《The Dark Lord's Diner》 Prologue - A Thousand Years Ago… The Dark Lord¡¯s coin. His best friend Kenny. An unexpected sword. The end of all things. Salvanguish Abner Ordinal strode across the dark marble of his throne room. It was a bittersweet place for him because of all the memories. He¡¯d had some good times in the palace, but they mostly had to do with his grandfather, when the Dark Lord Mood ruled over a vast empire. But then Sal had to deal with his father. That was the last thing Sal wanted to do. Memories of his father were bitter¡ªnothing but failure and badly cooked eggs. His father never could get the eggs right. Either runny or brown spots, eggs had defied their family for a long, long time. It didn¡¯t matter now. Eggs were the least of the current Dark Lord¡¯s problems. There were all these uprisings he had to contend with. Why couldn¡¯t people just accept there was a new Dark Lord in town? They should bow their heads, pay him taxes, and shut the muck up. But no, there were these new Yaniri warriors popping up, descendants of the Menold, the Best of Men. Notice the capitalizations. The Yanir were supposedly going to topple Sal like they¡¯d taken care of his grandfather, a plucky band of heroes, outmatched, outgunned, and living on a mixture of hope and coffee. Sal¡¯s father talked about the wonders of hope and coffee. Ugh, there he went, thinking about Dad again. Salvanguish shook away the thoughts. He didn¡¯t like thinking about his father. Better to think about the lengths he and his Gorbin army had taken to ensure the shipping lines and supply chains were intact. If people could get their coffee and eggs in great quantities, they would be less likely to rise up against him. Hence, less uprisings. The Dark Lord paused in front of the Midnight Throne¡ªthe veins in the black marble were an even darker shade of dark, and twin onyx jewels were set into the giant armrests. His grandfather, the Dark Lord Mood, had been over seven feet tall and at least three hundred pounds of muscle, with a BodyWork ranking of 100%. That was basically god-like. He¡¯d carved out an empire for himself, starting on Torment Island, in the middle of the Middle Sea, and it was Grandfather Mood who had first built the throne. He said it had been a gift to himself, after crushing the last vestiges of the ancient Hajawan Empire. Those Animalia¡ªthey had literal animal heads¡ªnever knew what hit them. For centuries, they¡¯d been the people to beat on Allbreath, and then, suddenly, Mood shows up to bring an iron-fisted order to the chaos of an inefficiency and a bizarrely complex bureaucracy. Those Hajawans were always talking and talking, about everything. In essence, they talked themselves to death. Mood had conquered the Hajawans easily enough. But he had help. Salvanguish was dressed in his normal everyday Dark Lord garb¡ªblack silks, black velvet, gold cufflinks, and the magical golden necklace he¡¯d had fashioned to make sure he didn¡¯t lose the Deux Coin, which gave him unimaginable power. A gift from his grandfather, though his inept father, had wanted to keep for himself. Salvanguish had to be honest with himself. His father, Mykorgoth, didn¡¯t exactly want the Deux Coin for himself, but he certainly didn¡¯t want his son to have it. That was the problem. Mickey¡ªshort for Mykorgoth¡ªcouldn¡¯t make eggs worth a damn, and he had zero strategy. Inept. That was the word. Salvanguish slipped a hand through an undone button on his shirt and touched the coin. He felt its ancient power. Did he believe all the myths around the coin? He believed about half of them. He¡¯d witnessed the other half directly. He only had to look at his Diagraff Vitalis to confirm the fact. He pulled it up just for fun. <<< ? >>> Salvanguish Abner Ordinal Diagraff Vitalis Race: Human Vitalis Type: Multiclass (Sorcerer/Warrior) Vitalis Path: Deux Coin Dark Lord Initial Mana Potential: 10,000 Maximum Modified Mana: 41,000 Current Level/DevStep: Level 10, Developmental Step 9 Experience Point Monitoring: 2984/11,000 BodyWork Modifier: 285% SoulWork Modifier: 310% BodyWork Proficiencies: SoulWork Proficiencies: Vitalis Path Proficiencies: <<< ? >>> ¡°Sal!¡± a voice called to him. In walked Keyneth Kinkaid, Salvanguish¡¯s best friend, best general, best everything. Keyneth was his most trusted minion, and at times, he didn¡¯t even think of Kenny as a minion. Could he use the word friend? Friendships and Dark Lords didn¡¯t exactly mix. Grandfather Mood had insisted that a conqueror couldn¡¯t trust anyone, especially the conquered. Also, you couldn¡¯t trust anyone you paid. Once you gave someone a paycheck, they¡¯d never look at you the same again. Even family was suspect. At the time, Salvanguish thought his grandfather was being a bit dramatic, but then again, Mood had to deal with Mickey, and that would make a doubter out of anyone. Keyneth was in his Black Death armor, gripping the pommel of his magic sword, the Destiny Blade. Keyneth liked to call it his Butter Knife. They made a lot of breakfast jokes between them. Salvanguish frowned and found himself tired. He was over two thousand years old, thanks to the Deux Coin, and he was feeling the years. His joints also reminded him of his advanced age. At one point, he could¡¯ve squashed an uprising before dawn, cast forbidden magic after lunch, and then negotiated with Abyssmuck demons over dinner. Evening would be spent planning new campaigns until midnight. After a few hours of sleep, he¡¯d get up and do it all over again. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. At present, he simply didn¡¯t have the energy. If his grandfather ever felt like he was feeling, the old man never showed it. Not that he would¡¯ve admitted anything. Grandfather saw complaining as a weakness. Weak people were to be either crushed or conquered or both. Salvanguish thought about climbing up the steps and sitting on the Midnight Throne, but it seemed like too much effort. Besides, Keyneth looked like he wanted to talk. ¡°What do you want, Lord Keyneth?¡± His general and friend smiled, which emphasized the scar on his lip. ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± The Dark Lord and his Dark General both had matching face scars, splitting their eyebrows on the right side of their faces and their lips. The history of those scars was¡­interesting¡­to say the least. At times, it was like looking into a mirror, though while Salvanguish had dark features, Keyneth Kinkaid was as blonde and pale as they came. He even freckled in the sunshine. The Dark Lord only became darker. ¡°I know exactly why you are here,¡± Salvanguish said after a moment. He wasn¡¯t going to admit he didn¡¯t. Was he slipping? By the Abyssmuck Archdukes, he was slipping. Bad time for it, what with the rise of the Yanir. Keyneth seemed to grow a bit paler. Was he sweating? That wasn¡¯t good news. The Dark General shouldn¡¯t be sweating about anything. That was Salvanguish¡¯s job. ¡°Proceed with inquiry, Kenny. Time is fleeting, even for me, and this day will soon be over.¡± ¡°The day is pretty much over, my Dark Lord.