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

Three floors of a home. Sheesh, why does a single family need so much space? Fiona pondered ever having something larger than her current apartment, as Greg's mother led them through the foyer. The room consisted of bright, cherry-colored wood trim and beautiful rose-red walls, the trim work clean and tightly lined. It almost felt like going on a tour through a museumthe paintings had small cordons of rope around them.

Doug took his time to examine the works, and he let out a small whistle. The historian was impressed? That was saying something.

"La'teur…Grevenowich…he even has a portrait of Celes the sixth." Doug's eyes lit up as he waved his hand to an elven woman dressed in a gold and silver gown that looked befitting for a queen. She wore a small brooch with a single green gem, and two children stood next to her, one on either side. One was a small girl with long brown hair and blue eyes, thin but filled with vigor in the painting. A boy with a chipped-tooth smile stood on the other side, with short brown hair and brown eyes, and what looked like a witch hat sitting on his head.

"Who are the kids?" Fiona whispered.

"Her children. Aingeal, her lovely daughter, and her son, Jameson," Doug said in a hushed whisper. "Still quite young in this image, this was…oh, probably 1300 or so."

Fiona couldn't help but get an eerie feeling from the painting. They looked familiar. "So what're they famous for?"

"Tragedy. They say the name of Celes is cursed. To carry that name is to enter an endless cycle of death and rebirth. It's immortality, at a tremendous cost of watching everything you love wither," he responded, motioning Fiona forward.

"Wait. Rikkard's wife is also named Celes!" Fiona exclaimed. "They're not related, are they? And who writes these stupid prophecies like they belong in a fortune cookie?"

"Coincidentally, the name is popular. But from a historical mention, it applies to the Larkashian royal line. Celes the Fifth died young. Her children survived her. As long as one female of the line survives, they adopt the name of Celes," Doug corrected. Fiona peered closer at the daughter.

She definitely looked familiar. "You know what's super freaky, Doug? I can't help but feel I've seen her somewhere."

He looked at her blankly. "Gates to Earth don't exist, don't remember me telling you that? Your circumstances were–"

"I know." She gritted her teeth tightly at that reminder. "But Doug, don't you find that a bit weird?"

"You saw someone you recognized, from a royal portrait from seven hundred years ago, on a world you just crash landed onto, through a fluke of fate?" he asked, throwing up his hands in resignation. "Fi, sometimes I wonder if you are crazy."

"I am crazy! But not the bad kind of crazy."

"Crazy comes in one flavor, dear. Maybe you saw someone like her?" he proposed.

She took one last look, straining her memory. She couldn't seem to place the face at a location or when. Just a nagging familiarity. "Okay, fine. Maybe I saw someone like her. Anyway, that rebirth thing; are they actual gods, like, beyond superpowerful? You know, like Feo'thari and Van'ael, and that other one…Geish…Gimli…wait, Gaia?"

Doug blinked, looking at her in surprise. "You know of Gaia? She's obscure here on Cepalune. My mother said she saved Earth, sacrificed her life for her children. The dragons and their related brethren." He waved to the painting itself, frowning. "If I were to conjecture Earth history…each world has at least one god or goddess residing on it. Cepalune has several. Of course, I can only comment in good conscience on what events contain proof of their passing."

"Douglas, the historian of worlds. It has a nice ring to it," she said wistfully. "But are they gods, though? Like, where I come from, there were two camps of thought. One, an omnipresent force. The other theory was that they were just superpowered individuals, and a lot more of them. Sounds to me like the universe supports the latter. Though..."

She glanced at Wingding, extending her wings as if waiting to continue. "I'm not sold on how gods show up."

Doug pointed at a painting of strange runes that corresponded to several divine figures above them. "Well, I think their involvement in protecting the world seven thousand years ago is beyond debate. Whether they were actual gods, or just people who maximized the power of the marks. Gaia, on the other hand, definitely existed as–"

"Oy, love drakes!" Bonnie called out and made a small smooching sound, beckoning them to follow.

"Do I look like I have scales, feathers, and teeth to grant my wish for permanent carnivore status?" Fiona shot back.

