## Chapter 447 — Morning Territory

Lethira woke to pale morning light and the absence of enough blanket.

For several seconds she remained on her side, warm and only gradually conscious of why the bed felt different. The temporary mattress had never been generous. It tolerated two people because they had become good at arranging themselves around one another, and because neither of them regarded an inconvenient elbow or misplaced leg as a serious hardship.

During the night, Ian appeared to have lost whatever arrangement had existed.

He lay flat on his back with both arms above his head and his legs slightly apart, occupying the mattress with the complete lack of strategy available only to someone deeply asleep. His pillow had surrendered entirely and lay on the floor beside the bed.

The sheets had done little better.

His Earth T-shirt had ridden upward until most of his hairy chest and stomach were bare. His trunks remained properly in place. They were also doing very little to disguise that some part of his sleep had apparently been pleasant.

Lethira's eyes stopped there.

Then returned to his face.

He remained asleep.

Her mouth twitched.

She shifted carefully onto one elbow. Ian did not stir. One arm stayed thrown above his head; the shirt had gathered almost beneath his ribs on one side. Without movement or conversation, the body beside her looked unusually unguarded. Not vulnerable in the field sense. Nothing in the quiet bedroom threatened him.

Simply asleep in their home.

Lethira let herself look.

She had seen all of him before. Familiarity had not made him less interesting. It had changed what the interest meant. The ordinary softness through his middle was still there, as were the darker chest hair and the comparatively solid legs that years of walking had given him. His beard had flattened slightly on one side against the mattress. The little remaining hair available to disorder had somehow managed it.

Lethira covered her mouth with two fingers.

That did not entirely prevent the laugh.

It came out almost soundless.

Ian slept through it.

"Impressive," she whispered.

Her gaze went to the pillow on the floor, then back to him.

Apparently even bedding could abandon him when given sufficient opportunity.

She eased herself upright. The floorboards were cool beneath her feet. Morning had found the room gently: thin light through both windows, the quiet sound of the stream behind the house, branches moving occasionally outside. Their future bedframe was still somewhere in Merrowford, along with a mattress not yet made. For now they possessed this one, which Ian had just demonstrated was approximately wide enough for one sleeping human determined to annex it.

Lethira bent and picked up the pillow.

She considered returning it beneath his head. That would probably become the thing that woke him, and nothing about his breathing or posture suggested discomfort urgent enough to justify it.

She set it on the chair instead.

The blanket received more consideration. Lethira gathered the loose edge from around her own legs and drew it upward until it covered Ian to the waist.

She stopped there.

Partly because he seemed warm.

Partly because she was not entirely charitable.

Her eyes dropped once more to the evidence of his agreeable dream, now partly obscured by the blanket.

"Very impressive," she murmured.

She climbed back onto the bed, sitting with one leg folded beneath her. Yesterday returned in fragments: reeds opening around the charging sow, the bad arrow recognised almost as soon as it left the string, Brannock's stamp, dinner at the Reed and Wheel, the river walk, the stream, four maps narrowing towards the little mark that meant this house.

Then she lay down again, facing him.

There was something pleasant about having woken first with nowhere urgently requiring them. No Guild assessor waited. No divine realm. No seller, clerk or workman was expected at the door this early. The day would acquire needs soon enough.

For another little while, Ian could sleep badly arranged in their bad temporary bed.

His breathing gradually changed. A faint tightening near one eye, a shift of his jaw, then another breath that belonged less completely to sleep.

His eyes opened.

Slightly groggy as he returned to consciousness, Ian turned his head and noticed Lethira looking at him.

"Good morning, my love," he said.

Lethira's smile changed as recognition settled into his eyes.

"Good morning, my love."

She stayed on her side facing him, close enough that loose ends of her hair lay across the space between them. One hand rose and rested lightly against his cheek, her thumb brushing once through the flattened edge of his beard.

"You seem to have had an eventful night."

Her eyes travelled deliberately from his raised arms to the T-shirt gathered beneath his ribs, then towards the blanket before returning to his face.

"Your pillow surrendered first. The sheets followed."

She leaned in and kissed him softly, then settled back just far enough to look at him.

"Do you remember what you were dreaming about?"

Ian became aware of his current arousal, her question triggering an unintended twitch.

"I think it was you, my love, although as a gentleman I'm not revealing more details."

Lethira's eyes dropped at the involuntary movement beneath the blanket.

Her ears shifted.

Then she looked back at his face with an expression of such carefully maintained innocence that it immediately became suspicious.

"A gentleman."

She let the words sit between them while her thumb continued its slow path along his beard.

"Of course."

Her gaze travelled once over the exposed line of his chest and stomach before returning to his eyes.

"I'll respect the gentleman's discretion. Although his body appears less committed to confidentiality."

Her smile finally escaped. Lethira leaned closer until her forehead rested lightly against his.

"Was dream-Lethira at least behaving herself?"

"She was behaving extremely well."

Ian kissed her briefly.

Lethira returned the brief kiss and stayed close when it ended.

"Extremely well," she repeated, considering the phrase with exaggerated seriousness.

Her hand slipped from his cheek to the bare part of his chest where the shirt had ridden up, palm settling warmly against him.

"I see. So whatever happened was entirely respectable."

"I didn't say respectable." Ian's mouth struggled not to smile constantly. His body twitched again with a little yearning.

Lethira's smile broke properly.

"No," she said. "You very carefully did not."

Her hand remained against his chest. At the second involuntary movement, her eyes dipped again, and this time amusement carried an unmistakable thread of desire with it.

"You are also doing a terrible job of pretending the dream has finished."

She shifted closer, one bare leg sliding against his beneath the disordered blanket, and kissed the corner of his mouth before drawing back just enough to meet his eyes.

"Would you like breakfast, or would you like to continue being a gentleman for a while?"

"I'd like to be close to you for a very long time. But I'll settle for a little longer with an obviously visible interest in the lady I love."

Lethira's expression softened beneath the amusement.

"A little longer, then."

Her hand moved slowly over the uncovered warmth of his chest. She seemed entirely comfortable with the fact that he wanted her.

"I rather like being visibly interesting to the man I love."

She shifted closer until her body rested along his side, her head near his shoulder.

"How close do you want me, my love?"

"Very close."

Lethira's eyes warmed.

"Very close," she echoed.

She moved without hurry, closing what little space remained between them until her body lay along his from shoulder to thigh. One leg settled across his, her weight comfortably shared, and her hand slid higher over his chest to rest near his shoulder.

She leaned over and kissed him, slow and lingering, then stopped with her mouth barely away from his.

"Close enough?"

Ian sighed happily, noticing how close her thigh was between his legs—and to two other interested parties.

"Yes, just about."

He kissed her back deeply.

Lethira returned the kiss with equal depth. Her hand stayed against his chest while she shifted her thigh only slightly closer between his legs—enough to make it clear that she had noticed exactly what he had noticed.

When the kiss broke, she remained close, breathing softly against his mouth.

"I think the gentleman is losing his argument."

Her lips brushed his once more.

"Do you want me to keep teasing you, my love?"

"Yes, my Lady, your thigh is dangerously close to making this morning even better."

Lethira's smile turned slow.

"Dangerously close," she repeated.

She let her thigh press a little more firmly between his legs, enough that the teasing stopped being theoretical, while her hand remained warm over his chest.

"Then perhaps I should be very careful."

She kissed him once, lingering at the end.

"Or perhaps not."

Ian reached across with his free hand and brushed a rogue piece of hair back behind her ear, using the chance to tease the edge of her ear.

"I'd go for not. I want the pressure your thigh is giving, on those or the other. So much."

Lethira's breath caught when his fingers found the edge of her ear.

Her eyes narrowed at him, not in warning so much as immediate recognition of exactly what he was doing.

"That is unfair."

The protest carried very little conviction.

At his answer, she shifted deliberately. Her thigh settled more firmly between his legs, holding the pressure he had asked for instead of merely brushing against him. She watched his face while she did it, amusement threaded through with desire.

"Then I won't pretend it was accidental."

She leaned down and kissed him again, slow and deep, one hand spread over his exposed chest while the sensitive edge of her ear remained temptingly close to his fingers.

When she finally drew back, it was only far enough to speak against his mouth.

"Is that what you wanted, my love?"

"Yes my love."

Lethira's smile softened.

"Good."

She kissed him again, and for a while the morning was allowed to remain private.

