Being Villagers Bonus Scene (Patreon Exclusive)

Summary: An extra scene from "Being Villagers" where Dolly gets her reward and her parents are closer to the Baronet than she knew.

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Author's Aside: Hey y'all! I'm so thrilled that so many of you liked my story from last week. I'm really loving the world that this takes place in. This isn't a second story about Dolly so much as an extra scene that I cut from the original story. I still really enjoy the introduction of the Baronet and his relationship with Dolly's parents, so I hope you do too!

I'm still intending on posting a new, full length story on Friday, so I hope you'll enjoy this extra post this week!

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The Baronet arrives at your house a week before school starts.

Like you suspected, you haven’t been let out of the house even though the winter continues to be mild and Benny invites you to a New Year’s festival in town when he comes to drop off the hide. You’re disappointed by your parents’ strictness, but also relieved. The wounds across your back are slow to heal. Would a Hero heal faster? There’s no way to know so you are stuck inside for three weeks without anything to do.

That’s why the Baronet’s arrival is very, very exciting.

It gets more exciting when he, upon entering, immediately bows his head to your parents.

“I’m sorry,” the Baronet says. “It’s inexcusable. Your daughter was put in grievous danger because of my inability—”

You stare in shock. You’ve never heard of a Lordapologizing. And this one admitting that the lack of fighters in the village was on him? You step forward to accept his apology just to get him to stop.

Your mother is made of sterner stuff. “Darren,” she says, “shut up.”

“Mom?” you squeak.

Baronet Darren’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click.

Your father sighs. He has not gotten up from the kitchen table, you realize. He leans back in his chair and folds his arms. “Care for a cup of tea, my lord?”

You enter a sort of unreality as the Baronet does just as your father suggests. He takes a seat at the rough-hewn kitchen table and sits meekly as your mother pours the three of them a cup of tea.

She hesitates over a fourth cup and eyes you. “Either sit or get out from underfoot, Dolly.”

“This does pertain to her,” the Baronet says. His golden hair, so like Felton’s, slides in front of his eyes as he inclines his head. “Dolly, please join us.”

Your dad flicks his fingers like he does when you’ve spotted deer in the forest. Take the shot or not – up to you.

Numbly, you claim the last seat at the table.

“Alright then,” your dad says, sipping his tea. “Now that we’re civilized, let’s hear it.”

What follows continues to be one of the strangest events in your life, including the fight with the demon-wolf. The Lord of your home doesn’t hesitate to launch into an explanation of the last few months. How his search for another Knight after the one in town went to the capital for winter didn’t produce results fast enough. Finding out the Lady was pregnant and the stress of the pregnancy on her body. Receiving news that John, the Guard, sustained an injury while training the very day that the bridge in another town collapsed.

He explains. He doesn’t make excuses for his slow action. He merely offers the events as they happened, emphasizing where he had opportunity to do better and skimming over the times where he didn’t. When your parents ask questions, he doesn’t defend himself. He acknowledges their concerns and offers his perspective.

It is like your world shifts back into frame with each sentence. This is the sort of Lord that your parents talked to you about. Felton’s poisonous words did bother you, it turns out. Over the past year, you’ve developed the mentality of us versus them when it comes to the leaders of the territory. You became convinced that Lords can’t be Villagers because Felton made it very clear how he felt about that. But it’s not supposed to be that way. It is supposed to be this: a meeting between people discussing the best way to protect what’s most important.

Baronet Darren’s hands unfold on the table as he finishes his report. “I am in your family’s debt, in your daughter’s debt. Whatever I can do to reward Dolly, I will do. Whatever I can do to atone, please allow me to do that as well.”

There’s silence at the kitchen table as the three of you observe the Lord. It is clear that he expects to be yelled at by the way his eyes are fixed on the table in front of him.

That is not what happens.

Your mother sighs. “Darren, you always let things go too far. If you had told us Connie was pregnant, I would have gladly written to other Adventurer Guilds in your stead.”

