He and his lieutenants and partners met in the barn as they had before because it was the only place on the property with a modicum of privacy that was large enough to contain so many people. Lucas didn't say much at that meeting beyond what was expected of him. He listened and yawned while he drank strong tea, but whenever anyone suggested the need to do something immediately, he advised his gang that they should just monitor the developing situation.

Every time he used the word, "monitor," or argued that they "shouldn't do anything rash," Kar'gandin glowered a little harder at him. Although he didn't call Lucas out for his recent assassination of the Baron, it was obvious that he knew he'd done it. "We'll all reap a bloody hornets nest in this chaos now," the dwarf complained to no one in particular. "Just you wait and see. Whoever did this has doomed us all."

He didn't call Lucas out directly until the meeting was over and the two of them went to his lab to do a little inventory, as Kar'gandin called it. The only inventory he called out, though, was Lucas's list of crimes, real and imagined, as he ticked them off one at a time with stubby fingers.

"Don't ye think there will be retribution?" the dwarf asked. "The Gods damned whisperers might be here already spying on us."

"Tomorrow maybe," Lucas said with a nod, "But today, I think they've got bigger fish to fry."

Kar'gandin didn't believe him until he told him about the mage, and how he'd used him to frame the Mages' Guild and throw the other scheming nobles off the scent, but that only enraged the dwarf more.

"Bah! Mages!" the dwarf roared. "Bloody mages are the only things worse than dragons! That's two hornet's nests! Let me ask you, junior, why is it that with so much doom hanging over our heads, we aren't leaving the city already? There's plenty of other places to settle down and start up operations!"

"I'm not going anywhere," Lucas answered as he looked through one of the miscellaneous crates he had to see what he had to work with. "I've got a wedding to plan for."

"Well, we can pack now, and then after that we can be on our way and—" Kar'gandin started to offer a middle ground approach, but Lucas quickly rebuffed him.

"We aren't going anywhere. It's going to be fine," he told the dwarf. "Listen, things might get messy, but I doubt the city will burn. There's too much to fight over. All the power players have died, and the rest will have to reach some kind of accord. And then? Well, think of it, man. Chaos. That's where the money is made."

"Over your dead body," the dwarf grumbled.

"Possible, but unlikely," Lucas countered. "Lord Torvin wanted me dead for reasons that were both personal and professional. I had a little birdy tell me that he—"

"Ye've got your bride to be spying for you?" the dwarf gasped.

Lucas shook his head. "No, not an actual bird," he sighed. "I would never involve her. It's a figure of speech. What I mean is I had an informant tell me that I was about to be taken out as soon as the supply of blue was locked in elsewhere. Maybe we could have run, but for what? The manor might be gone, but this village is our home now, for better or worse."

"My home is five hundred feet beneath the sheet stone escarpments of the Keldarian Range, where political assassinations are unheard of," the dwarf scowled. "All of this is just business, and I can do that business anywhere."

"And if you want to leave, you can," Lucas answered. "I won't blame you for it."

Against a lesser man, Lucas might have tried a little reverse psychology here. He might have said, 'If you're afraid of what comes next,' or something along those lines, but he respected the dwarf too much for that.

"Aye, and if things turn violent, maybe I will, but for now… well, if you're the one makin' the product, I can't exactly move on without ye', now can I?" the dwarf answered.

Lucas started to smile at that, but quickly suppressed it because he knew Kar'gandin wouldn't care for anything more emotional than simple camaraderie or celebration. Still, he knew there was loyalty hiding there behind that profit motive, and he appreciated it.

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Still, there was little they could do beyond sending a little extra money to the Knights of Brass to buy their loyalty ahead of time, and sending out a few free samples and other gifts to some of their best customers in the hopes of hearing some news. The same distance from the city that protected them, isolated them, and the fact that their little organization was so unimportant to most everyone who was still breathing was a blessing as much as it was a curse.