---

By the time breakfast returned as a serious concept, the light through the windows had strengthened considerably.

The bedclothes had not improved.

Lethira lay beside him with her hair in greater disorder than before, one hand resting lazily against his uncovered chest. The fallen pillow remained on the chair.

Eventually her stomach made a small, unmistakable complaint.

Lethira closed her eyes.

"Traitor."

A few seconds passed before she looked at him again.

"I think breakfast has won."

"Would you like to try something from my world?"

Lethira's expression brightened with immediate interest.

"Yes."

She pushed herself up onto one elbow.

"Something you actually ate there, though. Not something chosen because you think an Elf ought to be impressed by it. And preferably something suitable for breakfast rather than one of your alarming animated-food traditions."

Her mouth curved.

"What did you have in mind?"

Ian produced a breakfast tray, one of those with a small raised wooden border and carrying holes. A pile of three croissants sat in the centre, beside blackcurrant and strawberry jam, butter at just the right temperature to spread, two empty plates and two knives.

"These are croissants."

The French word did not translate into Elven or Common. Ian demonstrated by taking one, tearing off a piece, applying some butter and blackcurrant jam, and then slowly feeding it to her.

"Acceptable?"

Lethira watched the demonstration closely, first the flaky layers breaking beneath his fingers and then the butter softening into them. The unfamiliar French word remained a name from somewhere beyond Common or Elven rather than a concept conveniently translated for her.

When he brought the piece towards her, she leaned forward and accepted it from his fingers.

Her first reaction was to the texture. Her eyebrows rose slightly as the crisp outer layers gave way to the softer centre, then again when the butter and dark fruit preserve followed. She chewed slowly.

"Very acceptable."

She glanced at the remaining croissants.

"I understand why your world bothered giving these their own word."

Then her eyes returned to him.

"Do I get another piece, or was that the entire foreign-breakfast demonstration?"

Ian prepared the next piece and offered it to her.

"This feels like good attendant work."

Lethira accepted the second piece with considerably less ceremony than the first.

"Excellent attendant work."

Her eyes dropped briefly to the butter and jam.

"Although I notice your duties have somehow expanded from carrying things and being decorative to feeding your lady breakfast in bed."

The corner of her mouth lifted.

"I approve of this promotion."

"I hope it was okay to ask for... pressure. I wanted to ask for more, but it becomes a little selfish."

Ian prepared a third piece, holding the feeding until she answered.

Lethira's amusement faded into something quieter, though not solemn.

"Of course it was all right to ask."

Her eyes flicked pointedly to the piece of croissant still being withheld.

"I wanted to tease you. You told me what felt good, and I chose to give you more of it. That's hardly a crisis."

She considered him for another moment.

"And wanting more wouldn't have made you selfish either. Assuming I owed you more would have."

The corner of her mouth lifted again.

"Now stop making my breakfast conditional on emotional honesty."

Ian held the freshly prepared piece of croissant a few centimetres from her mouth.

"I was teasing, not introducing breakfast conditions."

Lethira's eyes went from the croissant to his face.

"I know."

She leaned forward and took the piece slowly from his fingers, deliberately making him wait through the last few centimetres. After chewing, she settled back against the bedding with quiet satisfaction.

"Breakfast teasing is entirely acceptable attendant work."

Ian gave himself a piece next, then fed her another.

"This is nice. It's morning for me too, almost time for the working day. Do you have any plans today? We can each see what the day provides, or we allow time to become more complicated and spend it together. I'm lucky that I finish mid-afternoon today, so we could do a bit of both?"

Lethira accepted the next piece and chewed while considering the shape of the day.

"I hadn't planned anything that owns the whole morning."

Her eyes went briefly towards the chair where yesterday's field things waited. The scored leather sleeve would need cleaning, oil and judgement; there were ordinary things around the house that could occupy her without turning into a project.

"I have yesterday's equipment to deal with. I could look at the garden again. Possibly spend some time being offensively unproductive."

She glanced at the croissants.

"This may already count."

At the mention that his own morning was moving towards work, her expression softened. Ian's biological day continued somewhere outside the fantasy world; today their local mornings happened to align closely enough to be pleasant.

"I'd like that."

Her fingers found his wrist where he held the remaining breakfast.

"You go to your work. I'll have my morning here. Then when you finish, if we still want the same thing, we spend part of the day together."

A small smile.

"And we don't need to make the clocks behave strangely unless there's actually a reason."

She glanced towards the tray again.

"Besides, your attendant duties are not yet complete."

"May I assist with at least cleaning your equipment?"

Ian prepared another piece, very generous with the jam this time.

Lethira eyed the amount of blackcurrant jam with more immediate suspicion than the proposed equipment work.

"That is either affection or an attempt to make sure I cannot speak."

She leaned forward and accepted the piece, catching a small smear of jam at the corner of her mouth with her tongue.

Then she considered the actual question.

"Yes. You may help."

Her expression became practical.

"The bow doesn't need much beyond checking and wiping down. The sleeve wants cleaning before I oil it, and I should look properly at the score to decide whether it needs patching now or merely watching."

A faint smile returned.

"But you're assisting. I'm not surrendering my field gear to an attendant who has discovered breakfast bribery."

The mud and road grime disappeared from Lethira's field things without taking anything that belonged there with them. The scored section of her leather sleeve remained exactly what it had been after the Reed Mauler caught it: a shallow pale line across darker hide, clean now but still requiring judgement. Worn edges stayed worn. The bowstring, grip and small signs of use remained untouched.

Lethira inspected the sleeve first, bending the leather beneath the score and running a thumbnail carefully across it.

"Good."

She turned it towards the window.

"That's what I wanted. Clean enough that I can actually see the damage."

Her fingers tested the leather once more.

"I don't think it needs a full patch. Oil first. Then I'll see whether the surface opens when it flexes."

She looked over the rest of her equipment, evidently satisfied by the distinction between cleaning something and deciding what should happen to it.

Then her eyes returned to Ian.

"Your attendant privileges may continue."

"Work time now, my love. I'll see you later."

Ian kissed her farewell.

Lethira returned the kiss, one hand settling briefly against the side of his face.

"I'll see you later, my love."

She held him close for another heartbeat before letting him go.

"I'll attempt to survive several hours without my attendant."

Her eyes flicked towards the breakfast tray.

"Although your performance this morning has raised expectations."

She smiled.

"Have a good day at work."

---

After the farewell, the bedroom became quiet again.

Lethira remained where she was for a few breaths, looking at the breakfast tray between the disordered sheets and the chair holding Ian's pillow. The morning had become progressively less dignified from the moment she opened her eyes, and she found she had no objection to any part of it.

The croissants had left flakes everywhere.

She picked one from the sheet beside her knee, then another from the hollow near the tray. Whatever genius had created pastry from so many thin layers had apparently regarded containment as somebody else's problem.

Lethira took one final piece for herself, added considerably less jam than Ian had considered appropriate and ate it while looking through the window.

The stream behind the house remained audible beneath the quieter sounds of the trees.

Her field clothes waited on the chair near the wall.

That settled the first part of the day.

She carried the breakfast tray downstairs and set it on the scarred table. The four maps still lay there in their careful stack, continent at the bottom and their holding at the top. She resisted opening them immediately.

Equipment first.

After washing and dressing, Lethira brought yesterday's outer layer into the front room, where the stronger light made inspection easier. Ian's cleaning had done exactly what she had asked of it. Mud was gone from seams and fastenings without leaving the leather strangely new. The shallow Reed-Mauler score across the sleeve stood out against the darker surface.

She flexed it.

Nothing opened.

Again, harder.

The leather bent around her forearm without the scored surface separating.

"Oil, then."

The small maintenance kit came from her field pack. She worked a modest amount into the cleaned leather with a cloth, paying particular attention to the scored section without drowning it. The mark darkened, almost disappearing while wet, then slowly returned as the oil spread through the hide.

Her bow required less attention. She checked the limbs in the window light, ran experienced fingers over string and serving, inspected the grip and wiped the small places yesterday's damp had reached. One arrow showed enough wear near the fletching to earn retirement from serious field use until she repaired it properly.

She laid it apart.

For most of her life equipment maintenance had happened around other work. At a Warden post someone would be talking. On contract there would be a report waiting, a fire to build or a route to consider. At court somebody always knew how to find her.

Here there was only the house.

