Veldara was loud.
Not Millhaven loud — that had been manageable, a frontier town's background hum. Veldara was a wall of sound that hit Yuki the moment he passed through the gates, all made worse by his enhanced hearing. Thousands of voices layered over cart wheels, hooves, hammers, bells, street vendors, an argument in an alley, someone playing a flute badly, dogs barking, and children laughing — thousands of lives compressed into stone walls.
His ears took time to adjust. His parallel minds split automatically. Three threads filtering the noise. Two scanning for threats. One managing the headache forming behind his eyes.
Hana buried her face in his neck. Her black ears were flat — pressed down, overwhelmed. Too much input for fox-kin senses tuned to forests and grassland.
"I know," he murmured. "It's a lot."
Kana, predictably, was thrilled. She was halfway off the wagon, amber eyes devouring every storefront, every passing face, every cart loaded with things she'd never seen. Her silver tail wagged so hard the wagon bench shook.
"Yuki — what's that? What's that thing they're cooking? Why is that building so tall? Can we go there? What's that smell—"
"Kana. Breathe."
She did not breathe. She pointed at a sweet shop and vibrated.
Lira took the lead. She'd grown up spending most of her life in Veldara and knew the city the way Yuki knew his homestead — every district, every shortcut, every place worth knowing.
"We'll stable the wagons at the trade yard first," she said, guiding the horses through the main avenue. "My father has a permanent berth there. Then we find you a house."
"Today?"
"Today. You have two children who need a bed and a kitchen. That's not waiting until tomorrow."
She wasn't wrong.
Varlen's trade yard was in the merchant quarter — a walled compound with warehouse space, stabling, and lodging for caravan crews. The wagons rolled in and the familiar routine of unloading began. Varlen shook Yuki's hand one more time — firm, brief, the same practical gratitude he'd shown since the caravan road.
"My home is three streets north," Varlen said. "Lira will show you. Dinner tonight, if you're settled."
"We'll be there."
House hunting in Veldara was an exercise in sticker shock and Lira's negotiation skills.
The first place she showed him was near the merchant quarter — a narrow townhouse, three stories, squeezed between a tailor and a bakery. The bakery smell alone almost sold him, but the rooms were small, there was no yard, and the "kitchen" was a counter with a stove.
"Too small," Yuki said.
"I know. I'm establishing a baseline."
The second was in the residential district — wider, two stories, with a modest courtyard. Better. But the courtyard was paved stone with no green, and the rooms were still tight.
"Closer. But the girls need a yard. Actual ground. Grass."
Lira raised an eyebrow. "You're shopping for a house in a capital city and you want grass."
"I built a homestead with four groves and a Japanese garden. My standards are ruined."
Speaking of my homestead, I need to bring the little ones to it once we get settled. They will probably fall in love with it.
The third property was different.
It sat on the border between the commoner residential district and the nobles' quarter — a transitional street where wealthy merchants lived alongside minor aristocracy. The houses here were larger, the walls higher, the streets quieter. Money lived here, but not the kind that needed to announce itself.
The property agent — who'd been growing increasingly nervous as Yuki rejected everything — perked up when they turned onto the street.
"This one just came available. Previous owner was a textile merchant who relocated to the western provinces. It's above the budget we discussed, but—"
"Show me," Yuki said.
Iron gates opened onto a front courtyard paved in flat stone with ornamental trees in each corner. The house beyond was three stories of solid stonework — pale limestone, arched windows, a tiled roof with dormers on the upper floor. It was easily four times the size of anything they'd seen so far.
The ground floor had a great room with high ceilings and a fireplace, a formal dining area, and the kitchen — the kitchen made Yuki stop walking. It was enormous. A proper cook's kitchen with a stone hearth, counter space for days, a pantry the size of a bedroom, and a heavy wooden table in the centre that could seat eight.
Kana's going to lose her mind.