¡± A quick glance to the Grand Midnight Balcony showed that the sun was setting. Where had the day gone? And what was for dinner? Salvanguish didn¡¯t need to eat, exactly, but more and more, food called to him. That was new. He¡¯d gotten used to eating army rations just to keep his physical form going. If he were being honest with himself, which he tried to do, he drank more than he ate. That could be a problem, but the Hajawan wine was tasty. Those cursed Animalia were still so good at so many things, even without their empire. The Dark Lord waved his maybe friend on. ¡°Why are you referring to me as Sal all of a sudden? I suppose we do not need titles or formalities, given our connection, and I do call you Kenny, which I find rather prosaic. What does it matter? Proceed with whatever news you have for my waiting ears. Is it about the new Yaniri armada? I know about their fleet/ They think I do not, but verily I do.¡± ¡°Thank the Sacred Family you do!¡± Keyneth said with some passion. ¡°They think to land in the Caya Pretty, or so our spies say. Have you talked to Dergle about this? Dergle has a good idea of what¡¯s going on.¡± Dergle Driptongue would know. He was an ash-demon, and he had the smoke and ashes to prove it. He could move through darkness, and he was as much of a weapon as the Deux Coin hanging from Salvanguish¡¯s neck. Salvanguish shrugged. ¡°Dergle has considerable faith in our defenses. We have legions of Gorbins prepared to engage in melee on the beach. And let us not rehash our more naval options. We have most of our flotilla keeping the supply chains protected, and if the wretches we rule do not get their eggs and coffee, there would be the Abyssmuck to pay.¡± ¡°How much is the Abyssmuck?¡± Keyneth said, chuckling. ¡°Like, if we wanted to buy the Abyssmuck, could we? You have the coin for it.¡± He emphasized the word oh-so dramatically. Salvanguish should¡¯ve taken it as a warning. Keyneth crossed the distance between them. ¡°Let¡¯s go out on the balcony. I want to show you something.¡± His smile failed a bit. The Dark Lord sighed. ¡°Very well. I would like to find the end of this conversation quickly. Perhaps Earl is making squab. I do enjoy his squab.¡± Ah, Earl¡ªthat Gorbin could cook. Generations upon generations of his family had served up squab for the Dark Lords since grandfather sat on the Midnight Throne. They pair crossed the throne room and walked out upon the balcony to take in Grief City. Mood hadn¡¯t been too clever when he named his stronghold. There was Grief City on Torment Island and the various coves called Caya Pretty, Caya Ugly, Caya Sadness, Caya Boring, Caya Roughrock. Grandfather Mood had named every town and cove on the island, which had been just a collection of Hajawan fishing villages before Mood¡¯s rise to power. The Hajawanese names had long since been forgotten. Directly below them was the Dark Lord¡¯s Square, a bustling marketplace with a central fountain. Kenny and Dergle both had paid for the statue of Salvanguish in the center, and it was a good likeness, with the scar and everything. The Church of the Sacred Family was down the way, and it was a grand cathedral, surely, but it was dwarfed by the Palace of Despair, imported marble, crafted by the darkest magic. Salvanguish sighed. Grandfather Mood might¡¯ve been the most powerful entity to ever walk the stones of the world, but he certainly had a dour disposition when it came to naming things. ¡°What did you want to show me?¡± the Dark Lord asked. ¡°First, can I see the Deux Coin again? You know I like to look at it.¡± Salvanguish could¡¯ve help but grimace. ¡°I find your fasciation strange, Kenny. Verily, I do. However, I suppose such fascination is understandable. It was one of the coins used to buy the entire world.¡± Kenny grinned nervously. ¡°Before, there was nothing, and then, the gods managed to collect seven coins to buy the world. Which god did it come from again?¡± The Dark Lord drew the Deux Coin out of his clothes. The Stoneskin artisans done a good job with the piece, making sure the magic wouldn¡¯t fail, and the coin wouldn¡¯t fall out of the setting. The gods¡ªknown as the Sacred Family¡ªwere always losing their coins, sometimes through their own bad luck, sometimes out of greed, sometimes out of any of the other seven major sins. Salvanguish liked all the various stories, but there was no way that he was going to lose it. Never. ¡°This was Alikor¡¯s, or that¡¯s what my grandfather said.¡± Salvanguish went to put the Deux Coin away. Keyneth pointed. ¡°By the Sacred Seven, Sal. Look!¡± The Dark Lord turned to see the Yaniri armada¡¯s ships, hundreds of vessels, with their red and black flags flying. The armada wouldn¡¯t be landing at Caya Pretty. No, they¡¯d changed course. And Salvanguish had missed it. Thinking too much about Earl¡¯s squab, probably. What in the muck? Keyneth reached out and snatched the chain, pulling Salvanguish forward. The Dark Lord tried to pull up one of his many, many spells, but there were so many to choose from? Could he Dark Walk away? Could he kill his friend with a Black Blast? He could Shadow Grow into a giant and smush his friend with a foot, but did he really want to do that? This was Kenny, and yes, he could be a bloodthirsty devil, but they had so much history together. In the end, it didn¡¯t matter. The Dark Lord froze, not being able to choose from his astounding number of spells. A second later, Keyneth had the necklace, with the Deux Coin dangling. ¡°Sorry, Sal. But this is my chance.¡± ¡°Chance at what?¡± the Dark Lord stuttered. ¡°Immortality, friend,¡± Keyneth burst out laughing. ¡°Come on, you¡¯ve had your two thousand years. I want mine!¡± ¡°Wait!¡± But it was too late. Keyneth drew the Destiny Blade, crafted by Stoneskins as well, and imbued with enough magic to destroy continents. A second later, Salvanguish found himself with the sword in his chest. Probably should¡¯ve cast Bleak Armor, you know, for protection, but then again, he could¡¯ve gone with Dark Dodge, or he could¡¯ve become used Phantom Philter to become a ghost. What was wrong with him? ¡°Kenny, you betraying dog,¡± the Dark Lord spat as his vision narrowed. His breath was full of blood. That wasn¡¯t good. What was that spell he had that gave him a second life? Something like Midnight¡¯s Last Chance? He hadn¡¯t really looked at that magic in a long time. He probably should¡¯ve spent more time studying his Vitalis Path Proficiencies. He even had a spell that helped him focus¡ªSomber Study. ¡°Not a dog, boss,¡± Keyneth said. ¡°Just a guy, holding the Deux Coin. First thing I¡¯m going to do is rename everything. Come on, who wants to live on Torment Island?¡± ¡°Despite the name, it is pleasant, and there lies the irony!¡± Salvanguish protested. He tried to say more, but all the blood and betrayal had gotten to him. The Yaniri armada launched their first catapults of burning tar and rock, and it crashed through one of the towers protecting the harbor. The cries started, the screaming and burning and the gnashing of the teeth. Keyneth whipped his sword out of the Dark Lord¡¯s chest. ¡°This is where I confirm the kill, boss. Just like we always said. No coming back from the dead to get me. Goodbye, Sal. It¡¯s been real.