Savarah dust still covered us in the morning when we asked Basilborough’s citizens about Fletcher and Lloyd’s passing. Their helpful and talkative manner made a welcome contrast to Darton Rock’s standoffish reception.

  When we asked around for news of ragged refugees from Arlington, the townspeople knew of no people fitting my description. Instead, they spoke of a large group of high-spirited, clean, freshly clothed pilgrims traveling to Hawkhurst. Their description made it sound like Fletcher took care of his flock in Belden. The big news around Basilborough revolved around him cleaning out the general store of supplies, clothes, and seeds before heading east. The gold I gave him had served its purpose.

  Fabulosa and I picked up our horses in the Basilborough livery stable and followed the days-old trail of 65 travelers. We found the well-worn trail easily and traveled swiftly. We never reached galloping speed because tree roots still posed dangers to horses, but we trotted along at a brisk pace. With the trail cleared and riding on mounts, it took less than two days to journey home.

  Giving up gubernatorial status seemed a necessary precaution, but losing access to the settlement interface prevented me from knowing the town’s status, like changes to population or work assignments. If I could see everyone serving militia slots, then I’d know trouble awaited.

  Fabulosa and I headed to Hawkhurst blind, so finding the town on high alert wasn’t completely unexpected. When we entered Hawkhurst Meadow, two Sternway guards, Sami and Rachel, veered toward us to greet us on horseback.

  Fabulosa urged her mount to pick up the pace once we cleared the woods. “Howdy. Have y’all seen any gnolls?”

  Rachel brought her steed to a halt before us. “Sir, ma’am.”

  They wore Fort Krek colors, offered no formalities, and rushed through their salutations. My interactions with them had been limited, but I could still tell something was amiss.

  Sami nodded to my partner. “Nothing to report since yesterday.”

  Fabulosa darted a look at me before responding. “Something happened yesterday?”

  Sami nodded. “It’s The Gang of Three, ma’am.”

  I recognized the name from the gnolls in Tully’s Pub. They came from the criminal syndicate in Grayton. “How is the town? Did Lloyd arrive okay with the refugees?”

  Rachel spat out the details. “Governor Sternway arrived with the new recruits three days ago. They bivouacked the refugees in the bailey pavilion. The gnolls came and went yesterday, then headed north.”

  Fabulosa turned to the roundhouses. “And the rest of town?”

  Sami shrugged. “Work on the barracks has stalled, I think. Commander Iris has guards on double rotation, and Captain Yula is on recon for signs of gnolls.”

  Rachel shrugged. “We were in the rack when the dogs came, so we didn’t see what happened. Commander Iris briefed us. All I know is the gnolls gave the town a quick sniff and left.”

  Fabulosa looked at me for answers. “Why would they go north? Aren’t goblins supposed to hate gnolls?”

  I wondered if Winterbyte might have made a massive miscalculation in trying to enlist goblin help. Either way, I wouldn’t say I liked the idea of her stirring up our neighbors. “Did the gnolls come from the north?”

  Both mercenaries shrugged. Sami pointed to the Highwall Mountains. “Captain Yula reported they came from the south. Maybe they were passing through?”

  I swallowed hard. “No—not likely. Thanks for the update, guys.”

  We galloped into town, leaving the guards behind to perform their patrol. Even after days of walking, I could tell Jasper enjoyed the run. When we reached the town hall, I searched for Ally to find out what had happened to our construction crew and why they weren’t working on the barracks.

  I didn’t recognize the humans surrounding Rocky in the town hall’s kitchen area, but I could tell they came from Arlington. The amount of food around them looked fit for a banquet, and it reminded me we had 119 mouths to feed.

  Rocky’s helpers had stains on their clothes—but only from food preparation. The kitchen staff focused on tasks, but pleasing the head chef stood paramount above all other concerns. At least Winterbyte had not made anyone too nervous to eat.

  Ally wasn’t in the town hall. Greenie and Fletcher sat at a table, going over something. When Fabulosa and I walked in, Fletcher clapped and exhaled in relief while Greenie remained courtly as ever. The pair joined us by the doorway, beyond earshot of the kitchen staff.

