A few peaceful days had settled over the Green River Valley, a welcome and almost disorienting calm after the whirlwind of violence and discovery. Amiri and the twins were now comfortably moved into their new log cabin, its sturdy frame a symbol of the community's resilience and hope. With the loft in Oleg's barn now free, Barin and Rael had moved their own meager belongings back in, their presence turning Oleg's quiet homestead into a bustling, if unconventional, household.
Life had found a new, surprisingly pleasant rhythm. The days were filled with the productive work of clearing more land, reinforcing Oleg's fences, and establishing a more permanent watch rotation. On rare occasions, a merchant caravan, hearing the road was now safe from Grug's depredations, would pass by on the distant track, the travelers waving cheerfully, unaware that the valley's newfound peace was governed by a gnome Baroness and her strange retinue.
For Delores, the peace was a double-edged sword. While she cherished the quiet moments, her nights were spent in intense, one-sided study. Valerie had taken it upon herself to become Delores's personal tutor in the art of nobility, a role she seemed to relish with a terrifying degree of detail. Each evening, Delores would open the book to find pages already filled with Valerie's elegant, shimmering script, lecturing her on matters she had never once considered.
"A title is not a reward, Delores, it is a cage of responsibilities," one entry had read. "You are now bound to this land and its people. Their failures will be your failures. As will the victories."
Through Valerie's disembodied tutelage, Delores learned the complex realities of her situation. She learned that a provisional barony was a fragile thing, and that normally, she would have had to travel to Elarvain's capital to petition King Theron III directly, swearing fealty to secure her title. To be granted the authority of both a Baroness and a Duchess without ever having spoken to the King who technically owned the land… it was, as Valerie put it, "an administrative anomaly of the highest and most suspicious order." It meant King Theron was either incredibly pragmatic, or he was playing a game Delores didn't yet understand.
Lost in these heavy thoughts, Delores sat on the porch of Oleg's farmhouse, her chin resting in her hand. The late afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the yard. Below her, Oleg and Amiri stood listening intently as Barin, leaning against the new porch railing of Amiri's cabin, recounted some old guardsman story, punctuating it with loud, gruff gestures. Delores couldn't hear the words, but she saw Oleg and Amiri break into genuine, hearty chuckles at Barin's strange, deadpan humor. It was a good sound.
She wondered for a moment where Rael was, then remembered. He had spent most of the day inside, patiently working with Thorn and Rose, trying to get a better understanding of their unique magical potentials. He'd claimed it was a scholarly pursuit, but Delores knew he was also hoping their innate, raw power could somehow give him insight into his own new fixation: mastering teleportation. No hope for that poor tiefling, she thought with a smirk, a brief flash of memory replaying in her mind of Rael, a few days prior, staring a little too long and a little too oddly in Amiri's direction during dinner. She shrugged it off. It was probably just him being weird.
Her gaze drifted back to the peaceful scene before her-–her mismatched, chaotic, wonderful little family. A kindly old warrior, a fierce but gentle mother figure, a stoic guardsman with a heart of gold, a brilliant but awkward cleric, two mysterious children, and a talking fire cat currently sleeping in her hearth. It was everything she hadn't known she was looking for and yet she stumbled into it.
As the sun began to sink towards the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant strokes of orange and purple, a sound from above broke her reverie. It started as a distant whisper, then grew rapidly into the familiar, powerful whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of massive wings displacing immense amounts of air. Delores cocked her head to the side, a slow grin spreading across her face. It seemed their resident story-collector was coming for a visit.
The powerful, rhythmic beat of massive wings grew steadily louder, closer. Delores hopped off the porch, a mischievous grin spread across her face. She poked her head into Oleg's farmhouse.
"Rael! Thorn! Rose! You're going to want to come outside and see this!" she yelled, her voice echoing in the cozy main room.
She turned back to the yard just as Rael and the twins shuffled out onto the porch, blinking in the twilight, followed closely by Ozin, who emerged from the house with a deep, rumbling stretch, his fiery pelt glowing warmly as the last rays of the setting sun hit him.
"What is it, Baroness?" Rael began to ask, but Delores just pointed up at the sky.
