Chapter 42 - All is Well (Patreon)

The four Fey who had devoted themselves to Edwin—the Dryad Willow, the Theriad Nala, the Naiad Chiya, and the Sylph Free—their first nights in Sandy Branch were already abnormal enough for them to be concerned.

Willow was the first to awake. She found Chiya wrapped around her in bed. Her pale skin was cool to the touch. At her back, Willow felt strong muscles and a long, broad body built for power. Its owner, Edwin, was sleeping soundly. Nala and Free were on the other side of Edwin, nuzzled together, sleeping blissfully with the faint rise and fall of their breathing.

Willow was usually the first to awake, save for a few times she deeply regretted. When Edwin woke before her, rare as it was, it always ate at her dignity, a blemish on the discipline she prided herself on.

Gently, Willow lifted her bare back off Edwin while nudging Chiya awake with a soft rub against the gills at her neck—as she had done many times before. Chiya’s eyes shot up in an instant, startled, but she calmed as soon as she saw Willow, knowing she was being woken for work.

The two of them left the bed. It was hot out, and that heat saturated the room. Chiya was already sweating, her skin damp and glistening. Her kind were more susceptible to sunlight and heat than other devils and humans. Having held another person all night only made it worse. As she put on the clothes she and the others had stashed nearby the night before, with Willow doing the same, they quietly exited the room to start their day’s duties.

Outside, in a hallway, the first rays of light cracked through, signaling the start of the day. Fey soldiers stood tall with weapons at the ready. It looked as if many of them did not sleep, and of those who had, they’d barely rested for a few hours. The air was heavy with vigilance, their eyes darting toward every creak in the floorboards or distant murmur beyond the walls.

While Edwin and Elaine were comfortable in these lands and confident in their powers, the rest of the Fey, even the other Primordials, were not. They’d grown up hearing stories of humans raping and enslaving their kind. Tales of cruelty stuck most—slaving raids, poisoned rivers, hostages murdered when ransoms failed. It was ironic that humans called them devils when the Fey thought the same of humans. For their kind—for the Primordials in Arcadia and Paradise—the word “human” was just as derogatory as “devil,” if not more so.

Willow knew this, as did Chiya, Nala, and Free. But they kept these concepts to themselves, carrying the weight of prejudice like a second skin.

One Fey, a young recruit barely twenty years of age, was standing in full armor just outside Edwin’s door. His eyes had large bags under them, and Willow could tell from his overall demeanor that the boy was exhausted. His grip on the spear shaft trembled slightly, and his armor straps sagged as if he’d not had the energy to fasten them properly. It also helped that his tail, busy and foxlike, was swaying low like it wanted to tuck itself away between his legs.

Willow walked past him and touched his arm. “Thank you for keeping us safe in these strange lands,” she whispered as she walked past, ready to perform her duties.

“Get some rest,” added Chiya as she followed Willow downstairs. “And be mindful of the guard change. Our Lord is still sleeping.”

“Of course.” The guard nodded. His eyes had a bit more light in them than they did before.

The two Fey royals descended into the bottom of their side of Beginner’s Rest. Through the windows, they could see there were still many locals outside watching them. Most were humans, but there were Fey mixed in as well. Their expressions were consistent. Some looked curious while others were scared. A small minority were angry. But all were waiting for something to happen, whatever that may be. The murmurs outside were low and tense, like the sound of a storm gathering.

We should grab the Lady and leave, Willow thought, pouting internally. She’s been indoctrinated by these savages. It’d be best to get her on the ship, have us teach her while we ride back to Paradise, and then lavish her with the wealth and privilege long overdue for her to abuse.

Chiya, on the other hand, was thrilled. My brothers are going to be so jealous I made it here. But disappointed I didn’t kill a human. Oh well. Maybe we’ll fix that by the end of the trip. Here’s hoping!

“I will do a perimeter check,” said Willow, essentially the leader of the four. It was something decided through combat and intelligence, of which Willow surpassed Chiya, Nala, and Free by high margins. “Please—”

“Check on Elaine.” Chiya nodded. “Of course.”

