Newly Broke Heroine! [Book One Complete, Cozy Fantasy Adventure]

If there was going to be a silver lining to this whole trip, it was the fact that Barry looked like he'd had no luck sleeping when they reconvened in the morning, and indeed, looked nonplussed.

"So, how were the royalty quarters?" Fiona asked casually after they got ready for the day.

"I may need to get deloused," he uttered with resignation. "Yours?"

"We uh…did fine," she shrugged. "Barry, want my advice? Not that you'll listen to me, but seriously, run. Find a better place to make deals, swallow your pride, or maybe, start digging for where your missing gold is, fast."

"I'm not backing out now," he snapped, his crown going askew. He noticed it and let out a soft huff before adjusting it back into position, and scowled when a smirk creased her lips. "Yes, I know, the damn thing doesn't fit. I need it resized, it was for my father originally."

"Your dad is totally in the dog house on this one. Barry, how the hell did none of you know this was going on with a critical mineral wealth going poof?" She whispered the last part, as he waved his hand animatedly, like this was not to be made public.

"Do you want to humiliate me?" he bristled. "Or worse, get me killed?"

She tapped her foot patiently. "Listen asshat, you sure didn't mind it when you gave me an 'or else' threat to cough up money for a bogus tax. If I face karma for bad decisions previously made in my pursuit of making things right, you're gonna do the same. Your dad's kingly decisions are trending toward what happened to Louis the Sixteenth. I only wish Glados was the Marie Antoinette in this analogy," she added. Barry didn't get the reference based on his puzzled expression–but she heard Doug stifle a snicker behind her. Wait, what?

"I tolerate your tongue only so far, Swiftheart," Barry crowed. "Watch it."

"Then start paying attention. Or this place is gonna eat you alive for breakfast and take Fiefdala with it. They won't have to launch a land invasion to do it," she said quietly enough that no one else could hear–except Doug. "Now I don't know much about inter-kingdom politics, but this place is sus as all hell. They threw you a giant slap in the face with the accommodations, you didn't pick up on that?"

"It was the first thing I picked up on," he hissed, acting as if she were dumb. "Just stick to what you do best, Swiftheart."

"Fine by me." The discourse between them was tense enough, that she could pluck it like a guitar string. "You handle the political bullcrap, I'll handle the making sales part. I also need time to move merchandise, and figure out what this kingdom is severely lacking."

"There are some breaks in the schedule in the afternoon." The fact that he didn't just about face and walk away, told her she could get through even his osmium-dense skull. "Did you read the itinerary that was included by my scribes?"

"I did, but I'm not a miracle worker. I need time to figure out what people want, and need that Fiefdala has in vast quantities." She bristled at the suggestion she hadn't prepared at all for this. "Also, you didn't have to sleep through this guy's snoring."

"I wasn't snoring! I was…breathing. In a raspy tone. It's a kobold thing," Doug huffed, adjusting his glasses on his face and looking irked at her suggestion. Barry glanced skeptically at the two of them.

"What you two do–or don't do, because I don't really care–is none of my business, Miss Swiftheart. We're leaving in five minutes, do try to look composed for this, yes?"

She wanted to retort with something biting, but Doug cleared his throat, and tilted his head to the side. "We're prepared, Your Majesty. We shall depart when ready."

Fiona found herself not liking the arrival at the palace any more than she liked their roach motel accommodations at the Merchant's Guild of the city.

If there was any contrast to be had, it was the opulence and the excess at this building that towered over the rest of the city. It wasn't rough hewn stones, it was engineered to excess. And despite the wealth in the precision steel work and bright stone and brick construction, she found an ugliness exuded from its angular design, the way the building looked down and sneered at the constructions beneath it.

In her head, some mustache-twirling jerk with a cigar was sitting up top on one of the balconies, laughing and drinking as he enjoyed all the comforts a modern society could have, while the city wallowed in poverty–or something close to it.

Doug nudged her, to let her know they were headed inside. Lani followed them in their automaton. She appeared cheerier than she had the previous day. "We're starting in a few minutes. We'll be meeting with the small counsel. They run the day-to-day activities, much like the guild heads do parliamentary votes for Greybeard." Doug scooched closer and motioned for her to lean in. "But we all know they vote the way they're supposed to, or the slaver houses will slaughter them, their families, or just put them into untenable 'labor contracts' through coercion."

