The day was cool and refreshing, the birds were chirping, the morning sun was creeping high into the sky, and Fiona Swiftheart noted only one thing out of place on her way to the palace:

  A lack of celebration and merrymaking.

  She had to stop herself and examine the normal bustle of activity outside the kingdom palace, where people came and went on business, and to the adjoining office suites. The palace was three floors of fancy granite and marble, stained glass windows, and arcane tapestries fluttering in the wind. The tapestries showed off the emblem of the crown, and a steel-colored griffin with lazy animations on the colorful blue fabric.

  The usual chrome-domed knights that guarded the grounds were standing there lazily by the entryway. One of them was leaning on his halberd, like he’d been out hitting the tavern a little too hard. A second made a sound like a backed up washing machine, and was holding his head with his free hand. Other than that, it looked like a normal day at the steel-lined doors to the palace of King Greybeard.

  “Hey, Greg? Did we get the day wrong? Am I early?” Fiona asked her assistant, who could not stop scribbling in his notebook. He peered up from the paper, a flash of puppy dog brown eyes and light brown hair cleanly cut to medium length. “I mean, It’s Fiersday, right?”

  “It’s Fiersday, Fiona,” he sighed. “I, too, am noting a lack of ‘partying’ going on here.”

  “That’s okay, we can fix that! I went and beat up a giant dragon lord, stole his stuff, and ended a war! Oh, and I made a dragon cry. That has to be some cosmic-level event!” she declared with a gleeful smile. She took a deep breath while clasping her hands to her chest, imagining that treasure pile sitting in a storage area, waiting to be properly dived through. She was currently covered in silver and gold armor that conformed to her lithe body with fluidity, with greaves and gauntlets to match. “Maybe the guild got here early, and they’re throwing a gala inside!”

  “Or maybe, they forgot?” Greg proposed with a raised eyebrow. He kept peering up at the windows as if noticing something she did not. Her pointy ears twitched at his suggestion. “This…looks like a regular business day for the palace.”

  “C’mon, Greg, I went and beat the dragon lord! I saved Fiefdala from an army of cute, adorable little kobolds and their overgrown big brother, pain in the butt dragon. Kind of funny, how that group of plushie rejects gave Greybeard so much trouble, but whatever! Time to get some loot, and show the adventurers guild had his back!” she cackled while rubbing her hands together. But, fashion first. She tucked her wavy red hair behind her long ears–it was always getting so frizzy. “Man, the boys at the guild never thought a lithe elf girl could pull this off, or slay a bunch of monsters, but I proved ‘em wrong!”

  “Your exploits are known,” he said drolly. “Actually, you don’t advertise it much. You should do that more.”

  “Like, a lot?”

  “No, in moderation,” he replied with a hint of a crease to his lips. His gaze wandered to the gold scepter with a black crystal embedded in the holster sitting on her back. “Um, that infernal thing is whispering again.”

  “Yeah, I hear it too. It’s annoying,” she sighed. ‘Hey, use me and I’ll give you green scales and wings, and we can rule the kingdom together!’ Seriously, why would any bonehead ever trust a magic item like that? Sounds pretty sus to me.”

  “We should melt it down,” Greg proposed.

  “Eh, just ignore it! The stupid dragon probably listened to it in his quest to take over the kingdom. Well, look how that turned out for him! I just love saying I got his magic stick!” she added while skipping along. “Doug, the evil dragon, lived iiin the swaaamp… and frolicked in the brackish wastes, in a land called Sukitup! Little kobold minions loved that silly drake, and brought him tissues and chocolates, and other coping plates!”

  “Please, not again,” Greg groaned audibly. “You have sung that infectious tune for the past two days. We understand you are enthusiastic over this victory.”

  “I totally am!” she declared triumphantly while puffing out her chest, and waved at the guards as she walked by. They didn't even ask for her ID. They simply waved her through–she was on a first-name basis with Greybeard now, and everyone knew her here now! “I do feel a bit sad, though. I put all those big-eyed kobolds out of work! I mean, should I have given them a job in the adventurer’s guild–”

  “No, and no, please don’t. You have a habit of picking up strays, dangerous pets, and bad habits.” She stuck her tongue out at Greg as the doors swung open to plushily furnished flooring, accent rugs, and beautiful varnished wood paneling inside the palace. “I still say, you should have brought the dragon lord here as a prisoner.”