“She has a title,” muttered Willow. But Chiya was already walking away, nearly skipping, and didn’t hear these words.

Willow descended fully downstairs, shouting orders, while Chiya crossed the hall toward a room far from Edwin’s. She lightly rapped her knuckles on the door. “My Lady?” Hearing no response, Chiya tentatively opened the unlocked door and stepped inside.

The room was in tatters. Shattered. Wrecked.

The bed frame was splintered. The mattress was on the floor, while the wood frame was torn apart and its beams driven into the wall. The lone desk and chair lay in a crushed pile. Everything else was torn apart and slashed as if a violent storm had swept through. The metallic tang of dried blood still lingered in the air, mixing with the stale odor of splintered wood and dust, making the silence heavier.

Elaine was lying on the bed, by herself, wide awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She was wearing the clothes she had worn the night before. Blood and dirt caked her so heavily that it was hard to see her skin. Her stillness was eerie, her chest barely rising with breath.

“Would you like me to run you a bath?” asked Chiya, terrified.

“Yes, please,” said Elaine weakly.

“As you wish.” Chiya deftly darted out of the room and headed downstairs. “Something’s wrong with that woman,” she muttered to herself.

•••

I rolled over as sharp rays of sunlight swam over my closed eye. The sun’s sting slowly lulled me awake as my nose squished with annoyance and my throat let out a low groan. The room was already warm, carrying the faint smell of wood and linen, dust motes drifting lazily through the golden shafts of light breaking through the curtains.

Blinking, I took in the world around me. I was in my room, awake and alive. Everything felt weirdly distant. It freaked me out for a moment until I remembered I only had one eye. Then my vision settled in, the world felt a little less bright, and I sighed at the loss as I did every day I woke up since Faragore took half my sight.

I shifted my head on my pillow, the fabric cool against my cheek.

My horn jabbed something soft.

“Owwww,” groaned a voice, weakened, exhausted, and coming out of sleep.

Rolling my head to the left, I saw Christopher. He rubbed the middle of his forehead, his eyes slowly cracked open, heavy with lingering fatigue. His blond hair was tangled from sleep, the sunlight catching strands and turning them almost white.

“Sorry.” I reached up and touched my horns. “Didn’t put their sheathes on.”

“Their sheathes,” joked Christopher. He sat up some. My bed sheet slid off him, revealing his bare chest and stomach. His skin carried the faint sheen of warmth, muscles toned but relaxed from rest. My gaze flickered that way involuntarily before I forced it up to his face.

“It’s a cushioned piece of cloth I slide over my horns,” I said, peeling my gaze up to his eyes. “What else am I—”

Christopher’s eyes had darted down to me. The moment he heard me talk, he looked back up. “Hmm?”

I looked down and realized I was in a similar situation to Christopher, the sheet pooled around my waist.

“See something you like?” I teased, glancing back at Christopher.

“Did you?”

“Touche.”

Christopher grabbed my shoulders and pulled me into his body. He was warm to the touch and comforting, his arms tightening as if reluctant to let go. His breath was still heavy with sleep, and the faint scent of soap from the night before clung to him. “Better,” he muttered.

“Much,” I agreed.

“No, I just can’t listen to what you’re saying when you’re naked.”

“Ah, and here I thought you just wanted to feel my chest on your body.”

“That too.”

Chuckling, I pushed Christopher away, gently nudging his face. “We need to get up. Our guests could be looking for us.”

“Our lovely guests.” Christopher slammed his head back into my pillow and put his arm over his eyes. “A full day of lying.”

“Better than us recovering from a siege of some kind,” I said as I slipped on a silky black dress over my body. The fabric clung briefly before sliding into place, cool against my skin. “At least we’re alive.”

“Hooray.”

“You can stay here if you like.” I walked over to Christopher’s side of the bed and playfully climbed over him, resting my hands on his chest, my chin on my hands, and staring into his eyes. “I’m the only person they care about.”

“Story of my life.”

“No, people cared about you.” I kissed him on the lips, smiled, and stood back up. “Enough to try and kill you,” I joked as I fluffed and fixed my hair in the faint reflection from the mirror by the wall.

