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

A low buzzing sound woke Fiona up the next morning. She winced and squinted her eyes shut, annoyed at this interruption.

No. Five more minutes, body. I need my beauty rest, so I don't murder idiot kings. Or scheming ones. And I have both in my life right now.

She cracked her eyes open, a little. The precursor to dawn filtered in through the dingy window, in the even dingier suite of the Merchant's Guild. She raised her head lazily. Wow. That might be the first time I have woken up with any regrets from wine. Why, body, whyyyy.

She rolled back onto her side and grabbed the glass of water she'd purposefully left on the nightstand the night before. Even drinking water earlier hadn't helped.

One minus of her elven body? Her tolerance limits seemed to be lower than before. She was surprised she hadn't noticed it before...

A soft snoring sound came from nearby. She grumbled softly. That must be Doug, and still on the couch. For someone of smaller stature, he sure was loud. She moved to grab an extra pillow to chuck at him...

And she froze. The couch was empty. That sound, akin to a miniature motor was closer than it should be. She froze for a good twenty seconds, wide-eyed and mouth open in horror, when she realized where it was coming from.

Please tell me I didn't invite that devious dragon into the bed. Please, please tell me I wasn't that dumb. I remember going to bed, and–

That loud rumbling sound grew louder and was followed by a soft huff, behind her. Her ears were as tense as the rest of her body, and she gritted her teeth, daring to look over her shoulder since she was now aware that something warm was pressed up against her. Infernally warm.

Oh, no.

Doug was snoozing, his back to her, and one wing was draped lazily over himself. She felt the warmth of his body heat; she felt her brow twitch at this.

Wingding, I've made a lot of bad decisions in my lives. This feels like the worst between the two of them.

Fiona felt her ear twitch as that infernal snoring continued. She felt that existential dread creeping through her spine. Oh no. I invited Doug to bed. What have I done? Okay, the key lesson here is, don't panic! I'm sure nothing happened. Well, probably.

She considered just pretending it hadn't happened. She did remember going to bed. She didn't remember anything else beyond that. But this would be a rather awkward conversation when he woke up.

She decided to get ready for the day instead. The horror of waking up too early paled in comparison to being in bed with someone she'd considered an adversary up until a few weeks ago.

She almost sprinted to the somewhat serviceable bathroom trying to focus on dressing, applying makeup, and taming her wavy hair into some presentable shape. Today, however, she decided to tie it back a little bit, to try something different. All these weird, magical powers, and I can't fix my hair properly? Sheesh.

Now, what to do about the situation in the other room?

She still didn't have a solution for that pending nightmare. And her time to ponder on was cut short when she heard the snoring stop. It was then followed by grunt of surprise, then a shrill of panic from Doug.

She pondered: given his initial reaction, should she roll with this? Or go right to the accusations?
She decided to go for Plan A. Which was to treat it with zaniness like it was perfectly normal for her.

Fiona walked out of the bathroom, looking composed. Doug had practically sprung out of bed, dressed in a nightshirt and stretchy pants she didn't remember previously seeing.

He pointed at her accusingly, eyes wide, and words stammered--and apologetic?

" You–we didn't–I didn't–"

"Well, well. Look who is up! Did you sleep well?" Plan A was in effect as a mischievous grin spread across her face, which sold the deception.

It was funny to see Doug's pupils shrink to tiny pin tricks. He put his claw to his head, looking like his life was about to end. "Never would I ever, without permission!"

It was funny how quickly he spoke now, given the situation. "So I don't recall this exact moment, but you were half-asleep and pulled me to the bed. That's it. Then you used me as a pillow."

She vaguely remembered getting up at night, but didn't remember that part. She must have been really out of it. "So we didn't..."

"Nope. You did, however, use me as a body pillow. It was a little…awkward, given your previous declarations that run a little counter to such a situation." She had never heard a dragon go from baritone to soprano in such a short time. Or, her desire to melt into a puddle right about now.

Her smile faded from her lips. "Well, this is awkward, indeed. I might have thought you were Tucker. You guys are almost the same size."

Doug let out a frustrated exhale. "I don't know how you can confuse me for your phase cat. Kobolds are not the same as fluffy, adorable, possibly murderous cats!"

"At least you don't shock me--" she slapped a hand to cover her mouth, eyes wide.

Of all the times to say something like that without thinking, this was the worst. Doug tilted his head at her in curiosity. "Is this a custom where you come from?"

"Nope, not at all, it's fine, I'm fine, we're all fine!"

[You are so not fine.]

Fiona's eyes dilated to little pinpricks. She couldn't see it, but she could feel it when Wingding tapped her irked message on her skin.