  “Why bother? His guys abandoned him when they saw him get thrown like a rag doll, and he signed the papers for surrender. He’s no longer a problem!” Fiona countered. “C’mon, don’t be a square, it’s party time!” she declared while waiting at a set of double doors, and a guard in too-shiny armor nodded stiffly. “I hope they have cake here for the event! And snacks!”

  “They will likely have snacks, Fiona.” He let a chuckle escape his lips. “How do you eat so many snacks, and stay apex fit?”

  “It’s a girly secret, Greg,” she said with a wink from one eye. She eyed the twin guards standing by the door to the main meeting hall, and a few nobles milling about, talking quietly with one another. “Yo, Greybeard’s supposed to have a party! Where’s the glitz and glamor, chrome head?” she asked the one of the guards—the one with the small feathers on the top of his helmet.

  The knight pulled out a scroll that unfurled far enough to hit the marble floor, and read through it, frowning. “I don’t recall anything huge, but I may have missed the memo. Ahem.” The other guard opened the door, while the head knight cleared his throat. “Now announcing Fiona Swiftheart, first of her name, champion of Fiefdala, conqueror of the dragon lord–”

  “Oh my gosh, I have titles?!” she beamed and interrupted the man’s train of thought, and the paper crinkled as he halted his reading. “No wait, I want another one! Fiona, the awesome baker! I want that one, too!” The man scratched his head and looked confused.

  “Uh…I don’t give out the titles.”

  “Well, who does? Take me to that guy! I want that title, I saved the kingdom, so I want a cool one!” she said with a grin and leaned on her hammer. “Nah, you know what, put it on my schedule. Greg, write that down!”

  “Done!” Greg declared and scribbled the task down on her to-do list. She was about to get a major payday, so shopping was next on the list, and she rubbed her hands together gleefully. She’d finally be able to have a girl's night out with her besties! She’d spent all her money on equipment for the task of fighting the dragon lord, but she hadn’t even needed it!

  She wondered if she overpaid a little bit, and wondered what she could get for selling this new stuff! Sadly, gold had been a little lacking in the dragon’s horde. Really lacking. He had treasure and items, but the liquid gold assets were strangely missing. She’d just have to sell most of it—most of it, she didn’t need personally, or she’d donate to the guild.

  The shiny chrome head hadn’t opened the door yet but had been getting a few whispered messages from an assistant, who poked their head out every couple of minutes. “Greg, I’m gonna stretch my legs, I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be long,” he replied. She peeked her head into a meeting room just to see if anyone she recognized was around. But it was…empty. And dusty. She frowned at this—this was the palace, where was the cleaning staff?

  Another lounge room also seemed a bit dusty. She narrowed her eyes. “Did someone give the maids the day off? Seriously Greybeard, I leave for a few weeks, and you let this place go to pieces. Where’s the celebration?”

  It was the mood in the room that was strange. People were here, but there wasn’t a celebratory mood. It was strangely…normal. Like it was day to day business. Why am I getting weird vibes? Something is going on.

  She walked back to Greg, concerned. “You know what, maybe they did forget about a celebration. And the maids took the day off, this place is almost always shining.”

  Greg raised an eyebrow. “There does seem to be—"

  He was interrupted by the announcer with the scroll longer than his body. “Your presence has been announced, they’ll see you now–”

  “Cool, got to go and get my loot! Then I got to go shopping, get a healthy round of drinks, and then a jacuzzi!”

  She was buying a jacuzzi with that money. Magic had made life livable in this place, without too much modern technology. The broad doors opened, and she skipped in and saw–

  “Hey, who are you?” she demanded. She'd expected Greybeard--regal, middle-aged, handsome, and beardly--to meet her.

  What she saw was that smug, handsome blond-haired kid that had been hanging around the king, and he was sitting on the throne!

  That didn’t bode well, King Greybeard wasn’t going to like people messing with his stuff! She skidded to a halt when she realized that wasn’t his shiny blonde hair she was seeing on his head. It was the crown! “Also, where’s Greybeard? I thought he was tossing some big gala for me! And my friends in the guild, they helped a ton, too!"