"Oleg," she said, her grin widening as she looked at the old man, "you are going to really enjoy this one."
Just then, a colossal form broke through a low-lying bank of purple-tinged clouds. Bastian, in his full, magnificent draconic glory, descended towards them. He was a breathtaking sight, his sapphire-blue scales shimmering like a thousand jewels in the fading light, his massive wings catching the air with a grace that defied his immense size. He circled the homestead once, his intelligent, ice-blue eyes surveying the new cabin and the small group of figures below, then began a careful, controlled descent. He landed with surprising gentleness in the open pasture a respectful distance away, taking care not to disturb any of the farmland or structures, the ground only trembling slightly upon his impact.
Oleg, who had been a soldier, a farmer, and a homesteader for decades and thought he had seen most of what the world had to offer, simply stared, his jaw hanging open. "Holy shit," he breathed, the words a reverent whisper of pure, unadulterated shock. An actual, living dragon had just landed in his front yard.
He remained rooted to the spot for a moment as Delores, Barin, and the others began to walk calmly towards the massive creature. Then, with a strange sound that was half a gasp and half a choked laugh, Oleg hurried to catch up, not wanting to miss a second of this.
Delores mentally gave Thorn and Rose credit for their bravery. While clearly awestruck, they walked forward with more curiosity than fear, clutching Amiri's hands tightly but not hiding behind her. Bastian, in his true form, was undeniably intimidating, but there was a certain elegance to him, an intelligent serenity that made him seem less like a deadly beast and more like a force of nature. Perhaps being such a pretty shade of blue helped.
As the small group gathered before the colossal dragon, Bastian lowered his long, serpentine neck, bringing his massive head down to their level in a clear gesture of respect. He bowed his head first to Delores, then to the rest of the assembled residents of her barony.
Then, he spoke. His voice was no longer just human; it was a deep, resonant bass that seemed to hum in their very bones, yet every word was articulated with perfect, draconic precision. "Master Oleg, I presume? I am Bastithrax, though Bastian is fine. A pleasure to make your acquaintance under more formal circumstances."
Amiri gasped, her eyes wide with recognition. "You… you were the merchant! At The Ram's village!"
Bastian's massive head turned to her, and a flicker of something akin to regret crossed his draconic features. He winced slightly. "I was," he confirmed, his voice softening. "And I must apologize for the deception, and for what you and the children endured. My circumstances were complicated."
"It's alright, Bastian," Delores said gently, stepping forward. She watched as Thorn and Rose, their initial caution overcome by childlike wonder, tentatively reached out and began to rub their small hands over the scales on one of Bastian's massive forelegs.
"Wow!" Thorn exclaimed, his voice filled with excited shock. "They're… they're so soft! And warm!" Rose nodded vigorously in agreement, a rare, bright smile on her face.
Delores looked up at Bastian, surprised. "I always thought dragon scales were supposed to be rough, hard as metal…" She trailed off, her own curiosity getting the better of her. She reached out her own hand and pressed her palm against his leg. The scales were incredibly smooth, almost like polished obsidian, and radiated a pleasant, steady warmth, like a sun-warmed stone.
Bastian let out a low, rumbling sound that was unmistakably a laugh. "A common misconception, Baroness. While they are, I assure you, exceedingly strong, they are also quite smooth and warm to the touch." His giant, ice-blue eye swiveled down to regard her with amusement. "I am not some cold, insentient monster, after all. Just a very old, very large collector of stories."
The image of the colossal dragon laughing warmly in their pasture was one Delores was sure she would never forget. "So," she began, retracting her hand from his surprisingly soft scales, "what made you decide to come all this way, Bastian? I didn't expect to see you again so soon."
With a sound like a reverse rushing of wind, Bastian's form began to shimmer and contract. In a breathtakingly fluid transformation that lasted only a few seconds, the massive blue dragon folded in on itself, shrinking down until the tall, slender, blue-haired merchant stood in his place, brushing an imaginary piece of dust from his tunic.
"Well," Bastian replied, his voice back to its normal, human tenor, though it now held a new depth for those who knew his secret, "my schedule was surprisingly open. Besides, a Baroness extended an invitation." He gave her a pointed, almost formal look. "One does not simply dismiss a Baroness's invitation without a very good reason. It would be poor form."
