. At a smaller table set closer to the hearth, Thorn and Rose sat side-by-side, eating their own smaller portions, their earlier fear replaced by a quiet, comfortable contentment. And curled majestically within the hearth itself, occupying the entire space, was Ozin. The flames of the fireplace seemed to dance around him, respectfully avoiding his fiery pelt. A large wooden plate piled with thick cuts of raw meat sat on the stone just outside the hearth, and he would occasionally lean forward to delicately pluck a piece with his fangs.
Delores made her way to the table, taking the empty seat between Barin and Amiri. She looked over at the warrior woman, who was wearing a simple tunic Oleg had likely provided, her powerful, well-defined arms on full display as she reached for the bread basket. Delores let out a low, appreciative whistle.
"Amiri," she said, her tone light and teasing, "I must say, you have a truly amazing build. The muscle definition is a work of art."
Amiri, who had been focused on her stew, looked up, surprised, then broke into a wide, genuine grin. She paused, then deliberately flexed one of her biceps, the muscle bunching impressively. "Thanks, Baroness," she laughed, the sound deep and hearty. "Comes from years of hauling gear and swinging a sword bigger than you are." She then relaxed, her laughter subsiding as she returned to her meal, clearly pleased by the compliment.
The atmosphere at the table was relaxed and easy. As they ate, Delores gave Oleg a condensed but thorough rundown of their encounter with Bastian and the revelations about his true nature, the ancient artifact Barin carried, and the disturbing confirmation of Valerie's existence and interest in their affairs. Oleg listened with his usual thoughtful attentiveness, his expression shifting from awe to concern and back again.
"A dragon," he mused, shaking his head in wonder. "Living right here in my backyard, so to speak. And an ancient, imprisoned sorceress communicating through a book." He took a long sip of his ale. "Your life is certainly never dull, is it, Baroness?"
"It seems to be getting less dull by the day," Delores admitted.
Later, as the meal wound down, Delores turned her attention to Amiri, her expression softening. "Amiri," she began, her voice gentle, "you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I am curious about Thorn and Rose. You said you were escaping Cerindor with them."
Amiri's cheerful demeanor faded slightly, replaced by a more serious, protective look. She glanced over at the children's table to ensure they were out of earshot, still chatting quietly amongst themselves. "It's a long story," she said, her voice low. "Thorn… he's a dhampir. An exceedingly rare kind, from what I've been able to gather."
"A dhampir?" Delores asked, intrigued. "I've only ever read about them in Guild texts."
"He's got the traits," Amiri confirmed. "The pale skin, the fangs," she gestured vaguely, "and he's stronger and faster than any normal child should be. He can also see perfectly in the dark. But the strange part is he has no craving for blood whatsoever. In fact, the very idea of it makes him sick. And the sun doesn't bother him in the slightest."
Barin, who had been listening intently, interjected with his usual blunt pragmatism. "Sounds dangerous, though. What happens if he does get that craving one day? A tyke with the strength of a grown man and a thirst for blood ain't a good combination."
Amiri shrugged, a hint of weariness in her shoulders. "It's a risk I'm willing to manage. So far, he seems to be completely anti-blood."
As if on cue, from the smaller table, Thorn made a loud, theatrical gagging noise. "Blood is gross," he declared loudly to his sister.
Delores smirked, her gaze flicking over to the quiet girl beside him. "And Rose? Is she also a dhampir?"
Amiri's gaze drifted from Thorn over to Rose, who was now meticulously arranging her leftover bread crusts into a small circle on her plate. The warrior's expression softened, but it was also tinged with a deep, profound uncertainty. She shook her head slowly.
"No," Amiri said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Rose is something else entirely. To be honest with you, Baroness, I'm not really sure what she is."
Delores leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I know she's alive. She eats, she sleeps, she breathes," Amiri explained, struggling to find the right words. "But there's something within her. Something oppressive." She raised her hands quickly, seeing the look of concern on Delores's face. "Oh, not in a wrong or evil way! Not at all. It's just sometimes, when she gets startled, or really happy, or upset her magic flares. And when it does," Amiri shuddered slightly, the memory clearly unsettling her, "it feels terrifyingly massive. Like standing next to a mountain that's decided to take a deep breath. It's overwhelming, then it's gone."
