March 29, 2025.
Location: Gates of the Settlement.
Robert stretched his arms over his head, letting the fire's warmth soak into his skin for one last moment. The air was crisp, the distant crackle of wood burning softening the night, its embers glowing like scattered stars against the dark. "It's been a pleasure sharing this evening with you all," he said, smiling around the circle of MacEwans. "But I should head to my cottage and get some rest. Tomorrow's tour will need a rested guide, after all."
He took a step away from the group, but a small, warm hand slipped into his. Startled, Robert glanced down and saw Lilia walking beside him, swinging their joined hands back and forth as if they were children strolling through a meadow. Her expression was calm, but her green eyes sparkled with amusement, the corners of her mouth curving in a teasing smile.
Heat rushed to Robert's face, his cheeks burning crimson. His gaze darted to Laird Ewan and Ruari, who watched from the fire with interest.
His stomach clenched, expecting disapproval, but Ewan and Ruari burst into uproarious laughter.
"She's her own woman, Laird Robert!" Ewan said, clutching his sides as he bellowed, his voice rich with good humor. "We don't possess her choices!"
Ruari wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "Aye, Robert, best get used to it. That one does as she pleases."
Robert turned to Lilia, who grinned openly at him, her face alight with pure mirth. She shrugged, both hands lifting in a "What did I do?" gesture that deepened his blush.
Lilia leaned up on her toes and pecked his cheek, quick and playful.
Robert froze under her suggestive gaze, its intensity searing into his mind. She skipped back toward her clanfolk, casting a final fond glance over her shoulder before reclaiming her seat.
The MacEwans were beside themselves, hooting and hollering, their mirth infectious. Hamish laughed so hard he spilled ale over his boots.
Snow collapsed against Sorcha, helpless with giggles. "Goodnight, Laird Robert!" someone teased, accompanied by exaggerated eyebrow wiggles from several men.
Robert tried to muster a dignified response, bowing deeply in mock formality, but he started laughing too hard to hold the pose. He waved them off as he hurried toward the gates, trying to outrun his embarrassment.
Chaucer stood at the main gate, his kukri crossed over his chest in a dramatic pose. "Goodnight, Master," he said in his richly refined voice, his twitching whiskers betraying amusement at Robert's flushed face.
"Goodnight, Chaucer," Robert said, tapping his fist lightly against Chaucer's in a human-to-mouse fist bump.
Chaucer returned the gesture with a broad smile, his sharp teeth gleaming.
As Robert passed into the dig site's quiet, the lingering warmth of the MacEwans' laughter filled him. He felt lighter, happier than he had in years. These people had a way of pulling him out of his head, out of the isolation he'd grown accustomed to.
Moira, quiet all evening, spoke as Robert neared his cottage, her voice soft but knowing. "So, what do you think, Vessel? Do you like them?"
Robert slowed his steps, the question settling in his mind. The wind carried the earthy scent of the golden Grove nearby, its leaves shimmering with motes of light that danced like fireflies. "I've never met a more enjoyable group of people in my life," he said truthfully, his voice quieter than usual.
Moira's tone grew warm, with an edge of pride. "They are the closest thing to my kin I could locate in your world. They remind me of the people in Albion, the good and righteous, the honorable folk who upheld the Song and the light of life."
Robert stopped in his tracks, gazing up at the stars scattered across the sky. "That explains a lot," he murmured.
"And that Lilia," Moira added slyly, the smile evident in her voice, "is something else too, hmm?"
Robert groaned, his cheeks burning again. "Goodnight, Moira."
Her magical giggles followed him to his cottage, a mischievous melody punctuated by popping bubbles of golden light that faded into the night. He slipped inside and leaned against the door with a sigh, his heart still beating too fast. A small, foolish smile tugged at his lips.
The world outside grew quiet as Robert crawled into bed, his thoughts drifting to Lilia's bright green eyes and fearless, playful nature. As sleep claimed him, he dreamed of laughter, warmth, and a future that didn't seem so lonely anymore.
March 30, 2025.
The morning came too fast. Robert's dreams could have lasted forever, and he'd have been content in that realm within his mind. But he had promised a tour, and he wasn't about to keep anyone waiting.
He threw on nicer clothes Snow had forced him to buy from the market to "upgrade his aesthetic." Adjusting the fitted shirt's collar, Robert brushed his hair into something resembling order with his fingers, making a mental note to get a brush.
Passing a silvery mirror, Robert caught his reflection and paused. "Suddenly worried about your appearance, Robert?" he muttered to the reflection with a wry smirk.
