CHAPTER 89: UNEXPECTED SUPPORT

Marcus woke to the noise of Sara yelling outside their new house. "Marcus! Marcus! Palwin didn't come home last night!"

From inside, he heard his aunt's welcoming voice. "Sara, come in. She's in here with Marcus. She carried him like a princess. You should have seen it."

Marcus tried to wake from the fog of his panic attack recovery, his body feeling heavy and disoriented. The stress of managing dual world responsibilities had finally overwhelmed his system, but at least he was safe in his family's new home rather than collapsed in some Drakmoor alley.

Sara had already rushed into his room while Marcus was struggling to fully consciousness. Palwin sat beside him eating bread that his mother Elara had baked, her characteristic focused attention now directed toward ensuring he was recovering properly.

"Good morning, Sara. I passed out after the Academy visit, but I think I'm okay now," Marcus said, his voice still weak from exhaustion.

"Thank the light. I was so worried when you didn't come back and Palwin was missing too."

Marcus forced himself to push away the anxiety and bad thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him again. He needed to focus on productive actions rather than dwelling on problems he couldn't immediately solve.

"It's good you're here. I was going to bring the family to the shop anyway."

"Why? For the textile business?"

"Yes. Palwin, follow us." The three of them made their way to the living room, where Marcus marveled again at their new circumstances. Having an actual living room felt like an incredible luxury after their tiny hut in Millhaven. They'd suffered so much in Drakmoor's refugee camps, but now they'd reached relative comfort just as Malachar was marching toward the city. Marcus tried to shake away the dark thoughts and focus only on potential victories.

The family gathered in the living room, their faces showing the hope that came from finally having proper shelter and the prospect of meaningful work.

"Aunts, uncles, Dad, Mom, we're creating a new business with machines that have never been used before. Since no one is hiring you for good jobs in the city, I want you to work for us. Sara has a brilliant mind for machinery. She'll teach you once she figures out how the devices work, but in the meantime, we have other jobs you can help us with."

His mother Elara looked interested but cautious. "What kind of jobs, son?"

Sara stepped forward with enthusiasm. "Ma'am, it's the complete process of creating threads and turning them into clothes using two machines. I understand the concepts, and we have working prototypes."

His father Garrett frowned with practical concern. "But we don't know how to sew."

"You can handle thread production," Marcus explained. "There'll be jobs in buying materials, bringing supplies, selling products. This business will make us wealthy and..." Sara interrupted him with obvious excitement.

"And Marcus promised we'll make sure everyone in the city can afford good clothes, even poor people."

As they all walked toward the shop together, Marcus noticed the head scribe of the Academy standing at a street corner, wearing dark clothes that made her blend into the shadows. When she saw Marcus, she waved him over with urgent gestures.

"Marcus, I don't have much time," Head Scribe Lady Genevieve said quietly. "Master Thymon and I didn't always agree about your inventions, but that doesn't change his opinion of you. There's an address here. Go to this location. There are people there who aren't scholars but were loyal to Master Thymon. They can help you."

Before Marcus could thank her or ask questions, she turned and walked away quickly, disappearing into the morning crowd. Marcus's mind raced with possibilities. Was this a trap? But unlike Alice Brightshield, Lady Genevieve had never shown false friendship toward him. And why would she mention their past disagreements if she was setting him up? What kind of help could these people provide that the Academy couldn't?

If he was going to investigate this mysterious meeting, he should bring Tom for protection and support.

When they arrived at the warehouse that had been converted into their workshop, Marcus kept checking on how Temir was progressing with the rifle components. The young blacksmith's precision work was crucial for creating weapons that could function reliably under combat conditions.

"I heard you gave Temir new assignments. What are they for?" Aldric asked, curious about the secretive project.

"You remember the explosives Sara made for me? These are improved versions of those weapons. I was thinking just for personal use, but with recent events, maybe you all need them too. But you'd also need training, and I don't know how to handle that safely."

Marcus felt the familiar weight of responsibility pressing down on him. Every solution created new problems, every preparation required additional skills he didn't possess.

Aldric placed a reassuring hand on Marcus's shoulder. "Marcus, not everything has to be on your shoulders. Relax a little. Take things one step at a time. Look where we were just a few weeks ago. We were broke, had no shop, owned nothing. Now we're almost as wealthy as when my father took over our family business."

"You're right. Sorry for getting so stressed about everything."

The reminder of their progress helped Marcus regain some perspective. They'd accomplished remarkable things in a short time, building a successful business while establishing their family in proper housing. Maybe he could handle the approaching challenges if he focused on steady progress rather than trying to solve everything simultaneously.

After they finished their work for the day, Marcus saw Tom returning from the Academy in the evening.

"Tom! I need to visit someplace, and I don't trust the people who want to meet me there. Can you come along?"

Tom looked exhausted from his classes and training. "Brother, I'm too tired. Let me eat first. Take Palwin, please."

"I'll buy you roasted chicken at the inn. Come on," Marcus insisted, knowing Tom's weakness for good food. "As much as you can eat!"

Tom shook his head in confirmation but made a strange gesture with his eyes. Palwin immediately left her tools at the counter and joined them without being asked verbally.

"Palwin, Marcus will buy us a whole chicken. I know you love chicken. Come with us," Tom said aloud.

"How did you do that?" Marcus asked, surprised by the nonverbal communication.

"Do what?" Tom replied, his stomach growling audibly.

"You called Palwin without using words."

"Oh, that. One day we were working at the printing machine, and I kept making mistakes. I felt something in my mind suggesting changes to my routine. A few days later, when we were alone eating dinner, the same voice asked about my chicken. Then I realized it was Palwin."

Marcus stared at his cousin in amazement. "What?"

"Yeah, if she wants to, I can communicate with her mentally." They continued walking as Tom explained this development.

As they arrived at the abandoned mines near the west gate, where the mountain and forest intersected, Marcus realized this discovery about Tom and Palwin's mental connection could be incredibly important for their upcoming challenges.

"We'll talk about this later," Marcus said, filing away this information for future consideration.

They walked toward the north side of the city, where the walls met the mountains and forest. The location felt isolated and potentially dangerous, perfect for clandestine meetings but also ideal for ambushes.

From behind them, they heard a croaked foreign dialect. "Marcus of Millhaven, I heard so much about you. Welcome to the real resistance."

Marcus turned to see figures emerging from the shadows between the trees and stone. Whoever these people were, they'd been watching and waiting for him to arrive. Lady Genevieve's message had led him to something much larger than he'd expected.

The voice carried authority and confidence, suggesting these weren't desperate refugees or amateur conspirators. These were organized people with their own agenda and capabilities. Whether that made them allies or threats remained to be seen.

Marcus felt Tom tense beside him, ready for whatever might come next. Palwin's attention focused with the intensity she showed during potential dangers. Whatever lay ahead, at least he wasn't facing it alone.

The real resistance, the voice had said. Given Master Thymon's connection and Lady Genevieve's referral, this meeting might provide exactly the kind of help that the Academy and royal court couldn't offer.

Marcus stepped forward, ready to discover what new allies or challenges awaited him in the growing network of people preparing to face Malachar's approaching forces.