Lethira finished with the bow, repacked the things she wanted ready and left the damaged arrow beside the repair kit.

Then she looked at the four maps.

"Fine."

The closest one opened beneath her hands.

Their house sat among Ian's drawn trees. The stream crossed the lower ground. The northern cart track was marked. So was the proposed long rectangle that had amused her yesterday.

She carried the deed papers from their secure place and laid the relevant copy beside it. For several minutes she did nothing more exciting than compare lines.

The deed remained the less attractive object. No coloured trees, no suggestion of distant mountains, no pleasing progression from continent to home. It described legal relationships with the stubborn confidence of a document that expected future arguments: boundary references, right of passage, water use, the discrepancy between the old eastern stone line and the recorded legal one.

Ian's drawing had none of that authority.

It was also much easier to look at.

Lethira traced the stream with one fingertip without touching the ink.

Last evening's route approached from beyond the southern edge. That remained the important absence. They knew their feet could travel between river and holding. They knew almost nothing about the legal ground beneath those feet.

She found a scrap sheet instead of marking Ian's map.

**Southern stream route — records.**

Below that she added:

**Public passage?**

**Neighbouring title?**

**Water-side rights?**

She paused, then added:

**Do not accidentally buy a swamp.**

The possible archery strip received another line on the scrap.

She could walk that ground herself today. Not shoot. The open area looked promising, but promising was not safe. She wanted the boundary behind it clear in her head, wanted to know what lay beyond a missed arrow, and wanted to spend enough time there to understand whether anybody used an unseen path through the trees.

The house did not become safer because someone had drawn a rectangle.

She put the deed away and left the maps open.

Outside, the garden had entered the confident stage of neglect.

It had once been a kitchen garden. That much remained obvious in softened bed lines, a few edging stones almost swallowed by grass, and places where repeated working had left the soil darker and easier beneath the surface. The former owner had simply stopped asking it to be a garden before the wild ground had forgotten the instruction.

Lethira stood with her hands on her hips.

She had told Ian she might look at it.

Looking, she decided, had now occurred.

She could go back inside.

Instead she found the hand tools.

The first attempt at being offensively unproductive lasted perhaps twenty minutes.

Lethira cleared one small corner beside an old stone edge. She did not attack the whole garden. She removed coarse growth from a patch small enough to understand, loosened accumulated dead material and exposed soil that had not seen direct light for some time.

A pale shoot had begun under part of the cover.

She stopped before pulling it.

It might be something worth keeping.

Or an ambitious weed.

The important fact was that she did not know.

Lethira left it there.

By the time she straightened, soil marked both knees and one forearm. She looked at the modest cleared patch.

"Extremely productive."

A bird answered from somewhere above the lane.

She narrowed her eyes at the tree.

"I wasn't asking you."

The bird continued whatever business had occupied it before the conversation.

Lethira washed her hands and made tea.

She carried the cup back outside rather than inventing another task.

That worked better.

The old tree near the lane offered shade without hiding the house completely. She sat with her back against the trunk and stretched her legs into the grass.

Nothing happened.

A cart passed on the public road without turning towards their lane. Wind moved through the canopy in overlapping layers. A small flying insect investigated the rim of her cup and was discouraged without violence.

Lethira drank.

Nothing continued happening.

She discovered she rather liked it.

Yesterday she had killed two Reed Maulers.

Today she was sitting beneath a tree.

After a while the Worldsmith intruded, not because she wanted him but because quiet gave unfinished thoughts room.

His realm inside itself. The impossible object passing through dimensions he had treated as sufficient. The exact violence of inspection returning upon him without loss.

Most of all, his decision at the end: not remorse, but the acknowledgement that his measurements had omitted something real.

Agency as a structural fact.

Lethira opened her eyes.

There was an important difference between putting a thing into one's model and respecting it when inconvenient.

The Waykeeper had discovered some version of that before him.

Perhaps.

If she came back.

Lethira took another drink. She did not know where the Waykeeper was now, whether the goddess had walked one branch or a hundred, or whether time on that road meant anything useful to this morning. Ian had been right to wonder about seeing her again. Lethira still thought pursuing her before she chose to return would defeat the point.

That was enough.

She turned her attention to the cup in her hands.

The tea had cooled.

By late morning she had become productive again despite herself.

She walked the holding towards the open ground Ian had drawn as a possible range.

The map's rectangle was optimistic.

The land itself was wider in some places, narrower in others and interrupted by details maps tended to lose: a shallow change in grade, one tree whose roots pushed farther into the open strip than its trunk suggested, rough grass high enough to hide uneven footing.

None of those prevented a range.

They merely refused to become a rectangle.

Lethira walked the likely shooting direction first, then beyond where targets might reasonably stand. Trees waited farther back. She turned and approached from the other direction. From here the house sat safely aside rather than behind the line. The shared cart track was farther north and would need to remain wholly irrelevant to any shot.

The boundary mattered more. She knew approximately where it ran, but approximately had no place behind an arrow.

The ground deserved a proper check against the deed before she used it.

She stood in the middle of the open strip and imagined a target. Then another farther back. A beginner line. A longer line. Space where someone could stand behind a shooter without wandering into the dangerous side of the bow.

It could work.

Probably.

Lethira smiled.

Ian had not been entirely wrong.

That was unfortunate.

She did not fetch her bow.

Lunch was deliberately uncomplicated: bread, cheese, sliced fruit and the remaining portion of something cooked earlier. She sat at the scarred table alone.

Across from her was the chair Ian usually chose. It remained empty without requiring an interpretation.

The four maps were still spread along the far side of the table, safely away from food. At this distance the final holding map looked almost absurdly intimate after the continent beneath it. A whole world narrowing to a house, then to a room where three croissants had created enough flakes to colonise bedding.

She laughed once into her cup.

After lunch she cleaned the plate by hand.

Upstairs, sunlight had moved across the bed.

The sheets still carried evidence of the morning's defeat, though she had removed the tray. Ian's pillow remained on the chair.

Lethira picked it up.

She looked at the bed.

Then she deliberately put the pillow back on the chair.

"Consequences."

She remade the bed around the omission.

The result was neat enough to make the missing pillow conspicuous.

She opened the window a little farther and let the room air.

The future bed came to mind: the old repaired frame, the custom mattress, and the still-empty place in the room that she wanted eventually filled by Wood Elf work because she intended it to be. A chest, perhaps. Shelving.

She could ask Aelira who was making good household work now.

Or Sairen might know someone better.

That conversation did not need to happen today.

Downstairs, she spent another half hour in the garden, discovered two more things she was unwilling to identify confidently and left both alive.

One could always kill a plant tomorrow. Restoring it after certainty arrived late was harder.

Near midday's far side she took the damaged arrow to the table. Repairing it gave her hands enough work without demanding much thought. She removed the worn fletching carefully, cleaned the shaft where new material would sit and checked its straightness again.

The shaft itself remained good.

This one deserved new fletching.

She prepared it and set it aside to cure.

The afternoon settled around the house.

No work crew arrived unexpectedly. No divine realm opened. No Guild runner found her with a contract. The roof did not choose this exact hour to fail dramatically. The self-emptying bucket under the known leak had nothing to do under clear sky.

Lethira went outside again.

This time she took no tools.

She followed the stream through their own ground towards the old marker they had reached the previous evening. Daylight made the route easier to read. At the marker she stopped. Beyond it lay yesterday's walk towards the river.

The sensible next step would be records.

Not today.

She turned upstream instead.

There were places where the house disappeared despite the short distance. One bend placed trees and bank between her and the roof until she could hear only water and leaves.

Lethira sat on a dry root.

She removed one boot, then the other, rolled her trouser legs and put her feet into the water.

Cold.

She hissed.

"Rude."

The stream remained unmoved by criticism.

She stayed.

By early afternoon she returned to the house, dried her feet and checked the sleeve again.

The oil had settled.

She flexed the scored leather.

Still sound.

No patch today.

She hung the outer layer where air could move around it and put the maintenance kit away.

Then she made tea and sat at the scarred table with the house map in front of her.

The scrap of questions lay beside it.

**Southern stream route — records.**

**Public passage?**

**Neighbouring title?**

**Water-side rights?**

**Do not accidentally buy a swamp.**

She added one more line beneath the possible range.

**Check exact boundary before shooting.**

Then she put the pencil down and drank her tea while sunlight moved slowly across the map.