Delores smirked, crossing her arms. "You're starting to sound like Valerie with that talk of 'proper form'."
Bastian chuckled, a much quieter sound in his human form. "Perhaps I've been her agent for too long. Some of her particularities may have rubbed off."
Oleg, who had finally recovered from his shock and was now observing Bastian with a look of profound fascination, cleared his throat. "Well, uh, Master Bastian, are you hungry? I was just about to start on some meat pies for dinner." He glanced from Bastian to Ozin, who was now curiously sniffing one of the wagon wheels. "I confess I don't know the dietary requirements of a dragon though I'm fairly certain the cat will eat anything that doesn't eat him first."
"And I would be honored to try your cooking, Master Oleg. I've heard tales of your legendary stews even in my travels." the dragon replied with a charming smile.
"The food's damn good," Barin added gruffly, giving Oleg a firm nod of approval.
With the promise of meat pies motivating everyone, the group began to disperse. Oleg herded a still-awestruck Amiri and the twins towards the house to help with preparations, while Barin decided to "supervise" Ozin, which mostly involved making sure the flame leopard didn't try to nap in the vegetable garden. Rael, after a moment of intense, silent staring at Bastian, seemed to be overcome by his own awkwardness and quickly followed Oleg inside, likely to find a quiet corner to write down everything he had just witnessed.
Once they were alone in the yard, the setting sun casting long shadows around them, Delores's playful demeanor vanished. She turned to Bastian, her eyes narrowed, her expression sharp and analytical.
"Alright, Bastian," she said, her voice low and serious. "The pleasantries were nice, but that's not why you're here. You didn't fly all this way just for a social call and a meat pie. What's the real reason?"
Bastian's smile faded, replaced by a more sober, business-like expression. He met her gaze, his ice-blue eyes holding a new weight. "You are correct, Baroness. As always, Valerie has a plan." He sighed, as if the very mention of it was exhausting. "She has foreseen certain harsh challenges in your future. Specifically, concerning your new barony."
He gestured vaguely around at the small collection of buildings. "You have land, a title, and the loyalty of a few good people. But you have no treasury, no formal trade agreements, no system for managing resources or collecting taxes, however meager they might be. You have a homestead, not a functioning state."
He looked at her pointedly. "Valerie believes I can help with that. She suggested that my skills in observation, my knowledge of trade routes, and my natural inclination for hoarding and managing assets would be of great use to you." He let out a dry, humorless laugh. "In short, Baroness, she thinks I should be your treasurer and advisor."
Delores put her hands on her hips, tilting her head back to glare up at the tall, draconic merchant. "A treasury? Trade agreements? Bastian, with all due respect, we have a barn," she said, jabbing a thumb towards the structure where Barin and Rael were now staying. "And I just spent a full day putting up signs around the perimeter to mark the land as claimed. That's the extent of our infrastructure right now."
Her gaze drifted across the yard, landing on the chaotic scene unfolding by the farmhouse door. Barin was now chasing Ozin in a wide, clumsy circle, yelling something about "getting back my bootlace, you flaming furball!" while Ozin deftly evaded him, a smoldering piece of leather dangling triumphantly from his mouth.
Delores gestured tiredly towards the spectacle. "And there's only so much I can do with those geniuses."
Bastian followed her gaze, a flicker of amusement in his ice-blue eyes before he turned back to her, his expression serious once more. "You have made a start, Baroness. A commendable one," he agreed smoothly. "But a barony is not built by three warriors and a farmer alone. Usually, a new noble has a substantial personal or familial wealth to fund such an enterprise. They pay for labor, for materials, for expertise."
He looked from Oleg's farmhouse to Amiri's newly built cabin. "You and your companions are clearly skilled builders, but what took you weeks, a paid team of fifty men and a professional contractor could have accomplished in half a day. Efficiency is the engine of progress."
Delores sighed, the sheer, overwhelming logistics of it all pressing down on her. "Well then," she said, her voice laced with weary sarcasm, "I assume that's primarily going to be your role? To tell people to tell other people to work?"