"You're red enough to be a dragon, dear! Maybe we should try that scepter out to see if it'll work on you!" Bonnie teased, waving them forward.

Doug flapped his wings in agitation. "Let's not do that. Knowing our luck, it would work on her as advertised, and the thought of Fiona the dragoness should terrify any rational person."

Fiona grinned at him, tapping his snout gently, while he stammered in protest. "You'd like that idea, huh? A big, strong dragoness to protect you?"

"N-no. And this is purely speculative." She grinned wider, watching his face melt into an anxious smile, his tail stiffened like a frightened cat. "Oh, come on, there's already a slight gender dymorphism in dragons as it were! Females of the race tend to be stronger, slightly larger, with tougher armor scales, and, um...would you stop grinning like that? Has anyone ever mentioned you can be a terror?"

"I think I know what you like."

His eyes shot wide. "Oh, don't you even!" He looked to Bonnie for support, but she was silently hinging her muzzle open, showing teeth, and gesturing with her hands like air claws. He shot her a dirty look. "Oh, not you, too."

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A moment later, they caught up with Greg and his mother down the hall. "Missus Lockheed, I must say, the home has several curios that I didn't realize were in a private collection. It's quite ornate," Doug complimented, waving to a lakeside cottage in a chestnut colored frame.

"Just Remi is fine," Greg's mother corrected. "Oh, don't mind the dust collectors. Thanatos won't ever stop talking about them, and if you've seen them a thousand times, they lose their novelty."

She directed them to a small living area filled with an ornate rug, dark wood chairs with plush seating, and a fire crackled on a hearth nearby. A large bookshelf lined one wall with dark colored, leather-bound books arranged in neat rows and organized alphabetically. There wasn't a single speck of dust, either! "He'll be in his office. Scheming, most likely. I don't like it when he brings his clients into the house, but he's all about business and forming good relations."

"So he's in, then?" Greg asked carefully.

"He is. I pinged him on his relay; he'll be down shortly." Remi directed them to sit down and waved to a man wearing what appeared to be a chef's jacket in the kitchen. "Zach, can you add four more to the dinner menu? I know it's last-minute, but–"

The man saw Greg and brightened, and grabbed what appeared to be more raw poultry from an icebox. "For Gregory and his friends? Of course! I'll just need a few extra minutes."

"Oh, but we won't be staying for–"

Bonnie elbowed him gently and frowned. "Greg, you've just returned home. I think you can share one meal with your family." He looked skyward as if he found something fascinating with the ceiling, before plunking down into a lounge chair.

"So how's my sister, then?" Greg asked casually a few moments later. "I spoke to her a month ago. Not much since then."

His mother gestured her hand in the air, as if praying for patience. "Eveline is fine. Butting heads with your father, every five minutes. I just called for her. Or she might be brooding, maybe as a result of an unsuccessful discussion with your father. She's doing well in her studies at university, but resents your father for paying out of his pocket to support her. Oh, but listen to me gab! Please introduce your friends!"

Greg looked distinctly uncomfortable with this, but did so. Fiona didn't mind that Greg said little about her.

The last thing she needed was more attention. Then he introduced Doug, who took a light bow.

"I saw you presenting the exhibits. Very keen talent," she said, sounding surprised. "And you, Miss…"

"Bonnie is fine," the kitsune said, looking enchanted with Greg's mother. "I am sure you know we've worked together for some time. And we're running the shop. Greg gets the hard part, the number crunching. I get the easy part, magical enchantments and runework."

"Hah! That's hardly difficult for him!" Remi patted Greg on the shoulder, before hugging Bonnie–she wheezed lightly from the tight grip. "My Gregory has always had a sharp mind! Fitting that he finds a sharp-witted fox to match! I dare say, I do love the idea of an enchantress in the family!"

"We're…uh…"

Fiona froze, too. How had word gotten out that Bonnie and Greg were a thing before they got here? She sincerely doubted Greg's father had discontinued his discreet surveillance since the last incident.

Time to deflect this awkardness. "Oh, Remi, when we work closely in a business, it is almost like having found family!" Fiona called out.

Remi turned and eyed Fiona as a sharpened smile emerged. "Oh, Gregory, you rogue. Are you thinking of underselling the hero of Fiefdala?"

