A long conversation with the baroness soon dispelled Hazel's worries. As Sable herself had pointed out, the Narlmarches hid quite a few renewable bog iron deposits, which could be carefully harvested from time to time, and certain druidic interventions could even speed up its production—just like the speedgrown trees Guelder had started to use for construction purposes. Also, she tasked Hazel with contacting different mining enterprises and asking for quotes on environmentally friendly solutions, with impact analyses attached, and she ordered Bokken the alchemist to stop working on his wondrous Elixir of Inconceivable Transmutations and develop a wastewater purification method instead. Of course, the old alchemist didn't like it a bit, but he set to work nonetheless.

  Hazel felt relieved and happy to search for a way for Guelder to have her cake and eat it, too. When they received the first favourable-looking answer from the Five Kings Mountains, the dwarven homeland, they were unable to hold back their enthusiasm. They burst into the throne room, waving the missive—and a strange sight opened up in front of their eyes.

  A dirty old vagrant stood in front of Guelder's throne, his stink so pungent that it made Pangur (and almost Hazel, too) sneeze repeatedly. He was in the course of delivering a sermon on some impending doom threatening the barony because of the environmental destruction perpetrated by the baroness. Hazel assumed this must have been going on for a while, based on Jhod Kavken's red face (the man seemed to be on the verge of getting a stroke) and Guelder's irritated claws digging into the upholstered armrests of her throne. Then the old fellow started to sing the glory of a beautiful, irate goddess, whose name he was reluctant to utter.

  "So that goddess of yours intends to take revenge for the swamps I drained," said the baroness sharply, when she finally found a gap between the old man's sentences to insert some of her own. "That is weird because all the swamps in my lands are protected areas, surveilled regularly by druids. Maybe she mistakes me for someone else?"

  Struck by a sudden uncertainty, the old bum fell silent. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and turned his attention to the lice infesting his mucky beard.

  "It would be best if you slept it out, old man," said Guelder. "You will spend tonight in prison. Mind you, that means free lodging, a free meal and a bath, so consider it an act of charity on my part. Tomorrow, at the first light of dawn, you shall leave my lands for good, under pain of death. Go preach to those who actually deserve your chastisement. I suggest Mivon."

  Hazel couldn't help but grin, recalling Guelder's furious rants about the deplorable state of the Mivoni marshlands she'd crossed during her northbound journey less than a year ago, heading to Restov for the recruitment event.

  While the guards led the old man away, Hazel walked up to Guelder's throne and sank to one knee, not so much out of respect as to be closer to her eye level.

  "Who the hell was that?" they asked in Elven.

  "His name is Remus," explained the baroness. "An old madman haunting the neighbourhood of Levetonsk. We met him there not long after we arrived in the Stolen Lands, while making our way through the fog towards the trading post. I still remember how we spotted the light of his lantern through the milky white mists, not long before his smell reached us... then how we racked our brains to sift through his crazy ramblings for hidden tidbits of useful information."

  "I can imagine that," laughed Hazel. "You should organise a public debate between him and Harrim. It would be fun to... Guel, you are not taking him seriously, are you?"

  Guelder let out a sigh, and propped up her forehead with her hand. She looked haunted.

  "Hazel, if what he says is true—"

  Hazel took her hand and clasped both their hands around it, as if to warm it up.

  "It is not, I promise. Look, Guel, not even a zealous environmentalist like Sable can find fault with your nature conservation policies. And... let me add that I found a mining enterprise that will probably comply with your requirements!"

  Guelder's face brightened with joy for a fleeting moment.

  "You are brilliant, Hazel. But that will have to wait. First I will need the druids' perspective on what Remus said. This time, his words were crystal clear compared to our first encounter."

  "Oh, were they now? I dread to imagine how he used to speak, then."