¡± The second before the Destiny Blade swept Salvanguish¡¯s head off his shoulders, he felt a shadow over him. The Dark Lord glanced up. In the sky was spear the size of the entire Palace of Despair, dropping from the twilight sky, full of pink clouds, reddened by the sunset. It was all very pastel pretty, except for the spear, though that was pretty as well, polished hickory by the look of it. The front edge was a bright blade of steel that had to have smelted in heaven because there wasn¡¯t a forge on Allbreath big enough to craft something that big. The steel point struck the top spires of the palace, sending stone and glass raining down. Keyneth didn¡¯t seem to notice as he slashed the Dark Lord¡¯s head off his shoulders. Salvanguish¡¯s last thought? At least that spear would kill Kenny. The butthead. Then it was a thousand years of fire and torment¡ªa thousand years, more or less. To be honest, when you¡¯re being tortured in unimaginable hells, you generally focused on the more rather than the less. Chapter One – Voice in the Darkness The former Dark Lord awakes. The Mysterious Benefactor. No skills to speak of. Super cursed. Candlelight. Salvanguish Abner Ordinal opened his eyes. He wasn¡¯t sure how he had eyes, since he had vague recollections of some laughing demon pulling them out. Then he felt his mind shatter. After a moment, he took a breath. He didn¡¯t need a mind to breathe, just lungs, and he was doing all right. He knew he had his eyes open, but he couldn¡¯t see a thing. It was complete darkness. His was on his belly¡ªhis cheek rested on a cold, wooden floor. ¡°Is this a trick? A deception? A ruse?¡± A tiny, breathy, high-pitched voice answered him¡ª a rather feminine voice, if he had to guess. ¡°None of those things, Sal. This is your new life.¡± The words ¡°new¡± and ¡°life¡± were elongated into a happy lilt. ¡°New life? I failed to cast Midnight¡¯s Last Chance.¡± He sniffed. It was a dusty, musty odor except for the slight tang of the rat urine, though it wasn¡¯t fresh. During his exile with his father, he¡¯d come to know the difference. He did catch the faint fragrance of very old, rancid grease. ¡°Is it my shame I smell?¡± ¡°No, buddy, pretty sure those are rat droppings. Besides, that Midnight spell was always kinda iffy if you ask me. Baelor came up with it, and he wasn¡¯t too bright. He was cute though. Or that¡¯s what the painters painted. But can you really trust painters? Artists, boyo, are a strange lot.¡± Sal pressed himself off the floor, then sat, coughing a little. ¡°If my memory serves me, Baelor possessed huge ears and a very small nose. It is a humorous irony that I can remember my life, and my death, but I do not have a good grasp on my afterlife. I recall the flicker of flames, cruel iron pincers glowing red hot fire, and lakes of literal bones. Wait. I think that might have been a Vincio Goff painting of the Abyssmuck?¡± ¡°That amnesia is for the best, captain, a little gift from your Mysterious Benefactor. Like I said, this is your new life. I would imagine it¡¯s gonna take a little getting used to.¡± She spoke in a slangy voice, very informal, and not at all the way he¡¯d been accustomed to being addressed back when he¡¯d been alive. It was always a great deal of milord, my lord, my dark lord, and sometimes, your eminence. He¡¯d enjoyed that last bit. For most of his life, he¡¯d been imminent, or as the word suggested, about to occur. ¡°I do not hold the rank of captain.¡± Sal stood, thinking he¡¯d feel the wear and tear on his joints. His joints were fine, and his muscles weren¡¯t stiff. How could that be? He¡¯d kept himself looking young, but his ancient body had known the truth. ¡°I am a Deux Coin Dark Lord, bent on conquest and mastery over the unruly peoples of the world.¡± ¡°Uh, not anymore, chief. Now you¡¯re just a guy.¡± His hand went to his throat. No necklace. No Deux Coin. Nothing. He pulled up his Diagraff Vitalis and was surprised at the results. <<< ? >>> Salvanguish Abner Ordinal Diagraff Vitalis (Locked) Karmic Gauge: 2% Dark Red and Flashing! Be careful! Race: Resurrected Human, which is kind of strange Vitalis Type: Hard to say, probably Commoner, but that¡¯s a common answer, isn¡¯t it? Vitalis Path: Got a lot of options, but let¡¯s go with Porridge Peasant for now, which may change, based on this whole new Karmic Gauge thing. Karmic Gauge? Karma points? What¡¯s all that? So many questions! Initial Mana Potential: Pending, but at this point, it¡¯s not gonna be much. Maximum Modified Mana: If one value of an equation is pending it¡¯s all gonna pending, unless you have some clue about the variables, and believe me, we don¡¯t. Current Level/DevStep: Level 1, Developmental Step 1 Experience Point Monitoring: Not Applicable BodyWork Modifier: 10% SoulWork Modifier: 10% Proficiencies (All Locked) <<< ? >>> His heart fell. All of his powers were gone. And why was his Diagraff so strange? He didn¡¯t want to ask the voice in the darkness. That would reveal weakness, and as a Dark Lord, you couldn¡¯t be vulnerable. Ever. But how he could gain levels if he couldn¡¯t earn Experience Points? He blinked in the darkness. ¡°You proclaimed I possess a new life. Am I cursed to experience this new life blind? I cannot pierce this ever-present darkness.¡± ¡°Ain¡¯t you just so poetic?¡± The tiny little voice giggled. ¡°You always did like books.¡± ¡°How do you know that?¡± Salvanguish found himself angry, a bit of afraid, if he were to be honest with himself. Normally, looking at his Diagraff calmed him. That wasn¡¯t the case anymore. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. He couldn¡¯t help but murmur, ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m a Deux Coin Dark Lord anymore.¡± The tiny voice chuckled. ¡°No, ace. You¡¯re not. Lost the Deux Coin, which shouldn¡¯t surprise you. Can you still even pull up your Diagraff Vitalis?¡± ¡°No,¡± Salvanguish said quickly. A red light filled his vision, and he felt a spike of ice pierce his heart. He¡¯d not felt that kind of pain in a long, long time. A message flashed before his eyes: <<<>>> Warning! Liar, liar, pants on fire. Karmic Gauge reduced by 1%. Notice the dark red flashing light? Hit 0% and you are done! Gone! Back to the Abyssmuck you go! Current Karmic Gauge: 1% (Dark red and flashing) <<<>>> ¡°Actually, I can,¡± Salvanguish coughed. ¡°But my Diagraff is so strange, now. So very strange. I do not understand what is happening to me.¡± That wasn¡¯t exactly the truth. The warning message was relatively clear on one point. Lying would be painful if not lethal. ¡°I¡¯ll bet.¡± She snorted. And it did sound like a ¡°she,¡± however tiny. ¡°It¡¯s not like your Benefactor wanted you to keep on Dark Lording in your new life. Not a chance, buddy.¡± Sal had made a list. ¡°So you¡¯ve called me boyo, captain, chief, ace, and buddy. Who are you?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t remember me?¡± She sounded a bit hurt. Sal took a small step and felt his shin bump against a bench. It was rough wood, lots of splinters. He blinked. He was near some shutters. He saw the glow of starlight. He moved forward, excepting to feel the pain in his knee, but nope, it felt more solid than ever. He accidentally kicked something hard, and the pain in his stubbed toe made him curse. He took a minute. The pain in his toe was bright and shining, and oddly enough it hurt more than getting stabbed in the chest. Or getting his head cut off. For his actual decapitation, he¡¯d not felt a thing. That was probably thanks to the quality of the Stoneskin craftsmanship. He''d also been spared feeling of the palace-sized spear crushing him and Kenny. That Kenny, dead along with him, though Sal didn¡¯t remember meeting his Dark General when he¡¯d spent time in the Abyssmuck. ¡°Ouch, friendo,¡± the voice said. ¡°Be careful. You can¡¯t magically heal a broken toe. Remember, you¡¯re just a regular guy now.