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

Fiona noted the irony of two kings coming to her for wheeling and dealing in this same room. She just hoped that whatever bomb was about to go off in this room in the figurative way, there would be some assurances and compensation for how much of a headache it would probably be.

Rikkard let out a sigh of relief once the door latched shut."Finally, some privacy. I presume your wards are in effect, Miss Revere?" he asked, gesturing to the door.

"Better than the palace," Bonnie shrugged, arms folded tightly. "You didn't come here for a public promotion. So what's up?"

"I have an opportunity–"

"Nope," Fiona interrupted loudly. "You didn't start with an apology; that's a nonstarter. And not to me, either. An apology is owed to my friends, to Doug, and to my employees."

The interruption killed all of his momentum. "What do you want me to say, Fiona? That I didn't look deeper into where the gold was going for a long time? That I did my best to branch out the kingdom into other revenue streams and trade, without having to admit that we took out loans that looked difficult, if not impossible, to pay off? Or that my son, who knew the truth that I was hiding this potential disaster, called me out on it? Then, yes. I will say it to you, because you need to hear it. I need to say it aloud, too."

"Kings never admit to fault," Doug said acidly, claws folded against his arms tightly.

Rikkard regarded the kobold with a grunt. "Times have changed, Mister Fierkraag. I don't claim I'm perfect. In fact, I'm not. I've made bad decisions with good intentions. But being a head of state means your mistakes are admitted to only the highest levels, and always in private, lest adversaries capitalize on it. That's how Vale nailed us twenty years ago."

He glanced out the window, hands folded behind his back. Fiona wondered if it was just for dramatic appeal, which she could do with less of right now. Rikkard turned slowly, then glanced at her first. "I am sorry I put you in this position. I thought my son was prepared to rule. I was not prepared for how callously he regarded others. He let his emotions get in the way, on too many fronts."

"What else?" she asked calmly.

"I should have trusted my better judgment when it came to Fierkraag, and his past," he added with a sigh. "Happy? I've already authorized several means of recompense. And I hate to ask, but...there might be something you can all collectively help me with. If you're willing."

Nope. You aren't getting off that easy. Fiona let out a mocking laugh that ended in a scowl that could have curdled milk. "We are done being asked to jump through hoops. Barry has derailed any semblance of normal that I've been able to scrounge up! Rikkard, you are one ill-tempered elven merchant away from getting tossed in the lake!"

"With respect, Your Majesty? I got better treatment from my father," Greg said acidly. Rikkard winced at that one.

"Oh, don't all pile on at once. I'll make it worth your while," he said, looking at Fiona. "Given my son's effort to build trade failed on account of other wayward influences, I'm still in the hole for a lot of gold while we find out where Karlin slithered to. He acquired most of it, and that giant pit you all discovered in the mine led to Underlune. That's a dead end, for now."

"So Karlin's still on the board?" Fiona echoed. It would probably break his little heart that his efforts are in vain, considering there's a nascent goddess–or, probably a goddess–sitting on my wrist.

[I have a name, you know.] The sharp taps on Fiona's wrist indicated her plus one was rather irritated at that.

Sorry, Wingding. Mommy's stressed out big time lately.

Rikkard nodded, unaware of her private communication. "Yes, unfortunately, he is. And Glados has not been forthcoming with details after the incident at the prison. Jacob indicated she'd rather rot in jail than cooperate. For formality's sake, I still need to hold a trial and push myself quite far out of the way to avoid undue influence, given Barry's involvement."

"So what do you want from us?" Doug asked. "I still want an apology and compensation for my property. And to be bigger again," he added sourly.

Fiona gave him a pat on the head, which the kobold stammered in frustration. "Doug, we're thinking so small. That one is already non-negotiable. I want something bigger before you even start to ask us for help, Rikkard." Fiona said in a poisonous tone.

She knew exactly what she wanted. "I want Bianca out of prison and to get help. And I want your best mages to help figure out what her mark did–"

"Done."

Fiona blinked, then her brain reacted. "Quick, Greg, Bonnie, ask for something. It might be the last time we ever catch a break. The cosmos aligned for this one moment of opportunity."

"My father in prison?" Greg asked sarcastically.

