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

Jake glanced at the spectacle in front of him, and for once, was without words for a good thirty seconds. He glanced between Fiona and Bonnie, then Doug, then their current captive, Glados. Then back again.

Fiona hadn't exactly planned this particular detour, but there were few others she'd trust to hold this prisoner and not have her run off to cause mischief again.

Meanwhile, Jake was still taking in their detailed explanation…and still could not comprehend, as he shook his head. "Run this by me again, Fiona? Because I'm at a loss on this one. Barry was about to let this felon go? Then, Aegortin blasted a hole into the prison, and you happened to be nearby?"

"I'm Batgirl. I know when I'm needed and where I'm needed," she deflected lightly. Jake did that grumpy frown he did when she'd been busted a few times taking the sweet rolls from the pantry in the guild hall cafeteria. He knew she wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Fiona? I really, really could use less drama at one in the morning." The fact that he was in his pajamas and his fur was all matted in different directions, sold the point that he was quite exhausted. "Why were you camping on a prison roof?"

"Because I thought Barry would be that boneheaded? Look, the point is that prison is not a place we can hold her. Seriously, how did Aegortin get guys into the prison? One of the most secure facilities in the city?" Her voice dripped with annoyance at this new development.

"Understaffed and underpaid." Jake rubbed the bridge of his muzzle and glanced at Bonnie. "And Bonnie, I'm disappointed you went along with this madcap idea. And you, Fierkraag, already are on thin ice."

"Oh, don't even get me started," Doug growled. "Try having your brother wreck your life a time or two, then get back to me." He pointed a claw at Glados, sitting cuffed in a distinctly uncomfortable chair. "We still have her to deal with. Aegortin wants her badly enough to spring her out of prison or silence her. I'd say she knows something valuable enough to keep out of our hands."

"Do I get a say in this?" Glados fumed.

"No, Evil Barbie, you don't," Fiona sniped. "So, she's kinda hosed. Barry cursed her like he did me. Except he did it right and gave her no out for skirting past it, except for sheer redemption. Which is to say, never." Glados rolled her eyes in response, but said nothing.

Jake put a paw up, fingers flexing gently as he winced at this. "Rikkard is going to kill that kid when he gets word of this. I mean, actually kill Barry. That's my immediate problem. Barry is a rogue head of state! It's a good thing we had the guilds divest his effective day-to-day power before this, or we could be in a worse position. Now, while I don't agree with your course of action–or lack of trust in the guild's skills," he added emphasis, "I can't refute that this VIP prisoner is now in a relatively safer place."

"I know. We should have clued you in," Fiona sighed. "I figured the odds were pretty low anyway. The fact that we happened to check in earlier today is pretty good timing."

"Right before the shift change. There was supposed to be a mix of guild members with a security background and palace guards." Jake growled in irritation at this and motioned to one of the other members, writing everything down on their arcanist pad. "Make sure to document the details. I need a full debrief for Swiftheart and Revere so that they don't get any grief over this."

Fiona's relay started ringing, and she glanced down at the display. "Infuriated monarch on line one, anyone else wanna take this one?" she said, wagging the display at Jake. He bit the lip of his muzzle gently, gazed upward, and mouthed something blasphemous to at least one god.

"Just don't answer it. I'm still going to lay into Rikkard about his prison's lack of protective wards."

Fiona pointed at the relay. "You want me to hang up on Rikkard? Pretty sure hanging up on a king is a bad thing."

The relay continued to ring. "Maybe you could just take out the mana cell?" Bonnie suggested. She looked positively exhausted. And sooty, on account of the flame spells shot at them earlier. "Pretend you forgot to charge it?"

"The 'forgot to charge my relay' excuse never worked on Earth, and it doesn't work here, Bon-Bon," Fiona grunted. She grimaced as she pressed the connect call button. One frustrated, mutton-chopped king dragged back out of retirement leered at all of them. "Hi Rikkard. It's late. It's past business hours. Call me in la mañana. I'm not dealing with palace intrigue crap until after the weekend."

"Where is she?" The words were more a demanding growl than a question.

Fiona tried to play dumb. "She, who? She who battles with creatures? You'll have to be more specific."

"Glados, Fiona. A guard saw a candy-corn colored elf at a distance running from the penitentiary. Please don't try my patience."

The rather abrupt and stout-worded demand from the senior Greybeard got her attention. "Rikkard, on what planet do you think I would break a prisoner out, who I just put there?"

