Kevin McLaughlin
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Chapter 152 – First Impressions
🕑 Added 2025-05-02 20:00:00 +0000 UTCThe road we’d built running from the highway to the farm wasn’t much more than packed earth and gravel. On either side were fields in various states of being reclaimed from the wild. The wall around my home was only half-finished—sturdy stone rising to waist height in places, taller in others, with zombies steadily stacking new sections even as our visitors approached. The outer wall was still nothing but markers on the ground.
It was not the most impressive front gate.
Hell, there wasn’t even a gate yet, just a gap between two unfinished stone walls, marked with rough-hewn timbers and a couple of watch posts built from salvaged fencing. But we’d stationed guards there anyway—two living, two undead—and as the riders came into view, one of the guards gave a quick signal to the nearest runner. The Farm was small, and word passed quickly. By the time Peter’s group reached the entrance, I was already there waiting.
He rode at the front of a small contingent—six people total, including himself. They were all mounted and well-armed. Peter wore light armor, but it was good quality, tailored to fit and polished to a soft gleam. His brown hair was wind-tossed and a bit longer than it had been during my visit, but his eyes were sharp as ever. He looked around as he approached, taking everything in.
I stepped forward to greet him, palms open and relaxed at my sides. “Peter, I’m glad you could come. Welcome!”
He swung down from his horse and smiled as he approached on foot. “Selena. It’s good to see you again.” His voice was warm, his movements easy.
I returned his smile, though a small knot tightened in my chest. The place wasn’t finished. The walls weren’t complete. The structures inside were still a mix of tents, salvaged outbuildings, and repurposed storage barns. It wasn’t nothing, but compared to KingsHaven’s strong towers and ballista-lined walls? It felt...rural. Fragile.
Peter turned slowly in a circle, taking it all in. “You’ve built more than I expected,” he said finally.
“Still a work in progress,” I replied, trying not to sound defensive.
He stopped turning and gave me a grin. “Aren’t we all?”
That actually got a laugh from me. Some of the tension bled out of my shoulders.
“You’re not wrong, there.”
As his party moved past us, I walked alongside him, guiding him through the wide courtyard where a half-dozen zombie laborers moved bricks into place for a new wall section. Kara stood off to one side, talking quietly with Clay, while a pair of ratkin sprinted past with tools slung over their backs, shouting cheerful insults at each other in their high, chittery voices.
Peter slowed at the sight of them.
“They work with you?” he asked, eyes following the ratkin as they vanished behind the smithy.
“They’re part of the community,” I said simply. “The ones who live here do their share of the work. Same as everyone else.”
He nodded, slower this time. “I’ve...not considered bringing non-humans into KingsHaven. We haven’t had problems with them, but we haven’t welcomed them either.”
“Might be time,” I said gently. “They’ve been a good fit for us. Ratkin are fast, smart, loyal—at least the ones who choose to stay. We treat them like people, and so far they’ve acted like it. They pick up English fast, too.”
Peter didn’t respond immediately. His eyes lingered on the watch posts, the skeletal guards, the living people working side by side with the dead, and the unmistakable sense of energy that pulsed through the place. It wasn’t a big Domain. It wasn’t elegant. But it was alive.
“I expected something more...raw,” he said. “But this is good. It feels like it belongs here. Like it’s meant to grow.”
That caught me by surprise. “Thanks. That’s exactly the plan.”
“I can tell.”
We walked in silence for a moment as the rest of his party began dismounting and settling their gear. I led him toward the farmhouse, where the other leaders would be waiting.
“You’ve made something real,” he said quietly, just before we reached the steps. “It’s not polished like KingsHaven. But it’s strong. And it’s yours.”
I met his eyes. “It belongs to everyone who lives here.”
Peter nodded once. “That might be even better.”
Inside the farmhouse, the scent of roast meat and seasoned root vegetables filled the air. We’d reset the tables throughout the main hall to accommodate as many of our guests as possible, even their guards. Lanterns flickered on the walls and candles glowed on tabletops, casting everything in a warm amber glow. The meal was rustic, sure, but it felt celebratory, too.
Most of the other leaders were already seated when Peter and I entered. Conversation quieted slightly as he crossed the room with me at his side. I gestured him toward the open seat near Delores and Jefferson, then stepped back to give him space.
Peter smiled, nodding politely to the others before speaking. “It’s good to meet you all! I’m Peter Eddings, king of KingsHaven. You have my apologies for the late arrival. We had some unexpected company.”
Colonel Turner raised a brow. “Another attack?”
Peter gave a single nod. “Yes. The dragon returned. This time, though, we were better prepared.”
This was one bit of news that got everyone’s attention. Even Jefferson straightened a little in his seat. That dragon had been making all of us nervous for the past couple of weeks, flying by overhead but never actually bothering anyone. The notion it was now attacking Domains was not a pleasant one.
“It struck just after dawn,” Peter continued. His voice was calm, but carried this excited undertone that told me he’d been some sort of public speaker, back before things went to crap. “She came in fast from the same direction as last time. Our ballistas opened up as soon as she came into range. One of them got lucky—tore through her wing. With the loss of mobility, we nailed her with a second shot too, and the beast crashed into the southern quarter just outside the wall.”
Carver gave a low whistle. “You brought down a dragon? What tier was it?”