  The blonde man, no older than his early twenties, smiled politely. He did bear a resemblance to him, vaguely. “Dad went on vacation, when he heard Douglas the Red sued for peace. He’s in a hot spring with Mum up in the north. I’m Barry Greybeard, the regent king.” he said with a smile. Not the polite kind of smile, either. It was a sneering smile. The kind she hated. This was trouble, and she knew it. “You met me, twice.”

  “Look, no offense against you, but if you weren’t offering me snacks, or didn’t come off as a social butterfly, I might have missed you,” she replied. “So, Greybeard put you in charge?”

  “Yes, yes, of course! I understand your confusion, I got the throne for a bit! It’s all a bit on the down-low. My father wanted to make an announcement, but I was like, ‘no, let’s not bother the people!’”

  “Er…yeah.” She leaned on her weapon before glancing around. There were two pressing concerns in her mind, first, where was the rest of the crowd, and accolades? Heck, what about some food, or some of those little appetizers with bacon? Shouldn’t there be more fanfare for the heroine and her friends, who saved a kingdom?

  The second, was: Greybeard was a terrible last name for a guy who magnificently lacked a beard. And Lucy, his eldest daughter. Except, if maybe she was a dwarf, but she wasn’t.

  Well, time to break the ice. And not call him beardless, Fiona thought to herself. “So, Barry, guess what?! The dragon lord’s gone, and I got his magic stick! I mean, I have a magic stick, but not his–you get the idea.”

  Her face reddened when she spoke too fast, and she glanced at the powerful artifact, which swirled with dark powers inside the crystal in the end. The sooner I melt this sucker down, the better.

  You don’t need a king, you need a queen! Wield me and we’ll put this blonde benchwarmer in his place! The dragon queen—

  Oh shut up, evil artifact, no one likes you. After six months in Cepalune, she knew one thing: never trust something if you can’t see where it stores its brains, and this item was no exception. “So uh, yeah! Douglas surrendered, and people are moving back in! everything’s peachy, now!”

  Barry laughed that awkward laugh, again. “So yes, we thank you for your services. You have joined the ranks of heroes of this land, and we are forever in your debt.”

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “Hey now, I take cash, checks, or money orders, just ship it to my little apartment in the upper quarter, my friend Bonnie will take care of it,” she replied and glanced around again. Not even a glass of champagne? Boy, this guy was being cheap, she missed Greybeard already, even though he’d been a bit too hot a flirt in front of his wife. It must be a cultural thing in this world. “Barry, where is everyone? I thought there’d be, you know, a celebration. Merrymaking! Wine, mead, those cool kielbasa things that your father had at that party this spring. I mean, c’mon, it was tough work beating that dude. I still have to finish taking inventory of all that stuff that stupid dragon had!”

  “Yes, about that. Cedric, could you give her the envelope?” Barry said with an evil smile. That dummy with the chrome helmet too small for his head bowed stiffly, and handed her an envelope, with some papers inside.

  She hated papers like this. Usually, when someone gave you papers like this, it was because you were being sued, pestered by some foreign prince running a pyramid scheme, or taxes. She read the papers, and her eyes widened as she clenched the doom scroll in her gauntlets. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, it’s unfortunate. The war with the dragon lord drained our coffers. Heroes from across the land have volunteered a percentage of their yearly gains to our treasury. The hero tax, I believe, is what my scribe calls it. It’s all there, it’s baked right there in the kingdom's laws.” Barry oozed smugness with his words like he'd been planning this.

  She was losing her cool because it was like seeing the credit card bill overdrawn, and late. She started hyperventilating and could use one of those drinks that someone forgot to bring to this not-party. “Barry, this is a mistake. I’ve been working freelance, pro bono! Is this for real?!”

  Barry smiled politely. “Well now, you did acquire a certain number of items that previously belonged in the possession of the dragon in his hoard--who continues to be an adversary. That counts as income since his possessions were subject to forfeiture.”

  Oh, no, this blonde kid was like a lawyer. She hated lawyers, this life and the last. And he was using loopholes to the effect of…

  She nearly dropped the papers and stammered, wide-eyed at that huge number. She hadn’t racked up a credit card debt like that in her life, her last mortgage wasn’t that far underwater. She shouted at the top of her lungs, in disbelief, and outrage, and likely woke up the hung-over guard hundreds of feet away with a scream of the doomed.

  “I OWE ONE MILLION, SIX HUNDRED THOUSAND, AND THIRTY-EIGHT GOLD?!” Fiona shrilled. “That–I call bullshit! There’s no way I owe that much!”

