Beaker preferred to hunt for fresh food, catching fish or small animals, so he entered the town hall long after everyone got their portion of vegetable stew and hydra fillets. The night marked our first dinner without Fabulosa, so I monitored his reaction to her absence.

  My pet watched the door, and I watched him watching the door because I understood the pangs of abandonment.

  Helping him to acclimate, I soothed my Familiar with telepathic messages, alternately telling him Fabulosa had to leave and that I would always be there if he wanted company. Soon, he stopped looking for her and settled into his default behavior of searching for critters that shouldn’t be under his watch—like seagulls, bats, or rodents. He eyed shiny things with suspicion, including Rockthane’s cooking equipment.

  Our mental conversations covered the same subject every day. “Beaker, you must stay away from Rocky’s knives if you know what’s good for you. They’re supposed to be shiny.”

  “It’s moving!”

  “I know. It’s just a reflection—it’s okay. It’s supposed to be shiny.”

  Beaker lost all thoughts about shiny objects when Ida approached the podium in the speaking area. He looked down at her with curiosity. He knew people sometimes spoke behind the town hall podium but had never seen Ida use it before—and for that matter, neither had I.

  Ida stood like a veteran grade school principal, her patience radiating like an aura. Instead of asking for silence, she stood still, causing the townspeople to shush one another until she had everyone’s attention.

  If my avatar had as many age lines, perhaps they’d do the same for me.

  Ida acted more diplomatically in front of an audience, showing a politeness I didn’t know existed. “I would like to thank everyone for another hard day’s work. Tonight, we have some special announcements from our returning governor, Apache. I want to thank Governor Greenie for his stewardship as interim service and wish him good fortune in his role as chief engineer, which he will perform among his other duties.”

  Ida looked to Greenie to see if he objected to the title—to which he bowed. A smattering of applause and shouts of Greenie finalized the matter—but the voices weren’t boisterous. Fear of Ida’s reproach inhibited a general outcry.

  “Before Governor Apache speaks, I want to remind our farmers that they no longer need to use or dig root cellars. The warehouses have plenty of storage space. This will be the last announcement on the matter. Are there concerns about harvest pricing?”

  People raised questions about selling goods in the market, so Ida invited them to speak to her after the meeting. With that, she beckoned me forward to a wide round of applause. Many showed hearty approval and enthusiasm over the news of fighting goblins.

  “Thanks, guys, for all the support. I only wish I had better news. The smoke you saw resulted from a dungeon clear I made a few days ago. As you know, Iremont or, um…” I couldn’t remember the other mountain names. “A smoking Iremont means goblin and orc scouts, so we’ll step up our patrols over the next few weeks. Iris and Yula are coordinating these efforts, and I have confidence they’ll keep us abreast of developments.” I gave them a quick recap of the centaur battle, my encounter with Sune Njal, and an explanation of how the rubber elemental turned Iremont into a smokestack.

  A commotion in the audience distracted me before I turned to the subject of my assassination attempt. I looked at the noise’s source and spotted Bernard and Blane in the heart of a heated discussion.

  Blane realized he had stopped me and explained himself. “Did you say you found a darksteel node? Are ye certain of this, Guv?”

  Nearby, Fin and Rory’s eyes had fixed on me. I hefted the hunk of metal in the air before handing it to the master blacksmith. “This chunk came from Iremont. I’m going to need help to make a new weapon. If our blacksmiths have time.”

  Fin gaped while Rory cradled the ore.

  “Aye, sir. A darksteel blade.” Rory’s eyes grew distant as he calculated the ramifications of such a project. His awed expression made me smile for the first time in a while.

  I drove the point home by retrieving the purple core from my inventory and holding it aloft. “We know what a purple core does to a cape. We’ll soon see what it does to a sword.”

  Angus cupped his hands in a megaphone and turned to the crowd. “I’ll tell ye what it does. It fells goblins! That’s what it does!”

  Balled fists, laughs, and cheers rose from the audience.

  I put the core away and continued. “I hope Angus is right. The king sent me packing. He has a magic crown that augments his healing powers. He’s going to be tough to defeat.”

  Bernard called out to me. “Don’t worry yourself none over that. A darksteel blade will give ‘em what for. We’ll use him as an anvil, eh, Rory?”

  Rory nodded to those around him. “Aye. When you brain ‘em, his crown will toll a proper ring!”

  Gunny stood with an upraised mug, spilling ale on his fellow diners. “And it’s no boast that our goblin is ten times a better guv than that demon-infested dandy up north! Eh?” Gunny turned to our chief engineer. “To Greenie!”

  Angus stood and clinked mugs with Gunny. “Greenie!”

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  Good-natured silliness echoed acclaim for the governor emeritus.

  While the crowd laughed and boasted, Greenie’s face remained unreadable. His rigid body language betrayed either discomfort or tactical neutrality at the talk of harming and deriding his brother.

  I held up my hand. “All right, that’s enough. We don’t even know if we even need to fight goblins. Our long-term concerns involve the orc emperor—and everyone knows the orcs have siege equipment. The Iremont smoke drifted straight over the Doublespines, and there’s no telling how our neighbors across the river will react.” Yula’s stiff reaction was as indiscernible as Greenie’s.

  I floundered at the podium until Yula’s Familiar, Mugsy, rescued me. The dog often barked at Beaker whenever the griffon took his roost over the door. It became a frequent event in the town hall. No one could explain why Beaker’s perch bothered the mongrel. Some speculated he wanted Beaker to drop food to him—something the griffon hadn’t done since he started hunting for himself.