¡± Sal went to the shutters, found the latch, and pulled them open. He smelled a sea, but which sea was it? ¡°Who¡¯s my benefactor?¡± ¡°I believe I referred to them as your Mysterious Benefactor. Probably gonna be light on the benefacting but heavy on the Mysterious.¡± Sal looked out at a night sky, with familiar constellations. He saw Venita of the Wind, hunting the Boon Stag, in the southern sky. It was a view of the sky he knew from the Grand Midnight Terrace off his throne room. ¡°I¡¯m still in Grief,¡± he said unironically. The little voice laughed at that. ¡°You¡¯ll probably be grieving for a long time, though I can¡¯t say I¡¯m too broken up about it. You did some terrible things, pal o¡¯ mine. Near the end, nobody much liked you. Not even your best friend.¡± ¡°Minion,¡± Sal whispered. ¡°He was not my friend. Treachery has darkened his visage to me.¡± ¡°Thank you, Mr. Vocabulary.¡± Sal¡¯s eyes went from the night sky to a dry fountain outside. There was the Church of the Sacred Family in the distance. He was in a building on Dark Lord Square. He spun and rammed his thigh into a table. That table hadn¡¯t been there before, he was sure of it. The furniture had moved. He searched the room for the voice, but all he could see were the outlines of the tables, the benches, and the counter. ¡°Where are you? What are you? And why am I in this wretched place?¡± ¡°Wretched place? This joint did some good business in its day, though not for a long, long time. Between you and me, I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s super cursed.¡± Sal paused, reached out, and rubbed at the pain his thigh. There was going to be some bruising, and his toe ached. So far, his resurrection wasn¡¯t going very well. He tried to recall any power he had that might explain this. Or could this strange fate from being the Coin Keeper for so many years? Sal calmed himself. ¡°Let us return to my original question. How do you know anything about me. Where are you and what are you?¡± ¡°Seeing might be believing at this point. There¡¯s a candle and sparkstick in a drawer on the counter. Or there was like a thousand years ago. Oh, yeah, it¡¯s a thousand years later. Welcome back to Allbreath. There¡¯s been a whole lot of changes since you¡¯ve been gone. I know some of them, duh, because I make every attempt to stay up on current events. But gotta say, eating is more fun than politics. If you¡¯d have embraced your true destiny, you would¡¯ve known that, but no, it was Dark Lord this and Dark Lord that with you.¡± Sal remembered Kenny¡¯s sword. ¡°Please. Refrain from using the ¡®D¡¯ word around me. It pains me more than you can imagine.¡± That made the merry little voice chuckle again. ¡°Would you call it a pain in the neck? Or, wait, yeah, I think Keyneth stabbed you in the heart first. The ¡®D¡¯ word must be heartbreaking.¡± She laughed at her own joke. ¡°You are not providing me the aid I seek,¡± he said quietly. ¡°First things first, ace. Get the candle and the sparkstick.¡± Sal slowly, very slowly, made his way across the room. His hurt foot found cold metal, and he bent, touching a breastplate. His fingers made their way up the steel until he felt the bone of a skull. And some vertebrae, stripped of flesh. He imagined where he might find a sword, and yes, there was a short, broad blade in the grip of the skeleton. He searched for the grip but then the sword shifted, and he cut himself. Well, he was bleeding now. Why was he not surprised? He picked up the sword. It felt good to be armed again. ¡°In the illumination of the candlelight, you and I will engage in a very long conversation about these so-called current events. If you lie, if you dissemble, I will not stay my hand.¡± He felt that horrible icy pain his chest again, and he thought he might see the warning message again, but no ¡°You talk so pretty, Sal. To be honest, it was cute when you were a kid. Got less cute when you turned all evil and stuff.¡± Sal had been called evil before, and it always hurt his feelings. He tried not to do bad things, and yet, sometimes, eggs had to be broken to make omelets. It was a horrid justification, and yet, it fit. He managed to get behind the counter without suffering any more injuries. From a drawer, he found the stub of a candle and a few sparksticks. A scratch across the counter later brought forth flame. With the candle stub flickering, he surveyed the room. There was no sign of anyone. A tickle of fear on the back of his neck made Sal shiver. It had been a long time, since he¡¯d felt that that kind of cold shiver. ¡°I have light, my friend. But I do not see you.¡± No one answered him. His eyes went to the shutters, to the double-doors, across the tables and benches, to the archway that led to the main room of the tavern. What was Sal doing there? The voice, from his left, called out to him. ¡°Gotta warn you, friendo, that in your new life, you can¡¯t kill anyone or anything. And before you get all clever, you can¡¯t inadvertently cause any kind of murder. Nope. In this new life, you are a pacifist, as kind and as passive as Mendica the Penniless. May she find a coin soon!¡± People always said that same phrase when they referenced Mendica, the forgotten middle daughter of the Sacred Family. She was the most pathetic of all the gods. And yes, she didn¡¯t partake in wars or conquering, not in any of the stories. She was too busy looking for a Deux Coin of her own. Or in the process of losing the coin she had. Sal thought about his new Diagraff and the warning messages concerning his Karmic Gauge. What the voice said made more sense to him. His actions were being tracked. Despite all that, he had to grin. ¡°I find that absurd. To live is to murder. Surely, the death of a fly or a spider cannot count.¡± ¡°They do.¡± And then, from behind a broken bowl, appeared a very small, very cute little gray mouse. Oddly enough, it was a mouse that Sal was well acquainted with. Chapter Two – Mouse in the House Betty Don¡¯t-Bite. Pulling legs off spiders. Again, super cursed. The unexpected tower. Salvanguish Abner Ordinal used one hand to lean heavily on the counter in front of the flickering candle. In his other hand he gripped the sword. He stared at the tiny gray creature on the table on the other side of the armored skeleton on the floor. He found himself stuttering. ¡°You cannot be the same mouse. Verily, that would strain credulity. It is impossible!¡± The gray mouse stood up on her hind legs and leaned against the bowl, acting rather casual all things considered. ¡°If you think I¡¯m a mouse, sure, chief, I don¡¯t imagine it would make sense. But come on, guy, you knew there was something special about me.