Peter nodded. “We did. The tier is too high for anyone I’ve met to tell. And we captured her.”
For a moment, no one spoke. The weight of those words sank in like a dropped anvil.
“You’re holding a live dragon?” Delores asked, incredulous.
“I am,” Peter replied. “It’s not dead. Injured, yes. Grounded. But alive.”
“And you’re planning to keep it?” Jefferson asked.
Peter folded his hands in front of him, as if calmly outlining strategy instead of talking about holding the strongest monster any of us had ever seen prisoner. “If we can find a way to control it, then yes. Think what that would mean! What it could do for us. For the alliance.”
“I think it means your Domain is one misstep away from becoming a smoking crater,” Carver said flatly.
Peter didn’t flinch. “We have her secured. She’s heavily guarded, with both armed personnel and magical countermeasures. If she tries to escape, we’ll put her down. But if we can win her cooperation, or even obedience? Then we gain the most powerful asset this world has shown us to date.”
A murmur ran through the room—half awe, half alarm.
“It’s bold,” Carver said. “Risky, too, but I won’t pretend I’m not impressed.”
Delores, though, was frowning. “How do you know it won’t just wait, heal, and then burn you all alive?”
Peter met her gaze without blinking. “Because it hasn’t. Not yet. And because we’ve given it very strong incentives to behave.”
“What sort of incentives?” Delores asked.
Peter paused, then replied. “If it attacks us, it dies. Simple as that.”
That set off quiet unease down the line. I didn’t miss the faint tension behind his carefully measured words, and neither did Kara, judging by the way her eyes narrowed slightly from where she sat across the table. Did that brief hesitation before he spoke mean he was lying? Maybe just holding something back? It was hard to know for sure.
“Either way,” I said, breaking the silence, “it’s an impressive feat. I don’t think any of us expected that kind of news tonight.”
Peter inclined his head toward me. “Thank you, Selena. It was a long morning.”
That earned a few chuckles and a visible release of tension. Delores shook her head, but with a wry smile now.
The feast resumed. Platters were passed, drinks poured. The talk turned to the logistics of wall construction, defenses against the orcs to our north, and a dozen other things that didn’t involve live dragons. But even as I smiled and played host, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something about Peter’s story didn’t quite add up. I knew two things I hadn’t before, though. We all knew he had a dragon, now, though. And I felt sure he wasn’t telling us everything; that mattered, too.
By the time the meal wound down, the warmth of the food and firelight had given the gathering a pleasant, mellow hum. Most of the guards had peeled away to relieve the watch posts or settle into their assigned quarters. The leaders lingered a little longer, but one by one they trickled out, some with nods, others with soft thanks, until only Kara and I remained in the main hall, finishing a last sweep of the dishes.
I saw Peter standing near the door, hands tucked behind his back, waiting. I crossed the room quickly.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“I never got shown to my quarters,” he said with a smile when our eyes met.
“Right! That’s my fault.” I wiped my hands on a cloth and crossed the room. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
We walked together out into the night. The temperature had dropped, the sky above clear and glittering with stars. With the sun fully sunk below the horizon, the soft orange glow of torches set into wall brackets and the pale shimmer of moonlight were all the lighting we had. It gave the whole compound a quiet stillness.
The guest quarters were toward the eastern edge of the inner yard, in what had once been a small storage barn. We’d cleared it out, reinforced the frame, and added real doors and windows. It was simple, but sturdy. We stepped inside, then up a quick set of stairs to the upper level, where we’d refurbished the space for guests.
I pushed open the door ahead of him and stepped inside. “It’s nothing fancy,” I said, gesturing toward the modest cot, table, and basin within. “But it’s safe. Quiet. And warm enough, I hope. Your men have already been shown to a space with cots downstairs.”
Peter stepped in behind me, looking around slowly. He walked over to the window, glanced out into the courtyard, then turned back toward me.
“This’ll do just fine,” he said. “Honestly? I think it will be perfect.”
I shrugged. “We try.”
He took a step closer. He didn’t come so close that I felt uncomfortable, just enough that the air between us changed.
“You’ve built something here, Selena. Something solid. You’ve got leadership, loyalty, magic, organization.” His voice softened. “You’ve got power now. The kind that grows.”
I didn’t say anything. Not yet.
“You could build anything you wanted, if you had the right partner.” His gaze met mine. It felt steady, warm—and calculating.
There it was. I wasn’t exactly surprised. I’d seen this kind of thing before—felt it coming in little glances, little turns of phrase, and subtle shifts in tone. It wasn’t overt. He wasn’t pressing me. Just offering.
I smiled, but not in invitation. “I think I’ve already got the right partners. A lot of people here are counting on me. I’m not looking to change that.”
He held my gaze a moment longer, then gave a slight bow of his head. “Of course. I didn’t mean to overstep.”
“You didn’t,” I said. “But it’s been a long day. You should get some rest.”
He nodded. “Good night, Selena.”
“Good night.”
I stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind me, the latch clicking softly into place. I stood there for a few seconds longer than I meant to, listening to the wind rustle through a cracked window and the distant clank of tools from the zombies continuing their work on the wall.
He was smooth. Charming, in a way that a year ago I would have fallen flat on my face for. I needed to be careful.
Because Peter was also very, very dangerous. And whatever game Peter Eddings was playing, I had a feeling I’d just been invited to join him.