This wasn't the first time her title hadn't exactly felt earned, and she rubbed one ear anxiously. "Uh…that title doesn't exactly track, now that Douglas was proven to be a fall guy," she said hesitantly. "Maybe if you count capturing Glados, sure. But that was a team effort!"

"Oh, that modesty doesn't suit you, dear," Remi sighed with a smile on her face. "You were displacing monsters and misguided cultists long before you dealt with that wretched woman and her enablers. Gregory, I must know! What is it like working in a legitimate business, one that is the talk of the town?"

"Exhausting," he said in an accurate, one-word summary. But a smile emerged a second later. "But rewarding."

"I heard a Gregory! Save me from this cursed place!" Anew voice from upstairs preceded a sound of delight as a teenage girl with long brown hair tied in a ponytail slid down the banister, rushing over to Greg and hugged him. "You have got to call more often!"

"Hi, Eveline. Believe me, you're better off here at home than what I've been uh...involved in," he answered awkwardly. "Everyone, this is my sister, currently at university. And also taking accounting," he added as he gave a scorching look upstairs, toward where his presumptive father was still lurking.

Eveline looked at Fiona's friends, then at her, and she gasped. "Wow, the hero of Fiefdala! I never thought I'd meet you!"

Fiona flexed a smile. "Well, you know, you don't have to look far. I run a shop. The customers can be almost as lethal as the monsters I made into coats, boots, and gloves, and...you get the idea."

The enthusiastic girl ran over and shook her hand. "But still, the newspaper plays you off as some larger-than-life person! I mean, you're a little tall, but it's good to see the hype lives up! Thank you so much for keeping Gregory out of the house and in an occupation he loves!"

"I think most of that is your brother, and little of my influence." Greg coughed softly, and Bonnie giggled beside him. "So, accounting, marketing? Good stuff!"

Eveline's expression soured instantly. "Math hurts. I took the classes to spite Father. Guess I'm regretting it now, but still, I can do magical math!" she added, a smirk returning to her face.

"I wish your father would take a lesson from you, on that front, balancing equations of family." Remi frowned and tapped her relay. "Thanatos, your son and his friends are downstairs. Stop keeping us waiting for a dramatic arrival."

Fiona heard Greg's father, with his satin-smooth voice emanating from the device. "Drama? Hardly, dear. This is business."

Remi gripped the device to the point that Fiona heard the metal frame creak. "Listen, buster, if I hear one more word about 'business' I will drag you from your office by your ear!" She snapped. "Come on down, now!"

The call had the intended effect, and the salt and pepper-haired patriarch came down the stairs, wearing a dark suit and dress pants to match. He smiled as he saw the gathered team. "Gregory, have you come to return to the fold?"

"No, Dad," he replied sourly. "I came for…dinner."

Thanatos smiled politely. "Ah, plenty of time for convincing. Zachary, is dinner prepared?" he called out, and the chef nodded.

"Yes, indeed. I was about to make the call."

Thanatos clapped his hands together. "Splendid. We'll have plenty to talk about. Robert, please, you can come down."

Another man walked down the stairs, and Fiona saw he looked like an oversized otter, with sleek brown fur and dressed in a sleek business suit. He was joined by two lean men, also river Folk, and stood nearby, like bodyguards. He eyed the guests and stood next to Thanatos, regarding the party with interest. "You didn't mention your son would be here. What a development."

"Last-minute arrival. Greg, I'd like to introduce a future business partner; we've just been wrapping up some negotiations. This is Robert Santino. Of Santino Acquisitions, Incorporated."

Fiona wanted to grab her hammer and wipe that smug grin off his face. The only thing stopping her was the subtle shake of Greg's head. Once she gave it more than half a second of thought, a few scenarios played out.

One, Santino was here on actual business, with a former rival. Odd, but not impossible.

Two, he was here to dismiss his involvement in the previously attempted robbery; she knew that not all the family were involved in dirty deeds.

Three…this was playing out like a mafia movie.

And probably not one of the good ones, either.

Everyone else's expressions said as much, Greg especially. He still managed to force out a calm response. "Yes, what a delight, truly."