Doug rolled his eyes at this spectacle, unaware of the context. "All right then, let's pretend this didn't happen, and let's get on with the day. We have sales to make, deals to wheel, and stolen gold to find. Any one of those on a given day would be tough enough. But no, we have to do all three of them. And not develop feelings. Which I won't, because you're not my type."

She folded her arms, irked by that last statement. "What, too manic for you? This is a sales tactic!"

"You're loud, annoying, high-strung, and look like you could use a spa treatment," he listed off, as if these were minuses. She just felt like the world needed to know she was there, and making a pitch for valuables that people couldn't live without!

She didn't let that go unanswered. "Oh, yeah? You're uptight and couldn't have a good time if you tried! Do you know how to dress casually?"

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"Oh, I absolutely could," he countered, folding his wings tight.

"No, you can't! Casual Friday for you was...wearing a vest. and a collared shirt. Seriously, you claim you're dirt poor, how did you come across all these fancy clothes?" she asked.

"I put value in my appearance. It's actually not that expensive, I just manage my purchases carefully," he conceded. "It's called second-hand."

"Casual means wearing cozy clothing! Like jeans, hoodies, cozy slacks! You're as stiff as a scarecrow!" she protested, fuming at his unwillingness to unwind. Why did this bother her so much? "Okay, you know what, new rule. Casual Fridays mean we all dress cozy. It's going on the board."

"The board of rules that declares the current monarch of questionable competence will be dunked in the lake, should he ever enter the premises uninvited?" Doug asked, and she swore she saw a hint of a smirk.

"Bonnie agreed on the rule. Greg had to be persuaded." she conceded.

She would never take that rule down. "Well, to do business first, then?"

"Sure. But no more using me like a body pillow. That's not a service I offer to just anyone," he stated with a huff.

She clenched her teeth so hard, it hurt. When he turned his back, she felt that smirk break free.

He could be fun, if he tried.

Half an hour later, they were inside the room for the negotiations. Barry was predictably blowing it, and was practically giving away goods.

Fiona felt her fingers curl into her palms as she listened to him blunder his way through, without really thinking about consulting his advisors. It was if he thought he knew better than Steward…Stewey…what was the assistant's name again?

The name didn't matter, because the guy was trying to walk back Barry's bad deals, to little success. She knew, without a doubt, that Barry would walk out of this country poorer than he entered it. She nudged Doug, getting his attention. He motioned for her to whisper.

She braced herself, realizing she was asking him for consultation on this. "Doug, we should intervene. I know Barry is getting taken for a ride on those sales of various items. Like, does he even know that he's underselling textiles and a bunch of other potential sales by easily 50%? Hell, the imports for alchemical goods, which we go through a ton of at the store? He's practically giving it away! Fiefdala has a reputation for good quality potions! He's going about it wrong."

"He is…a little amateurish," Doug conceded. "Think we should let him sweat it out?"

"No. I need him to get his shit together, and put this in the hands of people not trying to put Fiefdala as one giant garage sale." Fiona stood up and finally got Barry's attention. As soon as he spotted her coming, that anxious smile that might as well be carved on his face returned.

"Yessss?" His voice was practically a hiss. She swore his hair got greasier and his complexion got even paler with every day. She hoped it wasn't related to their new agreement through his mark, in that he was completely failing to uphold his end.

"A word aside. Now." Everyone stared at the elf and the human walking to the empty hallway, and she tapped Doug on the way out the door. "Yes, you too, you tiny winged raptor," she growled.

Once they were in the hall, she dropped her facade of patience and laid into Barry. He visibly winced as soon as she started. "What is wrong with you? Are you trying to sell Fiefdala down a river, or are you just that stupid?!" It was the most constrained scream she'd managed in a while. She wanted to be loud, and angry.

"But, I–uh–"

Fiona cut him off. "For Fates' sake, Barry, do not make me regret saving you from your stupidity." She jabbed a finger at him, then at the door back to the negotiation hall. "Here's what you're going to do. You're going to make a killer deal on alchemical reagents. Fiefdala has some of the best. We have surplus, even with our Adventurer's Guild using tons of them. I know this because Bonnie, Jake, and the guild have imprinted it in my memory."

"If we don't offer favorable–"

"They are taking you for a ride, Barry! They are going to walk all over you--no, they are walking over you, right now!"

She wished she had that damn cursed dragon scepter right now. She needed to be a big, mean, angry dragon to drive the point home. "When you want to make a good deal, sometimes you have to be aggressive! You think I ran my tiny shop the way I did without going through extraordinary efforts?"

