The Heart Grows

Fife stared, completely distracted from her work building a war party to delve the goblin dungeon for the last time. "That. Is. Awesome! Did Axel make that for you?" She had to tilt her head up to look the gnoll woman in the face, which hadn't been a problem for her even before she'd finally grown into an upright dragon that surpassed most humans. "I've always thought of using a heavy flail, but that's something else!"

The big gnoll woman looked down at the weapon at her side and bared her teeth in a smile of anticipation. The handle was as long as Fife's forearm, the chains of it that length again (covered in nasty, sharp hooks), and the three cylindrical heads had spikes fashioned into them. "Good weapon. Cut down many trees for it." Rolling her shoulder, she squinted her already small eyes at Fife and tried to get an idea of her chances of beating the dragon. It didn't matter. If they fought, it would be a joyous clash. "Want me show how works?"

Taking stock of the gnoll again, she had to admire the compact defensive equipment which consisted of a segmented adamantine sleeve covering her weapon arm from shoulder to gauntlet, and a square adamantine shield.

"After we deal with these goblins." The pure predatory hunger in the gnoll's eyes was like a cascade of heat passing through Fife. She could remember something she read in one of Travis' books, and liked the way the statement sounded. "Then we can live our best lives."

Speaking up for the first time, the male gnoll bowed. "If it pleases the warmaster, I will write a song of the battle underground, and the mighty heroes celebrating in ritual combat?"

Fife loved the idea and the title he'd used. "Yeah! We need more music around here." She watched as the towering gnoll killing machine with the flail leaned down and with the most tender of expressions on her face, kissed the male gently on the cheek. "You're mates?" Seeing a huge warrior like the gnoll woman blushing was quite the sight.

"Yes. He's mine."

A little away from the conversation, but nonetheless overhearing it, Astrid looked at Hreti as he grinned at her. His fur was thinner since he'd had Fife give him the same red dragon traits as the rest of his pack, but he had a lot of scales showing through the fuzz and looked to have the most armor coverage of them of their group. "You invited her to hunt?"

"Yeah! She's been on a great hunt!" Hreti raised an armored fist to his chest, thumping the adamantine plate he wore and making it clang loudly as if it weren't any heavier to him than a cotton shirt. "She's fearless and doesn't hesitate to kill." He still wasn't as used to the big lizard tail he had now as he would have liked, but nonetheless he felt it swaying side to side behind him.

Raising an eyebrow, Astrid asked, "Are you chasing her tail?" The way he froze, like a young wolf caught in the act of stealing, made Astrid sigh. "Go ahead. You're not a pup. But don't challenge your competition. You will only win that woman's heart with your own actions."

Grunting at that, Hreti shrugged. "If I killed him, she'd be angry. She likes him more than just as a—" He stopped himself from saying something that Astrid probably would have punched him for. "She wants lessons in using axes."

"Keep your head on straight and don't get distracted. We get to hunt a dungeon and kill it this time." Even saying it made a prickle of excitement run down Astrid's spine. Their preparations were interrupted as Hilda approached. She watched her pack all stiffen a little. "Captain," Astrid said, greeting the hard-faced woman she'd specifically stopped taking orders from.

Hilda let out a grunt of acknowledgment, not sure if she wanted to hear that level of formality anymore. "I'm not going to apologize for my actions. They were the right ones. The enemy—"

"Were more powerful than my pack and took us apart one by one, and we were each given a choice, a place by their side, death in combat, or exile. Now we have a place we can be ourselves." Astrid did her best not to snarl, but she felt a heat burn inside. "You're not coming on this hunt, Hilda."

Not prepared for this new Astrid she'd been presented with, Hilda let their history drop and instead attacked the current problem. "Why not? I've recovered."

Stepping up into Hilda's personal space, Astrid was happy that she could look down at the woman who'd ordered her pack to its death. "Because you're only human, and can't run for a week—day and night—without tiring. Because you can't do that and then fight at the end."

It stopped Hilda dead in her tracks. The wolves of the northlands had always been impressive fighters, but now Astrid had something more mixed in with her lupine heritage. "This is because you serve the ho—" Hilda felt the imminent threat of Astrid's reaction to her own almost-voiced insult. She could try to lie and call it habit, but the truth was she had intended to throw the words in Astrid's face.

With her own anger calming, Hilda took a slow breath and stepped back—knowing full well what that would mean to Astrid and her wolves. "I offer my honor and my arm, for that is all I have left. Truly, tell me, is it that hard a fight?" Hilda couldn't read the expression on Astrid's lupine/draconic mix face, but the soft sigh that escaped her lips sounded like pure joy.