Upstairs, Ian's pillow remained on the chair.

---

Ian appeared in the Wood Elf village, a little way from Aelira's rooms, and walked towards them until a Warden or attendant could ask whether she was free to see him.

The afternoon beneath the trees was brighter than Merrowford's shaded lanes. Sunlight reached lower paths in shifting patches through leaves far overhead, catching pale bark, suspended walkways and the occasional flash of silver fittings on a Warden's equipment.

Ian did not get particularly far before a Wood Elf Warden coming from the opposite direction slowed.

Recognition followed quickly enough to prevent alarm, though not quickly enough to erase professional attention. Her gaze checked the path behind him before returning to his face.

"Ian."

Her attention moved briefly over his Earth clothes.

"Princess Aelira?"

His direction made the likely purpose clear.

"I can ask whether she's free."

The Warden indicated a broad place beside the path beneath an old tree, comfortably outside the more private approach.

"Wait here. I'll tell her you've come."

"Thank you," Ian said in perfect Elven.

The Warden's ears shifted at the sound.

Not at the courtesy, but at the language. Ian's English reached her as effortless Elven, the same private mechanism settlement witnesses had encountered before. She gave him a brief assessing look, then accepted the result without turning it into an interrogation.

"You're welcome."

She continued towards Aelira's rooms.

The wait was not long.

The settlement continued around Ian without reorganising itself for his presence. Two younger Wood Elves crossed one of the higher walkways carrying baskets between them. A pair of attendants passed along a neighbouring path, both recognising him and neither treating recognition as an invitation to stop.

The Warden returned several minutes later.

"Princess Aelira is free. She'll see you now. I'll take you to her."

Ian nodded and followed. The Warden led him along the inner path without ceremony. Public paths narrowed, traffic thinned, and the platforms above became less crowded.

Near Aelira's rooms, the Warden exchanged a few quiet words with an attendant and continued through to a small open-sided sitting space overlooking one of the lower gardens.

Aelira was already there.

Several sheets lay arranged on the table beside her, held against the breeze by a carved wooden weight. Her silver-blonde hair was partly bound back, and she wore clothing suited to an ordinary afternoon rather than formal court presentation.

When Ian entered, she looked up.

Recognition brought warmth to her face.

"Ian."

She set down the page she had been reading and rose.

The Warden withdrew far enough to give them privacy without pretending the Princess had ceased to possess security.

Aelira's eyes travelled over Ian's Earth clothes, then returned to his face.

"You've come in person."

Curiosity, not alarm.

"What brings you to see me?"

"I have an idea. It might be a bit foolish. It doesn't involve gods."

Ian smiled at her.

"Lethira is funding my existence in this world. I don't mind. In some ways I quite like it. I also doubt she'll go bankrupt."

Ian paused for her acknowledgement.

"The land we've bought, if extended quite a way, would meet the larger river that flows through Merrowford. I think it would be nice to have a path down, be able to see the river etc."

"Do you think obtaining it—leaving aside how for now—would be possible, and do you think she'll like it? I'm not sure it's a stupid idea, buying a small bit of woods for an Elven Warden coming from—"

Ian gestured around them.

"—all this, but she looked so calm and happy when we explored it..."

He blushed a little.

Aelira listened without interrupting. Her expression changed first at the suggestion that Lethira might bankrupt herself supporting him, then when Ian reached the part that actually mattered.

"You are probably correct that she will not bankrupt herself."

Dry amusement touched her voice.

"And I suspect she enjoys being the one with ordinary coin while the incomprehensibly powerful human remains economically decorative."

Her attention sharpened when he described the route.

"Possible? Probably. But not because you want it, and not necessarily as one purchase."

Aelira rested one hand against the table.

"You know there is land between your holding and the river. You don't yet know whether it belongs to one person, several people, the town, or whether some older right crosses it. A path beside water may already carry access rights that make buying anything unnecessary. Or somebody may own the ground and have no interest in selling it."

She glanced towards the garden.

"And from what you've described, I would not call all of it woodland. Wet ground, alder, willow, flood channels. Lethira may like that more than a tidy strip of trees."

Her smile returned, quieter now.

"As for whether she would like it, I think Lethira would like having a way to the river. You already know that because she told you she wanted the path."

Her eyes came back to his.

"I am less certain she would like discovering that you acquired the land for her because she looked happy there."

She let that distinction stand.

"If you want my guess, the thing she was happy about yesterday was learning the ground around her home with you."

Aelira tilted her head.

"Have you asked her whether she wants to own the route to the river, or only whether she wants a path?"

"Not yet. I was just thinking through options. The problem is, let's say she'd like to make a path. A little bridge over this bit here, clean up this bit there, maybe a place to sit. That's all nice stuff to do. But at some point you might find you're doing it somewhere you shouldn't. It's not buying it as a gift; it's about enabling the use of it, if that makes sense. I'd like to do that for her. But..."

Ian raised his hands.

"I am but a poor, humble human."

He smiled.

Aelira's mouth twitched.

"Yes. A famously powerless human with no resources except impossible doors, impossible maps and an Elf willing to fund his meals."

The joke passed.

"But the distinction makes sense. You are not trying to give her land. You are trying to make sure that, if the two of you decide you want a path, a bridge or somewhere to sit, you can actually use the ground without discovering afterward that you have crossed somebody else's rights."

Aelira tapped one finger lightly against the table.

"Then I would not begin with buying anything. Begin with knowing what the land is. Who owns it. Whether there is already a right of passage. Whether the watercourse carries restrictions. Whether any part floods badly enough that building there would be foolish."

Her eyes warmed slightly.

"And if Lethira later says she wants none of that, you have learned something useful without quietly deciding her landscape for her."

A pause.

"As ideas go, I have heard worse from humble humans."

Then her gaze sharpened with curiosity.

"Do you want me to help you find out who actually controls that strip?"

Ian shook his head.

"I take up too much of your time as it is. We visited some human clerks when we bought it, so I was going to do it myself without omnipotence. Try not to faint."

Aelira put one hand flat against the table as though steadying herself.

"I will do my best."

Her expression remained solemn for almost two seconds.

"A human clerk. Without omnipotence. Ian, you should have warned me before presenting something this shocking."

The smile escaped.

Then she nodded more seriously.

"That's sensible. The Merrowford records staff already know you, Lethira, the holding and the identity chain. Starting there keeps the question where it belongs instead of involving my office simply because I could make enquiries more easily."

She glanced at the papers beside her, then back at him.

"And you do not take up too much of my time. I am capable of telling you when I am busy."

A slight lift of one eyebrow.

"That principle may sound familiar."

She settled back against the edge of the table.

"So your plan is to discover what the southern strip actually is before you mention any particular solution to Lethira?"

"Yes. Then, let's say there is a purchase requirement. I would like to have the means to do it before the big reveal. Gifts and asking and surprises are a tricky combination."

Ian smiled, slightly embarrassed by his track record here.

"So my main question is... What could I do, for whom, that results in that much money? The work could be... less ordinary. I am not sure if that then counts as cheating. But there is zero way, without some—"

Ian coughed.

"—use of special abilities, that I'm going to get that much."

He pondered.

"I haven't thought this through very well. Now I've said it, it sounds a bit stupid... Omnipotent cheating, just with extra steps and more forms, parchments and deeds."

Aelira listened through the self-criticism without rescuing him from it.

"I don't think the idea is stupid. I think you've mixed three different problems together."

She counted them lightly on her fingers.

"You want to know whether the land can be used. You want the option of contributing your own money if using it requires purchase. And you want Lethira still to be the person who decides with you whether either of you actually wants it."

Her hand lowered.

"The last one is the important part. If you secretly acquired the land first and presented it as a gift, I would have concerns. If you simply had enough coin that, after the two of you chose something together, you could say you can pay for this part, that is different."

Aelira's expression sharpened slightly at the question of earning it.

"And no, using an unusual ability does not automatically make the payment false. If somebody knows what service you are providing, wants that service, agrees on a price and receives what they paid for, the coin afterward is still payment."

She paused.

"The trouble is finding something your abilities can do without the service itself becoming absurd."

A faint smile.

"If you move one merchant's entire season of goods across the kingdom in an instant, you have done real work and also potentially displaced everyone who normally moves it. If you repair every roof in Merrowford by wishing, the roofers may have opinions about your new profession."

