Settling Down

March 30, 2025.

 Location: Robert's Settlement near Kilrain, Scotland.

Robert stood before Sorcha and Lilia, his arms folded as he regarded their eager yet apprehensive expressions. Behind them, clanspeople worked on construction, aided by STEVE's materials, their efforts rewarded by Moira's system, enhancing structures with magical specializations. Robert watched the seamless integration of magic and labor, a hum of progress vibrating through the settlement.

He swept his gaze over the two women, each powerful in their own right. "Magic's not just a tool you use. It flows through you as it's tied to who you are, down to your core. We're going to figure out what that looks like for each of you," he began, his voice hopeful.

Robert saw Lilia's expressive green eyes shine with excitement, while Sorcha's stoic demeanor hid a flicker of curiosity.

"First," Robert continued, gesturing for them to sit, "I want you to meditate. Close your eyes, let your breathing steady, and imagine the magic that now flows within you. Don't try to control it. Don't try to shape it. Just let it be. Feel it swell from your spirit, down through your arms, to your hands. Picture it gathering in front of you, a ball of energy, pure and untamed. Let it take form naturally."

Lilia and Sorcha settled into meditative poses. Lilia's fingers twitched slightly, eager to move. Sorcha's hands rested calmly on her knees.

Robert stepped back, giving them space, and observed. Moments passed, the air humming with anticipation.

A gentle swirling light appeared in Lilia's hands, a shimmering sphere of pale gold with silver threads. It danced like sunlight reflecting off water. Robert felt the warmth pulsing from it... life magic, healing. It matched her perfectly.

Sorcha summoned a deep turquoise sphere, streaked with white, like storm clouds over an ocean. It churned, reflecting her wisdom and adaptability. Robert smiled to himself. A perfect fit.

"Good," Robert said softly, stepping closer. "Now, open your eyes and take a look at what you've created."

Lilia opened her eyes, her face lighting up with wonder, her fingers trembling as she turned the golden sphere in her hands.

Sorcha opened her eyes, a small smile tugging at her mouth as she regarded the swirling turquoise light.

"This is your magic," Robert explained. "It's unique to you, an extension of who you are. And now, we're going to see what it can do."

He gestured toward training targets, wooden dummies reinforced by STEVE's ingenuity. "I want you to will the ball of magic toward those targets. Not to destroy, necessarily, but to see how it reacts when directed. Think of it as an introduction to your magic, a handshake, if you will."

Lilia stepped closer to the targets, her gaze intense but warm. She extended her hands, and the golden sphere shot forward in a radiant wave, enveloping the dummy. It glowed warmly, imbued with vitality.

Lilia stepped back, wide-eyed but thrilled. "Interesting," Robert murmured. "It's not destructive, it's restorative. Your magic could turn the tide of any battle, Lilia, keeping allies strong and resilient."

Lilia glanced at him, her expression unsure but pleased. Robert gave her an encouraging nod. "That's an incredible gift."

Sorcha approached her target, her steps measured. Her turquoise sphere churned, crackling with energy. She raised a hand, and the sphere shot forward with speed.

It collided with the dummy, bursting in a spray of water and wind, leaving the target damp and spinning slightly. Sorcha's brow furrowed as she examined the result.

"Strong, focused, but adaptable," Robert observed. "That's going to be extremely useful! Wind and water are powerful together; don't underestimate what you can do with that combination. Just ask any sailor."

Sorcha nodded, her calm returning as she stepped back beside Lilia. Both women looked at him, expectant.

Robert smiled. "You've taken your first steps. There's a lot more to learn, but for now, let's focus on understanding the basics. You'll have plenty of time to experiment and grow."

As the shimmering spheres faded from their hands, Robert encouraged them further. "Now that you've touched your magic, it's time to understand it better. Moira is a part of you now."

He spoke gently but firmly. "If you rely on her, she will guide you. Ask her anything. She's generous with knowledge if you're willing to reach out."

Sorcha and Lilia exchanged glances, their expressions thoughtful. They closed their eyes, their features slackening as they focused inward.

Moira's voice echoed briefly in Robert's mind, a soft chuckle. "They're asking, Vessel. That's an excellent sign."

They slipped into an unfocused state, communicating with Moira. Their brows furrowed or lifted in wonder. Robert smiled, stepping away to leave them to their exploration.

Midday approached as Robert turned toward the settlement, the sun casting sharp shadows across the earth. Beneath their feet, the ground trembled as STEVE's constructs hollowed new dwellings, their efficiency a marvel.

Clansfolk watched, their faces alight with awe, as wooden pavilions took shape for gatherings. Robert, satisfied, approached STEVE, his crystal humming with energy.

"Good morning, STEVE. How are things on your end?" Robert inquired, predicting the answer.

"Busy," STEVE replied, his tone clipped. "The influx of nearly two hundred and fifty individuals has been challenging. While their contributions of materials and labor have been appreciated, the housing situation is woefully inadequate."

Robert crossed his arms, leaning against a post. "Eh, just consider this an efficient data-gathering effort. No doubt, groups will arrive again, and we must decide what to do. But… Go on. What have you determined?"

