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

"Question. Why did this funny money show up here, of all places?" Cita whispered. Fiona would have pointed out that the automaton was making an awful amount of racket on the roadway, but thought better of it. "I thought that real gold was being shipped to this little forge."

Fiona racked her brain on this one and came up empty. "Maybe they were collecting it for something? Perhaps the Santinos are involved. We know they're involved, but not the end game."

"Either way, don't touch it. Let's assume they're going to count it." Nick, ever the tactician, pointed to the chest, and Cita quickly closed up the crate and locked it back up without breaking a sweat. "Okay, we know we'll be at this little forge in a bit. The plan hasn't changed–"

Fiona raised her hand anxiously. "Um, there might be a problem."

"What problem is that?" Nick asked impatiently.

"You know how I told you that Theo brought me the funny money, and then a couple of hours later, it kinda…fizzled?" She pointed anxiously at the locked case. "That happened after I handled the coins. Or because I called it out as a forgery. Not exactly sure how this magic works, but, I can call dragon shit on fake gold."

"I heard that," Doug growled over the relay. "Please tell me you didn't handle the coins."

"Uh…only a few?" A wellspring of anxiety started building up, this was supposed to be a clean in-and-out with evidence. Now, someone would know the crates were compromised, the second they opened them up. "Hey guys, when we get there? We might be in a bit of a rush."

"And, how long does that automaton take to get there? It's about half an hour. Great move, Swiftheart," Doug sighed. "I suggest you get into your little hiding spots in that cart. I'll signal you when you should take your other invisibility potions. Remember, the gear you're wearing doesn't make you invisible. It only makes you more resistant to scrying spells and less notable to sensitive ears."

Twenty minutes passed by.

The trio examined every facet of the crates, the coins, and made sure to note everything they could. Fiona observed the coins looked like their normal versions. But, how long would it take for these coins to decay?

Doug signaled on the relay again. "Better get ready. You guys are coming up to the gate. I think there's more security this time around. Some of them have marks that give them better surveillance powers–I'll have to fly around the far side, and hug the hillside." Doug clicked off the radio. Fiona took the silence as a good sign.

She hated this sneaking-around business. Dealing with your enemies needed to be done loudly and with style. This was neither of those. The words she uttered were forced--like they were lead on her tongue. "Remember. We're in, we're out, by the automaton. If they bring it to the trainyard like the last one, then we've got our window to get out quietly and without incident."

Cita let out an anxious laugh. "Who are you, and where did you misplace my favorite elf? You don't do 'quiet', dear, something inevitably makes it loud and dramatic! I'll even bet money on this!"

"Yes, we can, dear. And then you'll lose, because Fiona will then proceed to do the most dramatic thing imaginable." Nick gave her a leg boost to the narrow rafters on the top of the automaton, where they hid previously.

Fiona pouted at being called out on this. One theory had come to mind, though: The workers at the train station had been Santino's men. What did that mean, though? Did that mean they were in control of the train station? Did that mean they might be sending these gold coins elsewhere?

"Nick, how much do you know about the Santinos?" she whispered. He motioned for quiet, the automaton rumbling along at a steady pace. For now, it was the grind of gravel and occasional stretches of paved stone underneath the wheels.

"Not much more than you. I know they're a pain in the backside. Fake gold good enough to fool major kingdoms is either magic they're specialized in or someone is helping them. But why ship it here?"

"Guess we'll have to find out." The automaton slowed down, and she could feel the shift of gravity. She motioned for them to take their potions. She felt a cool breeze across her skin as she disappeared from view, along with Nick and Cita.

Footsteps and crunching gravel announced the arrival of three individuals. The first to come through was a scarred kitsune male with green eyes who peered around suspiciously, before shrugging. "Let's get this unboxed. Boss wants us to count it so we aren't short-changed again."

"Boss can go kiss my posterior. He isn't the one who has to lift this," a surly-sounding dwarf with a short goatee grumbled. "Remind me, how much is the IOU down to?"

"About a million. Remember, it takes time to refine the ore, get it passed by Overwatch, ship it, then–"

"I didn't ask for a breakdown. I want my cut so we can get out of here. I get paid enough to not be greedy." The man helped his kitsune associate and a burly-looking wolven heft the crates out of the car.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

This took all but three minutes, as more people rolled in; eventually, there were six going back and forth. Fiona caught a glimpse of the inside of a warehouse, and the bright glow emanating from a steel-shuttered door on the far end. The smell of charcoal and the warm air that drifted through suggested the forge was still lit.

She hopped down as soon as the last crate was unloaded, and heard the click of clawed feet ever so faintly, along with the soft flex of those soft leather boots she'd seen Cita wearing. They breezed through and split up, as discussed earlier.

Fiona found an access stairwell and quickly ascended, memorizing her foot stride so she didn't catch on the sharp-cut steps. From there, she was able to walk in and access a narrow connected hallway to the second floor of the forge.

She was greeted by a blast of heat, as soon as she opened the steel-shuttered door. The molten orange glow of multiple darkened brick smelters was intense. Workers took raw ore that looked suspiciously like gold and tossed it in. Slag was occasionally cleared from the top, like skimming leaves off an unused pool.