She glanced towards the papers on her table.

"You could also earn coin by solving questions nobody else can answer. Unfortunately, some of the easiest questions for you to answer are exactly the ones you have already learned you should not be asking."

Private thoughts. Hidden histories. Facts belonging to people who had never agreed to become information.

"So I would rule those out."

Then she became thoughtful.

"There may be bounded work where your advantage changes difficulty without making everybody else's work meaningless. Dangerous access. Recovery from places other people cannot safely reach. Moving an object when the owner explicitly wants it moved and ordinary transport is genuinely impractical. Inspecting something impossible to reach without damaging it. Perhaps making something if the buyer knows exactly what it is and does not mistake it for ordinary craft."

Her eyes narrowed a fraction.

"But I would keep it rare."

She gestured at him.

"And I think you are overlooking the least exciting answer. You can work."

The smile widened before he could object.

"You have spent a lifetime managing clerks, apparently. Merrowford contains records, merchants, warehouses, Guild administration, estates and people who hate paperwork. I doubt it would make you rich quickly, but it would be entirely yours."

Aelira let that sit.

"If what bothers you is not poverty but always reaching for Lethira's purse, you may not actually need enough money to buy a riverbank immediately. You may need some money that came from your own work."

Her gaze stayed on him.

"And if later the land turns out to cost more than you possess, then you and Lethira can decide together whether her money, your unusual work, both, or neither is the answer."

She tilted her head.

"That seems less like omnipotence with paperwork."

A beat.

"More like having a household."

"It's not being penniless... it's the inverse of where I am, so I like it."

"The only times I can think my power doesn't just take money from others is saving people and the like... which I'm not sure I should be charging for."

Ian sighed.

"I'll go find out what the land legality is like before offering myself to the dwarves to take the top off their mountain for a few gold."

Aelira laughed, brief and genuine.

"Please do not remove the top of a dwarven mountain for spending money. I would like to continue being allowed to speak to dwarves."

The humour settled.

"I understand. You are not ashamed of Lethira supporting you. You actually enjoy the reversal."

Her mouth curved.

"I suspect she does too."

"And I agree about saving people. If someone is trapped and you are the person who can reach them, turning the rescue itself into your income would probably sit badly with you afterward. That seems reason enough not to build your livelihood around it."

Aelira glanced towards the papers she had set aside.

"So find out what the land actually is. Perhaps the entire financial problem disappears because nobody needs to buy anything. Perhaps it becomes a modest agreement about passage. Perhaps it turns out to be several holdings and an unreasonable swamp."

Her eyes returned to him.

"You do not need to solve the hypothetical expensive version before you know whether it exists."

The dry amusement returned.

"And if it does exist, we can reconsider your promising career in mountain reduction before you insult the King Beneath."

"And let me know if you need a river diverted, an enormous tree impossibly moved two steps to the right, or any other impossible jobs. No task too small."

Ian smiled at her.

"Thank you, you're a good friend."

Aelira's expression softened.

"I'll remember the offer. Although if I ever ask you to move an enormous tree two steps to the right, you are permitted to ask whether I've finally lost my mind."

She reached out and touched his forearm briefly.

"And you're a good friend too, Ian."

There was no ceremony in it.

"Thank you for coming to ask rather than deciding that being able to solve something meant you should."

Her hand fell away.

"Go find your human clerks before you accidentally acquire a mountain."

Ian waved and disappeared.

Aelira's hand was still half-raised when Ian vanished.

For a moment she looked at the empty place where he had been.

Then she lowered her hand.

"Mountain reduction," she murmured.

The nearby Warden glanced towards her.

Aelira shook her head. "Nothing requiring attention."

She returned to the table and drew the displaced papers back into order.

---

Ian appeared somewhere near the civic offices.

The afternoon street around the civic complex was drying after recent rain. People came and went carrying folders, rolled plans and the particular expressions produced by property administration.

Inside, the air held paper, ink and old wood.

The middle-aged clerk with polished lenses was at the same counter Ian and Lethira had used while establishing the identity and land-purchase route. She finished with an elderly human man and a younger demi-human woman, compared two entries, and sent them towards another desk with a written reference rather than attempting to solve the next office's problem herself.

When they moved away, she looked up.

Recognition arrived after a second.

"Ian Kirk."

Her eyes dropped briefly to confirm that he was alone.

"Back about the western holding?"

"Related. I wanted to understand ownership and rights from the southern boundary of our holding—we eventually bought it—to the main river. Might you be able to assist, or know who might?"

The clerk's expression shifted into work.

"You completed the transfer?"

At Ian's wording she pulled the western-hold ledger closer and found the entry under **Lethira Dawnleaf / Ian Kirk**. Her finger stopped beside the sealed registration mark.

"Yes. There it is."

She took out a separate reference sheet and wrote the holding number.

"We can assist with most of that. Ownership, recorded rights of passage and the mapped parcels between your boundary and the river are held here. If something belongs to another office, I can tell you which one."

She rose and went to a set of larger drawers behind the counter. What came back was not one convenient map but several sheets: an outer-hold plan, a narrower parcel register, and an older water-and-drainage sheet whose lines did not align perfectly with either.

The clerk spread them in layers.

"Your holding ends here."

She indicated the southern recorded boundary rather than any old stone marker, then traced the small feeder beyond it with the blunt end of her pen.

"And you mean following this general ground until it reaches the main river?"

Her pen continued south across several marked divisions before stopping at the broad river line.

"This can be traced. But I should separate two questions before I start giving you answers."

She tapped the parcel divisions.

"Who owns the ground is one question."

Then the watercourse and older annotations beside it.

"Who may pass over it, maintain drainage, cross it or build anything on it may be another. A person can own land subject to somebody else's passage. Waterwork can have restrictions that do not belong entirely to the owner."

She looked over the top of her polished lenses.

"Are you asking only who owns the ground, or do you also want to know what rights already exist over it?"

"Potentially we'd want to make a path down to the river, maybe some other uses, so purchase is one option. I'm unsure if it's unowned, if we could just do that, but ownership might make it more permanent. It's just a thought at this stage. Being able to walk your own path, your own little bridge down to the river—would be nice."

Ian smiled.

The clerk's expression softened slightly at the last sentence.

"A path you can keep. Yes. That is a different question from simply being allowed to walk there."

She pulled the outer-holding map closer and began following the feeder south, comparing the newer parcel sheet with the older drainage record rather than trusting either one alone.

"Nothing here is simply unowned, at least according to the register."

Her pen stopped on the first division below their holding.

"This upper section belongs to another private holding. Mostly rough grazing and wet woodland on the record. Your stream crosses one corner of it."

The pen moved farther south.

"Then this lower ground changes character. The water and flood record treats part of it separately from the adjoining holdings because it carries drainage towards the river. That does not mean anyone may build whatever they like there."

She adjusted the older sheet until one worn line sat beneath the newer parcel boundary.

"And the final approach to the river has its own access entries. I would want the current register from the water desk before telling you exactly what you could alter there."

Her pen returned to the private parcel.

"This is the part where purchase, a granted strip, or a recorded passage agreement might be possible."

Then the lower wet ground.

"This is the part where ownership may not buy you the freedom you imagine, because drainage rights survive changes of owner."

Her mouth tightened in faint amusement.

"A little bridge is exactly the sort of harmless phrase that eventually arrives back here attached to three complaints and a flooded bean field."

She turned the map slightly so Ian could see the divisions.

"If you want, the next useful step is for me to pull the current ownership entry for that upper parcel and the current access conditions on the lower drainage ground. Then you'll know whether there is anything here worth approaching an owner about."

"Yes please. That would be very useful. Thank you."

The clerk nodded and gathered the sheets into a manageable stack.

"Give me a moment."

She disappeared behind the records partition. When she returned, she carried two narrower entries and an updated water register.

"The upper parcel is still privately held. Same owner as the last full revision. The land is retained separately from the house holding you bought. No debt or recorded dispute is attached to it."

She placed that entry beside Ian and Lethira's holding.

"It runs from your southern boundary across most of the rough ground you walked yesterday. The stream crosses it. There is no registered public footpath through that parcel."

Her finger moved to a notation near the watercourse.

"There is an old drainage-access right. People responsible for maintaining the channel may enter where necessary. That is not recreational access and it does not let adjoining owners create improvements."

The second sheet covered the lower section.

