Astrid responded.

Len had intended it to be a tiny jab at her friend, but found that she actually meant it. She wasn't sure where exactly along the line things had changed so thoroughly between the two of them, but she was glad they had. Sure, it still stung that there was a lot of her life that she couldn't share with the Demon Lord, but she supposed that was a lot of relationships. She also supposed that there was quite a lot that Astrid was keeping from her, so it didn't completely break her heart to have a secret or two herself.

replied the Demon Lord.

There was a much longer pause than Len had expected at that. She hadn't actually meant to be quite that forward there, but she'd been caught up in the moment, still enjoying the thrill of everything that she'd accomplished and- oh god, she'd actually written that. What if Astrid took that the wrong way? What had she even meant by it? Gah! Len never really had figured out this whole 'relationship' concept all that well, it was part of how she'd ended up in an engagement of convenience. The fact that Astrid was taking so long to reply only added to the discomfort of the moment. Len was about to put the parchment away and just crawl into bed mortified when she got her response.

Len felt a warmth rise to her face that made her grateful she was alone for. That was a better response than she'd hoped for. Man did she wish that emojis were a thing in this world. Plain text without any context clues was nerve-wracking as hell.

Blushing even more furiously, Len folded up the parchment and put it away. That had been a thoroughly fun conversation until those last things had slipped out. Se didn't exactly regret them, but it still felt strange to have them out in the open between them. Granted, it was all still light and friendly, and not a commitment or anything, but it was still quite the thing to have said. Sighing, she slipped into her bed and let out a small squeal of delight. Not the most dignified thing Lenore Wraithwhisper had ever done, but damn did it feel good to be in a real bed. Sure, it lacked the great lumbar support that came with even the more mundane mattresses she could get back in her world, but it was leaps and bounds above what was available at the Hovel. A couple furs spread out over straw had been her lot up 'til a few days ago (ignoring the stone slabs of the prison, the less thought about that the better). Sleep claimed her moments after her head hit the pillow.

* * * * *

She awoke from the best night's sleep she'd had in months at the crack of noon feeling more refreshed than she had in ages. She'd forgotten how much of a difference a good night's rest could make. It didn't solve her immediate need for caffeine, though, and the pinpoint headache she'd had the past couple days reminded her how much she was coming to rely on the stuff. It was probably something she'd be wise to cut back on... some other time.

It was a strange experience wandering the pavilion that was now technically her domain. She'd have to learn all the specifics of things sooner rather than later but for this moment her entire interest was focused on getting some of that sweet sweet bitter caffeination into her veins. She probably should've told someone where she was going, but couldn't be bothered, and instead opted to wander the streets on her own. Every now and then someone recognized her and either showered her with praise, steered clear of her, or scowled in passive-aggressive disgust at the fact that she'd upended their understanding of the world around them. For the most part, she ignored them all. Caffeine was all that mattered here.

As she found her way to the area that her mind insisted on calling the Food Court despite the fact that it was a grossly inappropriate term for the location, she was again drawn to the stall where she'd seen the blade dancing kebab manager. The line was less impressive this time, somewhat surprising given the lunch hour, but the dancer was still doing her impressive display. Len really would have to learn that woman's story when she got the opportunity, but again, not the priority. Like a siren's call, she found herself drawn by the scent of that bitter drink that wasn't coffee. Several stalls had their own vats of the stuff brewing, but only one was dedicated to the task. A pleasant-looking man with a massive beard waved encouragingly at her as she drew near. This was a man who knew the look of one desperate for a pick-me-up, and who was happy to supply a habit.

"Well, if it isn't the new Head," the man said expansively. "I'm humbled that you've chosen my establishment."

Len wanted to offer him a winning smile of gratitude that he had what she needed, she really did. Unfortunately, her withdrawal headache had only worsened as she'd made her way through the bright corridors of the city and endured the bustling din of her subjects. All she managed was a pleading look that got a knowing smirk out of him. She couldn't really fault him, she felt the desperation she was giving off and truly didn't care. Coffee was all that mattered in this trying moment and, like the saints of old, he provided for her need, setting a large mug of the stuff in front of her, not even bothering to demand payment before she drank it.

She knew that it had to be a bad sign that she felt a surge of relief as the first drop hit her tongue, but she was too busy enjoying it to ponder the ramifications of a crippling caffeine addiction at that moment. She also knew, intellectually at least, that there was no way that the caffeine could have hit her system fast enough for the endorphin rush and surge of energy that she got after that first satisfying gulp. That was just her mind playing twisted tricks on her as she got her fix. She didn't care in the least. Now the combination of proper night's sleep AND a cup of not-coffee to wash away the fog had her well and truly ready to face whatever the day had in store for her.

"Needed that, eh?" The man asked with a grin.

"You have no idea. A week in prison followed by a fight to the death and a hasty coronation? Yeah. I needed it. So, what's your name?"

"Gregory," he said simply. "Fine purveyor of many blends of Kelchar."

"Ah, yeah, that's what it's called. I'm a bit new to this stuff."

He let that slide and busied himself with tending his stall, taking care of new customers as they came, some looking almost as desperate for the stuff as she had. She supposed that business as a stimulant dealer was pretty good in a city like this. Sighing with satisfaction, she just sat back and observed things around her. There was so much to do, rebuilding a people that had been ravaged by an incompetent ruler, gathering back all those who had been cast aside by his cruelties, a looming threat of an invading force that was still more likely than not going to be a problem, even if she had managed to claim temporary control over the situation.

And all that was ignoring the general stress of keeping the Hovel on a forward path that kept them productive. Granted, that was less of a concern now that she effectively had two crowns of authority going for her. She could probably reroute some resources if and when they were needed, but that seemed like cheating to her. There was also the fact that she couldn't go too far out of her way to show favoritism right out the gate in her new role as Head. The previous Head had recklessly abused his authority to the detriment of his people. To a degree, it was probably expected of her by the people, but that was all the more reason NOT to do it. They needed to know that there was a better way to go about things and they needed a reason to believe that she would be following that path.

She should have been stressing out, honestly, overwhelmed by the crushing burden of responsibility that she'd taken on. Not to mention the little detail of the strange pact she'd made with the shadow creatures and whatever the fuck that would all mean going forward. These things probably should have had her curled up in a ball of anxiety and terror. Instead, she felt a strange sense of calm settling over her. Sure, all of that was going to be a problem, and there would be more challenges looming on the horizon before she even managed to get those ones under control. But she could handle it.

She had faced a ridiculous amount of trouble since first landing in this strange world, but she'd overcome each of those dangers, each of those challenges, and had come out the better for it. Whatever else this world felt like throwing at her, she finally felt like she had the means to handle it, or at least put up a damn good fight against it. Tomorrow was always right around the corner, but it could get in line.

* * * * *

Claire sighed and tried the incantation again. She'd been taught it countless times in her youth but had never been able to conjure so much as a spark. Now, in this strange world with incomprehensible rules and expectations, even the simplest of cantrips seemed on the very brink of causing explosions. She'd long ago come to terms with the idea that she'd never have any appreciable magical power and thus hadn't bothered perfecting the discipline that the stronger spellcasters had always needed to prevent themselves from causing cataclysmic damage to the world around them. Now, free from supervision or guidance, she was forced to learn those lessons here in this secluded building with as little as possible around her that could catch fire.

"All right, Claire, this time you've got it for sure."

She repeated the cantrip a final time. A small blue flickering flame sprang to life in her hand. Willing it to remain still, she held it there. Slowly, painfully, the flame shifted and began to burn a pure white. Claire grinned. Maybe she could get somewhere with this stuff after all.