Rikkard tapped something loudly on the other end of the line. "Because every time something unusual happens, you're involved. I presume you have a very good explanation for several injured guards littering the premises? Or, the guards with falsified identification cards who put a hole in the prison?"

Fiona clenched her teeth tightly. I hate this kid, and I want him to get his just desserts for doing the most boneheaded thing ever. Or, I can drag this out as a massive 'you owe me' card from him.

"We arrived on the scene to stop a prison break. Palace guard details are compromised, Rikkard," she answered softly. Bonnie's mouth went agape, and she mouthed 'what about Barry' silently.

Fiona waved her hand, and mouthed, 'Bonehead is next. ' This appeared to satisfy the kitsune's demand, and Fiona braced for a blowup. "Also, yeah, Glados is at an undisclosed location. She is not being handed over to palace guards until we sort out some stuff. I need her alive and breathing to fix a few things. Chief among them, growing my dragon back to full size."

"When did you get a–dragons aren't possessions!" Rikkard protested. "Wait, what am I saying? Fiona, I am going to make that deplorable witch answer for what she's done in my absence. I'm at the palace now. I presume you aren't at your residence? Please tell me where you are. I will send hand-picked men–"

Her patience broke in a rather subdued manner, and she narrowed her eyes. "Rikkard? You are the reason we are in this mess. You are the sole reason Fiefdala is on a knife-edge, because your pride dictated that you didn't ask for help for years. Now I know why Barry's rotten, because you are. And I was too stupid to see it until just now, when he was about to let Glados walk out the front door of the prison."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

There was a three-second pause. "I'm sorry, say that again?"

"Blondie the beardless is dumb and in love with Glados." Fiona had a hankering to bulldoze the entire palace now, after tonight, but Rikkard might do it for her. "He was at the prison, visiting his future wife, and he gave her his wardstone. Oh, and by the way, according to what I heard? He learned how to use his mark from you."

"Oh, for the love of the gods," Jake muttered. The feeling was mirrored by Bonnie and Doug, as well.

She heard Rikkard suck in his breath sharply on the other end of the relay. "Is that Jake I heard?"

Jake motioned for the relay. Fiona reluctantly put on the display, and the haggard appearance of Rikkard projected onto the floor, highlighted like a blue hologram. He, too, was wearing his pajamas–and a very cozy-looking red bathrobe. Rikkard glanced around at all the people close to the projector and groaned. "Yep. This is the last time I attempt to retire."

"Rikkard, I don't need to spell out the optics on this one. The Adventurer's Guild is holding onto this VIP until you clean house. This happened a mere couple of days after we handed her off to you," Jake said. "I also need help getting rid of this mark that your son put on her, before it, you know, eats her soul or something."

"Thanks for talking about me like I'm not here," Glados muttered.

"Shut up, no one likes you," Bonnie snapped. "Always think you're so self-important. You haven't changed since the academy."

"And you look mangy as ever, Bon-bon," Glados teased. "Still having trouble attaining your life dreams?" Bonnie's ears twitched in irritation, but it was Fiona who wasn't letting that one slide.

"Insult my friend again, Glados. I dare you. I will make you work retail until the day you die. That's a fate worse than death," she threatened. She waved to Rikkard, and their current prisoner. "So, there we have it. A mess like usual."

"I can see that," the senior king rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Miss Hennaway, if you want to see the light of day ever again, I implore you to cooperate. You have everyone in Cepalune after you, least of all, me. Or I will side with Miss Swiftheart's lovely idea of balance, considering your efforts to bankrupt us."

"Hah! Like you could ever fix this mess. Aegortin is coming a-knockin', right after they flatten Vale. I really ought to thank the other VIP for softening them up significantly with the internal strife," Glados purred.

Rikkard narrowed his eyes and leered at Glados. Even with a projection, Fiona could feel the wrath coming. "It's a good thing I invest in other competent individuals, then. Jacob, I'll trust your lead on this one. Fiona, Bonnie…and Douglas," he added with a reluctant pause. "...Thank you. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I think there's a lot to catch up on."

"Rikkard? The price of my assistance is pretty sky-high now. When we talk tomorrow, you will agree to my terms. Are we clear?" Fiona asked impatiently. She had one lever she wanted to pull:

Getting Bianca out of prison. And probably cuddle therapy.

Rikkard nodded thoughtfully. "I think I can make some arrangements, if I've read the current situation correctly. Get some rest. Jacob, please see that they make their way home. And I want your men investigating the lapse in the prison guard. I don't trust my staff anymore, not after this. Pull in anyone you need."

"What about Barrimeth?" Jake growled. "This cannot be slid under the table."