  Fletcher held up his hands. “I am glad to see you made it. We’ve oodles of news on our end.”

  Fletcher gestured to me. “Father rests in his perch. We couldn’t convince him otherwise, and since he’s in charge, the old goat isn’t listening to anyone. I can promote Fabulosa to L.T., but you must hail him in the tower if you want your old job.”

  Fabulosa’s nameplate changed to lieutenant governor. She grinned at Fletcher, who returned the sentiment.

  I turned to Greenie. “So, what happened?”

  Greenie bowed a formal welcome. “A pack of gnolls appeared not more than two days after the interim governor arrived. They came from the western shore of Otter Lake. The leader, Winterbyte—an odd name for a gnoll—spoke in the common tongue, pressing for your whereabouts. And as you directed, our lieutenant governor emeritus Fletcher Sternway reported of a mutiny on the river.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Fletcher looked woebegone. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid my performance wasn’t quite up to snuff. The chief barked something to the other gnolls searching the town. They growled back and forth at each other and turned north. I don’t believe they bought the ruse.”

  Greenie nodded to Fabulosa. “If I were to hazard a guess, his performance made quite a convincing show. But I’m not versed in the thespian arts. The gnolls likely sensed unease with the rest of us. We were not the supporting cast Mister Sternway deserves.”

  Fletcher tapped Greenie’s shoulder. “You are too kind, sir.”

  Greenie shook his head. “Not at all. But I’m afraid their visit has cast an ill shadow over the town, and our construction efficiency has suffered. Ally directed the dwarves to erect a temporary shelter within the bailey, and they’re now training in the battle college.”

  I gasped. “No one is working on the barracks?”

  “We felt the immediacy of the situation warranted short-term preparation. Everyone endeavors to learn the art of self-defense.”

  I didn’t hide my irritation at the decision. Self-defense wasn’t something people needed to learn. We needed town defense and organization. The fastest way to train required a barracks. It justified the whole point of the building—which ought to be close to completion. Dino made a fine teacher for a two-year program, but we needed everyone to learn the basics of mass combat.

  Greenie picked up on my mood. “The abruptness of their departure led me to believe they would return in greater numbers.”

  Fabulosa gave him a hard look. “The varg wolves?”

  Greenie nodded.

  Fabulosa turned to me. “It wasn’t our ruse they smelled. They picked up the scent of vargs.”

  I nodded. The wolves attacked four months ago, and Winterbyte shared a genealogy with them. She would be wise to enlist their aid.

  Fabulosa stepped outside the town hall and scanned the tree line. “I hope Yula is careful out there.”

  I followed her gaze to the forest before turning to Fletcher. “What about Lloyd? What will he do if the gnolls trap him in the tower?”

  “Father has a mount hitched beneath him. He can get down and away in time. Gnolls are swift, but they can’t outrun horses.”

  That amounted to another answer I didn’t like. “Why is your governor by himself in the lookout tower? It doesn’t seem to fit the role of a leader.”

  Fletcher held up a hand to allay my concern, but his furrowed brow betrayed his worry. “Father insisted on clearing his head. He’s been having nightmares about the sea since we left Arlington—perhaps visiting home has stirred up memories. He’s been anxious since we returned.”

  I grunted at his questioning look. “I’m sorry to hear that. Lloyd seemed fine in the Underworks. Maybe running a settlement doesn’t agree with him—I could certainly understand that. Where is Ally?”

  Greenie pointed to the battle college. “At present, I believe she is training, sir.”

  I stood up. “Before speaking to Ally, I want to relieve Lloyd from his burden. I’m surprised he didn’t take to leadership better.”

  Fabulosa rose. “I’m going to clean up. You need me?”

  “Yeah, one thing. Can you remember the relic’s name? If I don’t have its true name, I’ll waste a mana potion trying to imbue my rune.”

  “Cursed Band of Arcane Ascendence.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “As certain as a paladin on Sunday. I remember everything about that evening.”