  The griffon paid Mugsy no mind, seemingly the only one in the hall undisturbed by the racket. Yula tried in vain to quiet her pet—ironically, the mongrel counted as the only member of our town who ignored his owner.

  Ida filled the presentation’s void. “Thank you, Governor. Since she already has our attention, I believe Yula would like to give the scouting report.”

  The orc pointed sternly at the dog and gave the congregation a fist gesture as she took the podium.

  “Eet ees time for ze scouting report. Great Governor Apache’s eliminates threat from Ovanka Mountain—eet inspires all warriors to do ze same. Town guards make deep patrol on northern border—sweeping all een path. Eef green devils fear ward worm, zey take reever trail. Rachel, Eren, and Beyza cover West Bank. I cross reever to East Bank. Ambush any Redbone orc fooleesh enough to spy. Captain Jourdain ees chief guard until we return. Citizens of Hawkhurst must report subversives to him.”

  At first, I didn’t recognize Captain Jourdain, who waved at the mention of his name. He’d shaved off his mustache, and the green Hawkhurst tabard covering his Fort Krek armor made him blend in with the other guards.

  Yula’s unilateral rules for engagement left little room for diplomacy, but she seemed to know her business. Her vendetta against the Redbone Clan, the emperor’s power base, coincided with our interests. If the emperor sent scouts to Iremont, she stood a good chance to intercept them.

  When Yula finished describing her security policies, Ida broke the news about keeping the work crew together for two more big projects, stopping workers from building their own houses.

  Humans and dwarves alike grumbled misgivings.

  “We just finished the barbican!”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “All the best land will be taken by then!”

  Ida rebuffed the accusations with upheld hands. “We’re increasing land prices during this time to prevent a land grab. People can still build, but they’ll work twice as long as those who wait a few months. In the meantime, those working for the settlement will receive a double salary.”

  Half of the hall erupted in tepid applause, drowning out the remaining groans.

  “High land prices and salaries are temporary, ending after we finish the great hall.”

  Ally explained the big push for a temple and then a great hall. The decisions came as a surprise. When the tumult died, Gunny shouted to Ida. “Why in soot and ash are we slapping together a temple? Has the Forren’s shrine lost its luster?”

  Ally stepped forward. “A temple by the flagpole gives Forren long-term protection. The motte and bailey proved itself against a pack of dogs. But we face organized armies now. The temple allows Apache to fight harder for our security.”

  I felt a little guilty having Ida and Ally withstand the brunt of the complaints. Losing Forren’s idol would break her blessings. Since Hot Air counted as a prerequisite for Slipstream, protecting the idol became paramount to my game. Citizens wanted individual homes and private enterprises, but we needed to protect our endeavors.

  The next day’s settlement interface greeted me with data about the town’s ornery disposition.

  News of my defeat against the goblin king and the smoke signals to the Bluepeaks dropped our security rating by 5 percent. In five days, the barbican would erase this deficit. Positive accounts of Yula’s deep patrols may bump up the factor.

  Double-overtime pay only partially mitigated the drag of increasing our real estate prices. The drop in morale brought the 100 overpaid, overworked laborers to a mediocre 61 percent efficiency.

  The drop in morale stretched building times and created a dissatisfaction feedback loop. I couldn’t deter people from wanting their own homes and businesses. The crazy part about our situation revolved around my desire to empower them, which meant prioritizing security over comfort. Becoming independent meant they’d need me less to protect and govern them—something everyone wanted.

  I awoke the next morning feeling more comfortable than I’d been in days. I pulled at the covers, trying to loosen them from Beaker’s weight. The bigger he grew, the more space he took. My struggle over the blanket disturbed his early morning languor. “That’s what you get for hogging my bed, you big turkey.”

  Beaker clucked, preened his feathers, and stretched as I got out of bed, stubbing my toe on my pet’s unused nest in the corner. It looked too small for him now and only hogged up floor space. Ridding myself of it would make more room, allowing me to order a bed big enough for a full-sized griffon and an owner who spoiled him.

  Beaker launched himself out of the window as I made a mental note to request another bed. I needed to wait until the workshop finished the great hall, but if the settlement yearned for more space to sleep, I saw no reason the governor shouldn’t, too.

  I combed through the notes on my desk and found the parchment about our building queue priorities. It explained which tier 4 buildings would help Hawkhurst grow the most. The clayworks allowed us to make pipes that could bring water further inland. Even if I let people build houses without easy access to water, we’d lose health, comfort ratings, or another confounded factor that vexed morale.

  This temple would supply my last advantage from Hawkhurst. After we completed it, Ally could turn the workforce loose to build playgrounds for all I cared. But that wasn’t true either. If the town outgrew the barbican, we’d need towers and walls for a castle.

  We quarried stone directly beside the castle’s footprint, making our moat wider the longer we worked. Charitybelle had chosen the site well.

  I also carried darksteel ore in my inventory, waiting to be wrought and hammered into a weapon. I pulled the heavy chunk out and admired it. Steel came from a specific alloy, so the low likelihood of nature producing the exact combination of elements made this unsightly hunk of metal a remarkable find.

  I admired its dark blue and gray marbling, not knowing how the mixture gave the steel caused its coloration. Rory mentioned impurities factored into the smelting process, but I didn’t know if marbling was good or bad. I expected to learn a few things about metallurgy before my weapon’s completion.