A couple of days passed, settling into a new routine of diligent work and even more diligent practice. The foundation for the town hall was now complete, a solid stone footprint in the north pasture, a testament to Barin's strength and Oleg's practiced eye. The construction had paused, however, as Bastian insisted on a proper architectural plan before they began raising walls–a plan he was now meticulously drafting in the evenings, his draconic precision lending itself well to the task. This left the daylight hours free for training. Under the combined tutelage of Bastian's ancient, theoretical knowledge and Rael's scholarly, practical approach, Delores dedicated herself to understanding the strange new magic she had unlocked. Progress was peculiar.
She could, with intense concentration, make the loaf-sized rock push against gravity. It would shudder, vibrate, and sometimes lift a shaky inch or two off the grass, hovering unsteadily before thudding back down. She was getting the hang of the lift, the gentle application of will. The problem was what happened when she tried to apply more force. If she focused too hard, tried to lift it higher or faster, the result was always the same. There would be that sharp, internal snap, a bolt of invisible force, and the rock would simply crack apart.
"Fascinating," Bastian had murmured after the third rock had met this fate. "It seems your raw, untamed sorcerous power defaults to a destructive kinetic force when strained. You are not just pushing the rock's gravity; you are shattering its structural integrity. Your will is bypassing the lever and simply breaking the object."
Rael had been equally perplexed. "The control required for pure telekinesis or gravitational manipulation is immense. Your compulsion magic at the bandit camp was a broadcast effect. This… this is a focused, destructive application. It is as if your magic only knows how to be a hammer, not a hand."
Delores, for her part, was surprisingly okay with this development. "Well," she'd reasoned, looking at the bisected pieces of her latest victim, "if something is trying to hurt me or my friends, making it fall apart seems like a pretty useful hammer to have."
While she wrestled with her own unique magical expressions, Delores couldn't help but notice Rael's own dedicated practice sessions. He was still obsessed with perfecting his teleportation, but his chosen practice area had mysteriously shifted from random spots around the homestead to a very specific, ten-foot radius around wherever Amiri happened to be.
Yesterday, he had been aiming for the barn and had appeared right next to Amiri as she was chopping wood, nearly causing her to drop the axe on her own foot. This morning, he had been attempting a translocation to the riverbank and had materialized directly in front of her as she was carrying buckets of water, resulting in a comical and very wet collision. Each time, he was a flurry of stammered apologies and blushing cheeks, while Amiri, after her initial surprise, would just shake her head, a barely concealed, amused smile on her face. Delores was pretty sure Amiri was starting to enjoy his clumsy, magical orbit.
What truly intrigued Delores, however, was Rael's side project. In the evenings, he wasn't just practicing his own teleportation; he was studying his tome, trying to figure out how to transport other people with him. She'd see him in the barn loft, surrounded by glowing diagrams, muttering about mass displacement and stabilizing anchors. It was a level of arcane ambition that worried her slightly. He pushed himself relentlessly, driven by a quiet but fierce determination that she was beginning to understand had little to do with just academic curiosity. He wanted to be useful. He wanted to be a protector, in his own way. And perhaps, he wanted to be able to whisk a certain warrior woman out of danger at a moment's notice.
The thought made Delores smile. Her strange, chaotic little family was growing, their lives intertwining in ways she could never have predicted.
Delores was just about to make another attempt at lifting a stone without obliterating it when a heavy shadow fell over her. Barin lumbered into view, covered from head to boot in dirt and stone dust from the townhall work. He leaned on his falchion, watching her struggle with a critical eye.
"Yer thinkin' about it too hard," he grunted, gesturing vaguely with a gauntleted hand. "Just... grab it with yer mind. Like pickin' up a mug of ale. Don't squeeze the mug, just lift."
Delores glared at the rock, then at him. "Thank you, Barin. That is incredibly helpful. 'Don't squeeze the mug.' I'll be sure to write that down in the annals of magical theory."
Rael snorted, trying to hide a chuckle behind his hand. Delores's annoyance flared though not truly at Barin, but at her own lack of progress. She let her hand drop, the magical tension dissipating.
"You know what?" she said, dusting off her dress. "I think I'm done being the only one struggling today. It's your turn to learn something, Barin."
Barin blinked, taking a wary step back. "Me? I already know how to haul rocks."
"Not rocks," Delores said, a mischievous glint in her eye. She turned to Rael. "Rael, give me your tome."