STEVE continued. "Food and water needs are easily met, thanks to my foresight in securing sustainable resources early on. However, shelter is an urgent concern. Temporary solutions like tents won't suffice long-term. We must construct proper housing if we want this population to remain within the walls. I have prepared options for your consideration."

STEVE presented a list of housing options with pros and cons:

Modern Apartment Buildings: Efficient, housing many families in a small area. STEVE's preference, but possibly clashing with clan culture.

Magically Reinforced Tent Homes: Quick, lightweight shelter across a large area, durable despite temporary nature.

Underground Homes with Above-Ground Pavilions: Resource-intensive but sustainable, offering safe homes and communal spaces.

Robert rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Let's bring Laird Ewan in on this," he decided.

He found Ewan overseeing his people, unloading supplies for STEVE's processing. Robert explained the options.

Ewan considered carefully, his face lined with thought. "The underground homes with pavilions make the most sense," he said. "They'll give us safety from harsh winters and attackers while allowing for open-air gatherings above ground. The children will have space to play, and the clansfolk will feel connected without sacrificing privacy."

Robert nodded, agreeing. "STEVE, you heard him. Proceed with the construction of the underground homes and pavilions. Use the wood reserves as needed, but monitor the resource levels carefully."

STEVE's crystal pulsed, his tone sharp but satisfied. "As you command, Master Robert. The excavation will begin immediately. The process will deplete all stored lumber, but reserves of stone and fertile soil will increase significantly."

The ground trembled faintly as STEVE's constructs began. Within hours, underground dwellings took shape, tailored to family sizes. Pavilions provided open spaces above ground. Clansfolk watched in awe.

By mid-afternoon, families moved into their homes, their excitement palpable. Children darted between pavilions, playing games, their laughter echoing. Women adorned home entrances with fabrics and trinkets, while men inspected the craftsmanship.

Ewan stood beside Robert, arms crossed. "You've done excellent work here, Robert," he said, his tone gruff but warm. "My people are happy. That's no small feat."

As the evening sun dipped, clansfolk gathered around the central pavilion for their meal. Children's laughter echoed as they dashed between homes, the aroma of roasted meats and bread filling the space. The atmosphere was jubilant.

A barrel-chested man with an oversized club approached Ewan. Robert recognized him as Torin, Ewan's champion. He spoke briefly with Ewan, his voice a low rumble, before stepping into the crowd.

Ewan stood, raising his goblet high. "Laird Robert!" he boomed, drawing all attention.

Robert paused mid-bite, glancing at the watchful eyes. He wiped his hands and stood. "A dire situation has been brought to my attention," Ewan declared, his voice rich with mock seriousness. "I would have a boon from you if you have the generosity to grant it."

Robert caught on, recognizing the theatrical game. He straightened, projecting confidence. "Oh? Is that so?" he called. "Speak, my friend and long-lost family, so that I may know your desire and search for the talent of my generosity!"

Ewan placed a hand over his heart, as if wounded. "Great woe is upon me, m'laird! For though my people and my kin have found a place to truly call home…" His voice grew mournful, dropping his goblet with a flourish. "…we are distraught! Tormented by a failing of your own, to provide something of dire need to us all!"

The clan chuckled, enjoying the exchange. Robert shook his head in mock disbelief. "Say it isn't so! The clan is your flock, and I would vow to be their shepherd, providing safety and full bellies for as long as I am able to do so!"

He spread his arms wide. "I have shared my land and my magic! My hopes are one with your hopes; such is the depth of my magnanimity!"

Ewan raised his hands skyward, his face pleading. "Why then? My friend, my brother of Albion…" He paused, stretching the suspense. "…must we suffer the lack of…" He trailed off, then bellowed, "…a NAME for our new home?! Is it true that it will always be 'The Digsite?!'"

The clan erupted in cheers and laughter. Robert laughed, caught by Ewan's dramatics. "Oh, how can it be that I have failed you and yours so mightily?!" He turned to the clan, throwing his hands up. "We must call upon your Great Seer, new druidess of Clan MacEwan, future master of wind and sea! Let her cast her thoughts upon what we shall call our home so that it pleases the Gods, Moira, and every soul among us!"

The clan cheered as Sorcha stepped forward, her spry movements showing her vigor. Her silvery harp shimmered, but she carried orbs of water and air. She smiled, gesturing dramatically.

"The people have made their wish known!" Sorcha called, her voice commanding. "And I will divine the will of the stars!"

The clansfolk fell silent, watching as Sorcha lifted her orbs above her head. Water and wind spiraled upward into the twilight sky. The spell climbed, its light mingling with the stars, then burst apart, streaking across the heavens.

A glowing line connected the stars, forming a curving pattern. The air trembled, spelling out a word resonating with every soul below.

Sorcha extended her hand toward the glowing constellation. "This! It is the name we shall sear into our hearts as our new homeland!" she declared.

Robert gazed upward with the clansfolk, their breath held, as the name of their new home etched itself into the stars…