Back from Albion

Hamish's face hovered inches from Robert's, his bushy eyebrows furrowed as he peered into Robert's pupils.

"Gah!" Robert shouted, jerking back, heart racing.

"AHH!" Hamish yelled, stumbling backward, arms flailing as he nearly tripped over the chair.

"WHAT'S HAPPENING?!" Snow screamed from the far side of the room, bolting upright, hands clutching her forehead where her sapphire flared, ready to strike.

"Hamish!" Robert shoved him back, sitting up with a groan. "Why's your face so close?!"

"What am I doing? Ye scared the soul out o' me, Chief!" Hamish retorted, wagging a finger. "One second ye're sleepin' like a wee bairn, the next ye're howlin' like a banshee!"

Snow, her breath still quick, pressed a hand against her chest. "I thought something awful happened! You two are ridiculous!"

Hamish rubbed his ears, his face scrunched up. "My ears haven't stopped ringin', thanks to you two!"

"You startled me!" Snow yelled, though her glare softened as she looked at Robert. "Are you alright? You were out the whole day!"

"The whole day?" Robert echoed, rubbing his temples. His body ached, but less than expected after the grub fight. "What'd I miss? Feels like a year."

Snow sat beside him, her sapphire flickering faintly. "Hamish and me hit the dungeon yesterday, remember? It was solid training. But when we got back, the villagers were frettin' about you."

Hamish nodded, dragging a chair over and dropping into it. "Aye, aye, Chief. They've taken to carin' for that grove ye made. Fences, settin' the plants proper, keepin' pests out—not that there's many, with the magic keepin' it clean."

Snow smiled. "And hunters are gettin' everything they can out of the grub. Chitin plates, poison sacs, glands. They're resourceful."

Robert glanced at the window, eyebrow raised. "And you didn't stop 'em?"

"Stop 'em?" Hamish snorted. "Why? They've a right to use the beast. Keeps 'em busy instead o' worryin' about ye."

Snow nodded. "Yeah. The grove's stunnin', by the way. They treat the golden tree like it's sacred. No one touches it, but they stare like it's a miracle."

Robert leaned back against the pillows, taking it in. The villagers hadn't just stayed—they were pitching in at the dig site. It felt strange, a warmth spreading in his chest. Most of them barely knew him, but they looked at him with real respect.

"Moira's been quiet," Snow said softly, her face tightening with worry. "Thought she might speak now you're up."

Robert closed his eyes, reaching inward. Moira's presence was there, warm and steady, like a hand on his shoulder. "She's here," he said, opening his eyes. "Probably givin' me space to recover."

Hamish cleared his throat. "Speakin' o' recoverin', Chief, ye don't look like you're back to normal yet. How ye holdin' up?"

"Better than I should," Robert admitted, swinging his legs off the bed. Muscles grumbled, but he felt steadier than he had any right to. "No time to sit, though. If that grub was drawn here, what's stoppin' somethin' worse?"

Snow frowned, her sapphire pulsing. "You think more creatures might come?"

"Not think. Know." Robert stood, his head spinning for a moment. "The grove's pumpin' out magic now, and it'll only get stronger. That kind of magic will draw anything that feeds on it or wants it gone. We need defenses."

Hamish tilted his head, smirking. "Defenses, eh? Sounds like a job for that shiny rock you're so fond of."

Robert blinked, thrown. "Who?"

Hamish's grin widened. "The settlement core, o' course. It's been runnin' the show."

Robert groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You're kiddin' me."

"Nope," Hamish said, his grin turning sly. "Some of 'em like it. Others are ready to toss it in a well."

Snow giggled. "It told a hunter to 'efficiently dispose of grub residue,' and he just stared for a solid minute before walkin' off."

Robert shook his head, a small grin breaking through. "Fine. I'll talk to it. Maybe it's got defense ideas."

Hamish clapped his hands. "That's the spirit, Chief! Let's see what your glowy boss has to say."

Robert shot him a look, chuckling despite himself. "You comin'?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Hamish said, stretching as he stood. Snow followed, her sapphire glinting.

They stepped out of the cottage, and the villagers' reactions hit Robert hard. The air buzzed with the grove's magic, golden motes drifting slowly, wildflowers near the central tree pulsing faintly, like the ground itself hadn't settled yet. It grounded him. Maybe the pain hadn't been for nothing.

"Robert!" a farmer called, grinning wide. Others rushed over, their excitement thick in the air.

Hands reached out, clapping him on the shoulder, and voices piled on with gratitude and cheer. "You're awake!" "Thought ye might not make it!" "The way ye fought that beast, unreal!"

Robert tried to reply, but he didn't know what to say. It hit harder than he expected.

Hamish chuckled beside Robert, leaning close. "You're a proper hero now, Chief. Maybe I should start callin' you that."

