Crimson Flames & Violet Nights | Lance x OC Stardew Valley Expanded

Chapter Four: Silver Promise, Tarnished Thoughts

Lance tied the boat down at the dock nearest to the Highlands Outpost, his breath fogging in the cold, crisp air. The stone structure stood tall against the forested landscape, its weathered walls a testament to the harsh conditions it had withstood over the years. He had built the Outpost the fall of his eighteenth year, pouring as much blood and sweat into the fortress as he had mana. Now in his twenty-sixth year, it's familiar sight at times felt even more like home than his home in Castle Village. The remote outpost was far from the warmth and bustle of civilization, but he had always found a strange sense of solace within its cold embrace. The chill in the air didn't bother him as much as it once had. There was a certain clarity here, an emptiness that sharpened the mind and honed one's senses. However, the outpost had always felt exceptionally lonely, especially after the winter when the warmth of spring practically invited his companions to visit. Since the successful campaign in the Highlands years prior, the balance of the land remained and there were hardly any patrols in the area anymore- everyone focused their attention on the Badlands, where they were needed most.

He unlatched the heavy wooden door and stepped inside, the creaking hinges echoing throughout the barren hall. It was simple and functional with sparse furnishings: a stone hearth sat in one corner, near a simple wooden bed with black and gray blankets, a sturdy table littered with scrolls and maps, and a set of stairs that rose to the top of the tower.

Ascending the winding staircase, Lance made his way to the top of the tower. The wind slipped through the tower windows, chilling him even more the higher he climbed. If only I was able to warp here, I could have warmed up beforehand. The magical balance of the Highlands would likely never recover: it was first the site of more than one major struggle in the Elemental Wars, and more recently the struggle between the monsters and humans as it remained a stronghold between the Shadow People that inhabited the lands and the humans of the Valley and Islands close by.

The wind at the top of the tower was intense, but the view was even more so. He surveyed the Highlands stretching far into the distance, jagged peaks and rolling valleys painting the dusky hues of late afternoon. In the distance, he spotted a faint flicker of fire- the unmistakable glow of a Bully Rex. The creature was likely stalking the edge of the craggy cliffs, its fierce nature an ever-present reminder that it was an apex predator of this land. Lance watched it for a moment, his hand resting idly on the hilt of his sword. It would need dealing with soon enough, but not today.

Guild business had been pressing lately, but not urgent. He made a mental note to send word to Marlon about the recent surge in monster activity near the eastern routes. He thought it possible that Shadow Brutes were starting to awaken at night and make their way aboveground, but his theory hadn't been proven so he didn't want to raise a false alarm or cause any speculation or panic. Supply lines to the Galdoran Outpost also needed reinforcement, and Lance had already begun drafting plans to bolster defenses around the guild's outerposts. He'd need to meet with Jolyne soon, but that too could wait. There were always more monsters to slay, more dangers to face. The work never really stopped.

Despite the monsters lurking in the distance, he did feel at peace for a moment. He relaxed his hand from the hilt of his sword, closing his eyes and inhaling the pine scent of the forest. It seems for now, all is well. After a moment of contemplation, he descended the tower and made his way to the modest washroom below. The hot water powered by the never-ending-flames he'd created to bring light to the outpost always felt like a luxury, and one he truly cherished after hours spent hunting creatures in the wild. He scrubbed off the grime and blood from his brief skirmish that morning with a few Skeletons, his mind briefly clearing as the warmth seeped into his tired muscles.

Once he was satisfied with his cleanliness, he returned to the main room and dressed in clothing similar to that he was wearing before, but skipping his cloak and armor in exchange for his light blue long-sleeve shirt. He turned his attention to the outpost's magical barrier, closing his eyes and letting the familiar hum of arcane energy flow through him. The barrier hasn't dampened in strength at all since I was last here, it seems the new form wards are much more potent. He channeled his magic, the warmth of mana flooding his veins as he began to swipe his fingers through the air, tracing ancient runes into the air and lowly muttering the ancient words that would continue to protect his stronghold home. The runes flared brightly before disappearing, signaling the shield's renewed strength. Satisfied, Lance sat at the table and began to unpack the contents of his pack. He sorted items from scrolls, monster loot from magical relics, and provisions from pages.