Baronet Darren jerks his head up and he stares at your mom. “I-I didn’t think—”

“And I’m not dead yet,” your father says with no small amount of irritation. “If you needed someone else in town, I could have made the journey for a month or two.”

“I couldn’t ask that,” Baronet Darren says. He looks between your parents as if to unable to believe neither of them are yelling. “I know how much work this land requires of you—”

“We manage our work,” your mom interrupts, a tart note in her voice. She waves your father to fetch the kettle and refresh the tea. “If it is too much, we will say no to whatever you may ask of us. But how will you know if it’s too much if you don’t ask?”

Baronet Darren opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “I’m the Lord. I shouldn’t rely too heavily on my subjects—”

“If you don’t rely on us,” your dad interrupts, “you end up with wolf-demons the size of houses.” He sets the kettle back on the fire and rejoins the table. “Maybe being a Lord does mean it all rests on your shoulders. How would I know? It’s not my Destiny. However, I am a farmer and a rancher and a Villager so I do know one thing. The reality is that work always requires people to do more work. You’re just one man. Ask for help.”

“You’ve said that to me before,” Baronet Darren says. His shoulders slump as he stares into his second cup of tea. The air of shame he carried into the house isn’t gone, but it has dissipated. “Our second mission as adventurers. Do you remember?”

“Clearly it didn’t get through your skull if we are at where we are now,” your dad says. He rubs a hand over his dark brown beard. “Things ended well this time and there is no use dragging the event out further than it needs to be.”

“Your daughter still deserves a reward,” Baronet Darren protests. “And—and an apology—"

You jump at being remembered. A reward? For you?

“Obviously,” your mother says. She gives you a thin-lipped smile. She is only just now forgiving you for racing off after the demon beast alone. “Dolly deserves a reward. We will accept that, but we don’t need your atonement or apology Darren.”

“I put your child at risk—”

“The world put our child at risk,” your dad says. Irritation leaks into his town. “You aren’t responsible for every ill in the world, Darren. You’ve done enough coming here to explain how you plan to do better.”

Baronet Darren blinks. “I haven’t told you my plan to do better. Have I? I plan to travel to the capital in spring—”

“You’ll do no such thing,” your mother says, slapping her hand against the table. She looks to your dad and waves her hand at the Baronet. “Has he always been this dense?” She glares at Baronet Darren. “Connie is pregnant. You can’t have her doing your job as you gallivant off. I will write to the Royal Adventurer’s Guild. My husband will coordinate with John to establish a better patrol schedule. You will gift our daughter with whatever it is you think appropriate and then you will go home.”

“Maybe stop in town on your way,” your father suggests. “Millie’s been keeping your portion of the demon meat preserved for you.”

“No, no, I can’t possibly accept!” The Baronet wrings his hands. “I don’t deserve any of the spoils, your daughter should have kept all of it – not that it wasn’t a generous gesture, but—”

Oh for heaven’s sake.

“Everyone in town gets a portion,” you snap. When the Baronet gapes at you, you realize what you’ve said and flush. “I-I mean it’s only fair. Everyone in town gets some so you do too. Sorry. For speaking out of line.”

“Don’t apologize to him,” your mother says, jerking her thumb rather rudely at the Baronet. She smiles at you, amused and warm. “He needs a good scolding every once in a while.”

“Sorry,” you say again. The Baronet still looks stunned. You fish out your new necklace and show him the demon crystal hanging from it like a pendant. “Look, I kept the crystal. That’s more than enough for me. I wanted everyone in town to have part of the kill and that—that includes you too.” You look unsurely between your parents and the Baronet. “Right?”

“Right,” your father confirms, pride in his voice.

Your mom nods and reaches over to pat your hand.

The Baronet looks like he’s about to cry. He sniffles. “Yes, I see. I apologize for not understanding. I’ll gladly accept the meat.” Your dad slides him a napkin. The Baronet takes it and blots at his eyes. “Then tell me, Dolly. What would you have as a reward?”