  “I know what you mean. But I just wanted to be sure before I make this rune.”

  Fabulosa looked tired, and I envied her lack of responsibilities. At some point, I needed to muster the energy to make mana potions and, of course, a relic-killing rune.

  Fabulosa waved me off as I fetched Jasper. He watered from a trough with the other horses but made no protest when I remounted him.

  When we neared the motte and bailey, I directed Jasper to ride past its entrance to see the new shrine. Colorful flowerbeds bounded the sturdy, polished-stone building. Forren’s fertility bonus proved its potency on the shrine’s flowers.

  Ramshackle shanties and tents surrounded the austere and eternal permanence of the shrine. All stood within a giant muddy ditch and the wood wall of the motte and bailey, which created a strange dichotomy in the architecture.

  When I found Lloyd in the watchtower, he promoted my civic status back to Governor without making me ask. He looked haggard, as if playing chief made him ill. “I’m glad to be rid of responsibility. The good ship Hawkhurst deserves to have her ballast back.”

  “Really? I didn’t think running the show would be that difficult for you.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I guess stress gave me fits all night.”

  Oddly enough, hearing that he had so much trouble at the helm made me feel better about my feelings of inadequacy. “Thank you, Lloyd. We tried to return sooner, but Savarah wasn’t exactly a shortcut.”

  “I trust you still have sand in yer crack!”

  “You might be right, my friend. At least we’re not feeding scorpions.”

  As much as I enjoyed Lloyd’s lively banter, I wanted to address Hawkhurst’s efficiency and learn why Ally had suspended the barrack’s construction.

  Before I turned south, I looked through the government interface to assess the state of affairs.

  Ally hadn’t entirely abandoned the barracks. For some reason, she had assigned four workers to it.

  Then I saw that the efficiency rating stood at a miserable 18 percent. When I left, Hawkhurst hovered in the mid-seventies, and the shrine's culture bonus should have boosted morale. Our efficiency ought to be in the eighties. I wondered if the temporary transfer of leadership had shaken things up.

  The shrine boosted our culture rating to 67 percent, but the new humans brought it back down to 52. And the health rating had taken a bigger hit, stemming from four factors—diet, fitness, rest, and comfort—and all dropped by 20-40 percent.

  Greenie had warned me that mixing cultures introduced uncertainty, even if it fostered prosperity in the long run. The low culture and health dropped morale and work efficiency. The humans weren’t physically fit for heavy labor, so our health rating suffered. When the gnolls showed up, the town’s security rating had dropped from 90 to 45 percent, leaving Hawkhurst a nervous wreck.

  If my interface hadn’t frozen time, I would have snorted with laughter at how things had fallen apart. It made sense that Ally stopped working on the barracks. Our return would help shore up our security numbers, but our efficiency would probably be bad. I experimented with the numbers to see the easiest way to rush the job.

  Tomorrow, I’d assign everyone to the barracks. If our efficiency halved, then I’d quadruple the workers. We needed that building to prepare the town’s militia. It was that simple.

  I closed the interface and saluted Lloyd. “Thank you, Lloyd. Hopefully, you can catch some winks, now.”

  Lloyd patted the watchtower. “Never in the nest. By the way, I spied ye trotting up to me. You’ve heard of the northern storm brewing?” He thumbed toward the Bluepeaks.

  I nodded. “Yes. And thanks for taking care of the town. Any sign of trouble yet?”

  Lloyd shook his head. “Nay, but the tell-tales all point south. And I can feel it in me bones.”

  “If the gnolls return, get back to the motte and bailey—that’s our rally point. We’ll need you aboard.”

  Lloyd generously winked at my feeble attempt at maritime jargon.

  “Red blips, sink ships! If it comes to that, I’ll ride her down with ye, Cap’n!”

  Lloyd cast a glance at his mount hitched to the tower. His mare contentedly chewed on a berry bush.

  Lloyd’s description of “riding her down with me” wasn’t about his horse. He referred to going down with the ship. The old man’s commitment comforted me more than his confidence.

  I waved Lloyd goodbye and returned to town.