"Is that how this place is run?" she whispered back. "I hate this place so much."

"That's something you and I have in common. I remember a time in my youth when it had a brief period of...freedom," he rumbled in a low tone. "Okay, first warning. At least one of these guys will try to make you his wife by 'declaring it so'. Resist the urge to turn him into a greasy smear on the tile floor on the spot. That mess won't buff out easily."

"I should tell him to pay a dowry to my parents," she scoffed. "I'll leave out the part where he looks for a mailing address." She looked at Lani, who was smiled politely and smoothed her dress uniform for the third time in a minute. Fiona took that as a signal. "Um, hey, aren't you needed back at the guild?"

"Oh!" It was as if Lani were waiting for her to initiate. "I'm here as your attachment for this stay. Diplomats and merchants sometimes need translators, itinerary management, or a guide to the local points of interest. I also have knowledge of the who's-who of individuals of interest in the Kingdom. This is all standard operating procedure, I assure you," she beamed, and wore that nervous smile.

Fiona could sense something was up. "Doug, one sec, aside?" she asked. The kobold shrugged his wings and took several steps away. "I think she's in trouble."

"Who isn't in this place? Well, minus the rich and powerful," Doug muttered.

"Like, you don't pick up that she's super afraid?" Fiona asked. The mask Doug had been wearing, hiding his thoughts, slipped.

"Yes, I noticed it. But afraid of whom?" he asked quietly, golden eyes etched with a glint of curiosity. "Fiona, my advice? Stick to business and find the culprits of Fiefdala's woes. You know how much gold they took out of my small treasury?"

"You never mentioned it. Why now?"

"Glados couldn't have moved that much by herself. It was about three million gold. And it wasn't all mine. Some of that was intended for my workers as payroll." She coughed to avoid shouting in response to that bombshell, and he nodded. "Got your attention? She had help from Vale, since my lair is close enough to the border they could have slipped people in. The Bar'dathi tribes do patrol, but they aren't perfect."

"Could you track it? Wait…Doug, did they take anything personally valuable to you?" she asked, an idea coming to mind.

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"Yes. Why?"

Man, I should have clued him in on my powers, beforehand. Well, better late than never. She motioned to him gently, her tone barely above a whisper

"I'll tell you when we aren't around prying eyes. One of my new tricks, I can track treasures that have a connection to people. It's bizarro and kinda cool. Let's see if we can get Lani to tell us a few things in the interim, and get breakfast. I want to know why she's insisting she be attached at the hip to us."

The building was, for lack of better words, gilded. The gold decor was everywhere–though if Fiona was reading the room right, it wasn't real gold.

If there was any silver lining to this trip so far, it was the fact that the kingdom of Vale didn't skimp out on food. Fiona figured, if the kingdom was going to pile up food like this, then she was going to indulge so that she could think with a clear head.

Fresh fruits, little bread batter cakes, and delectable sausages were all quickly piled onto her plate, along with a dollop of cream on top of one of the pancakes. She was surprised that everyone else wasn't diving in as enthusiastically as her. Even Doug gave her a discerning look as she stuffed her mouth at the expense of the kingdom of Vale.

"What?" she demanded as she looked accusingly at the kobold. Or, it would have sounded like that, if she didn't almost choke while she was in the midst of devouring food.

"You eat like you're constantly starving."

"Hey, it was feast or famine, growing up," she growled. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. Then, after another few seconds, he finally took the plunge.

"You know, if somebody was trying to poison you, you made their job very easy."

"What a perfectly good waste of buffet food, if they did that. This isn't as good as Darla's meals, but it's not bad." A strawberry-looking equivalent was the next victim, though it was far more tart, and her mouth puckered lightly at the taste. "Cepalune has got some weird foods, though."

"I prefer Belgian waffles with a hint of sweet cream and blueberries on top," Doug commented as he sniffed a sweet roll, and took a small bite. "This is alright, though."

"Oh, I know, right? Do you know what the best waffles have? That ever so gentle crispness on the outside, melty as butter on the inside, with a hint of maple syrup," she sighed contentedly, with a flash of inspiration of home–

It took about three seconds for the thought to sink in, and she stared at Doug, wheezing out an answer. "You've been…to Earth?"