Past the kitchen, a back door opened onto an outdoor courtyard — not a cramped yard but a genuine space, walled on all sides, with a flagstone patio, garden beds, and a small pond fed by a stone fountain. The pond was maybe four metres across, stocked with fat golden fish, surrounded by carefully placed rocks and a weeping tree that trailed its branches in the water.
Hana walked to the pond's edge, crouched down, and watched the fish with absolute stillness. Her black tail swayed slowly behind her.
Sold. We're done here.
But Lira was already pulling him upstairs. The second floor had six rooms — bedrooms, a study, a sitting room. The third floor had four more rooms, smaller but well-lit, with views over the rooftops toward the castle district. A large washroom with existing plumbing on each floor.
And the basement. The agent led them down stone stairs into a cellar that ran the full footprint of the house — dry, cool, high-ceilinged. Multiple rooms, stone walls, enough space for a workshop, a training area, and storage that could hold everything in his dimensional pocket twice over.
Total: three stories, over ten rooms, a courtyard with a pond, a garden, and a basement bigger than most houses.
Kana had been exploring at a dead sprint since they'd entered. She appeared at the top of the basement stairs, silver ears quivering, and shouted down: "YUKI. THE KITCHEN IS HUGE."
He looked at Lira. "This one."
"You haven't asked the price."
"I don't care about the price."
"You should care about the price. This is in the merchant-noble district. It's going to be—"
"I killed a dragon and sold ten of its scales. I have crates of produce worth more than this street. I don't care about the price."
Lira closed her mouth. Opened it. Closed it again - realizing he was right.
He let her negotiate anyway because she was better at it and because watching her work was its own kind of entertainment. She spent an hour with the property agent — a round man who started confident and ended sweating — and secured a purchase price that was, by her assessment, "aggressive but justified given the market."
Yuki paid in gold. Dragon-scale gold, counted out on the agent's desk. Stack after stack. The agent's hands trembled slightly by the end.
The deed was signed. The house was his.
They spent the afternoon settling in.
The house was partially furnished — quality pieces left by the textile merchant, tasteful if not Yuki's style. He kept the dining table, the kitchen fixtures, and the better chairs. Everything else he'd replace over time.
He upgraded the mattresses immediately — mana-woven, dense, covered in soft material. Kana tested hers by jumping on it for ten minutes straight. Hana tested hers by lying down, pulling a blanket over herself, and refusing to move for half an hour.
He set up the kitchen. Pulled cookware from dimensional storage — pots and pans he'd forged at the homestead, utensils, plates. Stocked the massive pantry with produce from the homestead harvest — sunbloom citrus, ironheart nuts, starberries, dried meat, preserved fruit. The shelves were barely half full. He set an enchantment on the pantry that would prevent the food from spoiling. The pantry could hold three times what he'd brought.
Kana and Hana explored every room. All ten-plus of them. Twice. Kana was confused when asked which room she wanted. Assuming that she and Hana would continue to stay with him. She was convinced when he explained it like she was laying claim to her own territory, she could manage however she wished, and compromised that she could still sleep with him occasionally. She claimed the bedroom closest to Yuki's on the second floor. Hana decided to share a room with Kana which made perfect sense. They arranged and rearranged their few possessions — daggers, clothes, the glass pyramid projector — with the seriousness of generals planning a campaign.
Yuki built a bath in the second-floor washroom. Same design as the homestead — stone basin, heating enchantment, intake and drain. The existing plumbing made it easy. He'd build a bigger one in the basement later — something approaching the homestead's standard.
Then the courtyard.
The pond was already beautiful — the golden fish and the weeping tree gave it a quality that reminded him of the Japanese garden back home. He added a few touches. Transplanted grass from dimensional storage to fill the bare patches. Shaped a stone bench near the pond. Put in two flowering bushes from the homestead stock — the honey-citrus ones with pale pink blossoms.
When the blossoms caught the afternoon breeze, petals drifted down onto the pond's surface. Pink on dark water.
He stood there for a moment, watching the petals float, and felt the homestead's ghost settle into this new place.
Not the same. But close.