"It is. We run, we kill, we do that for days and then"—Astrid shivered—"and then we will tear that hole's heart to shreds."

Now Hilda needed absolutely no translation of body features to know what Astrid felt. She grunted, took a deep breath, and said, "Good hunting."

Snapping her eyes on Hilda's own, Astrid dipped her head only slightly. "And you. I heard Pen is back in the dungeon, so you might want to take the initiative and ask her for your fight."

It was Hilda's turn to feel the joyful anticipation of combat. She wanted to say more to Astrid, but even as the moment came to do so, Astrid turned away and led her wolves to where Fife stood. Breathing a little heavily, Hilda wondered where she should go to find a specific dragon in a city that seemed to venerate the creatures.

Elanor was feeling rather done-in. Her final delve, after being resurrected following her challenge with Hreti, had been completed without death. She knew she had a slight odor, but there was a bath in the suite that Stewart had arranged for her and she intended to use it.

Leaving Travis' entrance in Home, she walked along the road to the main gate of the keep, trailing her fingers along the wall. She could feel Home humming to itself, and the kingdom felt revitalized. The wagons queued up at Travis' entrance, along with the few that had passed her hauling ingots of mithril, adamantine, and gold, were part of the reason. Or, so she thought. "Home, are you satisfied that Sir Travis means no harm?"

"Friend. Dungeon Travis is my friend. So much new activity! I'm bubbling with power and I can feel more still pouring through all my inhabitants." Home felt positively chatty. Since the linking with Travis, Breeze, and Northridge, it no longer felt the loneliness of a city whose leader spent more time focused on the kingdom it was a part of.

"Sir Travis is the only nobleman I trust implicitly. King Stewart is almost there, but I might need a little more convincing." Another fully-loaded wagon rolled past Elanor as she reached the gate. When she was stopped, she sized up the guardsman. He looked serious about his business, and Elanor had to remind herself that he was literally one of Stewart's guards now. "I'm here to see King Stewart."

"And who are—"

"Escort her in. That's Lady Elanor," another guard called, interrupting the man who'd stopped her.

Elanor felt relief to not need to prove herself and, truly, she realized she hardly looked like a lady in her armor, carrying a shield, a pair of pistols, and a spear over her shoulder. "I don't need an escort."

"Begging Your Ladyship's pardon, but we are still undertaking the new king's investiture, and as you are aware, not all of our number have had the privilege of your presence." The guard, despite his initial fumble, was now absolutely calm and steady in his address of her. "So, to facilitate a smooth entry to the keep, it would be an honor to forestall any further missteps."

It was a perfect disarming of any possible argument she could have. Elanor sighed. "You're very good at that speech," she said, moving to walk beside the guardsman.

The guardsman didn't smirk, though his reply sounded like he had. "We represent the King. We must know how to speak to the nobles seeking his presence."

Remembering the stones where Penelope had landed, and seeing the claw marks in them, Elanor felt buoyed up by the reminder that she got to both train in Travis' mini dungeons and spend time with Stewart now. "And when he says to tell them to remove themselves from the clean cobblestones?"

"Then we do so with every bit as much honor as the King would want."

Entering the keep proper, Elanor held her silence as they slowly walked through the hall. She had seen plenty of petitioners waiting here on her way out of the keep earlier, but now, in the late afternoon, it was empty of all but guards.

"Lady Elanor to see his—"

"Sorry," Elanor said, cutting off her escort. "I'd actually rather head up to my suite first and freshen up."

There was no pained sigh. No apparent annoyance in the guardsman at all, merely a nod and a gesture to a side exit of the hall that she knew would take her to the upper level rooms.

When they reached the floor where Elanor's suite was located, he finally broke and asked, "You train with those weapons, my lady?"

"I do. Lord Travis—the new dungeon in the city—has been sponsoring me with equipment and training. Today I spent several hours battling his minions in three small training dungeons he has designed." Approaching her quarters, Elanor was surprised when the guardsman opened the door and stepped in first, then made room for her. "Thank you."

"Can't be too careful." Bowing himself out of the entryway, the guardsman pulled the doors closed behind him.

Alone in her rooms, Elanor began stripping off her armor. The cuirass had to go first. She carried it through to the bedroom and set it on the arming stand. Her chain mail went next, then her arming doublet, and finally her shirt, trousers, and underthings before entering the bathroom.