“Thanks for the reminder,” joked Christopher. I watched him watch me, but his gaze lingered before making it back to my eyes.

“Still wound up?” I suggested, lifting my pointer finger with a grin.

“Would you stay if I say yes?”

“No, but it means you’ll be fine for later.” I waved playfully at Christopher. “Bye-bye!”

“Mean,” he chided as I closed my door behind him.

Sandy Branch was essentially a lawless town now. Christopher’s former role as its “leader” was circumvented by my reputation. That and me busting up fights around town ever since the mercenaries and the adventurers came to our doorsteps made me ruler by default in Christopher’s place. We were like some sort of pirate town, coasting by on drink, food, and fighting rather than an actual place someone would want to live.

As I approached town, though, I realized that would all be changing. Large groups of mercenaries and adventurers were packing up to leave town. Wagons rattled with clinking gear, boots stomped through mud, and voices carried a blend of nerves and bitterness. When I got closer, most of them stared at me, startled and worried. From what little I could make out from the mutters, my words from the previous night had an impact.

“Gotta get out of here.”

“She’ll watch us die with a smile on her face.”

“Can’t trust the bastards around here not to get us killed. Gotta go.”

“You seen Selom and the gang? The five of them went out drinking last night and haven’t returned yet. I’m getting worried.”

“Think we could kill them if we stormed the inn right now while they’re sleeping?”

“Bitch is on their side, isn’t she?”

I perked up when I heard that one. Smiling, I looked in the general noise and heard that comment. “Then you’d best run, huh?”

It was dead silent all around me as soon as I said that. A few men lowered their gazes, shifting uncomfortably. I paid it no mind and headed toward Beginner’s Rest.

Honestly, things were going better than I thought they would. There was no war, the Primordials hadn’t forced me to leave as soon as they made it to shore, and Edwin seemed reasonable, to a degree, even if he was most certainly lying to me. I’d also learned I was basically Primordial royalty, and four maids who served Edwin taught me hours of information I’d only dreamed of, free of charge.

But I was still skeptical. Admittedly, a lot less cautious, but still leery of what was to come.

As I got close to Beginner’s Rest, I poked inside the front part where Tannin and Bruno usually resided. To my surprise, they were there, as were Gai, Gabby, and Lex.

“Morning!” I chimed to them. Looking around, I noticed something peculiar. “It’s empty.”

“Thanks to you,” said Gai. He gave me a thumbs up. “Great speech last night. Three-fourths of the town decided to leave after seeing Edwin and hearing your little ‘maybe’ threat. The rest are camped out at the back half of the inn.”

“Now we’re operating in a ghost town,” said Tannin. She was sitting alone at the bar with multiple empty drinks in front of her. It was barely sunrise. She’d either started drinking a while ago, or had been the night before and had not stopped yet. Her hair was messy, her eyes glassy. “We’re going to have to close up shop, aren’t we?” she mentioned to Bruno.

“If we must,” said Bruno, confirming nothing.

“Oh, here.” Gai opened his codex and pulled out a sheet, which he gave to Tannin. “Edwin paid to rent out the entire inn on both sides. He wants this to be his home base for the foreseeable future.”

“Let’s see.” Tannin read the paper. Instantly, her eyes widened. “One hundred and fifty thousand coins?!”

Even my eyes shot up. Even after years of killing monsters, I only had around ninety-eight thousand. I’d probably have more if I weren’t so into alchemy and failed arcwork attempts, but ninety-eight thousand was a lot. I could easily have bought multiple large plots of land with that money. Killing packs of Savage and Feral Tier monsters added up over the years, and I didn’t have to split any of my proceeds with a gang of adventurers backing me up. Plus, I was making and selling potions for Dr. Bink’s clinic for a while. Considering that and how little I needed high-value weapons and potions every time I went into the Forest of Beginners, I had way more money than I reasonably should have had.

And yet, it barely made me a low-level noble. Quintin, through his gigs in the Forest of Beginners, leading adventurers through the territory, probably brought in twenty to twenty-five thousand coins a year. Compared to nobles and merchants in major cities, that was nothing. Some made hundreds of thousands in a single year by collecting taxes or trading at scale.