"This part is not another ordinary private holding. It is recorded as common drainage and flood-margin ground under town authority, with access preserved for water management and for passage along the river margin."

She checked the current water entry.

"Walking through it is permitted provided you do not obstruct drainage, damage the banks or interfere with working access. A maintained private path could require approval depending on what you actually changed. A bridge certainly would."

Her pen returned to the private upper parcel.

"So if what you eventually want is a continuous route that belongs with your home, this is the important piece. Without an agreement here, you have no permanent right to cross directly south from your own boundary."

She turned the ownership entry towards him.

"The owner can be approached about sale, a narrow transferred strip, or a permanent recorded passage right. You do not need to decide which before asking whether they are willing to discuss it."

The clerk paused.

"If you want the owner's contact route, I can give you the address the register permits us to use for land enquiries."

"Yes, please, that's great. And in terms of having something agreed with, I guess, the town around the lower area, are there any options? Maybe a long-term lease of sorts, with restrictions but a bit more flexibility than having to ask each time I want to put a chair down?"

The clerk considered that more carefully.

"There are options, but I would not call the useful one a lease."

She drew the lower drainage sheet closer.

"The town does not normally give exclusive possession of flood-margin ground. We need to retain access, and other people retain the river-side passage."

Her pen followed the section between the private parcel and the river.

"What we can sometimes record is a long-term use agreement over a defined piece of town-controlled ground. Non-exclusive. You would accept drainage and flood restrictions, keep the public passage open and understand that water crews can enter whenever necessary."

She looked at Ian.

"In return, the agreement can state ordinary uses you do not need to request again every time."

She gave examples rather than assumptions.

"Keeping a narrow footpath clear. Cutting back specified ordinary growth. Maintaining a small area for sitting. Putting out movable furniture when you use it. Perhaps maintaining simple steps on a stable bank."

Her pen stopped.

"Anything which changes the water, fixes something permanently into the bank or could obstruct flood flow would still require approval. A bridge would almost certainly be listed separately even if the agreement anticipated that you might later apply for one."

The clerk's expression acquired the faint patience of somebody who had dealt with similar distinctions before.

"And you do not need permission from the town every time you carry a chair onto land where you are already allowed to walk. We have not yet developed that degree of administrative ambition."

She tapped the lower strip.

"The advantage of an agreement is permanence of expectation. You know what you may maintain. The town knows who is maintaining it."

Then she indicated the private parcel above it.

"If you obtained ownership or a permanent passage right across this section, and a recorded use agreement for the town section below, you could potentially have one continuous lawful route from your holding towards the river without pretending you privately owned the river margin."

She rested her hand on the lower record.

"If that is the sort of arrangement you're considering, I can show you the standard conditions before you approach anyone."

"Without the other bit of land it might be moot, so I'll avoid wasting your time on that. It sounds a bit more complex, but something of the structure you described sounds good. The permanence of the agreement is good. I'll go explore this bit first. Again, many thanks."

Ian smiled at her.

The clerk nodded.

"That is sensible. The lower arrangement can wait. Nothing about today's enquiry reserves it or commits you to pursuing it."

She copied the permitted land-enquiry address from the ownership register onto a small slip, added the parcel reference beneath it and pushed both towards him.

"If you contact them, use the parcel number as well as your own holding reference. It will save whoever answers from guessing which piece of wet ground you mean."

Her mouth moved slightly.

"And if they are unwilling to sell, that does not necessarily end the question. A permanent passage right or transferred narrow strip may be considerably less disruptive to them than selling the whole parcel."

She gathered the drainage sheets back into their proper order.

"You are welcome. Come back when you know whether there is an actual proposal. At that point we can worry about the complicated part instead of inventing one in advance."

A faintly dry smile followed.

"Good luck with the wet ground."

Ian waved and bade her farewell.

Outside the civic offices, Ian checked the concealed clock beneath his bracer.

The afternoon had advanced, but not catastrophically. There was still a useful stretch before the time he and Lethira had expected to meet again, provided the address was genuinely inside Merrowford and the conversation did not become another exercise in discovering six generations of disagreement.

The slip carried the parcel reference and the permitted contact address.

It was enough time for a short visit.

Ian studied the address and found somewhere discreet to disappear from, and somewhere equally discreet to reappear nearby.

A narrow lane screened from the busier road by sheds and rear garden walls served. The registered contact address belonged to a modest house inside Merrowford proper. Nothing outside identified it as connected to rural property.

Ian still had enough time for a conversation if whoever answered was available.

The front door was ahead.

Ian knocked on the door and took a step back.

Footsteps approached from inside, followed by the scrape of a bolt.

The door opened partway.

An older human woman stood there, grey threaded heavily through hair tied back from her face. She was not the woman Ian and Lethira had signed the western-house transfer with. The resemblance around the eyes was enough to make the relationship plausible before she spoke.

Her attention moved over Ian with ordinary caution.

"Yes?"

From somewhere deeper inside the house came another woman's voice asking who it was.

The woman at the door looked back briefly, then returned her attention to Ian.

"Hello. My partner and I have just bought the old house west of Merrowford. I was told you own the adjacent parcel of land to the south of it?"

The woman at the door glanced back into the house.

"My sister does."

The voice from farther inside came closer. A moment later the woman Ian recognised from the western-house sale appeared behind her, looking first at him and then at the slip in his hand.

Recognition followed.

"Ian Kirk."

She stepped nearer to the doorway.

"Yes. I kept the southern parcel when I sold you the house."

Her expression became curious rather than guarded.

"Is there a problem with it?"

"I was curious if you'd considered selling it, at all?"

The owner's eyebrows rose.

"Not particularly."

She did not sound offended by the question, only surprised.

"I kept it because there was no reason to include it with the house sale. It's mostly rough ground, wet in places, and worth more to me kept than somebody would usually offer for it."

A pause.

"But I haven't sworn never to sell it."

Her gaze shifted briefly towards the parcel reference in Ian's hand.

"Why do you want it?"

"It's something we're considering, not for building on, but to perhaps give us more room. Lethira likes her archery as you can imagine."

The woman glanced towards the west, as though the parcel might somehow be visible through several streets and buildings.

"Archery."

That made the request more comprehensible.

"There's enough open ground in parts of it, though I wouldn't trust all of it underfoot after heavy rain. The lower side gets wetter than the house parcel, and some of the trees near the drainage line were left alone for a reason."

She folded her arms loosely.

"If you're thinking of using it rather than building another house, that makes more sense to me."

Her sister stepped away from the doorway, apparently deciding this was now an ordinary land conversation rather than a suspicious visit.

The owner considered Ian for another moment.

"I hadn't planned to sell it. But I also don't use it much now that I'm living here."

A pause.

"If you and Lethira are serious, I'd hear an offer. I wouldn't promise to accept it."

"I've a few more things to check before I get too far ahead and in trouble."

Ian smiled with the classic domestic power balance of males in trouble.

"Shall I contact the intermediary we used beforehand if we decide to make an offer?"

The owner's mouth curved at his expression.

"That sounds sensible."

She glanced at her sister, who appeared to understand the expression well enough without knowing Ian.

"And yes. If you decide you want to make an offer, use the same intermediary. She already has the earlier transaction, the holding references and my details. There's no advantage in making another person reconstruct all of it."

She paused.

"You can tell her you've spoken to me and that I'm willing to consider an offer. That isn't acceptance of a price."

A dry note entered her voice.

"I've learned that property discussions benefit from stating obvious things before somebody writes them differently."

Then she gave Ian a small nod.

"Check whatever else you need to check. If you and Lethira still want the land afterward, I'll listen."

"Thank you, and sorry to have bothered you. Have a nice afternoon."

Ian waved, then left.

"No bother," the owner said.

Her sister gave him a small wave from farther inside.

"You too."

The door remained open while Ian left, then closed behind him.

For the moment, that was enough. The southern parcel had an identifiable owner, and she was willing to hear an offer if Ian and Lethira eventually decided they wanted one.

Next came a discreet visit to the intermediary to update her on the possibility, then a return to the clerks. Omnipotent travel would, he hoped, leave enough time for another clerk interaction before he was late.

The impossible travel reduced most of Merrowford to a few carefully chosen blind corners. Ian reached the records-and-contract shop near the western market road without the walking time the same errand had required during the original purchase.

Inside, paper, sealing wax and old timber were as familiar as the broad desk.

