The Landing came into view in pieces.

  First, the fields, spread wider than Harold remembered. Their edges delved into the ground that had resisted them the first time. The furrows ran straighter now, a testament to the labor and perseverance of the people who worked them. From the first fields they had planted, the small shoots of their first crops grew, the green tips brimming with potential. Yet, the air carried a subtle dryness, warning of the approaching summer.

  The small fort came next.

  There was a raised earthwork with a wooden palisade around it and a couple of squat guard towers set to watch the approaches. Below, new soldiers labored steadily in the ditch, sweat glistening on their brows as they deepened and widened it. Their shovels moved in synchronized motions, scraping dirt loose and piling it along the edges. Voices carried on the breeze as they exchanged rumors of new settlers and the upcoming plans for expansion. A couple of ladders lay nearby, allowing them easy access in and out of the trench. According to Beth's plan, establishing this fort would anchor the entire inner defenses for what the Landing would eventually become. The ditch they worked on would serve as the foundation for the walls that, in time, would rise there.

  Beyond that, the various halls that had been built, and it looked like another one was being built closer to all the fields. Then the hill the keep sat at the top as it belonged there now, it was modest but solid, its outline sharper than when Harold had last seen it. Smoke curled from behind it in a steady line, and the stele’s glow was visible even in the late light, muted but present. It might have been modest, but it was a lot more than others had, and to Harold it was a welcome sight.

  Harold slowed the column without being told. They had taken a more relaxed pace the last few days home as they were escorting the wagons and Tatanka back. They had brought a few more people with them. Margaret would be thrilled to get someone like Lukas, and he was eager to start experimenting with the falconer, Kess.

  Margaret would be coming back with Bethel after vetting people at Dalens Hold and making sure they were linked into the systems here at the Landing, then would head back with Captain Hale.

  Two weeks of movement around the basin had caught up with him all at once, but it was a rewarding trip. Two villages started, and Dalen had sworn fealty to him. It was real progress in his plan to control the basin. Now they needed time to consolidate before making more moves. It would take time to secure the mountain sites, but it would get done. He needed those sites established. The sooner it happened, the bigger the eventual gap will be between him and the other Lords. The pace of other Lords making it to town had increased and Harold was feeling the pressure.

  Right as they were about to enter the square, Josh came out of the treeline, running hard, waving one arm overhead as if that would make him more visible. Beth followed close behind, her boots slipping a little as she cleared the last stretch of brush, hair pulled back. Without breaking stride, she reached out to Harold, her fingers brushing against his arm as if checking for wounds, her touch brief but reassuring. Her expression was a mix of relief and irritation, the gesture conveying what words could not.

  “Back already? Figures. You know how hard it is to run this circus without you?” Josh panted.

  Beth didn’t bother with complaints. She stepped in and hugged him once, quick and firm, then leaned back to look at him properly. “You look ragged.”

  “I feel ragged,” Harold replied honestly, giving her a quick hug. “We ran from Haven, that’s the name for the river village by the way, to Dalen’s Hold, then from there to the farming village. Actually, I don’t know what they named it.”

  Beth snorted. “Yeah, you all stink. Try the new bathhouse, now that it's finished.”

  Caldwell arrived a moment later, not running, but walking fast enough that the ledger he tucked under his arm bounced against his side. He took in Harold, the column behind him, and the state of the knights, and nodded once.

  “You’re never leaving me in charge again,” Caldwell jabbed a finger at Harold. “There’s a reason I kept my business small—I like sanity.”

  Harold caught his shoulders. “Thanks for holding the fort, Caldwell.”

  Caldwell stopped midsentence…” Yes, well. As long as you know. Never again.”

  Josh edged away. “Can we go inside before someone corners us for answers?”

  Beth jerked her thumb toward the keep and the low stone bathhouse tucked beside it. “You all go clean up. I’ll make sure the cooks put something together before you’re done.”

  Harold looked past them once more, letting his eyes trace the fields, the fortifications, the keep on the hill, and the steady movement of people threading it all together, and he let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He stepped forward and hugged Beth again, murmuring his thanks, the last few days of running, fighting, and sleeping in pieces had finally caught up to him, and the idea of hot water and food felt dangerously close to mercy.

  They turned together and headed back into the Landing as it folded around them, the sounds of work, conversation, and clattering tools rising to meet them in a way that felt earned.

  Home, Harold thought, the word landing with more weight than he expected. When he had started to think of this place as home he didn't know.

  He was already angling toward the bathhouse, watching crews haul timber and stone as he walked. Then he heard Josh lean closer to Beth and lower his voice.

  “Why don’t you ever offer to get dinner ready for me?” Josh quipped, his voice slipping into a playful challenge.

  Beth didn’t even look at him as she leaned in and whispered back, “Didn’t you hear, dummy? He couldn’t find us in his last life; we died early, I’m doing what I can to stay on his good side.” Her eyes flicked briefly to a scar on Harold's forearm, a reminder of dangers she'd rather not dwell on in the open.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  She jabbed Josh in the belly. “Besides, look at him—he actually works out. While some people I know are more acquainted with the bench than the weights.” Josh glanced at Harold, his tone turning pitiful, “Now that’s just mean.”

  Beth just smiled, looped her arm into his, and moved to catch up.

  They picked up the pace to catch Harold before he disappeared into the bathhouse crowd. Their boots echoed as they crossed the open space and climbed the steps into the keep. Inside, the stone held onto the day’s shade, making it cooler. Voices softened as the noise of the Landing stayed outside.