Bastian just nodded, his expression placid. "In essence, yes. I would manage the contracts, the payroll, the acquisition of resources, and the treasury. It is what I do."
Delores muttered under her breath, "Seems to be how everything works at this level, from what Valerie's been teaching me."
Bastian nodded again, overhearing her. "Indeed. Delegation and resource management are the twin pillars of power." He then straightened up, his tone shifting from theoretical to practical. "And on that note, we should begin. Our first priority must be to establish a center of governance. We need to work from the middle and expand outward."
He gestured to the open space between Oleg's farmhouse and Amiri's new home. "We will need a proper town hall. A place where you can conduct official business, store records, receive petitions, and, most importantly," he added, his gaze becoming distant and calculating, "a place where you can properly invite nobles from other kingdoms to negotiate. You cannot host an envoy from Elarvain or Valcrath at a kitchen table and expect to be taken seriously."
Delores stared at the empty patch of grass, trying to imagine the grand building Bastian was describing. A town hall. Official business. Receiving nobles. It all felt impossibly far from the simple, adventurous life she had imagined just a few weeks ago. But Bastian was right. If she was going to be a Baroness, she had to start acting like one.
Dinner that evening was a lively affair, filled with the delicious aroma of Oleg's meat pies and the boisterous energy of a full house. Oleg, ever the gracious host, had insisted Bastian take up residence in the newly finished barn loft alongside Barin and Rael, an offer the dragon-in-disguise had accepted with a polite, charming nod.
As they ate, the conversation, steered by Bastian, quickly turned to the practicalities of building their new town hall.
"We'll need a spacious, central location," Bastian mused between bites of pie, his fork held with an almost surgical precision. "It should be the first thing a visitor sees upon entering the main valley, a clear symbol of order and authority."
Oleg, his mouth full, nodded enthusiastically. "The old north pasture! It's flat, clear, and sits right on the main approach from the crossroads. We could frame out a foundation there in a day or two, easy."
"Aye," Barin added, his mind already on the construction. "Good stone at the base o' the western ridge. We could haul it down for the foundation. Build it proper, like the dwarves do. Make it last a thousand years."
Delores listened, mostly just nodding in quiet agreement, a piece of pie forgotten on her plate. Her mind was adrift. It was all happening so fast. One random, rebellious decision to walk away from the Bard's Guild, and now she was sitting at a table with a half-orc dwarf, a tiefling cleric, a warrior woman, a kindly old farmer, two mysterious children, a talking fire cat, and a literal dragon, planning the construction of her own town hall. Her town hall. For her barony. It was absurd. It was terrifying. And yet as she looked around at the strange, wonderful collection of people who had become her friends, her family, she couldn't help but feel a profound sense of rightness, of belonging.
It was in that moment of quiet reflection that she noticed an empty seat. Rael, who had been sitting beside Barin, was gone. She hadn't even seen him get up.
She leaned over and nudged Barin in the ribs with her elbow. "Hey," she whispered. "Where'd Rael go?"
Barin glanced at the empty chair, then shrugged, unconcerned. "Dunno. Vanished, I guess. Probably went to go stare at his books again."
Before Delores could ask anyone else, the air in the very center of the room, right between the main table and the children's smaller one, shimmered violently. With a soft pop and a swirl of misplaced air, Rael appeared, frozen mid-air in a perfect sitting position about three feet above his actual chair. He hung there for a comical, gravity-defying second, his golden eyes wide with the realization of his miscalculation, before he plummeted downwards, landing on the floorboards with a surprised yelp and a clatter of his tome. He lay there for a moment, groaning.
"I was aiming for my seat," he muttered to the floor.
Thorn and Rose burst into delighted, unrestrained laughter. Amiri tried to stifle her own laugh behind her hand but failed, her shoulders shaking with mirth. Barin let out a single, loud bark of a laugh. Delores just rolled her eyes, a fond, exasperated smile on her face as Rael slowly picked himself up off the floor, his face flushed with embarrassment.
"You'll get it eventually, Rael," she said, patting the empty chair beside Barin. "Just maybe try aiming for the floor next time. It's a bigger target."