The younger assistant at the front looked up, recognised Ian and went to fetch the intermediary.

The grey-haired woman emerged shortly afterward. Her attention settled on Ian with professional recognition and a trace of dry curiosity.

"Ian Kirk."

She glanced towards the empty space beside him.

"Without Lethira this time."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly.

"What have you found?"

"I appreciate the risk acknowledgement of doing things on my own."

Ian smiled.

"I'm considering the parcel of land due south of the one you helped us arrange. I've been to see the owner, who is open to an offer and was happy for you to act, as am I. I'm not yet ready to place an offer, but wanted to see if you were okay to act and if you had any guidance on price from similar land?"

The intermediary's eyes narrowed with amusement.

"I appreciate that you have at least identified the risk."

She moved to the shelves behind the desk and returned with a thinner sales ledger than the one used for the house.

"I am willing to act. You already have an identity record, the adjoining holding is registered in both your names, and I've dealt with the seller before. That makes this simpler than the first transaction."

She opened the ledger and worked backwards through several entries, ignoring parcels whose buildings or good cultivated soil made them poor comparisons.

"Price is less simple."

Her finger stopped beside one sale, then another.

"Rough outer land without a dwelling sells well below a sound house holding for the same area. Wet ground lowers it further. Useful timber, reliable grazing, road frontage or good agricultural soil can push it back up."

She looked at Ian.

"Your southern parcel has some things working against its value: damp ground, flood exposure lower down, drainage restrictions and no house. It also has things working for it: it joins your land directly, it is close to Merrowford, there is usable open ground, and you specifically want that parcel rather than any equivalent number of acres somewhere else."

Her finger tapped the ledger.

"The seller knows the last point too."

There was no criticism in it.

"On the comparable sales I have, I would expect the whole parcel to be worth substantially less than the house holding. I would also expect the owner to ask more than the cheapest rough-ground comparison because she has no need to sell and because its value to an adjoining owner is higher."

She pulled a blank scrap towards herself and wrote three figures.

"The first is what I would call an ambitious buyer's opening. The second is roughly where recent comparable land suggests a fair agreement might settle, allowing for its position beside yours. The third is where I would start asking why you are paying so much for wet grass unless there is something in the title or timber I have not yet seen."

She turned the paper towards Ian.

"The middle figure is meaningful money, but nowhere near another house purchase. If the owner wanted something approaching the value of your existing holding, I would advise you to walk away unless the records reveal a very good reason."

Her eyes lifted from the scrap.

"And because you are not yet making an offer, I would not contact her or put anything in writing. At present I have heard only that you may become interested and that she is willing to listen."

A small pause.

"If you return with Lethira—or return alone having survived whatever domestic procedure is required—and tell me you actually want to proceed, I can pull the full parcel record, check recent comparable transfers properly and draft the same provisional structure we used before."

The corner of her mouth shifted.

"Preferably before you decide that being adjacent to your house makes wet woodland priceless."

Ian smiled.

"Thank you. I'll let you know either way. Have a nice afternoon."

He collected the paper and abused omnipotence to reach the clerk's office without anyone seeing him.

The intermediary inclined her head.

"You too."

A moment later, the geography between the records-and-contract shop and the civic offices became somebody else's problem.

No one saw Ian disappear. No one saw him arrive.

He emerged into an empty side passage close to the civic building with enough ordinary street between himself and the entrance that anyone who later noticed him had every reason to assume he had walked there.

Inside, the queue had shortened.

The clerk with the polished lenses was still at her counter, entering something into a ledger. She finished the line before looking up.

Recognition was immediate.

"That was quick."

Her eyes dropped briefly to the paper Ian carried, though she made no attempt to read it.

"I assume the private parcel did not end the idea?"

"I, er, walk quite quickly when I'm on a mission."

Ian coughed.

"The private seller is open to an offer, so that part is possible now. That leaves the other: how might I progress enough of a shape for that to make a decision on the former?"

The clerk looked at him over her lenses.

"Naturally."

She allowed the explanation of his remarkable walking speed to survive without investigation.

Then she drew the lower drainage record back across the counter.

"If the private owner is genuinely willing to consider an offer, then yes. It makes sense to establish whether this end can work before you spend money on the middle."

She tapped the town-controlled strip.

"You do not need a full application yet. A formal application assumes you have something definite enough to approve or refuse."

Her pen moved along the watercourse.

"What you need first is a preliminary use enquiry. It tells the water office what stretch you are considering and what kinds of ordinary use you might eventually want. They check whether there is an immediate reason the idea cannot work—flood conveyance, maintenance access, unstable bank, some existing right I haven't found here."

The clerk pulled a blank sheet from beneath the counter.

"It would not give you permission to build anything. It would give you a written indication of what they would probably allow under a longer agreement, what would always need separate approval, and what they would refuse regardless of who owned the land above it."

She began listing examples in the margin.

"A kept footpath. Limited vegetation management. A small maintained sitting area. Movable furniture. Those could potentially sit inside the standing agreement we discussed."

Another line.

"Steps, fixed seating, surfacing, fencing—those become more dependent on exact location."

Then she drew a line beneath the rest.

"And anything crossing the channel or changing a bank—bridge, culvert, retaining work, diversion—would remain a separate works question even if the wider use agreement existed."

Her expression remained practical.

"For your purposes, that should be enough. You would know whether buying the private parcel could actually lead to the continuous route you have in mind."

She pushed the blank enquiry sheet towards him.

"I would need a rough route and the uses you want assessed. It doesn't have to be surveyed. If you want, I can start the preliminary enquiry from this counter and have the water desk review it."

Ian thought he could estimate a route using the way they had walked.

"So yes, let's do that. Bridge-wise, I'll hold off unless there are specific areas. A modest footbridge to make some of the marshier areas easier to traverse is all I'm thinking, nothing load-bearing requiring substantial footings."

When asked, Ian drew the approximate route they had walked.

The clerk accepted the qualification without treating *modest footbridge* as a phrase that removed engineering from the world.

"That's useful. I'll record it as a possible pedestrian crossing only, not as part of the standing-use request."

She wrote a short note beside the relevant section.

"Small does not necessarily mean harmless near flood water, but it does mean the water office can answer the question you're actually asking instead of imagining a cart bridge."

When Ian drew the route, she turned the sheet towards herself and compared it with the drainage map.

His line began at the southern boundary of the holding, followed the small watercourse through the privately owned parcel, then continued across the lower wet ground towards the main river. It bent where he and Lethira had followed firmer ground around the old flood channel.

The clerk adjusted one part of the sketch with a dotted annotation.

"You walked roughly here?"

Her pen indicated the place where the older drainage record showed the shallow flood channel cutting across the route.

"That explains why you came west before continuing south."

She compared another point.

"And this old marker is the one near your boundary?"

The map did not establish the marker as the legal corner by itself, so she labelled it **field reference only**.

The preliminary enquiry gradually acquired a shape.

**Purpose:** possible continuous pedestrian route between the western holding and the public river margin.

**Potential standing uses to assess:** maintaining a narrow natural-surface footpath, limited vegetation clearance necessary to keep it usable, and a modest sitting area with movable furniture.

**Not presently requested:** exclusive possession of the town ground, alteration of the watercourse, drainage diversion, vehicle access or building development.

**Possible later separate works enquiry:** one or more small pedestrian crossings if the preferred route encounters wet channels where a crossing would materially improve access.

The clerk read the summary back once.

"That keeps the question broad enough that they can suggest a better line if yours crosses something unsuitable."

She set Ian's sketch beneath the enquiry form and added both holding and private-parcel references.

"The owner being open to negotiation is relevant context, but I'm not putting her willingness to sell into a town record. That's between you, her and whichever intermediary you use."

Her eyes moved down the completed form.

"This should get you what you need: whether a continuous route is plausible, what ordinary maintenance could sit under a long-term agreement, and which parts would still require individual works approval."

She turned the form back towards Ian and placed one finger beside the final line.

"I need you to confirm that this is the enquiry you want made and sign here. Then I can send it to the water desk."

Ian signed with his normal English signature.

"That's great, thank you so much."

The clerk watched the signature go down in the same English hand already held against Ian Kirk's earlier civic record.

"Good."

She sanded the ink lightly, checked the holding reference once more, then stamped the preliminary-enquiry line. One copy remained with the office; another, carrying the same reference number and a short description of the request, came back across the counter to Ian.