  “Your assistant forwarded the papers of your inventory, as required by the law,” Barry said unapologetically and steepled his fingers together. “You’ll find all that is in order. We also have excluded the current items you are wearing, in a gesture of generosity.”

  “But-but–I saved the kingdom! There wouldn’t be a taxman if I hadn’t saved the kingdom! You wouldn’t be sitting on that cushy throne that looked like it came from an Ikea set in the medieval world If I hadn’t shown up!” she stated in a rage. “How the hell am I supposed to pay for this, that’s more gold than I’ve ever had at any one point! This is like…Hall Street levels of wealth!”

  She did have one bargaining chip. All that loot! She didn’t need most of it, she could dump it on them, and let them sort it out! The last thing she wanted was trouble with the taxman.

  Taxmen only ranked second among the people she hated the most: lawyers. “Barry, just take my cut from the dragon lord's stuff, it should more than cover the bill, problem solved!”

  “Ah, sorry, the laws are clear. Cash only. Which means, transactions of gold,” he replied, and did that leering smile, like he’d just beaten someone in a completely one-sided battle. “Which means, you’ll need to sell your items. You’re a resourceful woman, I’m sure you’ll find a solution in no time.”

  She glanced at the items on her list. “Barry, do you have any idea how long it would take to sell this kind of volume? These items cost more to make than some entire kingdoms have in their coffers at any one time! Where am I supposed to find a buyer for these?! I spent all my money on equipment for this task! Selling it back, slightly used? That’s gonna be a hard sell.”

  “That’s not a ‘me’ problem, Fiona, that’s a ‘you’ problem, as the commoners say,” Barry responded with a shrug. She glared at that muppet on the throne and wanted to take her giant hammer and teach him how humans played croquet back on Earth. Namely, with earth-shattering hammers, and his head as the ball.

  But that would probably cause more problems involving police officers, which were the number three bane of her existence. She always ended up getting pulled over for speeding. Regicide would probably cost a lot more than a speeding ticket. She even got pulled over for driving her horse too fast! My new plan, my next ride is a dragon! No lawman would dare pull over a dragon, she thought while she directed her ire at Barry. She had a crisis on her hands.

  “Where am I going to find that kind of coin?! I’m a newly broke heroine!” she exclaimed with a slight wail to her tone. “I busted my butt for this kingdom, and then you tax me?! That’s not fair! I was supposed to get fame, fortune, and maybe, a retirement account! Your dad’s gonna get an earful for this!”

  “Might I make a gentle suggestion?” Barry called out with a yawn from that lofty perch on his throne. She wanted to chuck that evil scepter at his head to dislodge him from his seat. It might be almost worth it. “You could open a merchant business. Surely, you’ve made connections in your recent efforts against the dragon lord. There are bound to be clientele that would be interested in purchasing or auctioning such valuable items,” he said with pursed lips before motioning to his orderly.

  “Go into retail?!” she screamed. “I’d rather die! Again!”

  “Again? There was a first time?” Greg asked with a puzzled look on his face.

  “Greg, ix-nay on the isekai-nay,” she hissed. Barry, however, didn’t waste a beat, and motioned to the guards by the door.

  “The hero tax is in effect for a year. We expect monthly payments toward the principal. Failure to pay on time will be construed as theft from the crown’s treasury. A truly reprehensible crime,” he uttered with that crap-eating grin that she hated. It reminded her of her last boyfriend, boasting he could kill any monster. Said ex-boyfriend’s current location was in a dragon’s stomach.

  She wished Barry would share the same fate.

  “Dude, this is dragon crap, and you know it,” Fiona growled.

  “I concur, Your Majesty,” Greg said before clenching his jaw, and he’d pushed his pen through the pages of his notes. That was unusual for him. “This is highly unorthodox, and I have no recollection of such means of taxing wealth.”

  “Want my opinion? Sell the stuff and pay off what you owe. You’re resourceful, and I’m sure you’ll find a solution,” Barry said with a shrug.

  “Oh, hell no, Your Majesty. I refuse. This is robbery, I never agreed to this. You know what? Come and take it, if you’ve got the balls,” she challenged while glaring at him, arms folded. “Ten gold says you don’t.”