And she could feel the power of the aurelium in the room, an aura of power that wasn't a tickle--it was itching, a discomforting sensation on her skin. It screamed out to her. Almost as if it were in pain.

What am I doing? Focus! She spotted a set of offices with curtains drawn and dim light filtering through the gap in the halves. A young man wearing forge gauntlets and a heavy protective apron stormed out of the just-opened doorway, leaving it flapping open, stomping his way.

Fiona wasted no time and darted inside before the door could fully close, ducking to the side to avoid clipping by another man dressed in a bulky uniform, heavy gloves shoved back on as he pushed past the doorway. She heard grumbles of schedule, but the discussion was over–and she turned to the source, and saw a grumpy-looking dwarf fingering a large arcanist board, with squiggly ink rearranging as he changed the imagery. Standing next to him was a young woman of about thirty, with dark eyes, dressed in far too much makeup, standing with arms crossed.

"Mortell, why'd you tell them two weeks?" Her eyelashes could have been deadly whips if she'd so chosen to get close enough to someone. The dwarf wore a perpetual scowl and rubbed his stubby nose. Almost as if he were dreading answering this one.

"You know why. We're behind schedule."

"You told him to move heaven and Cepalune. You're not going to finish this in two weeks, and you know it. And you can't push him harder than you already have. Processing the ore takes time. Processing it to match a particular material blend, even longer. It has to be done right, or people ask questions."

"Listen here, Missy–"

"Don't you 'Missy' me." Her veins glowed red, and a ball of fire materialized in her hands, flickering in intensity. She then tossed the ball of fire up and down like one would toss up a baseball as a stimming mechanism. "Don't talk down to me."

"I can't 'talk down' to you, I'm a dwarf," he growled. This elicited a small bout of laughter between the two, and she almost fumbled with her fiery ball in her hand as she tilted over with her laugh. The flames died out in an instant, and her veins stopped glowing.

"Damn it, stop making it so I can't be mad!" she smoothed her jacket and peered at the board. "Okay, let's get back to numbers. How much have we processed?"

"About…thirty tons. That's almost as much as is buried in the repository of the Unified Kingdom's central banks," the dwarf answered. Fiona's first thought was if she could carry that amount, and haul it off.

She sincerely doubted it, even with her powers.

"How much does Fiefdala have in its vaults?" the woman asked, a moment later.

"Half that amount. They have more than the rest combined. But it's a reserve currency. I don't remember the logic of burying your gold back in the ground, but it's to indicate their currency has a hard backing." The dwarf scratched his head. "I stopped trying to understand this a while ago. All I do know? Those coins coming in are my paycheck, and I don't question what happens between when it leaves here, and when it comes back in a shiny minty form." Fiona presumed that was the funny money–

She froze at her vantage point, still feeling the cooling breeze of the invisibility.

Were these workers getting stiffed?

That would be the most Karlin thing to do, by paying his workers in fake gold. If that was the case, was the gold not minted here, only processed? That meant there was another site involved. Snack thief Fiona was on demand tonight, not smashing time Fiona.

She crept in, eyeing the board. There were some squiggles of numbers, schedules, and logistical boredom. Hardly the work of a criminal enterprise.

"Has Karlin told you where he's getting the raw ore?" the woman pressed.

"Hey. I don't know the details," the dwarf warned. "Don't flap your lips, Missy. I prefer not knowing the bigger picture. We melt gold down, refine it, ship it, and then minted coins come back. We get a cut of the finished product. That's it. I don't question where our supplies come from, or what our 'friends' do in the interim."

"Ship it down a river." The dwarf chuckled softly.

"That was a touch speciest, wasn't it?"

"No, literally. They ship it via waterways. Or under it," the woman grinned. the dwarf muttered something under his breath, too distorted for her to make out

Fiona felt a warming on her skin, and her breath hitched. Her potion was wearing off too quickly, she knew there was a little variability, but this seemed to be too early! She scanned the room for hiding spots–there was one that seemed decent.

The doorway was closed behind her–they'd notice that. There were a few office desks, but that was hardly a hiding spot. A supply closet in the far corner of the irregular boxy room was left ajar. She didn't want to burn her last potion yet, not when there were secrets to uncover.

She breezed inside the closet with their backs turned to it, and she eased the door to mostly closed. It smelled of something like cleaning chemicals and crisp papers, and if anyone were to look close, she'd be busted in an instant. She hoped the janitor had the night off, as her body returned to view. She held her breath.

It didn't come a moment too soon. There was a thud at the door before it was thrust open. From her small slit of vision, someone stormed in, looking and sounding agitated. They had dark hair, golden eyes, and looked...regal, almost.

The likely new arrival was Karlin, her new nemesis of the hour. If she wasn't trying to do things the smart way, it would be smashing time right about now.

She hoped Doug's enchantments were enough to keep her shrouded from a dragon who had enough cunning and awareness to fleece, trick, and rob everyone around him. Because she almost looked forward to Plan B.

'B' for 'Brawl'.