Fortunately, Lucas wouldn't have had it any other way. The situation made him powerless to decide what was going to happen, but the last thing he wanted was to end up in charge of everyone. So, after deciding that there was no true emergency, he went into town to see about a suit and what payment, if any, was needed for a dress so that he wasn't tempted to go right back to bed.

The walk did him good, but that was the only part. Mr. Twill was obviously still none too pleased to see him, and his reception was an icy one.

"I understand my bride-to-be is running up quite the bill," Lucas started, trying to be magnanimous. "I've come to settle accounts."

"I'm sure you'll be wanting a suit then too," the tailor said coolly. "Any specific alterations in this one? Perhaps hidden sheathes for poisons or daggers?"

"No, none of that," Lucas answered, trying to play it off as a joke even though he knew it wasn't. "I'm looking to keep the fighting far away from Meadowin."

"Are you?" the tailor asked. "Perhaps that would be more effective if you were further from it."

"What makes you say that?" Lucas asked, wondering what he was getting at. It could be a lot of things. One of his men might have let slip his role in the dragon's untimely death, or as an assassin, he might be able to see killers the same way that Lucas could detect herbs at a distance.

Mr Twill didn't give him a straight answer. Instead, he changed topics. "We live in dangerous times, that's all. Now on to the particulars, I think…."

He was still very professional, of course, but when other people, especially his daughter, entered the room, his demeanor thawed remarkably. He obviously did not like the fact that Lucas knew his real profession, though, and he didn't seem inclined to forget that little detail any time soon.

By the time Lucas was done, he'd half emptied his coin purse and left only with the assurances that everything would be ready sometime next week, but then that was all he'd expected to leave with. Danaria would have killed him if he'd tried to pick up her dress.

After that, he visited the cobbler, his favorite herbalist who would be moonlighting as a florist for him, and the baker to see about a cake. All of those errands went better than the tailor had, and he was bombarded with compliments and well wishes instead of paranoid barbs, reinforcing his decision to stay here.

The closest that Casarra came to implying that he might not be welcome was "What is it about men like you that end up with women like Danaria?"

"Men like me?" Lucas asked, pretending to be hurt.

"Yeah, ruthless jerks that think they're above the law," she answered. It sounded harsh, but he could tell by the smile on her face when she said it that she meant well.

"Above the law?" he laughed, "I don't think I'm the only one here guilty of making bootleg healing potions, missy."

"Healing potions are a far cry from where you really make your money…" the redhead countered.

"Touche," Lucas admitted, ignoring her look of confusion at the word. "Well, maybe when all this is said and done, we can change that. No one says I have to make blue potions forever. Maybe we can invest those profits in something we can all be proud of, no matter what the guilds have to say on the subject."

They parted on good terms, but his appreciation for the small town life only increased when he ran into Danaria as he was leaving the bakery. Lucas was dog tired by then, but not so tired that he didn't stick around to hold her hand and bring back the bread she'd come to buy for everyone's lunch. The baskets weren't so heavy that she needed his help, of course, but it was too cute not to.

Maybe I can become the god of villages, he thought hopefully as he enjoyed the walk back to the farmhouse, arm in arm with the beautiful girl that would be his wife in a few short weeks.

That walk, and the lunch that followed, kept him up long enough that he knew he'd missed his opportunity to nap, but he no longer cared. It was a nice day, and he made a point not to waste those. By evening, a few notes from their loyal customers, and one longer missive from Sir Tristian reassuring Lucas that they would be able to rely on each other in the dark days ahead, however they turned out.

While Lucas had no way of knowing if that was true, the noble's notes about what was happening behind the scenes were more promising. One mentioned that the fragile alliance that Duke Torvin had cobbled together was collapsing, though the author had little to say about the murder specifically. Another mentioned that they were going to flee to their country estate for the time being because of the Duke's death, but made no mention of who had done it, while a third mentioned that the mages were under suspicion of assassinating the Prince and coopting the government.

It sounded like a mess, but not a mess that he was mixed up in, and that was good enough for now, because he was way too busy to do any fighting just yet.

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