  Barry sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know, if I hadn’t had to do this yesterday a few times, this would be entertaining. Now it’s just a chore.” Something about the way he said it drew her attention. Then it clicked.

  “You dropped this bomb on the adventurer’s guild already.”

  “Correct.” He practically gushed delightfully. “Whoopsie, I guess someone didn’t get the second message.”

  Fiona narrowed her eyes. “You bamboozled them, too, huh? Wow, kid, you are too stupid to live if you think they’ll take this lying down.”

  “Oh, but they will, and they have,” he yawned as if this bored him. Greg was trying to reach for her arm, as if he knew what she was about to do.

  This was a sin that wasn’t going to go unpunished. “You stiffed them after they risked their lives for this kingdom? Oh no, Barry. They might not have wanted to make a scene, but I’m about to. Anyone who doesn’t want in on the fun time, start lining up at the doors, please,” she announced. “I’ll give you guys a minute.”

  “If you’d bothered to read the fine print on the contract, you’d have seen the enforcement clause of any gains from your exploits,” Barry warned her. “Which, I’m more than happy to enforce. You’re going to be uncooperative, aren’t you? Well, there’s a fix for that.” He stood up from the throne, and rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, and she saw a flash of light. A golden light, and she saw a form take shape on his wrist.

  She’d seen magic before, but this was eye-opening. She saw the form take shape—a crown with bleeding, thorn-filled vines wrapped around it, in the form of a tattoo on his wrist. The thorns writhed and snaked around that crown. It was unsettling, to put it mildly.

  “Fiona Swiftheart, you will pay this debt, as commanded by your king,” he declared. “You signed a contract at the beginning of your little adventure to defend this kingdom against threats, and to uphold laws. You will do so, or you shall be subject to King’s Justice.”

  Greg tried to throw her out of the way of what was coming. She saw it in his anguished face, he knew he was too slow. A phantom thorny vine shot out from Barry’s wrist at lightning speed, skewered through her armor and her heart. She felt the sting of a thousand nettles spread through her body, an intense agony that left her screaming—

  And then the pain abruptly stopped, even as her screaming continued, and the vines vanished. Her screams petered out, slowly. She looked around wild-eyed, and then at her armor and chest, and everyone was on their feet, shouting, crying, roaring in outrage.

  “What—what just happened?” she whispered.

  “Oh, that? That was the mark of Authority. As granted to me by my class,” Barry grinned. “I’ll keep it simple: you’ll pay this debt, or else.”

  She tapped at the armor—those vines went through her. She was still stuck on that, and Greg was on his feet, screaming at the outrage. She only partially heard it.

  She didn’t feel any different—but that pain had been there. Greg was being restrained by no less than three knights, barely holding him at bay.

  “This is how you treat your heroes?!” Greg screamed. “This is how you repay the people who serve the backbone of this nation? How dare you!”

  Barry shrugged and his face had the most unapologetic, crap-eating grin imaginable. “Now, to demonstrate something for you, Miss Swiftheart—and I suggest you pay attention—I’ve added a timer to this mark.”

  He tapped that bramble crown on his wrist, and she felt a nettle stab her in the heart. She staggered to her knee, but once again, there was no visible injury present. She rubbed at her chest where the pain was slower to fade. “Now, seeing as the condition is ‘pay the debt in a year’ as a dissolution trigger, that little mark won’t bother you. Well, until then. Then you’ll die.”

  She glanced up at Barry and reached for her hammer. But Greg had relented on his accusations, and kept her from lifting the weapon.

  “Don’t.”

  His single word warning, and his soft gaze, told her that this action would only make things worse. He lifted her to her feet, before lowering his tone. “This is not a battle you’ll win here.”

  “Greg, he just cursed me to die. He likely did the same to some other guild members who got mouthy about what he did,” she hissed, barely above a whisper. “He is dead where he stands.”

  “Fiona, not here, and not now,” he insisted in a hushed voice. “We can’t solve this one as it is, right now.” She glared at him, like he was part of the problem, too!

  "Where, where I come from, he would be stabbed and dragged through the streets, for what he just did.”

  "Fiona, you need a plan to combat this one. Even Rikkard Greybeard won't be able to let it slide if you attack his son," he whispered right back, eyes narrowed. She wanted to snap back that she could put this corrupt brat in his place...but stopped.

  Greg was right. If she treated this guy like her monster-slaying problems, she’d lose it all, again.