The tiefling hesitated, clutching the book protectively, but seeing Delores's determination, he handed it over. Delores flipped it open, skimming past pages of diagrams and neat script until she landed on a page dense with cramped, jagged text she couldn't make heads or tails of. Perfect.
She thrust the open book into Barin's chest. "Read this."
Barin looked at the book like it was a venomous snake. "Lass, we talked about this. Squiggles."
"Just try," she insisted. "Look at the shapes. See if anything looks familiar."
Rael leaned over Barin's shoulder, peering at the page Delores had selected. He winced visibly.
"Ah… Baroness," Rael said gently, reaching out to take the book back. "That might be a bit advanced. You turned to a section I copied verbatim from a decaying scroll I found in an old ruin near Valcrath. It's written in Abyssal, I believe. I haven't even begun to translate it. It's a future project."
Barin looked relieved. "See? Even the cleric don't know what it says. How am I supposed to?"
Rael quickly flipped through several pages, bypassing complex spell formulas and theoretical diagrams. He stopped at a page filled with clear, common script and simple illustrations of mana flows.
"Here," Rael said, handing the book back to Barin, pointing to the top of the page. "This is introductory theory. It discusses the origins of magic. Where it comes from. The fundamental concepts."
Barin stared at the page. To him, it was still just a sea of incomprehensible black marks. He looked at Delores, then at Rael, his expression shifting from annoyance to a quiet, stubborn resignation.
"Right," he muttered. "The origin of magic. Simple." He squinted at the first word, his brow furrowing so deep it looked painful. "So… where do I start? Which end is up?"
Delores sighed, but her voice was gentle. "Top left, Barin. Just like the map. Let's start with the first letter."
Two hours later, the sun was beginning to bleed into the horizon, casting long shadows across the work site. Barin sat on a large stone block, looking as if he had just gone twelve rounds with a rock troll. Rael sat beside him, looking equally exhausted but for entirely different reasons.
"Alright," Barin grunted, stabbing a thick finger at the page. "That one. That's... 'a'."
"Correct," Rael said, his voice thin with patience he didn't know he possessed.
"And that... that's 'the'."
"Yes." Rael nodded.
"And that..." Barin squinted, his nose nearly touching the paper. "Is... 'magic'?"
"No," Delores interjected gently. "That is 'cat'."
Barin threw his hands up. "Why is there a cat in a book about magic origins?!"
"It's a metaphor, Barin," Rael sighed, rubbing his temples.
Despite the frustration, Delores couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. He was trying. It was slow, painful, and involved a lot of grumbling, but he was actually picking up the basics. The wall of willful ignorance he had built around himself was showing its first cracks.
"That's enough for today," Delores announced, taking mercy on her guardsman. "You did good, Barin. Really."
Barin just huffed, standing up and stretching his back with a series of loud cracks. "Would rather fight Grug again," he muttered, but he carefully handed the book back to Rael with a newfound, if grudging, respect.
They made their way back to the homestead as twilight settled over the valley. The air was cool and smelled of the river and the woodsmoke from Oleg's chimney. As they entered the warm main room, Delores paused, a smile touching her lips.
Near the hearth, Rose was sitting on the floor, a small, colorful picture book open on her lap. Ozin lay beside her, his massive head resting on his paws. Rose was pointing to a picture of a knight fighting a dragon, explaining the story in a hushed, serious voice. Ozin, for his part, was listening or at least pretending to. His eyes were half-closed, but his tail gave a gentle thump against the floor every time Rose turned a page. He caught Delores's eye and projected a mental sigh of long-suffering patience, but she didn't miss the way he nudged Rose's hand when she stopped petting him.
Delores left them to their story and climbed the stairs to her room. The day had been long, filled with magical failures, small victories, and the steady rhythm of building a life here.
She walked into her room and, almost without thinking, went straight to her nightstand. Her hand hovered over the leather-bound book. She wanted to open it. She wanted to tell Valerie about Barin reading the word 'cat', about Rael teleporting into her room, about the town hall foundation.
But then she paused. Is that really worth disturbing an ancient lich for? she thought. 'Dear Valerie, today Barin learned the alphabet and I broke a rock.'
She chuckled softly to herself. It felt trivial. Mundane. And yet, these mundane moments were the ones she found herself cherishing the most. She realized with a start that she wasn't reaching for the book because she needed guidance or advice. She was reaching for it because she wanted to share her day with a friend.
Deciding to let the ancient sorceress have a night off from the thrilling tales of literacy lessons, Delores left the book closed. She moved to the window, looking out over the darkened valley. Her valley. It was quiet, peaceful, and growing.
For now, that was enough.