¡± Sal had to take a second to try and remember. It had been a summer day, he was less than ten years old, and his grandfather was everything to him. Why wouldn¡¯t he be? The Dark Lord Mood ruled an empire from his palace at the heart of the Middle Sea. Grandfather Mood didn¡¯t much care his wife had left him. He was confident she¡¯d be back. The gods and goddesses of the Sacred Family were always cheating on each other, swearing divorce, getting coins, losing coins, in a constant state of chaos. Why wouldn¡¯t humans be the same? However, as Sal would later understand, being a Dark Lord took a toll on marriages like nothing else. All of the men of his family had their own personal sorrow when it came to the ladies in their lives. Sal had dim memories of his grandmother. She was always in her room, so sad, despite the trappings of wealth and power. She¡¯d then left to take a trip to the beaches of the Happy Isles, near the Sunrise Straits which led to the Atlas Ocean. She¡¯d never returned. Rumors had it she¡¯d been murdered by Mood¡¯s agents, but those were only rumors. Every year, during the eight nights of the Purchase Festival¡ªwhen everyone on Allbreath celebrated the fact that the gods purchased the world using the Deux Coins¡ªSal would get a gift from her with a little note encouraging him to listen to his father and not his grandfather. Sal had a great deal of freedom, and he roamed far and wide, especially during the hot summer months. He¡¯d been walking in the olive orchards when he¡¯d found the little mouse in a rock wall. She¡¯d been a brave a little thing, and she hadn¡¯t scurried away. Being a boy, he thought a mouse in his pocket was a grand idea. He scooped her up, and she became his best friend until one day, she simply vanished. Now, millennia later, she was back, or so it seemed. The mouse waggled a finger at him. ¡°We had some good times, Sal, I know we did. But did you ever wonder why I didn¡¯t run away from you?¡± ¡°I needed a friend,¡± Sal said simply. Back then, he¡¯d thought normal relationships were something to treasure. It was homespun wisdom that in the end, he found lacking. It seemed his doubts had been confirmed when he wound up with his best friend¡¯s sword in his chest. But even before Kenny¡¯s betrayal, Sal had found dealing with people exhausting. They had so many emotions and so many needs. He¡¯d taken his grandfather¡¯s teachings to heart. Trust no one. The mouse shook her little head. ¡°But why the name? Betty Don¡¯t-Bite? It¡¯s just embarrassing. I wasn¡¯t ever going to bite you. You gave me those chocolate-chip cookies your dad baked. He wasn¡¯t much of a cook, granted, but he was a genius of a baker.¡± Sal felt strangely emotional, seeing his childhood friend. He went to say something. Betty snapped her fingers. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right. You must¡¯ve inherited your grandfather¡¯s inability to name things. Come on, calling the cove Caya Pretty? Way too on the nose.¡± ¡°Why did you leave me?¡± Sal asked. He thought he sounded rather pathetic, but there was no help for it. ¡°Uh, guy, you entered your pulling-the-legs-off-spiders phase. Hard to trust a guy who pulls the legs off things.¡± Sal had to defend himself. ¡°I was a child. And they were just spiders.¡± ¡°Says you! How did you know the spiders weren¡¯t Gwynar? Like myself.¡± She had him there. ¡°I imagined if they were Gwynar, they would have pleaded for their lives.¡± Back at the beginning of the world, Grandmother Maker created the Primogeny because why make sunsets pretty if no one was alive to appreciate them? The beautiful people turned out so well that Grandmother Maker then tried her hand at animals, and created a variety of creatures and tossed them into the oceans and flung them across the land. Some didn¡¯t fancy water or dirt, and those took to the air. Grandmother Maker hadn¡¯t invented death yet, and so those first animals were destined to live forever. The immortal creatures were known as the Gwynar, which meant that Betty Don¡¯t-Bite was in fact, not only ageless, but the first mouse ever to take breath into her lungs. If she were telling the truth. ¡°If you are a Gwynar, Betty, where is your husband? Grandmother Maker created two of everything, if the stories are to be believed.¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Betty squinted one tiny eye closed. ¡°Bill? Oh, we meet up every now again. Come on, we¡¯ve spent most of time together, and so we decided we needed a break. I don¡¯t believe that¡¯s all that uncommon.¡± Sal scratched his head. ¡°If you could have spoken to me, why didn¡¯t you?¡± The mouse snatched up her long tail and swung it playfully. ¡°I liked what we had, ace. You kept me fed and warm. Loved the little bed you made me, by the way. If we started chatting, you¡¯d have eventually shown me to your grandfather, and there would¡¯ve been spells and study and research. The Gwynar have done so well because we remained hidden. You humans are always killing things. Like, all the time. No way. Didn¡¯t like the name. Liked the situation. Then, you know, I left and went on all sorts of adventures. I¡¯ll have to tell you about them sometime. But let¡¯s focus on current events, shall we?¡± ¡°What is your real name, then?¡± Sal put up a hand. ¡°No, I understand how things work. If you told me, I would know your true name, and there would be spells and study and research and what have you.¡± She pointed her tail at him. ¡°Give the guy a Deux Coin. No, wait, don¡¯t. Hey, buddy, Betty Don¡¯t-Bite is fine. Or just Betty. Funny thing, pal, you don¡¯t have the wherewithal for spells or study or research in your present state. Now, let¡¯s talk logistics.¡± ¡°You do understand I can never fully trust you,¡± Sal said. A breeze blew through the open shutters, putting out the candle. Above him, there was the sound of a chair scraping across the floor, followed by the clank of chains, and a low moaning sound. Sal broke into a sweat, heart pounding. ¡°What in the name of the Abyssmuck is up there?¡± The mouse waved away his fears. ¡°Ghosts. Like I said, the caf¨¦ is super cursed.¡± ¡°What¡¯s a caf¨¦?¡± Sal asked. Betty laughed. ¡°Oh, man, you are new. While taverns and inns have their place, cafes, diners, quick little restaurants are the latest rage. As you¡¯ll soon find out. The deal is this, boyo, your Benefactor gave you a second chance for mysterious reasons, of course. Remember, no murder, and oh yeah, don¡¯t even think about playing the Deux Coin game ever again. You even touch a coin, back to the Abyssmuck you go. Bam. As quick as you can say quiche Lorraine.¡± Sal hated that he was in this position. However, it beat torture. Or was this new life a unique form of torture. ¡°Can you give me some kind of subtle hint about the nature of my Benefactor?¡± ¡°Not one hint, buster.¡± The mouse quickly moved on. ¡°Now, you got yourself a new body. It¡¯s about twenty summers old, and by the Creator¡¯s empty purse, I¡¯m hoping you have matured past the whole spider mutilation phase of your development. What the muck, Sal? I¡¯ll never understand that whole thing.¡± Sal found it rather mysterious himself. It wasn¡¯t like he progressed from spiders to any other kind of animal. And he rarely tortured anyone when he was a Dark Lord. He found it unpleasant and dubious, though he never revealed that to anyone. People had to fear him. He was the fricking Dark Lord after all. ¡°I believe I shall have other activities to focus on.¡± He didn¡¯t like standing there in the darkness, so he found another sparkstick and relit the candle. The moaning and scraping and clanking from above had ceased, at least for now. At the same time, he felt the air close in around him, and he felt himself a tad stifled in the closed in room. ¡°Why is this place cursed?¡± Betty shrugged. ¡°Who knows? There weren¡¯t any cookies here, so I didn¡¯t worry about it, until your Benefactor decided to have you wake up here.¡± Sal found the air stale. ¡°How about a walk outside, Betty? Currently, I am not enjoying this place. I would like to look at that statue.¡± Betty did some limbering up exercises. ¡°A little walk outside? Sure! Sounds like fun. Let¡¯s assume the position.