His snout creased into a nervous smile. "Uh…might have heard about it somewhere?"

"No, you've been to Earth. You knew who Marie Antoinette was. When?" she pressed, narrowing her eyes. He didn't survive the 'Glare of Doom' for more than three seconds before he cupped his claws gently together.

"My mother is from Earth. Or, was," he added somberly. "I learned things from her. About some of its history and culture." She nearly fell out of her seat from the surprise reveal, but the chair did rock back and forth a few times.

"Holy crap. Were there dragons on Earth? My trashy human and dragon romantasy novels weren't absolute trash, after all?" He looked at her like she'd just grown a second head.

"I find your tastes very…unconventional," he stated hesitantly. She scowled at him, brow furrowed.

"No, Doug, don't you get it?! If dragons are back on Earth, then it stands to reason that other magical species were there, too! Just chilling around, doing nothing until the apocalypse hit. Bonnie and the others said that magic on Earth was super secret, like there were rules to keep it on the sly! Maybe Earth isn't one global graveyard, after all!" It was the first ray of hope she'd had since she'd gotten to Cepalune. "Here I am, dicking around with douchebag kings, when I need to find a way back!"

"Fiona, no one has gone back, successfully. Or if they have, no one's saying how," Doug cautioned her, and looked genuinely concerned for her. "I know you want to go back. Given your sheer strength and aptitude for combat, you might stand a chance of being its champion. But the rub is, there is no way to get back that I can think of. None that don't involve immense risks."

"Such as?" She couldn't imagine risking death--no, facing down her death, again, would be a deterrent.

"Finding the god or goddess that brought you here. No mere summoner could have pulled off what they did." She looked crossly at him. "Greg told me a few of the finer details when I asked. He worries about you. Even if he never uses those exact words. He's…very subtle at times."

"That isn't–" she stopped herself and frowned. "He might have a point. Look, I'm not delusional, I go back there, it won't end well for me. But think of your mother's lair, Doug. You were willing to take the fall for your brother, so he didn't destroy her legacy. You went pretty far out of your way to preserve that. Think about how I feel. About knowing there's a chance it's not a pile of rubble, and there's still someone left to fight for."

He regarded the analogy carefully. "Despite our differences, I do begin to understand you a little more, Miss Swiftheart. Now, onto business?"

"Yeah, let's." She read through her datapad while finishing her meal, and Doug grabbed a few items from a tray that was circulated around. He, however, was more dainty in his approach to food selection. It surprised her that he didn't pile up exclusively meat, but instead actually chose a more vegetarian approach, but he did load up on a few eggs. "No big protein?"

"No, Fiona, our diet is as varied as yours. Now, I do like myself a good roast steak, properly cooked to medium rare. The trick is to get the sear just right."

"You mean, when you're roasting the whole cow in the field? " She asked with an edged smile. He huffed indignantly at that and rolled his eyes.

"Fiona, that's a myth. I prefer my steak well seasoned with salt, garlic, browned butter, and a bit of coarse peppercorn. The butcher always charged me an arm and a wing, though."

"Stop liking the things I like," she bristled. This dragon did have good taste.

They didn't have long to contemplate the plans, as a chime sound filled the air. Several delegates of Vale's political court came in, dressed ornately and far above the clothing standards she had for herself. She knew who the king was with the four heavily armored knights nearby, not armed, but clearly ready to handle trouble. The king dressed dark, and had dark hair, and bright blue eyes.

She thought she was tall, this guy might have passed for a spartan warrior and was better served using his image for a Viking story, with a sharp beard that could punch through armor.

"That's the new guy?" she whispered as the applause filled the room, and the presumptive King of Vale embraced Barry. She swore she heard the creak of his less buff body at this distance.

"Varith Sasrati. This is the guy that may have killed a lot of the slaver house heads, and then united those he didn't slaughter under his banner," Doug whispered. "I knew this guy was trouble when I first heard some reports from Vale, from my kobold workers, and that there was some political 'realignment.' Now he's King, which is state-sanctioned trouble."

"Pretty sure it's business as usual for Vale, then," she commented dryly.

"No. Worse. Now they're in the business of financial and territorial acquisitions. And Varith is...ambitious."

Fiona knew this guy was trouble from the word 'go'.