In sum, one hundred and fifty thousand coins was a staggering amount for a town like Sandy Branch—enough to change its fate overnight.

“They can stay as long as they want,” muttered Tannin, still shocked. Her eyes never blinked as she stared at the single codex page Gai gave her. “Long live Paradise, or whatever. Holy shit.”

Bruno smiled and rubbed his wife’s head. He was just glad to see her tension eased.

“Anything amiss?” I directed at Gai and Lex.

“Oh, I didn’t sleep a wink last night.” Gabby waved her hand in front of her face, clearly stressed. “Who could? You’d have to be a nut. Where did you watch them from last night? We didn’t see you?”

I blinked rapidly, deciding a lie was most appropriate. “If you didn’t see me, then you did a good job.” I went out on a limb and guessed what had happened, resting my arms behind my head. “Mostly quiet. Just some complaints from the locals.” I jerked my finger behind me to the outside. “So sorry to see them go.”

“I didn’t notice anything either,” admitted Lex, confirming my guess was correct. “They’re a quiet company. Their guards seem on edge, but the four Fey women, the red-haired one, and Edwin are as calm as can be, considering this is enemy territory for them.”

“Means they’re all very confident fighters,” said Gai. “That’d be my bet.”

“Agreed.”

“And it’s about time I joined them.” I pointed at Gai. “Make sure to crack the whip on the remaining Mercs and Adventurers. If they’re staying, they’re working for us. Got it?”

“Oh, I’ll gladly remind them.”

With that, I left the inn’s front-facing section and made my way to the back. While there were still people outside, the Fey occupied the area. There were only a few dozen, and not the hundred there were the night before.

“I did not think the speech was that good,” I whispered to myself.

I didn’t see all the Trailblazers, but I did see one: Bydon. He gave me a nod from a secure location on a rooftop nearby. I nodded back, but also gestured with my thumb up, midway, and down, hoping he’ll reply in kind. Bydon gave me a thumbs up, indicating things were good. I nodded again, turned my back to him, and headed into the wealthy side of Beginner’s Rest.

The doors opened for me as I approached. Two Fey guards—one a Theriad and the other a Dryad—did so for me. Willow stood in between them inside, as regal as she looked the day before.

“Welcome, my Lady.” Willow bowed, stepped aside, and gestured for me to enter. “Lord Syn has been alerted to your presence and will be down shortly. Do you need anything while you wait?”

“I don’t think so, no,” I replied. The reverence and respect were baffling after twenty years of anxiety, self-hatred, and uncertainty. “I’ll just…sit over there, I guess,” I said, pointing at a small array of chairs just over by the door.

“Of course.” Willow smiled.

I did as I said, and Willow followed. She stood beside me, waiting, not saying a word.

I uncomfortably crossed my legs and tried to ignore her, but I didn’t have the personality for it. Instead, I looked up and asked, “Do you want to talk?”

Willow looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re standing here silently.”

“In case you need something.”

“O-Oh.” I was startled by the answer. “Would you please take a seat then?”

“I cannot.” Refused Willow quickly. “Lord Syn will be down shortly.”

“Alright,” I muttered. She was very different from the prior day.

Literally none of the people acted like I thought they would.

Eventually, Edwin came downstairs. He was dressed like he was the day before—in a full dark suit with his messy white hair partially tied into a low ponytail behind his head. His grey eyes were alight with energy as he looked at me with fake glee. “Good morning, my dear Yen. I trust you had a good night.”

“That’s a question I should be asking you.” I stood up, smoothed off the front of my cheap black dress, and walked until I was in front of Edwin. “Were your accommodations acceptable?”

“If they weren’t, I’d have had someone complain to the human with the orange eyes,” said Edwin. “Strange eye color for someone running this inn.”

“We tell him all the time he’s wasting his potential,” I lied. “He was born with the eyes yet doesn’t like to fight.”

“A pity,” muttered Edwin. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. “Regardless, he was charming. For a human.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate hearing that from you.”

“Perhaps later.” Edwin looked past me as if he were deep in thought. “Do you mind bringing me somewhere?”