¡± Sal picked up the candle and went around the counter. The beams above him groaned, creaked, like something huge was walking around upstairs. He¡¯d eventually go exploring the upper rooms, though the body of the warrior on the floor did give him some pause. He slipped the short, broad blade through his belt. ¡°So what if I kill monsters? Or what if I kill the ghost in this place?¡± ¡°Good luck with killing ghosts, captain.¡± Betty crept to the edge of the table. Sal opened his palm, and she jumped onto it. A million memories of his childhood threatened to send him into a nostalgia fugue, and he fought the impulse. He carried the mouse to the big double doors, but when he tried to open them, he both heard and felt the chains sealing him inside. His first instinct was to cast a Midnight Unseal spell, but he had no magic at all. And no money. He¡¯d eventually get hungry. ¡°Out the window then, boss man?¡± Betty asked. ¡°Verily, that does seem the best way.¡± There was a table under the shutter, and he got on top of it, feeling spry. He had one leg out the shudder when he felt something shove him. With an embarrassing cry, he tumbled out onto the very unforgiving cobblestones. He fell on his arm, and thank the Sacred Family, his bones held. He didn¡¯t squeeze his hand shut, though, because he didn¡¯t want to hurt Betty. As he laid in pain on the stones, a message flashed in his eyes: <<<>>> Good job! Karmic Gauge increased by 1%. You didn¡¯t crush the little darling mouse in your hand! Current Karmic Gauge: 2% (Still Dark red and flashing) <<<>>> Sal groaned. ¡°Ugh. By the Abyssmuck, that hurt!¡± The mouse wiggled a little in his hand. ¡°Like I keep saying. Super cursed. You¡¯re going to have to deal with that, right away, before you open for business.¡± Sal got to his feet. ¡°I¡¯m a fricking Dark Lord. I¡¯m not opening a tavern.¡± ¡°No, you won¡¯t be opening a tavern. All those tower climbers coming in, getting drunk, and getting in a fight. You¡¯d murder someone at some point, and that wouldn¡¯t be good for me. Because, hey, we¡¯re in this together, buddy. And you need some major coinage for chocolate-chip cookies. My appetite has only grown over the millennia.¡± Away from the cursed place, Sal felt better. Glancing up, he noticed two things. There was the silhouette of someone in the window upstairs. It was probably the source of clanking and scraping and moaning. There was no telling the gender of the apparition, and second later, it was gone. Super cursed. Verily. The second thing he saw? There was a tower rising up from the center of the city, where the Palace of Despair had been. The tower disappeared into the sky, impossibly tall, impossibly round, with glass windows at intervals as far as the eye could see. Many of the windows were lit up with a buttery light, but the portal nearest to him were dark as the grave. ¡°What is that?¡± he murmured to himself. Betty laughed. ¡°Such a noob! Getting you up to speed isn¡¯t going to be easy.¡± Despite his status as a former frickin¡¯ Dark Lord, the words hurt Sal¡¯s feelings. He did have a lot to learn, and he hated knowing so little after knowing so much. Chapter Three – Tower Talk The Goddess Spear. Who made who? Nobody likes you. The broken fountain and the empty square. Sal found himself slowly backing up into the square as he gazed up at the tower. Lights went out on an upper floor. Farther up, more lights winked on. Against the black night sky, it was beautiful. Before he knew it, he was sitting on the basin of the dry fountain. He didn¡¯t give the central statue a second look, but he could tell it wasn¡¯t a depiction of him anymore. He was rather grateful for that. His hand fell onto his knee. Betty sat on his wrist, gripping his arm hair. She was so light and little, it felt rather comforting. ¡°Oh, buddy, I know, I know, you¡¯re a little gob smacked. Actually, a lot of people think the Godspear is what killed you. Or more precisely, the goddess spear, though Madra doesn¡¯t get nearly enough credit.¡± Sal squinted up at the tower. It leaned a bit to the right. ¡°Madra threw the spear? Why?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t know if it was the All-Mother or not, but I wouldn¡¯t put it past her. She was more of the warrior of the bunch. Unlike her lazy husband.¡± ¡°But she created the people.¡± ¡°Not all the people, buster. Not the Gwynar. We came directly from Grandmother Maker, thank you very much. Along with the Primogeny, but between you and me, pal, I¡¯d take a Gwynar pit viper over one of those arrogant Primos. You must really hate the elves.¡± ¡°Elves?¡± Sal cocked his head. ¡°What is this word you use? Are not elves not synonymous with storybook fairies or forest fae or any number of folklore sprites?¡± Betty chuckled. ¡°Yeah, forgot. You ain¡¯t up on the current lingo. People started calling the Primos elves. There aren¡¯t many left around, and the ones that are still are super old. But anyway, yeah, you still have a resentment against ¡®em?¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure what to say. Would speaking ill of the Primogeny affect his Karmic Guage? Truth be told, he had hated the Primos. They had joined with the Menold to slay his grandfather. While it was the Menold warriors that had done most of the heavy lifting in battle Grandfather Mood¡¯s Gorbin armies, in the end, it was a Primogenous blade that had killed him. At least Grandfather hadn¡¯t been betrayed by his best friend. ¡°Loathing the arrogant is an easy game to play,¡± he said after a while. ¡°Madra threw the spear¡­at¡­at me?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t know who threw the spear, but my bet is on Madra. But let¡¯s not get sidetracked. I think you said something about betrayal. The way I understand it, you were basically dead when the tower spear came slicing down. Kinda of a dramatic way to end your reign. You must be kinda glad.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure what he thought. It meant failure on a grand scale; he was sure of that. It was an end to everything he¡¯d built, no thanks to his father. His Gorbin army, actually, was thanks to his grandfather. As for his ash demon, he¡¯d wrangled Dergle Driptongue on his own. After a thousand years, Dergle had to be either dead or destroyed. Sal couldn¡¯t keep his eyes off the tower. ¡°But it was wood before, polished hickory. How can it be stone now?¡± ¡°Yeah, can¡¯t speak to that. Giant spears from the heavens are weird, no matter how you slice it. Started out wood, turned to stone, less upkeep maybe. Don¡¯t ask me.¡± Sal gulped in a breath. ¡°So people refer to it as the God Spear? I would think The Tower Spear would be more appropriate.¡± ¡°For a while, people called it the Divine Spike. Goes up all the way to heaven, or so the stories say. As you can see from the windows, it¡¯s hollow inside. Whatever you wanna call it, the Tower pulls in a lot of traffic from around the various empires and kingdoms and what-not. Rumor has it, your old Deux Coin is at the top, but after a thousand years, no one has been able to reach the top. One party of Climbers, a while ago, got close, but then they disappeared. Before that, some Gorbins got close, though the Gorbins, have, um, changed since your time. And don¡¯t think about trying to raise another army because if you¡¯re in charge of it, and someone dies, it¡¯s your fault, and there goes the deal. Which, by the way, means no Tower Ascending. Nope. Your main job in life is getting me chocolate-chip cookies. To do that, you need a frickin¡¯ job.