  Guelder went to the mission planning table and fished out a sign from a hidden drawer. It said Audience Over. She handed it to the usher to place it on the door of the throne room, then she took Hazel's hand and led them out to the garden, vibrant with the last colours of autumn, their footsteps rustling in fallen leaves. She made her way to a bench under an arched trellis overgrown with honeysuckle.

  Now she felt safe to vent her fears.

  "Is it just me, Hazel? A beautiful goddess of nature from another world. Does it not ring a bell with you?"

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Um... no?"

  "The Green Mother! Hazel, if I incurred the wrath of the Green Mother herself... What do I do?"

  Hazel had to admit that she had a point. The old bum's description fit almost perfectly. In a land bound to the First World with so many invisible threads, like the Stolen Lands were (or the Embeth Forest, for that matter), it made sense for an Eldest, a powerful fey lord, to keep an eye on things and intervene from time to time. It wouldn't be a surprise if the Green Mother, patroness of wild vegetation and wilder sexuality, paid a visit to see how things were going in the neighbourhood. Still, something felt off.

  "Calm down, Guel. I do not think this is the case. First of all, Eldest are not gods."

  "There are people who worship them. Remember Adri and her bunch?"

  Of course they did. Adri and her bunch, devout followers of the Green Mother and cultivators of free love in a natural environment, had been an unforgettable splash of colour on the palette of the Embeth Forest. Hazel used to visit them time and again to make fond memories together. However, they couldn't help but wonder how and why Guelder had come into contact with them despite her dismissive attitude towards some of their core values.

  "Well," they said, "I can start to worship this stone bench right here and now, but that will not make it a deity. The Eldest are not from this world, less powerful than a full-fledged deity, not parts of either the elven or the human or the dwarven pantheon, and did not even take the Test of the Starstone to be recognised as gods. They are more like demon lords."

  Guelder furrowed her brow.

  "Oh," she said wryly. "That is a much better outlook. I can take on a demon lord anytime, so an Eldest should not be an issue, either. By the way, have you been drinking with Jhod?"

  "No, I used to work for Professor Narthropple."

  "Fair enough. But goddess or not, how could I have angered her? I am taking extreme care to preserve vegetation in its pristine state, even promoting growth where necessary."

  "How about sex workers?"

  "Huh?"

  "The Green Mother's other domain."

  "Well... I stopped the High Priest from bothering those three girls who set up residence at the perimeter of Tuskdale a while ago. Does that count? Jaethal and Octavia are working on the respective law. They will soon contact you to discuss the taxation aspect."

  "Good. Octavia's involvement guarantees compassionate legislation. I daresay you have nothing to fear in this regard, either. But if you want to be entirely certain," they added with a mysterious smile, "you could start earning the Green Mother's grace for yourself."

  Exasperated, Guelder hid her face in her palms.

  "Very funny, Hazel. There is doomsday panic afoot in the capital, and you are making it about my private life, all the while insisting that you respect my choices. If you think getting laid in the shrubbery will solve the issue, you are welcome to get a willing partner and do so yourself. As for me, I prefer taking the serious route and asking for Sable's input."

  If only Hazel were allowed to finance a nice gallows for old Remus who was now living rent-free in Guelder's head... But alas, they knew what the baroness would say. Sentencing people to death for their faith was a path she abhorred to step on, however stupid and dangerous that faith was, and however badly it rubbed against her own fears and insecurities. Also, the last thing the barony needed was a crazy old vagrant elevated to martyrdom and reinforcing his heresies with his death.

  "As you wish," they said. "A second opinion never hurts, and it will certainly put your self-doubt to rest. I believe in you, Guel. All of us do. It is high time for you to finally begin to believe in yourself."

  Guelder forced her face into a thankful smile, but Hazel could tell she was still troubled. They decided to hold off on accepting the miners' quote until she was at a better place mentally. The doomsday panic whipped up by Remus would likely fizzle out in a week or two, and then the barony would resume its careful baby steps towards greatness (or at least viability).