“Oh.” I recoiled a bit but held the surprise in. “Where?”

Edwin smiled sadly. It looked completely genuine. “I wish to see where Melania died.” His voice echoed with past memories I could only imagine. He seemed truly heartbroken, which shocked and worried me.

Does he have feelings, too? I wonder, staring at Edwin’s face. Then what was all the shit yesterday? Was he lying? Is it just a me thing?

Before I could ask a question, Edwin bobbed his head to the side. “Is that too much trouble?”

“Not at all,” I replied, breaking myself from my thoughts. “It’ll take an hour.”

“I have all the time in the world.”

•••

Edwin and Yen arrived at the shores where Melania had died shortly after his request to visit. By mid-morning, the sky was clear and sharp with light, streaks of pale gold cutting across the restless waves. The tide was high, the water dark and heavy, its roar carrying up the beach in steady, shuddering breaths. Once, this place had been drowned in blood—bodies strewn across the sand like discarded offerings. Now only scattered bones half-buried beneath shifting dunes remained, their edges bleached white by sun and salt. The air smelled of brine and faint rot, a memory clinging stubbornly to the shore.

Edwin’s face stiffened. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his heart thudding against his ribs as though trying to tear its way out. The memories of his love rose unbidden, feelings he thought had long calcified into nothing. But here, they returned raw and jagged, a grief so sharp it threatened to split him open. He had not believed a Primordial could still feel anything once the object of their obsession was gone. To their kind, “feelings” were a sickness, whispered about like contagion. They were meant to be shed, discarded, forgotten. Yet the ache in his chest mocked every lesson he had been taught. Perhaps there was more to their emotions than he understood—but he had no way of asking, no one he could trust with such weakness, no answers waiting for him.

Yen moved ahead, her bare feet sinking lightly into the sand. The wind whipped at her hair and tugged her dress against her frame, a restless energy pulling her toward the water. She stopped near the tide line where the waves reached forward, receded, and returned again, depositing fragments of splintered wood on the shore. “It was here.” Her voice was low, steady, yet carried the weight of certainty. She pointed to a dark patch of sand dampened by the tide. “This is where I washed up. Where my mother likely died.”

Edwin stared at the place she indicated. His limbs felt like stone, his feet refusing to move. The gulls wheeled overhead, their shrill cries grating against the pounding in his skull. It was only when Yen looked back at him, confusion flickering in her single eye, that strength finally returned to his body. Even then, each step forward felt as though the earth itself resisted him, the sand dragging against his boots, his heartbeat hammering louder with every pace.

At last, he reached the spot. Slowly, Edwin lowered himself to one knee, his long coat brushing against the wet sand. He pressed his fingers into the grains where Yen had pointed, the coarse texture clinging to his skin. He scooped a handful and lifted it, staring at the dull grit in his palm. When he opened his hand, the grains fell in a thin stream, carried instantly by the sea wind, scattering between him and Yen like dust from a shattered relic.

It’s almost like I can feel her essence. Edwin thought. The idea struck him with such force that his throat tightened. But he dismissed it just as quickly. Impossible. Mana no longer flows the way it once did. The Ancient One saw to that. The bands on our fingers prove it. Even if I tried, her mana would be long gone. After this much time, nothing should remain. It would take a miracle.

The thoughts dragged him down, pulling him into the undertow of his own mind. They had haunted him the entire night, shadows lurking no matter how he tried to distract himself. Not even the company of his Fey servants had dulled the hollow ache in his chest. The cold, practical mind he had lived behind for twenty years was fracturing—and that terrified him more than death itself.

“Edwin?”

His head snapped up at the sound of Yen’s voice, her tone cautious, almost gentle.

For a heartbeat, he saw Melania’s face.

Not entirely.

Not fully.

But enough.

Her profile against the sea light, the curve of her cheek, the steadiness in her gaze—it pierced him like a blade. She looks so much like her mother. The thought burned through him, unstoppable.

And just like that, the past he had kept buried surged back, overwhelming him. It battered through his defenses, hollowing him out as he stared into the face of someone he had once loved—the fragments of Melania that lived on, undeniable, standing before him in Yen.