"I…no?" he finally shut his gaping mouth and started listening. "Also, don't talk down to me."

She narrowed her eyes, leaning even closer. "I'm trying to educate you, Barry. Because I wasn't a better woman, I'd have let you wither through your arrogance and left you to be hoisted by your own petard."

She used her height advantage to make it clear she was done being patient. "You're going to go into that room, and you're going to give them these terms. And you're going to secure…Greg…dammit I need my Greg for math! I think it was about…" She narrowed her eyes, doing math silently. "One point one, Doug?"

"About one point two million gold. Per month," Doug corrected, after scratching a number into his arcanist datapad. "That is a substantial net when considering negotiations. Vale will eat it up because they need it."

"Fine, jeez! Maybe I should let you take over the–" His eyes widened as he clasped his hand over his mouth.

But, it was too late. Fiona had a pretty good idea of what Barry had wanted to say out of frustration.

She glanced at Doug, wearing an equally horrified look. That sold the point even better, knowing she could deliver the maximum mental damage to Barry.

She leaned in toward the regent king, a small smile on her face, eyes arched, and hands clasped to her chest. "Oh, was that an invitation to make me Queen Fiona, since she's better at running things?"

His face curdled at that very suggestion. "Dear gods, no. Edward would murder me. And Lucy would have the best day of her life if she heard that news."

Seeing that pasty-faced benchwarmer get repulsed at that suggestion, made her smile spread wider. "Oh, believe me, I think I'd be a terrible ruler. I'm better off running a shop."

Barry gave her a look of scorn. "My father would never have put up with–"

She poked his chest, eyes narrowed. "Your father's damn pride put you in this spot! Let that soak in for a second!" She'd slap him if it would do something productive, but that was unlikely. "Go make this deal, and be ready to tell everyone you're raking in about fourteen million gold and change a year. That's a big damn dent."

Doug waited until Barry stomped off after giving a small word of thanks, if forced. "Sometimes I wonder why you got it in your head to become an adventurer. Your battlefield is sales, Fiona."

"I had a mid-life transmigration crisis," she shrugged. "Let's get back to it."

It took another half hour of fixing and a little bit of wheeling and dealing for Fiona to secure additional money for Fiefdala. Easy trades that Fiefdala would bankroll with cash, big-time. In the back of her head, it was all an elaborate plan to screw Vale out of money, and get everyone out of their devilish contracts.

She had a long way to go for that second goal.

Sales in the afternoon at her mobile kiosk continued as the previous day, with gold streaming in. She knew for certain that the contract houses were likely profiting off most of this, but she also knew that most of these items wouldn't benefit them to full effect. She had chosen her inventory very specifically early on, just in case of this scenario.

But it currently felt like killing time.

They'd formulated the plan on how to check out the foundry, and what they would prioritize. Making sales during the day was a good distraction from the slight anxiety building in her mind. They wouldn't be going in, hammer swinging, but with a more subdued approach…for once.

The sales went like clockwork, and they worked as a well-rehearsed team. "Lani, two of the regen potions, two of the antidotes, and one cuirass for environmental extremes," Fiona called out, ferrying the items to the customers in record time. Doug worked on the refined items, such as the artwork and the other collectibles with another group of customers.

When Fiona was done stuffing money and pouches to be deposited at the store later in the evening, she motioned for them to pack up quickly, since they knew they had their task tonight. But a nagging worry sat in the front of her mind.

Lani could face some serious fallout if her role were ever suspected. Before they departed, she chose the moment to speak up by bringing Lani over to an alley entryway. "Fiona, what's up?" she asked.

Fiona took a measured breath, the words forming in her brain, but having trouble leaving her lips. "Lani…you could get in big trouble if you knew what we were about to do. You know that, right?"

"I know one thing: my future isn't here in Vale," she replied solemnly. "I don't want to be burdened with a contract the rest of my life, working without a hope of ever getting out from under it. I want a real choice, Miss Swiftheart."

"You know, we could just buy out the contract," Doug proposed.

"And that leaves tens of thousands of others with no exit plan," Fiona said, her anger only growing. "Nah, we need to do this, all or nothing. And leave the contract houses with preferably nothing–"

She stopped mid-sentence. An idea sprang up. "Doug? You remember that funny money that the Santinos were passing around?"

"Yeah…what about it?"

"Let's go find it. There's been a change of plans. Call Cita and Nick." A thought was coming up–there was about to be a massive amount of money that was going to change hands. "I have like…half a plan."

Doug groaned audibly. "I can see where this one is going already."