He knew exactly why.
Robert shook his head with a soft laugh, grabbed his shillelagh from the corner, and stepped outside. The sun painted the Grove's golden leaves in radiant light, motes of energy drifting like fireflies through the air. The breeze carried the earthy scent of recent diggings, a promise of new beginnings.
Chaucer stood waiting at the gates, his new armor gleaming. "Morning, Master," he said smoothly, giving a crisp salute, his eloquent voice still startling.
"Morning, Chaucer," Robert replied, returning the salute with a quick nod.
Beyond the gates, Clan MacEwan was stirring. Children darted between wagons, and men and women packed supplies. Ewan, Ruari, Sorcha, and Lilia stood near the lead wagon, chatting.
The sight of Lilia made Robert falter briefly. Her dark curls caught the morning light, her easy grace setting his nerves on edge in the best way.
Ewan caught sight of Robert and raised a hand. "There he is! The great Laird Robert!"
Robert flushed at the title. "Good morning, Laird Ewan. I trust your clan rested well?"
"Like babes in cradles," Ewan said with a grin. "And we're eager to see what you've built here, lad. Lead the way!"
Robert gestured toward the gates, pride swelling as Chaucer opened them wide. The MacEwans moved as a wave, spreading out with curiosity. Some admired the stone gate's construction, others wandered toward market stalls, eyeing wares.
Ewan, Sorcha, Ruari, Lilia, and a few others stayed close as Robert began the tour. "This is the market," he said, gesturing to the stalls lining the main path. "It's still in its infancy, but Snow's done an excellent job managing it. There's food, textiles, and tools, all produced here or brought by merchants."
Lilia's eyes sparkled as she brushed her hands over bolts of fabric and trinkets. Robert saw her give a quick thumbs-up before skipping back to Ewan's side.
Sorcha's gaze was sharper, her weathered hands on her walking stick. "Looks like you've got a solid foundation here, Robert," she said. "But markets thrive on diversity. You'll need more traders if you want it to grow."
Robert nodded. "That's the plan. I'm hoping the Grove and its resources will draw more interest over time."
They passed the training grounds, a sandy arena with targets and dummies, motes of healing magic drifting like fireflies from STEVE's installation.
Ruari's face lit up. "Now that's what I like to see! A proper place for a man to sharpen his skills."
Ewan laughed, clapping Ruari on the back. "Don't get too eager, lad. You'll be swingin your sword soon enough."
Sorcha raised an eyebrow at Robert. "I assume this is Hamish's doing?"
"Partially," Robert admitted. "He's helped shape it into something practical for combat and magic practice."
Ruari inspected a sparring dummy, noting scorch marks. "Care for a demonstration later, Robert?" he asked with a challenging grin. "I'd like to see what tricks you've got up your sleeve."
"Maybe," Robert said with a smirk. "But I'd hate to embarrass you in front of your clan."
Ruari's laugh was hearty, a glint in his eye promising a future challenge.
They moved deeper, passing newly built housing, the mess hall, and recreation spaces STEVE designed. The clan's reactions ranged from curiosity to delight, Lilia twirling in a courtyard as if testing it for a dance.
They reached the arch, its granite stones etched with ancient runes. A bubble of golden light popped near the keystone rune, drawing the clan's silent awe.
Ewan let out a low whistle. "Now that's a sight."
Sorcha stepped forward, her fingers brushing a stone's smooth surface. "What is it, Robert?"
"A gateway," Robert said, his voice quieter. "Or it will be, once restored. It's called the Keystone Gateway, and it can connect to over a hundred locations across the world."
Ruari crossed his arms, thoughtful. "And how do you restore it?"
Robert gestured to the indentations on the blocks. "Each one requires a rune, one for every location it connects to. The keystone rune up there is just the start. The rest…" He sighed. "They're scattered across the globe."
Ewan nodded slowly, gazing at the arch. "A project of this magnitude will take years, maybe decades."
"Maybe," Robert admitted. "But it's worth it. If we can rebuild this, it could change everything."
Lilia stepped closer to the arch, her eyes wide with wonder. Robert saw her glance back at him, her expression full of curiosity and hope.
He gestured for them to follow toward a smaller structure near the settlement's heart. Motes of blue light flickered like fireflies, STEVE's presence radiating within.
"Come on," Robert said, glancing back. "I'd like you to meet someone."
Ruari raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Someone? Or something?"
"You'll see," Robert said with a grin.
The air shimmered as they stepped inside, STEVE's crystalline core hovering, its bluish glow steady. Motes of light popped and reformed around it.