  Beth caught Josh by the arm just past the entryway, tugged him in close before he could say anything, and kissed him hard enough that it knocked the rest of the world sideways for a second. It was heated and familiar, carrying more intent than romance and leaving no doubt about what she expected next.

  She pulled back first, forehead resting against his. “Go,” she said quietly. “He looks like hell, and he won’t relax unless he’s around familiar people.”

  Josh offered a weak protest. “Come on, he’s fine.”

  Beth laughed, giving him a shove. “Go on. Just don’t let him drown in the tub.”

  Josh sighed like a man surrendering to fate, then straightened and headed off after Harold, glancing back once with a look that promised unfinished business.

  Beth watched him go, smoothed her hair, and turned toward the stairs with a small, satisfied smile.

  _______________________________________________________

  ?

  Harold peeled off toward the bathhouse while the others split away, following the low rumble of voices and the steam drifting up from between the stone walls. The bathhouse sat half-sunk into the earth, more dug out of a hill than built, and the creek threaded through the lower end before spilling back out toward the fields.

  The heat hit him as soon as he stepped inside.

  Stone-lined pools rose in tiers along one side of the building, each ringed with packed mud and fitted stone, with fires banked beneath them where the heat rose and turned the water into something worth standing in line for. It was an ingenious system that allowed warm water to rise through clay pipes to the top level, then slowly filter down. He would have to ask who came up with the system. As Harold approached, he felt the sharp sting of the cooler night air outside the bathhouse, a stark contrast that only made the enveloping steam and the warmth inside more inviting. Steam curled lazily toward the rafters, carrying the sharp, clean scent of soap.

  A woman, her sleeves rolled past the elbow, looked up from a small table near the entrance. “Chits,” she said automatically, then paused when she actually looked at him. “Oh. Lord Harold.” She said, surprised.

  He waved it off. “Please don’t stop anyone on my account. How’s it running?”

  She gestured to the table. A shallow tray held neat stacks of chits, sorted by mark. “Councilman Caldwell’s idea. Two chits for the lower heated pools, more if you want the upper ones. The soap’s included, and the creek’s still free for anyone who just needs to wash the road off.”

  “That’s to help with the crowding?” Harold asked.

  She smiled tiredly. “A lot. People plan around it now instead of flooding in all at once. And it keeps the fires fed.”

  He nodded, taking it in as he watched a pair of legionaries argue quietly over whether the extra heat was worth the extra cost. Both of them were already barefoot, armor stacked neatly by the wall like they’d been dreaming of this all day.

  A man tending a couple of different levels of the fire leaned back and wiped his brow. “Stone holds the heat better than we thought, My lord. Once it’s warm, it stays that way. Just got to keep the fires steady.”

  Harold looked around approvingly and said, “This is good work.” Before realizing, he was embarrassed he didn't have any chits. Caldwell had never given him any.

  Josh came in a moment later, still rolling his sleeves up as he crossed the threshold, eyes flicking once around the room before landing on Harold standing there a little too still.

  He took in the empty hands, the pause that had gone half a second too long, and grinned.

  “Problem?” Josh asked, already digging into his pouch.

  Harold exhaled through his nose. “Apparently, I’m underfunded.”

  Josh slapped a pair of silver coins onto the table, the marks stamped clean and deep. “Top level,” he said to the attendant. “For both of us.”

  The woman blinked, then smiled as she gathered them up. “Right this way.”

  Harold shot him a look as they stepped past the table. “You planned that.”

  Josh shrugged, the grin softening. “Caldwell, for all he complained, is actually very good at organizing. He scared me when we first met him, but he is an honest guy. If obsessed with organization and making a profit. But…no. I’m here because Beth told me to be.”

  They moved toward the upper pools where the steam hung thicker, and the stone radiated a deeper, heavier heat, and for the first time all day, Harold let himself lean into it, shoulder brushing Josh’s as they went.

  “I owe you,” Harold said quietly.

  Josh waved it off. “You owe me nothing,” he replied. “But we’re sharing the pool, come on. You smell like shit.”

  All Harold could do was smile; he was too tired to argue.

  Steam rolled thick over the upper pool, the stone warm enough that it sank straight through muscle and bone, and Harold eased down with a sound that was half breath, half surrender. Josh settled across from him, stretching his legs out and resting his arms along the edge like he had done this a thousand times before, he probably had. The tub was barely big enough for them to stretch out in comfort. Gradually, the water began to calm, the small eddies smoothing out as if in response to the men's own easing tensions.

  “Forgot how good hot water is,” Josh said. “College showers were a scam by comparison.”

  Harold huffed a laugh, eyes already half-lidded. “You’re just mad cause we had that broken water heater for a while.”

  “That was character building,” Josh said. “That’s also why I never trust women who say they are low maintenance.”

  That earned a real laugh from Harold, his shoulders shaking once as the tension kept leaking out of him. “You dated half the campus.”

  “Incorrect. I met half the campus. Dating implies intention.”

  “And yet,” Harold said, eyes closing again, “you ended up with Beth.”

  Josh smiled to himself. “Yeah. Turns out I got tired of guessing games and bad coffee. She laughed at my jokes and called me on my bullshit. Hard to compete with that. Also…she’s super hot when she’s mad,” he whispered conspiratorially.

  The water lapped quietly against the stone as the steam drifted, their voices lowering without either of them meaning to. Harold’s breathing slowed, chin dipping closer to his chest.

  "I missed you, Josh," he said, the words soft and unguarded, already halfway gone.

  Josh watched him for a long moment, then glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "Yeah," he murmured, more to the water than anyone else. "I missed you, too."