Your brain stalls. “Um.” You tap the demon crystal. “I already have the demon crystal?”

“That’s spoils,” your dad corrects. “Maybe some new hunting leathers?”

“Or some new books?” your mom suggests.

But you can’t imagine taking a reward for this. In your mind, you did exactly what you had to do as a Villager. The village needed something, and you were able to provide. The idea of a reward never crossed your mind, especially after selling part of the demon-wolf’s hide to Benny’s mom. You’ve got food, money, and one of the most expensive demon items on the planet hanging from your neck.

“It is a matter of honor for me to give you something,” the Lord says. He is (luckily) no longer tearing up. He looks like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. He says to your parents, “She very much takes after you.”

“Thank you,” your mom says.

“Obviously.”

You blush at the compliment and look down at your hands while you think. You do take after your parents. Your calm comes from your mom and your capable hands are given to you by your dad. Both of them raised you to do when the doing needs done and it’s because of them that you are the person you are today.

Tonight, a Lord came and bowed his head to them, and they didn’t do what you think so many people would. They didn’t yell or demand payment or anything like that. They treated him as they would any Villager, corrected him and supported him in a way you didn’t realize you could do for a Lord.

Oh, you think. There is that.

“Anything,” the Baronet says. “Anything at all.”

“Well,” you start slowly. “There is something…you see, I go to school with your son.”

“Felton?” The Baronet seems surprised. “Yes, I suppose you do. I didn’t realize you were so close in age.”

Is that because you seem older? Or younger? You shake the question from your head. “He and I have had some disagreements,” you say. “Nothing serious, but his…position makes it difficult to address these disagreements.”

“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?” your mom asks.

“It’s not a big deal,” you mutter. But you look back up at the Baronet, meeting his golden eyes for the first time. “I’d like your permission to talk to him like my parents have talked to you tonight.”

The Lord’s eyes flash. He is silent for a moment, studying you, and it is clear that it his Destiny to lead by the weight that falls on you from that gaze alone. It is also clear that he is not aware of his son’s behavior. “There have been many disagreements?”

“Just with me,” you say. For now. “If it’s too difficult—”

“I didn’t say that,” the Baronet says. “It would be a blessing if my son had people in his life who support him just as your parents have supported me.”

Support? You flounder. “Uh, I may not be able to—”

“Or who can knock some sense into him,” the Baronet clarifies. He rubs his arm as if rubbing at a phantom bruise. “There have been times where support has meant that.”

You perk up. “That I can do.”

The Baronet continues to watch you. “If I may ask, what is it that my son has done?”

You think about telling him. You think about describing the frustration of being mocked, derided, and sworn at. You think about telling the adults at the table about standing at the back of the classroom or fetching pencils or any of the hundreds of things Felton has asked you to do.

Tactfully you say, “It’s playground disagreements, my lord.”

“That you need my permission to address,” he says.

“One day we won’t be on a playground,” you point out. You rub the back of your head. “I’ll give you specifics if you’d like, but I don’t think it’s necessary. I just want your support in making sure they stay on the playground.”

“Very well,” Baronet Darren finally agrees. His jaw is set in a way that means he’s unhappy, but he doesn’t pry further. “If you insist, that must be the case. I give you my blessing to have it out with Felton just as you would with any other Villager.” He eyes you. “Do you understand me?”

He doesn’t want me beating up his son, you translate. You grin. “Yes, sir.”

He still looks stern, but you think you see his lips twitch. “Just like your parents.” He rises. “I must get back. Thank you for allowing me into your home.”

Your parents see the Baronet to the door. You stay seated at the table, your heart racing. You did it. You got permission.

I can’t wait for school, you think. Your hand curls into a fist under the table. You won’t hit Felton, no, but after what you’ve been through this winter? You’re going to really, really enjoy talking to him.

“Now,” your dad says as soon as he shuts the door, “what’s this about Felton?” He turns with his arms folded. “Hm?”

Your mother is frowning at you too. “Yes, Dolly, tell us all about it.”

Oh, geez.