Chapter 80
The desolate mountain was not as desolate as advertised.
This became obvious before Dara even stepped out of the carriage.
The approach road curved along the lower slope, newly smoothed enough that the carriage did not rattle itself into personal betrayal.
Wild grasses moved in silver-green waves along the hillsides.
Wind-bent trees clung to the ridges in dramatic angles, and pale stone broke through the earth in clean, sharp lines.
It was still lonely.
Still quiet.
Still suitably tragic.
But it also had… views.
Good ones.
Annoying.
Dara looked out the carriage window with narrowed eyes. “This mountain is trying to be scenic.”
Grace, seated across from her, smiled carefully. “It is beautiful, my lady.”
“I purchased desolation.”
Bernard looked toward the slope. “Desolation with a favorable overlook, perhaps.”
Elowra’s pen hovered over her travel notes. “Should I record that as a positive feature, my lady?”
Dara sighed. “Yes.”
Cai floated near her shoulder, smug. Your mountain has betrayed your mood.
It can still recover.
The carriage stopped at the first cleared staging point near the base of the mountain. Garrick rode ahead and lifted one hand to signal the halt. Marek dismounted before the carriage door opened, already scanning the slope with his one sharp eye.
Dara watched through the window as his men spread out with practiced ease.
Garrick’s estate guards took the wider approach, checking the road, the tree line, and the visible ridges.
Marek’s ex-thief guards moved differently—quieter, slipping between rock and brush as if the mountain itself had misplaced them.
Useful.
Slightly unsettling.
But useful.
Marek approached the carriage. “My lady, we’ll check the immediate grounds first.”
Dara accepted this with the generosity of someone who had lost too many arguments about safety recently.
“Fine.”
Garrick, from nearby, added, “No one steps far until we clear it.”
Dara looked at him.
He looked back.
Firm.
Unapologetic.
Very captain-of-the-guard.
Dara leaned back against the carriage cushion. “I am beginning to miss being insufficiently protected.”
Grace made a tiny sound that might have been a laugh if she were less professional.
Cai curled lazily through the air. You say that until someone tries to kidnap you again.
I am grieving. Do not introduce facts.
Marek’s men disappeared up the path.
Garrick sent two riders along the lower road.
Then they waited.
Dara did not enjoy waiting.
Waiting was a thing people invented when they lacked authority, money, or imagination. Unfortunately, when guards were involved, waiting also became a thing people enforced with swords.
Rude.
She stepped out anyway once the nearest area was cleared.
The air outside was cooler than the city. Cleaner too. It smelled of stone, grass, faint pine, and mountain wind. The sort of air that made people say things like bracing and restorative, which were just polite words for cold but tolerable.
Salem leapt down after her, black paws silent on the packed earth, tail high as if she owned the place.
Pipette was carried out in Grace’s arms, wrapped in a soft little travel blanket and looking deeply prepared to judge nature.
Dara understood her.
“This is acceptable,” Dara said.
Bernard, standing beside her, looked toward the ridgeline. “The land is larger than it seemed on the survey map.”
“Yes.” Dara looked up the slope. “Good. Larger means more places to avoid people.”
Cai sighed. There she is.
Elowra wrote something.
Dara did not ask.
After several minutes, one of Marek’s men returned down the path at a brisk pace.
Not running.
But close enough.
Marek turned before the man reached him. “What?”
The guard bowed toward Dara first, because Marek’s people had learned manners in the deeply entertaining way of men who considered etiquette another tool for survival.
“My lady,” he said, “we found something interesting.”
Dara’s attention sharpened.
Interesting could mean many things.
A cave.
A criminal camp.
A corpse.
A rare plant.
A suspicious shrine.
A cursed object.
Possibly all of the above. This world was rude enough.
“What kind of interesting?”
The guard glanced at Marek, then back at her.
“Water, my lady. Hot water.”
Dara blinked.
Bernard straightened.
Grace looked confused.
Cai froze.
Dara took one slow step forward. “Hot water?”
“Yes, my lady. Springs. Several pools farther up the slope.”
The world went very quiet.
Then Dara moved.
Not running.
Obviously not.
She was a noblewoman.
But she walked with immediate, purposeful speed up the cleared path, gown lifted slightly above her boots, Grace hurrying behind with Pipette, Bernard and Elowra following, Garrick muttering something about “wait until it’s fully cleared,” and Marek falling into place at her side because apparently no one in her life allowed curiosity to be unsupervised anymore.
The path wound around a stand of wind-shaped trees and over a shelf of pale stone.
Then the air changed.
Warmth brushed her face.
Steam rose ahead.
Dara stopped.
Before her, nestled between dark stone and moss, lay a series of natural pools.
Clear water shimmered faintly blue-gray beneath drifting steam.
The edges were uneven but beautiful, shaped by mineral deposits into smooth pale ridges.