Robert gave a sheepish smile, shaking hands and offering nods as the crowd thinned, their smiles and encouragements lingering in his chest. The villagers' grit showed—calloused hands, hopeful eyes. They'd faced a monster and stayed, turning fear into work.

The air around the dig site hummed stronger as the settlement core's magic kicked in. The ground near the grove and cottages shimmered, blue pulses radiating from the crystal's core. Villagers paused, eyes locked on the sight unfolding.

Stone and timber lifted, caught in a soft golden glow. Rocks stacked neatly, wood beams spun gently, waiting to slot in. Stones settled with a quiet crack, mortar forming between them like it was poured by invisible hands. Timber supports lined up, mixing Highland craft with a strange, precise edge.

The wall wasn't just functional; it had a quiet grace. As layers locked in, faint carvings of vines and Celtic knots glowed briefly, tying the land's look to its power. A heavy gate formed at the front, thick planks bound by metal bands etched with runes. The grove's magic wove into the structure, its golden light hardening it against threats.

Robert stood near the settlement core, arms crossed, watching the progress. "That's solid work," he said, glancing at the crystal. "And quick. How long 'til it's done?"

The core pulsed, its voice flat. "Estimated time for completion: 16 minutes. Defensive perimeter integrity at 43 percent. Continuing construction."

Robert let out a low whistle. "Efficient, I'll give you that."

As the wall rose, Robert turned to the grove's heart. The golden central tree towered, branches curving over the fruit plants like a shield. Its bark gleamed bronze and gold, pear-shaped fruits glowing faintly. He stepped closer, the air thick with sweet, living energy, pulsing with his heartbeat.

"Settlement core," Robert said quietly, "what's this grove do? And that tree—what's it make, and what's it for?"

The crystal brightened, its tone formal but proud. "The Albion Grove is a legendary agricultural enhancement. Its primary function is to provide a continuous and abundant source of food and resources for the settlement. The grove produces fruits, vegetables, and herbs at twice their natural size and with enhanced nutritional properties."

Robert nodded, impressed. "And the tree?"

"The central tree is the Golden Heart of Albion," it said. "It enhances the vitality of all flora within the grove. Its fruits, called Albion's Ambrosia, provide restorative effects, replenishing stamina and mana, accelerating healing, and granting temporary immunity to disease or toxins. They are also potent alchemical reagents."

Robert blinked, surprised. "Immunity to toxins? Could've used that with the grub."

The core continued. "The tree's leaves may be harvested sparingly to amplify spellcraft, though overharvesting will diminish its power. The grove's magic attracts aetheric wildlife, so the wall construction will mitigate this risk."

Robert sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We're gonna have to take care of it properly. Still, that's a hell of a resource."

A loud clang snapped his attention back. Hamish's sword smashed a straw dummy, followed by Snow's laugh. She layered frost on his blade, and the dummy shattered like brittle ice. They moved faster now, more sure of themselves.

The finished wall stood twelve feet, circling the dig site, cottages, and grove. A sturdy parapet allowed patrols, crenellations gave cover. The wide gate, reinforced with iron, bore swirling patterns, blending art and function. Villagers added touches—carved inscriptions, polished hinges. A small sun emblem near the gate glowed faintly, echoing the grove's light.

Robert returned to the settlement core, its glow steady. A build menu appeared, flagging watchtowers for each corner. "Core," he said, "queue up materials for those towers. Let me know when we've got enough." It pulsed in reply.

Satisfied, Robert tested his magic near the grove, off the main path. He fused Light and Earth in his mind, their energies merging into a force he pushed downward. A four-foot-wide hole opened, soil and stone piling neatly beside it. He deepened it to sixty feet, shaping the sides firm. Then he blended Light and Water, purifying and filling the bottom with clean, shimmering liquid. The water gave off a soft glow, carrying a hint of healing energy.

He glanced at curious villagers. "Anyone know a carpenter to rig a pulley and cover for this well?" An older man offered to fetch one from a nearby settlement.

"This'll keep folks hydrated," Robert said, nodding. "We'll likely see more people soon."

He found Hamish and Snow next, curious about their dungeon haul. "Any crystals?"

Hamish's face lit up. "Aye, Chief." He dug in his satchel, pulling out a few thumb-sized shards, still glowing from the dungeon. Snow handed over hers, their soft light catching the grove's magic. Robert took them carefully, already thinking through how to use them.

Villagers bustled everywhere, patching up walls, sorting supplies, tending the grove's vibrant plants. They built with both tools and spells, making it feel like home.

Robert took a deep breath, steeling himself. These people stayed for gratitude or curiosity, some bound to carry tales back to their villages. They needed a reason to stick around. Something that made the risk worth it.

He stepped forward, cleared his throat, and prepared to speak.