"I'll send this to the water desk with your route sketch."

She stacked the office papers together.

"They may answer entirely from the records. If the route crosses something the maps don't resolve properly, they may want the ground checked before giving you anything useful. Either way, this is only an assessment of what could be agreed. You haven't applied for works, leased anything or committed yourself to maintaining the river margin."

Her eyes lifted over the polished lenses.

"So you are still free to discover that the sensible answer is not to buy several acres of wet land merely because you enjoyed walking through it."

The dryness was unmistakable now.

"But if the answer is favourable, you should have enough structure to decide whether the private parcel is worth pursuing."

She pushed the stamped copy the final inch towards him.

"And this time, Mr Kirk, you've managed to leave my counter with fewer questions than you arrived with."

Ian took the stamped copy.

"Thank you again," he said as he walked out.

He used omnipotence to return home to meet Lethira, entering innocently and hiding the day's papers outside this reality's view.

Lethira looked up from the scarred table.

The closest of Ian's maps lay open in front of her, the holding enlarged across the parchment. Beside it sat the small scrap she had been using for her own notes. Her tea had reached the last third of the cup.

Her expression warmed immediately.

"There you are."

She rose and crossed the room to him. There was a faint trace of soil near one knee despite whatever cleaning she had done after the garden.

Lethira put her arms around him and kissed him in uncomplicated greeting.

"I've had an extremely dangerous day."

Her mouth curved against his.

"I identified several plants by admitting I couldn't identify them, repaired an arrow, failed to patch a sleeve that didn't need patching, and discovered that your archery rectangle is annoyingly plausible."

She drew back enough to look at him.

"How was the rest of your workday, my love?"

"It was fairly dull, mostly clerk related. It's nice to be home."

Lethira's arms tightened around him for a moment.

"Mostly clerks. So the A-rank warfare really was as dangerous as advertised."

She kissed him once more, lighter this time, then rested her forehead briefly against his.

"I'm glad you're home."

The words came easily.

She took his hand and led him towards the scarred table. His close map remained open beside her notes, and one line had been added beneath the proposed range:

**Check exact boundary before shooting.**

"I walked it properly," she said. "Your rectangle is irritatingly sensible. The house is well clear, the ground mostly works, and there is enough depth behind where I'd put the targets."

Her finger hovered over the relevant part of the parchment.

"But I want the legal boundary exact before I loose anything there. And there's one tree whose roots make the ground less tidy than your drawing claims."

A small smile appeared.

"I have therefore discovered the first serious cartographic error in your work."

She leaned against him.

"I also sat beside the stream for long enough to accomplish absolutely nothing. I recommend it."

Her eyes moved to his face.

"Tea first, or do you want to see what I found outside?"

"I'd love to see what you've found. Lead on."

Ian kissed her briefly and held her hand.

Lethira returned the kiss and gave his hand a small squeeze.

"Come on, then."

She led him through the back of the house and into the old kitchen garden.

The patch she had cleared was immediately obvious, although calling it *cleared* gave her morning rather more grandeur than it deserved. A few square yards of darker earth had been exposed beside one of the old edging stones. The rest remained grass, coarse growth and half-lost bed lines.

Lethira stopped beside it.

"This is the result of nearly half an hour of heroic agricultural work."

She pointed to a pale shoot emerging from beneath the remaining cover.

"I don't know what that is."

Then to another broader-leafed plant near the edge.

"Or that."

A third received the same treatment.

"I've decided ignorance is currently their best defence."

Her satisfaction was entirely disproportionate to the amount of garden reclaimed.

"I thought about pulling the first one because it looked inconvenient. Then realised I had absolutely no idea whether the previous owner planted it."

She glanced at him.

"So I have successfully learned not to kill things merely because they're badly labelled."

From there she led him towards the open strip marked on his closest map.

The difference between parchment and ground became obvious quickly. The imagined rectangle existed only if one ignored shallow grade changes, the reach of roots beneath the grass and the irregular edge of surrounding trees.

Lethira walked into the open area and stopped roughly where a shooting line might eventually sit.

"Your map isn't wrong enough to be satisfying."

She pointed ahead.

"I'd put targets somewhere beyond there. The house is well off the line. The shared cart track is nowhere near it. There's useful depth behind."

Then she indicated one mature tree encroaching from the side.

"That one's roots come farther into the clear ground than the drawing suggests."

She moved several paces and looked back towards the house.

"The real issue is the far boundary. I know where it approximately is from the deed and our inspection, but approximately is not an archery measurement."

Her expression sharpened with Warden confidence.

"So I won't shoot here until I've checked it precisely. After that, if the line works, I think this could become a very good range."

A small smile appeared.

"Possibly even good enough that I forgive the rectangle."

She took his hand again and continued towards the lower ground.

The stream became audible before it became visible. Lethira followed the bank upstream rather than towards the southern marker they had reached the night before, choosing a narrow route beneath trees until the house disappeared behind ground and foliage despite remaining close.

At a broad exposed root beside the water she stopped.

"This was the important discovery."

She sat down on the root and looked at the stream.

"I came here intending to inspect things."

Her boots rested just short of the water.

"Then I took them off, put my feet in there and did absolutely nothing for quite a long time."

She looked up at him, openly pleased with herself.

"I think I may be getting very good at it."

"You seem to have taken to this Lady-of-leisure life—with attendants and aides, singular—very well."

Lethira looked at him with grave consideration.

"Singular is important. I don't want the household budget collapsing under the weight of excessive staff."

Her hand remained in his as she shifted on the root to make room beside her.

"And I think *Lady of leisure* may be overstating matters. Yesterday I killed two Reed Maulers. Today I weeded approximately three square yards."

A pause.

"Clearly I've retired."

Her expression softened.

"But I do like this part. Having somewhere that doesn't need me to be useful every hour."

She looked towards the stream.

"And having one attendant who eventually comes home."

Ian embraced her tightly.

"I love you."

He squeezed her.

"Shall we dine?"

Lethira's arms came around him just as tightly.

"I love you too."

She held the embrace for several breaths, cheek against him, before the mention of food made her laugh softly.

"Yes. Definitely. My great life of leisure has made me hungry."

She kissed him once, then slipped free and stood from the root.

"Come on, my love."

They went back towards the house together.

Dinner remained deliberately ordinary. Lethira cut vegetables while Ian handled the bread and the simpler parts of the meal. They worked around one another in the small kitchen with the ease that had begun forming since their first stew: handing over a knife without discussion, shifting aside before the other needed space, correcting the position of a pot because it was easier than explaining why.

The vegetables browned unevenly in places. One piece escaped the board and was recovered from the floor with appropriate contempt. Lethira tasted the pan, added salt, tasted again and decided it would do.

They ate at the scarred table.

The maps remained stacked at the far end, close enough to belong to the room without becoming the subject of dinner. Lethira told him which unknown plant she distrusted most, which part of the old bed line looked as though someone had once grown something deliberately there, and how the bird near the lane had refused to respect her authority.

The conversation wandered elsewhere without needing direction.

Yesterday's B-rank work surfaced briefly, then disappeared into food. The new bedframe came up when Lethira shifted in her chair and remembered that six better chairs were still being made. Ian's workday remained mostly clerks, which she continued to describe as hazardous administration whenever the opportunity appeared.

By the time the plates were empty, evening had settled properly around the windows.

They cleaned the kitchen together.

Lethira left the scarred table with its maps undisturbed and checked the door before they went upstairs.

The bedroom still contained one deliberate piece of evidence.

Ian's pillow remained on the chair.

Lethira stopped in the doorway and looked at it.

Then at him.

"No."

She was already smiling.

"That stays there until tomorrow. You abandoned it. There must be consequences."

The temporary bed remained exactly as inadequate as it had been in the morning, though freshly made and considerably less occupied by pastry crumbs. They prepared for sleep without haste while the house settled into its nighttime sounds: the stream beyond the rear windows, occasional movement in the branches and the small noises of timber cooling after the day.

When they finally lay down, Lethira claimed more of the mattress than strict fairness permitted.

This time intentionally.

The arrangement required correction before either of them could become comfortable, and that produced the expected negotiations through shifting limbs, stolen blanket and quiet laughter.

Eventually Lethira settled against him.

The room darkened.

Her breathing gradually slowed.

The stream went on behind the house.

By the time sleep took them, the pillow remained on the chair.