Tiny rivulets ran from one pool to another, trailing warmth into the rocks below.
The scent was faintly mineral, clean and sharp.
Not rotten.
Not sulfurous enough to offend.
Steam curled through the morning light like something expensive.
Dara stared.
Then her soul re-entered her body with interest.
“Ooooooh.”
Cai drifted up beside her, eyes glittering.
Three words, Dara thought to him.
Dara’s smile began to spread.
Hot. Spring. Resort.
Cai threw both claws into the air. She lives.
Dara barely heard him.
She was too busy seeing it.
Not the rough stone before her.
The possibility.
Bathhouses tucked into the mountain slope. Steam rising from carved pools. Smooth paths, lanterns, private soaking rooms, guest suites with views over the valley, tea service, snack trays, herbal baths, robes, slippers, rest pavilions, seasonal flowers, and heated stone walkways in winter.
People would come here.
Nobles would pay ridiculous amounts to soak privately and pretend mineral water made them spiritually superior.
Merchants would book rooms to impress trading partners.
Travelers would stop, eat, sleep, bathe, and spend.
Families could come on designated open days.
Workers could have discounted hours because Dara was not stupid enough to let only nobles enjoy hot water when overheated rich people were already annoying enough.
Oh.
Oh, this was dangerous.
Wonderful.
Expensive.
Dara inhaled slowly.
Then narrowed her eyes.
First things first.
System.
The interface appeared.
QUERY?
Scan location. Hot spring development risks. Active volcano? Toxic gas? Unstable ground? Exploding mountain nonsense? Anything that will turn my resort into a tragedy with steam?
PROCESSING…
SCANNING GEOTHERMAL ACTIVITY…
Cai hovered upside down beside the display. Exploding mountain nonsense is not a technical category.
It should be.
The System continued.
GEOTHERMAL ACTIVITY: STABLEVOLCANIC RISK: LOWTOXIC GAS RISK: LOWGROUND STABILITY: MODERATE-HIGHWATER QUALITY: MINERAL-RICH, NONTOXICDEVELOPMENT VIABILITY: HIGH
Dara’s eyes lit.
YES.
RECOMMENDATION: PROFESSIONAL SURVEY PRIOR TO CONSTRUCTION.
Obviously.
Cai blinked. Did you just agree with caution?
This is hot water people sit in. I am not boiling guests accidentally.
Growth.
Dara turned back to the pools, nearly vibrating.
Grace watched her carefully. “My lady?”
Dara pointed. “Hot spring resort.”
Grace blinked. “A… resort, my lady?”
“Yes.”
Bernard’s expression had already entered the solemn stage of resignation. “May I ask what that entails?”
Dara turned to him with the radiant expression of a woman who had remembered joy through mineral water.
“A place where people come to soak in hot spring pools, stay in comfortable rooms, eat excellent food, rest, recover, spend too much money, and leave thinking they have improved their health and status.”
Bernard absorbed that.
Then said, “Ah.”
Elowra’s pen had already begun moving.
Dara leaned closer. “What are you writing?”
Elowra turned the page for her.
Hot Spring Resort — Preliminary Concept.
Dara stared at it, then nodded solemnly. “Correct.”
Grace looked at the steaming pools again. “Would there be tea service?”
Dara turned to her. “Grace.”
Grace straightened.
“There will be everything.”
Cai clutched his chest. Oh, she’s back.
Dara paced along the edge of the stone, careful not to step too close to the water until the guards confirmed the footing.
“We need proper bathhouses. Separate pools. Private areas for nobles. Family areas. Public access days. Discounted hours for workers.”
Bernard’s brows rose. “Workers, my lady?”
“Yes. Do you know how many laborers have sore backs? Hot mineral baths are useful. Also, they will talk about it. Good marketing.”
Elowra wrote faster.
“Guest robes,” Dara continued. “Soft ones. Slippers. Hair drying rooms. Heated towels if we can manage it.”
Grace made a tiny sound of approval.
“Tea house,” Dara said. “Snacks. Mountain-view dining. Hot spring eggs.”
Bernard paused. “Eggs?”
“You cook them in the hot spring.”
Everyone looked at the pools.
Dara lifted one finger. “Not in the bathing pools. Obviously. Separate cooking spring. Clean. Controlled. Proper signage.”
Elowra underlined signage.
“Souvenir soaps,” Dara continued. “Bath salts. Scented oils. Herbal soak packets. Maybe mountain flower blends. Small gift shop.”
Cai stared at her. You went from dead inside to retail development in under five minutes.
Mineral water is healing.
Apparently.
“Massage rooms,” Dara added.
Bernard looked up. “Massage, my lady?”
“For relaxation. Muscle relief. Rich people will call it wellness and pay extra.”
Garrick, who had been standing nearby trying very hard to look like a man unaffected by resort planning, coughed into his fist.
Dara pointed toward the upper slope.