  Her apartment. Her adorable pet. The friends she'd made in this kingdom. Also, that dire issue of keeling over dead might be a problem, eventually.

  She needed information, and fast. She hadn’t seen magic like this before. “So, if I don’t come up with this money…”

  “You’ll be dead,” he concluded.

  “Don’t suppose this is one of those types of curses that loses power if the caster dies, does it?” He shook his head vigorously. Well, there goes the easy fix.

  “He is the only one who can dispel it, minus a few others, and if he doesn’t hold up--” Greg halted, as if unsure how to proceed, while Barry stood there, looking irritated.

  “Can you move this outside? You have your task, Miss Swiftheart. Pay up.”

  “No, hang on Greg. What if he doesn’t honor the promise? Or, what if I can get the money? Or what if I can prove I don’t owe any money?” she whispered, the idea coming to mind from inspiration from earlier in her life. Greg tilted his head, then his face lit up.

  “Then it disappears as a fulfilled condition. By the way, he can only do that to a person once. I think,” he offered. “I will tell you more once we’re out of here.”

  "Okay. I don’t fully understand what happened, but I know this: this brat has taken his last cheap shot at me. I have an idea. Follow my lead.” Even though Barry had just cursed her, he wasn’t getting the satisfaction of seeing her walking out of there in tears.

  “I’ve got your back,” Greg said without hesitation.

  She did have a solution. She hated it as much as she hated Barry. She needed to either auction these items for their worth, and then some, or…

  She was going to have to run a business, again. Which for her, was a fate almost worse than death. "Okay. Well, here goes nothing." She turned to view that blonde vulture in the chair, and summoned the courage to do something reckless. And buy time.

  "I demand an audit!"

  Everyone looked at her blankly. Even Barry was surprised. "I'm sorry, what?"

  "I demand an audit! You jacked the tax rate, overvalued the items, neglected to consider my business expenses, did not take my holdings and equipment depreciation values into the equation, failed to account for my charitable donations, and I could go on!" she shouted. She probably didn't need to shout to be heard, but this felt like it needed to be loud.

  "You can't do that," Barry spat. That was a lie because his eyes twitched as he said it.

  "Actually, she can." Greg picked up the cue and was scribbling something on his notepad. "I do her bookwork, and the math is wrong. Her burden may be dropped to next to nothing, taking these into account. She is within her rights, which means, collection activities stop until the audit is complete," he said with a smile. And Greg rarely smiled. "Would you like me to cite the proper section of the City of Fiefdala's tax laws? You should know them. After all, you worked there before your...promotion."

  The look on Barry's face, a thinly veiled sneer, was all it took for Fiona to do an internal fist pump. "I'm the king. She owes money, per the Hero Tax."

  "Yes, I'm aware of that spiteful law, now that you’ve jogged my memory. I did learn history, after all. But the facts do not lie. She can challenge this."

  "There is no way on Cepalune she can zero that amount." It almost sounded like a growl from Barry.

  She turned back to the throne, narrowing her eyes at the placeholder king. “Oh yeah, Barry? Watch me. You will never personally see a copper from me, and anything I do owe goes to the city of Fiefdala, who are collectively cooler than you. I’ll be back, and keep in mind I'm not the only person who you just hosed. And make sure you get those little sausage sandwich things that you guys made; this place needs more snacks!”

  She stomped out of the room, cursing kings, lawyers, and taxmen. Barry was a twisted combination of all the above. At least she could buy time to figure out how to get out of this mess. "Oh and Barry? Better hope I don’t actually beat these odds." she shouted over her shoulder.

  She hated this guy worse than the dragon she just left beaten and humiliated in a swamp. At least the dragon had manners. If he hadn’t been trying to burn down the kingdom, she might have gone on a date with him.

  no idea would spur me in working on a full release about a month and a half ago. The initial chapter lineup will be nine full chapters over the course of the next several hours. Please, if you love the premise and want to see more of this story, add a follow and a favorite, and give the story a rating! More of each gives me the drive to keep writing this delightful tale, and I don't think you'll be disappointed!

  **Update 10/8**

  every comment, as I try to refrain from tipping my hand on some secrets and later plot. I'll poke my head in from time to time, but rest assured, there are reasons to the story choices. Not all of them are apparent early on.

  **UPDATE 10/15**