Rael, who had been listening with rapt attention, nodded in solemn agreement, his golden eyes fixed on the small, quiet girl by the hearth. "I can feel it," he stated, his voice hushed with a scholar's awe. "Innately. A constant, low-level thrum of immense, raw power. I have studied texts describing ancient dragons, archfiends, avatars of the gods themselves but I have never encountered a signature of this caliber that feels so non-malevolent. It is pure, untamed potential. A paradox."
Delores looked from Rael's awestruck face to Amiri's worried one, then over to Rose, who was now carefully placing a pea in the center of her bread-crust circle. A child containing a storm. Another impossible mystery in a week that had been full of them.
She finally just shrugged, a simple gesture that cut through the heavy, analytical atmosphere. "Well," she said, her tone practical and decisive, "Amiri, you say they're good kids. And Rael, you say she's not evil. That's good enough for me." She offered Amiri a warm, genuine smile. "You are all welcome here, in our valley. For as long as you wish to stay. You'll be safe here."
Oleg, who had been listening to the exchange with a gentle expression, slammed his large hand down on the table, making the plates jump. "Hear, hear!" he boomed, his voice filled with cheerful finality. "And she's right! We've got plenty of good timber, plenty of stone from the riverbed. More than enough land." He beamed at Amiri. "If you're truly looking for a remote place to settle down and raise these two, why, we've got the muscle and the materials right here to build you your own home!"
Barin grinned, his tusks showing. "Aye! Ye'd be the first official citizen of Baroness Delores's new barony! Proper founding member, ye would." He raised his ale mug high. "And when the house is built, we should celebrate! A proper feast!"
A chorus of agreement went around the table. Rael raised his own mug, a rare, genuine smile on his face. Ozin, from the hearth, let out a low, approving rumble. Amiri looked around at the smiling faces and for the first time in what felt like a very long time, her own face broke into a wide, relieved grin. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back fiercely.
"I… I don't know what to say," she stammered, overwhelmed.
"Say you'll help me with the foundation tomorrow," Oleg chuckled. "That's all that's needed."
Laughter filled the small farmhouse, warm and genuine. Amidst the dangers and uncertainties of the wider world, right here in this small, secluded valley, something new was beginning to take root. Not just a home, but a community. A sanctuary.
Three weeks had passed in a blur of hard work, sawdust, and the rhythmic sound of hammers echoing through the Green River Valley. The early autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and freshly cut lumber. Delores adjusted the strap of the heavy canvas backpack on her shoulders, letting out a small grunt of effort as she trudged through the last stretch of dense woodland at the very edge of her proclaimed territory. Padding silently beside her, Ozin moved with a familiar, fluid grace, his fiery pelt a stark and beautiful contrast to the deep greens and browns of the forest floor. They reached a small clearing marked by a series of ancient, moss-covered standing stones that Delores had designated as the final corner of her barony.
"Alright, this is the last one," she announced, more to herself than to the flame leopard. She shrugged off the heavy backpack, which clattered with the weight of her tools, and pulled out the final sign.
It was a simple but sturdy piece of signage, a thick plank of polished oak with words neatly, if a bit crudely, burned into the wood. Delores, with the help of a very enthusiastic Thorn and a surprisingly artistic Rose, had spent several evenings crafting them in bulk after a small band of displaced brigands had tried to set up a camp a little too close to the homestead for comfort. Ozin's sudden, terrifying appearance as a giant, snarling fire cat in the middle of the night had sent them fleeing, but Delores had decided a more permanent, less overtly monstrous deterrent was in order.
The sign read: PROPERTY OF THE BARONY OF GREEN RIVER VALLEY. TRESPASSERS WILL BE REMOVED. BY ORDER OF BARONESS V. PIXIEHEART.
Delores jammed the pointed stake of the signpost deep into the soft earth, then pulled a small, heavy-headed hammer from her pack. With a series of satisfying thwacks, she drove the sign securely into the ground, ensuring it was level and clearly visible.
Straightening up, she placed her hands on her hips, leaning back with a long, weary sigh of accomplishment. "There," she declared, wiping a smear of dirt from her cheek. "We're finally done. Every corner is marked." She patted the rolled-up parchment at her belt. "And now I have a very, very accurate map of my own lands."
