CHAPTER 88: HOMECOMING, BUT WITH EXTRA LUGGAGE

The gates of Ashring were open wide when we came up the path. Not thrown open, just that steady "open" that says yes, we’re here, yes, we’re waiting, and yes, if you want trouble, you’ll get it. Which is code for: welcome back, please enjoy your complimentary chaos.

Splitjaw let out a low whistle. "Haven’t seen it this busy since... ever."

He wasn’t wrong. Kobolds hustled everywhere. Two new watch platforms, stone foundations solid and freshly etched. The forge wasn’t panic-gray, but working-smoke, with the air tasting of bread, steel, and an optimistic pinch of burnt swords.

Bitterstack was already barking from the logistics awning, clipboard in hand, asking if everything is going well.

Relay zipped by with a string of runner tokens, almost tripping on a garden stone. "System notification—Relay node ping successful! I got signal to the eastern pass, boss!" The last part aimed at me, too loud and proud to be humble.

A small cluster of Gen-2s argued near the well: Tinker holding up a snapped gear, Cinders brandishing a soup ladle like a scepter, Flick already halfway up a storehouse wall, definitely not listening.

If I squinted, it almost looked like organization.

If I squinted harder, I remembered I had a concussion once and this felt similar.

Stonealign spotted us and strode over, limping just a bit, dust on his hands. He didn’t do big greetings. Just tapped his chest and nodded. "You’re back. Good timing. Structural review is tomorrow, and the south granary needs eyes."

Stonebite followed, scowling—the sort of scowl that meant "I missed you, but I’ll never admit it." He shoved a wrapped bundle at Quicktongue. "New flame-retardant gloves. Tell the boss they’re not fireproof, just heat-dumb."

Excellent. Perfect for kobolds. Like mittens, but designed for poor decisions.

I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched. "Thanks, Stonebite."

Splitjaw let out a booming laugh that echoed off the yard walls, drawing every kobold’s eye. He picked up Flick mid-climb and set him down.

Glare was last through the gate, carrying an armful of perimeter stones, looking as overdramatic as ever. He set them down, caught my eye, and nodded. "Perimeter’s stable. For now."

A system ping flickered across the main board in the center square.

[Settlement Status: Stable]

[Node Influence: Expanding]

[Development Threshold: 76% — Next Tier Upgrade Available]

The notifications scrolled too fast for anyone to read, which didn’t stop Relay from trying.

Bitterstack stomped up, dropping her clipboard on my foot with a thud. "There’s a list of things that need doing, and only half as many claws as we need.

I grinned. "You know me. I love paperwork."

She snorted and whacked me with a rolled-up ration ledger. "Liar. Welcome back."

I almost made it to the command hut before someone yelled at me.

"Boss!"

It was Chaos. Obviously. Who else screams like an excited kettle? Splitjaw? Relay? Glare? Stonealign? Yeah ok, a lot of people do.

Chaos skidded across the square, clutching a thin glass tube full of—oh no. Liquid. Glowing liquid. His eyes were wide, but not in fear. Worse. In discovery.

Behind him, Tinker jogged up, clearly out of breath. "Don’t—touch—that—thing!" he gasped. "It destabilizes fast if you—"

I grabbed it. Threw it straight into the nearest cooling bucket from Cinders’ kitchen stand. It hissed, popped, and turned into inert sludge.

"Before I could escape, Flick zipped up to the group with a lizard on his head. It was green. And leafy. Like someone had glued a shrub to its back.

"I found Gerald Two," he announced.

"I didn’t authorize Gerald One," I said flatly.

"He authorized himself."

The lizard squeaked. Or maybe burped. Hard to tell.

I rubbed my temples.

For five minutes—just five—I wanted peace.

Instead, I got Gerald Two and the creeping realization that Ashring was less a settlement and more a self-aware sitcom.

Cinders and Tinker swooped in next, Cinders loading me up with a bowl of somethings steaming. "Taste this. New recipe. If it’s too spicy, spit it on Splitjaw."

Honestly? Tempting

Tinker buzzed, "Look! I fixed the relay spinner! I mean, maybe. It only shocked me twice."

"Progress," I said.

Quicktongue vanished into a knot of Gen-2s, already mediating an argument between Relay and Flick. Chaos shook his head and handed me a flask of... something. I took a sip and didn’t die. Small victory.

The glowstones slanted low, catching the new thatch on half the roofs, and for the first time since the last raid, it didn’t feel like Ashring was waiting for disaster. It was living, stubborn and bright.