¡± Sal set the mouse on the basin. He stood up. ¡°This is still Grief City, and¡ª¡± The mouse held up a paw. ¡°Tower City. No one calls it Grief City anymore.¡± Sal found himself a bit sad. Yes, he¡¯d never liked his grandfather¡¯s words for things, but such a change? It seemed disrespectful somehow. Betty must¡¯ve seen how crestfallen he was. ¡°But they still call it Torment Island. And sometimes people call it the Tower of Torment. The Dark Lord Mood lives on!¡± The mouse paused. ¡°Hey, pal, another thing we need to talk about. Nobody likes you or your family. You were Dark fricking Lords, man. You squashed uprisings. People still talk about the Slaughter at Hearthhome.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Sal was about to fall into his diatribe about the Battle of Hearthome, and about his Dark General Keyneth Kinkaid, and a hundred ways he¡¯d tried to make the lives of his subjects better. He¡¯d only become a Dark Lord because no one was willing to step up and be any kind of lord at all. Everybody wanted peace and order, nobody was willing to do the beheadings to get it. That had been joke between him and Kenny. Very few were beheaded or tortured during his reign. But try telling the historians that. Sal found himself pointing at the¡­at the¡­fountain. It wasn¡¯t him, no, and that was fine. But standing there, the Destiny Blade lifted in one gauntleted fist, was a statue of Keyneth Kinkaid. If the fountain had been working, the water would¡¯ve trickled down the blade and onto the Dark General¡¯s pauldrons. The fountain must¡¯ve worked at one point because there were stains on the stone. Betty saw where he was looking. ¡°Yeah, Sal, uh, no easy way to say this, but, the Kinkaid clan kinda became a big deal. People started calling Keyneth the¡ª¡± Sal interrupted her. ¡°The Lordslayer, yes. There¡¯s a placard.¡± ¡°You have very good night vision.¡± ¡°Thank you. I had a spell, Owleyes, that enhanced my eyesight. Alas, it is as gone as everything else.¡± He paused to read the inscription. ¡°Lordslayer, champion of light, he turned from the darkness, which made him burn brighter.¡± Then there was Keyneth Kinkaid¡¯s birth date and death date. Sal couldn¡¯t stand to look at the statue for even a moment longer. Once, the Dark Lord Square had been a marketplace, filled with taverns and inns stood In stalls and carts, smoky fires cooked both fish and sweetmeats. Merchant sold precious goods and exotic spices from around the world. Now, the stalls and carts were gone, and all those inns were shuttered. The taverns had fallen into disrepair, and even the fountain didn¡¯t work. ¡°Dark Lord Square used to be the center of the world,¡± Sal mused. ¡°And yet, lo, look thee upon the Church of the Sacred Family. I believe even that place of worship has seen better days.¡± Back down the street rose the spires of the church, and Sal wasn¡¯t wrong. There were several roof tiles knocked askance, and one of the gargoyles had fallen. The hole had been patched with wood. Worse yet, there were more wooden patches covering the stained-glass windows. Betty winced. ¡°You¡¯re not going to like this either, Sal, but it¡¯s no longer called Dark Lord Square. It¡¯s called The Champion¡¯s Plaza, or used to be. Nobody calls it much of anything anymore. Thing is, it¡¯s on the wrong side of the Tower. Now, on the other side, that¡¯s where things are happening. You have Destiny Square and the Governor¡¯s Mansion and all sorts of shops, inns, taverns, cafes, bodegas, all along Blessed Fate Highway. We could stroll over there. That whole section of town never quiets down. Not sure what a bodega is, but they sure have ¡®em.¡± Sal felt beaten, stricken, and he had to sit down. With his back to the statue of Kenny, thank you very much. He started sputtering. ¡°I just cannot even begin to¡­. I would like very much to¡­. I do not expect that I should¡­.¡± He tried to start every thought with a new sentence in a new way, but what could he say? He¡¯d once owned most of the world. He¡¯d trusted the wrong Dark General, even before the business on the Grand Midnight Terrace. He¡¯d been murdered, and then he¡¯d suffered in the Abyssmuck for a thousand years only to be given new life as penniless disempowered fool whose only friend was a mouse that he could never fully trust. ¡°The Slaughter at Hearthhome wasn¡¯t my fault,¡± he said after a while. ¡°I actually wanted to leave Hearthhome alone. Kenny disobeyed my orders. He led the Gorbin Strike Squads, and they butchered everyone. I took the credit because I was the Dark Lord, but it wasn¡¯t me. I have¡­other sins, certainly. But I do not suppose that matters to anyone anymore.¡± His hand went to the scar on his face, a reminder of Hearthhome, and yet, his skin was whole. He was back to being twenty years old again. Betty put her tiny claws on his arm. ¡°It matters to me, Sal. Look, I don¡¯t want you to be some scenery-chewing psychopath with murder always on his mind. I wasn¡¯t kidding when I said I need food, and you¡¯re going to need food. And things are really going to get complicated when we actually start living in the cursed caf¨¦. Not just cursed. Super cursed. But we have a home, a place out of the rain, which is really nice. Sure, you can¡¯t go about Dark Lording anymore, and you can¡¯t kill anyone or anything, but we have a place to start. This whole square¡ª ¡°Her tiny arms stretched to take in the plaza ¨C¡°died out because of that caf¨¦. We fix that, we get the fountain working again, we can bring business back. Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t forget you have experience doing something other than Dark Lording. You worked at your father¡¯s cafe, later on, after Mood died and his empire crumbled. This isn¡¯t the first time you¡¯ve had to start over.¡± Sal felt himself tearing up. When his grandfather had been killed, he and his inept dad had gone to Caya Idle, not far away, and his father had opened a tavern. Sal had helped him run it, and it had been miserable work, but yes, he did have experience doing something other than Dark Lording. Sal fought to control his emotions and he won. No tears spilled. He didn¡¯t even sniffle. ¡°Do you believe me about Hearthhome?¡± The mouse shrugged. ¡°Sure. Slaughter of the century, crimes against humanity, three days that lived on infamy, not your fault. Gotcha. Glad to hear it. But we¡¯re in the here and now. From now on, you¡¯re no longer Salvanguish Abner Ordinal. Maybe we¡¯ll call you Sal Ord. You¡¯re not a Dark Lord anymore. You¡¯re a Dark Ord! The owner of a new caf¨¦ that given time, will only be slightly cursed.