The bath was an ornate tub of beaten steel, coated in ceramic. Above it, a gold mana filtering array stood with various stones and pipes running through it. Elanor reached for the little crystal on the end of one such pipe and brushed her hand over it.

Hot water began spilling from the pipe. Elanor hurried to seal the drain with a lever before watching the intricate play of magic work in the system. She gathered soaps to the side of the bath, a handful of loose soap flakes, and then slipped in as it was almost half full.

The heat soaked into her muscles and eased soreness she didn't realize she'd had. She stopped the spout before the tub overfilled, and got to work cleaning herself off and finding all the little rub marks and wounds that she'd suffered in the mini dungeon after her second resurrection for the day.

Clean, and letting the enchantments on the tub keep it warm for her, Elanor was on the verge of sleep when she heard the knocking on her bedroom door. Glancing at the water, and seeing it cloudy enough that no modesty would be lost, she called to what she thought would be a maid to, "Come in."

There were a lot of things Stewart thought a lady could be doing in her private quarters that she wouldn't ask for time before inviting him in, but reclining in a tub wasn't one of them. "L-Lady Elanor!"

Caught, Elanor almost squealed and slid down a little further into the water to hide herself. "Stewart. I didn't— Oh goddess, I didn't anticipate it would be you."

"I'll leave—"

"Wait. Uh…" Her mind racing, Elanor blurted out, "There's a chair in my bedroom. If you sit on it and face the other way, we can talk."

With the option of several chairs, Stewart picked up the nearest and set it down, turned away from Elanor's bathroom. "Was your day pleasant?"

It was too much for her. Elanor laughed. "Stewart, I died twice today, had my arm cut off, and gained another level in Soldier for the fights I won. Also, I will be getting some axe training from the man who got my arm before I could shoot him." Splashing the water a little as her mood turned playful, she added, "And, I get to relax in a hot bath while talking to the most handsome man in the kingdom."

Stewart was following her description of her training when his train of thought got completely derailed by the end. He smiled and felt a burst of desire to peek over his shoulder, but he was a gentleman. "Does it hurt?"

"Dying? Not exactly." Elanor fished for words to describe it. "At the moment it is happening, things aren't working right or you don't have enough blood and you can't exactly think straight. The pain fades, then you wake up on an altar wi— Wait, you've never had to use a talisman?"

Shaking his head, then realizing she might not be watching him, Stewart said, "No. My father didn't want to risk the kingdom falling to another with his assassination while I was resurrecting. So, my training never included that, and then I found an amazing woman who keeps putting herself between violence and my person."

"What did they ambush you with today?" Elanor asked, taking her time to drain the tub and rinse herself off.

"Everything. Absolutely everything. It's as if my father's promises mean nothing to them." It was a struggle not to jump to his feet and rant.

"So, why don't you make an announcement of that?" Getting out of the tub, Elanor realized her mistake: all her clothing was in her bedroom. Pondering how to handle that, she took the executive decision and cleared her throat. "Close your eyes. I need to fetch something to wear."

Stewart's first reaction was to stare at the opposite wall, eyes wide, but he gathered his wits and his honor and snapped them closed. The sounds of footsteps upon the wooden-paneled floor made him try to latch onto anything that might rescue him from the goings-on around him. "I don't want all of Father's rules." The situation playing out had to be struck from his thoughts as he plowed through the problem mentally. "He was— He made a lot of mistakes. Not moving faster on the Marquess was the latest, and last, but there were other signs that he wasn't keeping abreast of matters. I don't want to let the kingdom stagnate because its leader couldn't keep up. I—" Stewart froze as his senses told him someone was very close and in front of him.

"I'm dressed appropriately, you can open your eyes." Elanor had put on a shirt, a pair of trousers, and her favorite shoes—which were far from the more elegant things the ladies at court wore. She particularly liked the utilitarian "lady's boot" because it allowed easier movement and sure footing while still raising her heels. That's what she focused on now, at least, and not how pretty she thought Stewart looked when he blushed.

Making a conscious effort to snap his mouth closed, Stewart stood up. "Dinner will be served as soon as we assemble." There was something creeping up in the back of his mind. It wasn't fully realized yet, but Stewart felt like a little more thought on his courtly situation might reveal some larger truth for him. "After you?"

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This story is released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. If you are paying money to see this or the original creator, Damaged, is not credited, you are viewing a plagiarized copy of the story.