Stonealign motioned me over, rolling out blueprints for a new storage annex. "We can start next week, if you want to approve materials. Or I can bully Stonebite into it."

Stonebite grunted. "You can try."

Gen-2s darted back and forth, hauling tools, comparing notes, fighting over the last candied root from festival prep. Embergleam recalibrated a ritual post, shaking her head at my "just use more salt" suggestion.

System ping.

[Local Event: Sovereign return Festival — Planned]

[Morale: Elevated]

[Legend Points: +12]

[Notoriety: +3]

We were home.

It was loud. It was messy.

It was Ashring.

And—for the first time in too long—it felt safe.

By the time I made it to the command hut the day had blurred past in a rush of noise, old faces, and three separate arguments about who got to test the upgraded grain-drying kiln first.

Splitjaw was organizing a sparring match with three kobolds, Glare keeping score and offering commentary with all the grace of a dramatist at a puppet show. Embergleam, after double-checking the ritual posts, drifted to the archives with Cinders and Tinker. Chaos set up a crude golem to ferry tools back and forth, clearly pleased it hadn’t exploded.Yet.

I’m not saying we’re on a timer, but I did hear a faint ticking.

Quicktongue and Stonealign were waiting for me at the worktable. Both looked tired, but neither stopped moving—Quicktongue leafing through reports, Stonealign measuring something invisible in the air.

Quicktongue was first. "We can do the summary now or let you rest and just hope nothing else burns down before morning."

"Do it now," I said. "If I sleep, you know I’ll forget half of it."

Stonealign nodded, passing over a thin slate marked with dozens of half-scraped diagrams. "Where do you want to start?"

That was either blueprints or a cursed diagram. I’d find out when something caught fire.

Quicktongue took a breath and started ticking points off on her claws.

"Okay. First, perimeter is holding. Glare and the new kids keep scouting, so if there’s another raid, we’ll know. Infrastructure’s... mostly rebuilt. Stonealign had to fix the south gate three times. No major damage since the last incident." Which we now measure in units of ’Glare Dramatic Events.’ We’re at 0.8 this week.

Stonealign cut in, "New kobolds have been coming, they help. They learn quick. Too quick, sometimes.

Quicktongue went on. Morale’s up. Bitterstack’s rationing has actually improved festival planning. The outer farms are producing again. Relay’s signal web connects to three neighboring posts—better than before, honestly."

Stonealign added, "Chaos nearly collapsed a tool shed making a new lock. Tinker fixed it. Cinders fed half the village from storage stock—no shortages, but don’t let her organize another feast unsupervised."

"Any external threats?" I asked.

Quicktongue frowned. "Mercenary scouts passed twice, but nothing direct. Guild patrols are more frequent. There’s talk about mimic incursions, but nothing close. We’ve handled three weird flare events—likely echo-nodes, not hostile. Still, everyone’s on edge."

Stonealign nodded. "Stonebite’s tracking heat signatures on the south ridge. Hoarder checks the old tunnels every other night."

System ping.

[Settlement Security: High]

[Recent Incursions: 0]

[Stability: Acceptable]

I exhaled, a little tension gone. "It’s good work."

Quicktongue looked at me, eyes narrowed. "You weren’t here. But it worked. It all kept running. Not perfect, but... better than expected."

Stonealign’s expression was almost proud. "Ashring holds. Because it’s built to."

Before I could answer, Bitterstack banged in, arms full of empty bowls and a spoon still smoking. "If nobody eats this last stew, I’m throwing it at Flick!"

I just shook my head.

The rest of the night blurred with sound—Splitjaw’s booming voice, Gen-2s playing keep-away with Relay’s signal baton, Embergleam quietly rewriting festival banners with two colors of ink. Hoarder did a lap of the perimeter, reporting "quiet, too quiet, but for once not bad."

System ping.

[Local Event: Community Night – Completed]

[Morale: High]

[Alert Status: Low]

I sat on the steps outside the hut, letting the air cool. Ashring pulsed with life—bright windows, scattered laughter, a hundred small tasks in the dark.

It felt like home again.

For a moment, anyway.

A low, rumbling vibration traveled up from the earth.

Not thunder.

Not footsteps.

Something deep.

A system notification flared in the air above the square, visible to everyone.

[ALERT: Substructure Disruption Detected – Source: Eastern Ridge]

[Threat Level: Unknown]

[Gorak Signature: PROBABLE]

The lights flickered. Every kobold froze. You could’ve heard a pebble panic.

I stood.

Nothing ever stayed quiet for long.