Ozin sat down on his haunches, his long, flaming tail wrapping neatly around his paws. His mental voice, now a familiar and comforting presence in Delores's mind, echoed with dry amusement. "A most impressive display of territorial marking, little spark. I do hope the painted wood will dissuade the less savory types from poking around." He let out a mental sigh of his own. "Though I admit, I did rather enjoy their panicked shrieking when I appeared in their camp last week. Most satisfying."
Delores chuckled, reaching out to give Ozin's warm, fiery head a quick, affectionate pat. "I'm sure you did, you big bully. But this is more sustainable. Now, come on. We should head back. Barin said they'd be finishing the roof on Amiri's house today, and I don't want to miss the celebration."
She shouldered her now much lighter pack, and together, they began the walk back towards the heart of the valley. The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting long, golden fingers of light through the trees. As they emerged from the woods and crested the last hill overlooking the homestead, Delores stopped, a genuine, unforced smile spreading across her face. The scene below was one of productive chaos. About sixty feet across the yard from Oleg's familiar, sturdy farmhouse, a new structure now stood, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun. It was a handsome, well-built log cabin, not massive, but solid and clearly crafted with care. A small porch was already in place, and the last of the wooden shingles were being expertly hammered onto the roof by a shirtless Barin, his powerful form silhouetted against the vibrant orange sky.
Standing in the yard below, admiring the work, were the others. Oleg stood with his hands on his hips, a proud, fatherly expression on his face. Rael was conversing quietly with Amiri, who looked happier and more relaxed than Delores had ever seen her. Even Thorn and Rose were helping, carrying small bundles of leftover wood to a neat stack near the side of their new home. It wasn't just a house; it was a promise. The first new foundation laid in the Barony of the Green River Valley. Her barony. The thought was still daunting, but now, it was also filled with a profound sense of hope.
Delores made her way down the grassy slope with Ozin following, her steps light, the weariness from her long day of work forgotten in the cheerful sight below. She approached Oleg from behind, the old man so engrossed in admiring Barin's rooftop handiwork that he didn't hear her coming.
"Looks sturdy," she said, poking him in the back.
Oleg yelped, jumping nearly a foot in the air, his hand flying to his chest. He spun around and looked down to see Delores and Ozin, and his startled expression immediately melted into a booming laugh. "Baroness! By the gods, you move quietly for someone who makes so much noise!"
Before Delores could reply, a hammer came sailing down from the roof, landing with a soft thud in the grass near Oleg's feet. "SHE'S DONE!" Barin's voice roared from above. "Last shingle's in!"
Not bothering with the ladder, Barin simply turned, took a running start, and leaped from the edge of the roof. He landed with a heavy thump just a few feet from Rael and Amiri, his knees buckling dramatically. He stumbled, windmilling his arms for a comical second before managing to stay upright, narrowly avoiding a face-plant.
Rose and Thorn, who had been watching with wide eyes, burst into peals of delighted laughter at the sight of the mighty warrior's clumsy landing.
"It's not funny!" Barin grumbled, though a wide grin betrayed his mock-indignation. He then lowered his shoulders and, with a playful roar, began chasing the shrieking, giggling twins around the yard.
Delores watched the scene, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with her connection to Ozin. This was what she was building. This feeling of safety, of family. She leaned down slightly, whispering to the flame leopard at her side. "Go get him, Ozin. The big, clumsy half-dwarf."
Ozin's green eyes lit up with predatory glee. A low rumble of pure, playful excitement vibrated from his chest. With a bound, he shot off like a fiery golden arrow, sprinting across the yard towards the oblivious Barin.
Barin, who was just about to catch Rose, heard the sudden, heavy padding of paws behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening in comical terror as he saw the massive fire-cat bearing down on him at full speed. "Oh, hells no—" he managed to yell, abandoning his pursuit of the children and breaking into a desperate sprint.
He didn't make it five steps. Ozin hit him like a furry, flaming battering ram, tackling him at the knees. The two of them went down in a chaotic, rolling heap of flailing limbs and golden fire, finally coming to a stop with Ozin triumphantly pinning the sprawling warrior to the ground, one massive paw planted firmly on his chest.