"It won't. I'll have to resume duties in the morning," Rikkard grumbled. "I'll talk about this when certain other people aren't present," he said acidly, glancing at Glados briefly.

"Will do, Your Majesty." Rikkard offered a farewell before the relay clicked off, and Fiona pocketed it again.

"Remember when we just ran a store?" Bonnie asked, looking exhausted. "Yeah, I'd like to go back to that."

"Yes, we all would," Jake sighed, running his fingers through his mane of fur. "C'mon, let's get some paperwork done, then get you home."

The fact that Rikkard was finally showing his face after over a week was telling. Especially after the blowout discussion where he did not give in to their demands for transparency and Fiona gave him some choice words that left even stoic Greg trembling from her ferocity. Fiona dug her fingernails into her palms to avoid screaming in rage at him, or worse, grabbing her hammer. Again.

[Be nice, please?]

Wingding, dearie? We have a complicated friendship that is severely strained. I don't know if 'nice' is going to happen. Fiona kept the discussion internal as she waved politely to Rikkard and his attachment. "Greetings and welcome, Your Majesty–"

He gave a gentle wave, while people oohed and ahhed at the king showing up. Then, he smiled politely. "No need for formalities. I came here to see the place for myself!" he glanced around and noted the cheery faces of everyone around. "Miss Swiftheart, I would normally have you come to the palace for a visit, but I understand you're a busy woman. Please, pretend I'm a customer today!"

Not even going to talk to me? Wonder what he's saving up for. He waffled on my last request and didn't even get back to me. She shoved irritation aside and gestured for him to follow her. Doug accompanied her, though she saw him give one scathing glare at the king before walking in stride.

"I presume business is good? Apologies for my son throwing you through the ringer. Again," he said in a low tone, while people got on their relays and presumably took photos.

"Rikkard," she said with a strained smile, "Do you see the shop sign with the rules I wrote?"

He glanced up at the signage by the cashier kiosk. She'd had to amend the rules again a week ago. The last one was the most prominent.

Rule #4: If your name is Barrimeth Greybeard, YOU WILL GET THE HAMMER.

The king peered upward at the chalkboard, his eyes widening. "And do people comment on it?"

"They toss a couple of silvers into the tip jar out of sheer amusement," she said with an impish grin. "Smile, Rikkard. Remember, you're king again."

"I am reminded of that inconvenient fact daily," he growled. "Barry will be in house arrest until his hair matches the family name." Doug sniggered beside them. "I haven't forgotten you either, Douglas. I am also aware this collection has some…personal value to you."

"Only a few items truly mean something," he answered back, and adjusted his tie gently. Fiona found it amusing that he, too, wore a green tie like her now.

A few weeks ago, it had been red.

Rikkard stopped at a particular armor stand and stared. "You're kidding. I know that armor. You preserved the armor of Joseph Kuras?"

"Oh, you recognize it?" Doug asked smugly, arms folded, and his stance confident. "Thought you might. After I described the armor to Fiona, she put it up for display. I keep telling her to send it to the Fiefdalian Central Museum."

"Where did you even acquire this?" Rikkard gasped, running his fingers over the emblem of the griffin.

Doug shrugged softly, the motion mirrored by his wings. "Not easily. My workers found it in a cache just north of the Renslas Fens. I know there's a gap in ownership, as it was stolen many years ago. It's not exactly easy to hide something with such historical value. Even better, the enchantments on it are still active. They don't make magical arms and armor like they used to."

Rikkard smiled faintly. "I heard the story of this one. My grandfather told me the armor went missing after several thieves broke into the royal mansion on one stormy night."

"It was rusty, even with it being made of mage steel. Anyway, I did have some minor restoration work done to it, but the base armor is not modified. Bonnie also had to touch up the enchantment; the power had faded a little," Doug explained.

"I keep forgetting the power of some marks can be subtle like this. It's remarkably well preserved," Rikkard commented. "What else do you have?"

Fiona waved a hand to an aisle of oddities and relics, some behind magicite glass cases for extra security. "Treasure, little knick-knacks? What's your fancy?"

"Something that can't be bought easily," he answered subtly. "Anything in storage, out of public view? I'd like to talk in private."

"Oh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Kali, can you and Tami tend to customers for a bit? Greg, Doug, Bonnie, and I will be back in a bit."

Fiona wasn't worried about the bodyguards in the suits that looked like someone took a mage robe and tried to make an Armani suit equivalent.

She was worried about her reaction if Rikkard gave her any more bad news as she waved him over to her office, where everyone filed inside.