The king chafed at that, rolling his eyes and thrusting his arms upward. "If I had that power, Lockheed, I'd have done it already. I can't make evidence magically appear. We do live in a kingdom of laws."

"Worth a try," Greg muttered. "How about a generous grant to the Adventurer's Guild? I think we need more trained interkingdom diplomats. We range widely and far beyond our normal boundaries to manage regional issues. These past several months could have benefited from that."

"Nothing of a personal stake?" Rikkard asked, surprised.

"Okay. One thing." Greg slid a folded slip of paper to Rikkard over the table, which he flipped open and read quickly.

"You want a reservation at…" Rikkard furrowed his brow. "Really? That's it?"

"Only a king can carry a greater priority on the wait list. Which is about a year," Greg said matter-of-factly. Fiona noted Bonnie's eyes lit up, like she knew what it was, too.

Rikkard slid the paper back, nodding proudly. "That's quite a modest request. I can arrange that, along with your recommendation for more diplomatic resources. That's an investment with tangible benefits for everyone," he affirmed, looking a touch more confident.

Stolen story; please report.

He then zeroed in on the kobold. "Douglas, given your position here, I presume you understand I can't compensate you fully until we find Karlin and recover the gold?"

"As Swiftheart called out once, I'm purging my soul of consumerist obsession, and value fewer things more greatly," he replied calmly. "A few decades of prison for that thief would be a good start, and might fix his attitude. Also, I want it to be perfectly clear."

He showed the key that they'd found in the lockbox, eyes locked on Rikkard in poorly veiled anger. "My mother's lair, as in, my inheritance, whatever may be inside, is exempt from any interference. I want my fertilizer business restored, and a big apology. Your scribe should make a long list. Oh, and I'm tax-exempt for at least five years to recoup my business losses from lack of operation. That'll be three–call it four months. And compensation for my workers who were displaced."

Rikkard sighed. "Given what I know of Glados' involvement, all those requests would have been granted automatically. Your mother would kill me if she were still alive and saw what transpired here."

He turned his head to Bonnie, who had remained strangely quiet. "Miss Revere? I've put a lot of you through some trouble…"

Bonnie tapped her claws on her arm, her eyes narrowed at Rikkard. "I want my academic record reinstated at the Mage Academy, where I had full honors. I did not plagiarize my final papers, nor did I sabotage other projects. Glados framed me."

Fiona's jaw dropped. "She did what?!"

"Yeah, this is the time to mention it." Bonnie's gaze lowered. "You know why I don't have my full license yet, Fi? She's the reason. She sabotaged several other students' projects, and then left spell evidence that tied it to me. I fought back on the disciplinary hearing, showing there was reasonable doubt in the claims, and the charges of breaking the school code of conduct were dropped. But not before it killed my chances at graduating. After that disgrace, I didn't go back, and I couldn't prove beyond doubt that Glados did it. She and I have history."

"And then you showed up at the Adventurer's Guild, looking for a job." Greg, apparently, knew a little more than Fiona, and she felt a little hurt that Bonnie hadn't mentioned this until now.

Then again, having something you valued utterly ripped away from you might make you more hesitant to open up about it.

Fiona nodded quietly. "Make those happen, Rikkard, you got a deal. Bonnie, are you good with this? Are you sure you don't want to use Glados as a magical experiment?"

Bonnie smiled faintly. "Tempting, but that's a vicious circle. You uh…sure you want Bianca out? She has some…issues, as we've all noticed."

"I can't let her rot in prison for…what exactly was it?" She'd rather not get into the details on this one. Or think of what Bianca–or Varith–had done before they'd met. If I had to hazard a guess, most of them won't be missed. She was carrying out vengeance against slavers.

It was still a discomforting thought. Fiona had trained to fight in the guard, and that partially translated to her skill when she first got to Cepalune. Bianca? Not so much.

Rikkard grunted after a few seconds of silence. "Let's not get carried away with the details. She did help us take Glados into custody. I am led to believe, based on what you've said, that her mark may have had some undue influence on her. Along with others who may have nudged her in the wrong way. There are prior rulings that absolve people of any crimes committed at the misdirection of others, or adverse magic impacting their cognitive functions."