"STEVE," Robert said firmly, "I'd like to introduce you to the Clan MacEwan. These are my allies, and you will treat them with utmost respect. If they offer to help, you may provide tasks, but you are not to make demands. Is that clear?"
STEVE's glow pulsed, as though processing. "Understood, Master Robert. I shall accommodate them, though it is hardly optimal to deviate from more efficient resource allocation," he said, his tone dry.
"Good," Robert said, crossing his arms. "And polite, remember? You're representing us now."
STEVE's crystal dimmed slightly, like a sulking child. "Very well. Welcome, Clan MacEwan. Should you wish to contribute to the settlement's development, I can provide recommendations. However, rest assured, your presence will not be a requirement for continued efficiency."
The clan stared in astonishment, their eyes wide. Sorcha spoke first, her tone filled with awe. "A talking crystal. By the gods, I thought that was just a tale to scare children!"
Ruari snorted. "Looks more like a floating gem than a rock, but I'll admit, it's impressive."
"Impressive doesn't begin to cover it," Sorcha muttered, her eyes glued to the shard.
Robert noticed Lilia step forward, her gaze intense as she stared at the swirling portal nearby, its blue-green surface shimmering with energy.
He followed her line of sight, realizing the portal to DAVE's Sanctum was active. Robert saw her furrowed brow and searching eyes turn to him, silently demanding an explanation.
"It's her magic," Robert said softly, meeting her gaze. "Moira. The magic I use comes from her, and this portal, and everything you've seen here, exists because of her. She gave me the spark and the ability to share it with others."
Robert saw Lilia's hands clench slightly at her sides, her curiosity and doubt palpable. She pointed at him, then the portal, her gestures sharp.
"I can share it with you, Lilia," Robert said, offering a tentative smile. "If you're willing to trust me."
Robert saw Lilia's eyes widen slightly, surprise flashing across her face, followed by a hesitant shake of her head.
"Moira," Robert said internally, "can you help me out here? Can you analyze her potential?"
Moira's voice responded instantly, warm and eager. "Of course, Vessel. One moment."
A swirl of golden light appeared before them, motes dancing like fireflies as the clan gasped. Golden text materialized on the disk, visible to all.
Name: Lilia MacEwan
Race: Human Female, Nomad
Age: 26
Class: Not Defined
Potential Values:
Combat Magic: Above Average
Healing Magic: Peak Ultimate
Utility Magic: Genius
Melee Combat: Average
Bloodline Traits:
Undiscovered Traits: 3
Detected Trait: Soul of Song (Potential to weave magic into song and harp when used together.)
Stats:
Strength: 11
Dexterity: 16
Constitution: 12
Wisdom: 22
Intellect: 19
Charisma: 36
Silence reigned as the clan locked their gazes on the text.
"What is this?" Ruari whispered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.
"It's her potential," Robert said simply, his own awe mingling with theirs. "What she's capable of, if she chooses to take the spark."
Robert saw Lilia's hands clasp at her chest, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She turned to her father, her silent plea clear as she gestured from her throat, lip-syncing a song with desperate hops.
Ewan rubbed his chin, his gaze shifting from the disk to the portal, then to Robert. His eyes landed on Sorcha, who nodded slowly, her intense gaze fixed on the information.
Sorcha stepped forward, her presence commanding. Ewan stepped back, deferring to her.
"You may," Sorcha said, her voice low and resolute, like the toll of a distant bell. "Lilia, this spark belongs to you, if you'll have it. But," she added, her expression softening as she looked at Robert, "I want it too. The spark. Not to see my potential displayed like this, I would prefer to discover it on my own, in my own time. But I wish to walk this path as well."
Robert saw Lilia's eyes widen in surprise and gratitude. She spun and hugged Sorcha tightly before looking back at Robert, her expression pleading and hopeful.
Robert nodded at Sorcha, respect clear in his voice. "That can be arranged. But as with all of this, what happens next is between you and Moira."
Moira's voice chimed in, rich with warmth and pride. "This is exactly what must be, Vessel. Thank you."
Robert watched Lilia, her sparkling green eyes shining with excitement and nervous energy. Her trust in him swelled his heart.
The spark began to fill Robert's hand, glowing brighter with motes of light. Moira's voice guided him softly. "More. Make the spark large, it will be required for this one."
Robert obliged, gathering more in his other hand, bringing them together into a large, intangible sphere of magic that shimmered with popping bubbles of energy. He held it out to Lilia, its radiance illuminating her face.