"Get off me, ya overgrown rug!" Barin barked, though there was no real malice in his voice, only breathless laughter. "Yer squishin' me!"
Delores was laughing so hard she had to lean against the new house's porch railing for support, tears streaming down her face. Rael was trying and failing to hide his own laughter behind a scholarly hand, while Amiri and Oleg were simply roaring with mirth.
After a moment, Oleg managed to contain himself, wiping a tear from his eye. "Alright, alright," he said, still chuckling. He turned to Delores. "Now that the entertainment has concluded, would our esteemed Baroness care for an official walk-through of the first new home in her barony?"
Ozin finally trotted back towards them, looking immensely pleased with himself, leaving Barin to grumble and pick himself up off the grass, covered in dirt and bits of leaf litter but grinning from ear to ear.
"I would be honored, Oleg," Delores replied, her laughter finally subsiding into a wide, happy smile.
Later that evening, after a celebratory feast that had left everyone full and content, Delores made her way up to her room, a deep sense of satisfaction settled warmly in her chest. She closed the door behind her and, with a contented sigh, threw herself onto her bed, the soft mattress a welcome comfort after a long day of work. She smiled up at the wooden ceiling, thinking back on the walk-through of Amiri's new home. It was simple, sturdy, and built with a surprising amount of care, thanks to Oleg's guidance and Barin's raw strength. The main room was spacious, with a stone hearth ready for a fire, and two smaller rooms in the back for Amiri and the twins. It was a proper home.
Of course, it was also completely empty. They would need furniture, bedding, cookware… Delores's mind began to spin with the logistics. They'd likely need to travel to the nearest major town to shop for proper supplies. Another responsibility. Another entry on the ever-growing list of things a Baroness apparently had to think about. But for once, the thought didn't feel overwhelming; it felt purposeful.
Lost in these domestic, surprisingly pleasant thoughts, Delores was startled by a sudden, soft thump in the corner of her room.
She shot upright in bed, her hand instinctively reaching for the focusing stone on her nightstand. Her eyes darted to the source of the sound. Standing there, looking utterly horrified and bewildered, was Rael. He was clutching his heavy tome to his chest like a shield, his golden eyes wide with panic and hair a mess around his horns as he stared at her.
"Rael?!" Delores exclaimed, a mixture of shock and annoyance flooding her. "What in the Nine Hells are you doing in my room?!"
"I—! The—! It wasn't—!" the tiefling cleric stuttered, his face a mask of pure mortification. He gestured vaguely at the spot where he'd appeared. "The spatial coordinates... I was aiming for the barn! I swear!"
Delores narrowed her eyes, a dangerous glint entering them. She slowly raised her free hand, a tiny, menacing spark of fire dancing to life on her fingertip. "You have five seconds to explain yourself before I set your robes on fire."
"No, wait, please!" Rael stammered, taking a clumsy step back and nearly tripping over a floorboard. "I've been practicing! A new form of spatial magic, more precise than the last! A short-range translocation spell that should let me teleport accurately to known locations!" He gestured wildly around her room. "Clearly, it is not yet accurate."
Delores stared at him for a long moment, the tiny flame on her finger still sizzling. Then, seeing the genuine, all-consuming embarrassment on his face, her stern expression cracked. A long, weary sigh escaped her. She waved her hand, extinguishing the flame.
"Rael," she said, her voice laced with exasperated fondness, "just… try to be more careful in the future, please. Give a girl some warning before you randomly appear in her bedroom in the middle of the night."
"Yes, Baroness! Of course, Baroness! My deepest apologies, Baroness!" Rael managed, bowing several times in quick succession before practically scrambling out of her room, shuffling quickly down the stairs and presumably out the front door towards the barn where he was supposed to be.
Delores listened to his hasty retreat, then fell back onto her bed, a quiet laugh bubbling up. Her friends were a chaotic, unpredictable, and utterly ridiculous bunch. From talking fire cats to giant dwarf-orcs to teleporting, apologetic clerics. She laughed to herself in the quiet darkness of the room, the sound soft and genuine. Shaking her head, she leaned over, blew out the single candle by her bed, and settled under the covers, a smile still on her face as she drifted off to sleep. Her barony might be complicated, but it certainly wasn't going to be boring.