"We need to research her mark. There's something about the marks that is new," Fiona said softly. "Bonnie, I trust. Doug can read the history of marks. We can't do either of those with her in prison. The Bianca I know isn't that person, Varith."

The king paced softly, gazing out at the snow-streaked window. He folded his hands behind his back again and let out a quiet breath. "You realize you're asking me to let out a former head of state from a previously hostile nation. A person with violent tendencies, who would be placed into your custody, right? An unstable person? If I do this, Fiona, I will need to see proof of progress. I need to know we're not going to have another repeat of Vale in our backyard. We're fortunate that her status as a shapeshift of sorts is known by only a handful of people."

"She indicated no one saw her as who she was, except for the first people to meet her on Vale. and none of them are around to point fingers," Fiona said wearily. "She was also under undue influence from Karlin and Glados, later. And she had some prior…conditions when she came to Cepalune."

She tried to avoid spelling out what exactly those conditions were. Even now, she realized she could have done better to help her. Beyond what she'd tried before.

Did my pride cause this, Wingding? Because it feels like it did. And that's an awful thing I have to fix.

[You care more than most. That's what matters.]

Rikkard turned, his gaze solemn. "You vouch for her?"

"I vouch for the person she was, and still is," she emphasized. "Rikkard, I've made Fiefdala home, inconveniences from your son notwithstanding. And I know it's in your power to make things right for the rest of us."

"I can't do any of those things if Fiefdala gets bought up at auction, or Aegortin sails up the river with their military. First, I need things to be stable here. I've invited a few dignitaries from various locations, and not put all my eggs in one basket."

Fiona raised an eyebrow at this. "Finally listening to your experts?"

"I never stopped listening. Even without an influx of gold, I kept the country stable for far longer than it had a right to. That said, pride does have a cost, one of which I will not pay again." His posture relaxed as he pulled out a datapad, and motioned for Greg to produce his. "I have a list. Familiarize yourself with it. Some of them you've done business with before, but the difference is scale. I won't ask you to split your time more than necessary between these negotiations and the shop, and I won't have you travel hundreds of miles afield in other countries. They're coming to us."

Greg frowned as he read the list. "Why do you need us? Apart from strength–"

"I need your abilities to make sales and show reliability," Rikkard said pointedly. "In this room, there are people who have made a significant impact in their respective realms, despite setbacks and artificial handicaps imposed on them."

Fiona glanced at the others, and they all let out a low murmur before Rikkard continued. "Darla included, too. I do admire that resilience and creativity in the citizens of Fiefdala, which is why I need you as representatives. Just a few hours out of your day, a couple of days a week, and we can even host it locally, for accommodations."

"This better not be a repeat of what happened in Vale, or I'll have Bonnie float our whole shop to some other kingdom," Fiona grumbled. "I noticed you mentioned a second task. What is it?"

"I'll speak to that one later. Just know that I might need to borrow you for a week or so in the future, tops," he answered. He extended a hand. "I know you don't have much reason to trust me, Fiona. Just know that if I don't make this right, I think all my other children will likely stuff me into house arrest like Barrimeth. And the wife will likely be helping them," he added with visible discomfort.

Fiona glanced at the others, who all gave a small nod. "Okay. One more condition. Only because Doug came up with it," she added with a leering grin.

Rikkard almost recoiled in horror, his teeth set on edge. "Do I have to agree to this one?"

"Yes, you do. Since Barry couldn't deliver on his promise…we don't want to pay taxes. Forever. We're exempt."

Rikkard frowned. "Five years. I'll have the treasury write the exemption as a rather narrowly worded tax write-off. Nice try, Swiftheart, but even I have to pay taxes, too."

"I think we can negotiate for more," Doug said, with a smirk crossing his snout.

"Let's not," Greg sighed. "Fiona, I think this is the time to close the deal."

Fiona let out a sound of resignation. "Okay, fine. One more tiny favor, if I can't have that. I want a box of Matilda's sweet rolls delivered to my shop every business day. So I don't have to intercept the daily delivery to the palace."

Rikkard raised an eyebrow. Then, his eyes widened, as if he remembered something. "How on Cepalune…is this why there's always exactly one sweet roll missing out of the delivery to me and the staff every business day? How do you do it, woman?!"

"Skills, Your Highness. Now shake."