¡± Sal felt exhausted. Being resurrected and then shown a world he scarcely recognized anymore had taken a lot out of him. It was nice that yes, he did have a place to stay. He wasn¡¯t going to go traipsing about the upper floors, so he crawled into the window and onto the table. He made a quick bed for Betty in the broken bowl with some leftover linen. Once she was comfortable, he stretched out on the bench. He was surprised to find sleep quickly. Lying on the hard, splintery wood wasn¡¯t comfortable, but he felt so tired. He woke to shrieking, a sound that would¡¯ve woken the dead if Sal hadn¡¯t already been woken from being dead. Small resurrection joke there. The long, extended scream was a sound of pure terror. Sal¡¯s first thought was to grab the short sword he¡¯d left on the floor. But then he thought better of it. No killing. Not even a ghost. And he had the idea that was exactly what he¡¯d just heard. The bench then gave way and he found himself hurling toward the floor, toward a spike hammered into the wooden floor. Where had that come from? In the end, that didn¡¯t matter, because whatever the source, he was about to lose an eye. That was a shame. He liked his depth perception. Chapter Four – The First Morning The benefits of youth. Betty¡¯s breakfast break. Quick tour. No scar. Unchained. No wonder the square was deserted. That scream would¡¯ve woken up everyone and everything within a half mile. A funny thing happened as Sal fell eye first toward the spike. Sal had always thought his Grandfather Mood was timeless, and in fact, he was, since he was probably ten thousand years old, give or take. The thing they don¡¯t tell you about magically extending your life was that your joints didn¡¯t much like playing along, especially when soldiering was involved in extending that life. Grandfather Mood must¡¯ve had painful joints, stiff muscles, and unexpected aches and pains, but he¡¯d never complained. Again, vulnerability was a weakness. Like his grandfather, Sal never complained, and he¡¯d gotten used to his magically aged body. However, no matter how much training he did, his reflexes had slowed because his body had slowed. Two thousand years is a long time;. Now, as he tumbled toward the spike hammered into the floor, he found his new body was fast, his old reflexes restored, and years of dodging swords really came in handy. He jerked his head to the side, slammed down on his arm, and rolled away. Just as a wooden beam from above came unhinged and swung toward his head. That he ducked as well. Sweating, breathing hard, trying to calm his rabbiting heart, he stood in the cursed caf¨¦, gulping in air. Another message flashed in his eyes. Finally, it brought him some good news. <<<>>> BodyWork Proficiency Detected! Youngin Reflexes! Your proficiencies are mostly locked, especially the magical ones, but this is an unexpected surprise! Give an old guy a young guy¡¯s body and there¡¯s bound to be some unforeseen consequences! <<<>>> Sal couldn¡¯t believe how relieved he felt. He¡¯d been worried that all of his skills would be locked forever, and yet, whoever or whatever was writing his Diagraff hadn¡¯t understood that a preternaturally aged man in a youthful frame had certain benefits. Normally, a Diagraff was a very formal document that tracked one¡¯s abilities, be they commoner or divine warrior or dark-souled wizard. There wasn¡¯t any kind of slang or folksiness about it. Sal had never heard of anyone having a Diagraff like his. He could only assume his mysterious benefactor was making this stuff up on the fly. It was rather concerning, given that it was his life on the line. At least he had one skill, though it was on the defensive side of things. Betty sat up in the linens of her bed, yawned, and stretched. It would¡¯ve been adorable if he hadn¡¯t just cheated death. Oh, and he couldn¡¯t forget about the world-shattering scream that had scared him awake. ¡°Morning, buddy,¡± the mouse said. ¡°While I didn¡¯t get as much sleep as I would¡¯ve liked, I did sleep deep. Dreamed a happy little dream about the world just after the Purchase. Saw Grandmother Maker making my husband Bill. Being around Grandma was also so comforting.¡± The Purchase. According to myth, there was nothing in the universe, not one single thing. Then, Grandfather Breath either woke up, hungover, or got lost after drinking too much. There were various stories, but all agreed that he had come from nothing, and he wanted to create something. Normally, people called him Grandfather Breath, but some referred to him was the Creator. He wanted to create. Everyone agreed to that. The Creator talked to the Void, and the Void didn¡¯t want to do anything because it was literally nothing and wanted to continue to be nothing and so it had to do nothing. It was, however, a bit greedy, because if there is one thing a void does well is that it devours. So the Void said it would let Grandfather Breath create a world, but for a price. Seven coins. Grandfather Breath, though, was broke. He needed some cash, and so he asked the Void about where he could find some money. As luck would have it, the Void knew of an old woman, Grandmother Maker, sometimes called the Creditor, who was living in a little shack outside of the Void. Sal always found the idea of a shack outside of reality was strange, but then all of this was just a story and probably wasn¡¯t true. Anyway, Grandfather Breath went to the shack and found the Grandmother Maker. He asked her for the money, but no one had ever made money before. Luckily, Grandmother Maker was a crafty sort. She created the first coinage, the seven Deux Coins. She lent Grandfather the money, so he could pay the Void to create the world. Creating reality was tough, and so the old guy slept a bunch, on a mountain, or in a desert, or under the ocean. That was about all there was¡ªrock, sand, and water. It was Grandmother Maker who decided to spruce up the place. And she¡¯d been rather lonely, and so she decided to marry Grandfather Breath, who was thrilled that everything in the world was just so interesting and beautiful. He loved creation as much as he loved his remarkable wife. They would¡¯ve probably been happy if they¡¯d just stopped there, but no, the Divine Grandparents had kids and grandkids and there was a great deal of drama. The original Deux Coins were found and lost dozens of times. Family and money just didn¡¯t mix. Sal blinked, and realized, he¡¯d had his own dream, about the lakes of bones in the Abyssmuck. He was glad it was hazy. The mouse¡¯s dream sounded far more pleasant. For the time being, nothing moved in the rooms above. The board that had come loose swung back and forth in the cool morning air. Wouldn¡¯t be cool for long. The sun was already beating down on the empty square outside. Sal was speechless. He took a moment to revel in his eyesight and lack of wounds, though he knew he would have any number bruises from his fall out the window the night before and a big nasty bruise where he¡¯d rammed a table with his thigh. His arm was also bruised. He closed his eyes, which was probably a bad idea in the cursed caf¨¦. ¡°Verily, I would suspect we are dealing with a banshee. Such an entity was what woke us up this morning, was it not?¡± ¡°Verily?¡± Betty shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to dumb down your speech, bro, or people are going to make fun of you. Yeah, I guess it was a banshee. No wonder the square is empty. We¡¯re like standing in ghost central. Like I said¡ª¡± ¡°Super cursed,¡± the former dark lord said bitterly. ¡°I am going to respect the wisdom of your words.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the smartest thing you¡¯ve said yet, pal.¡± Betty climbed out of her broken bowl. ¡°Now, breakfast. Then we get started cleaning up. What ya think?¡± ¡°I do not have any coinage, magical or no,¡± Sal said. But he thought he knew where to get some. And if he were correct, he wouldn¡¯t have to waste his time trying to run a tavern. No, she¡¯d call it a caf¨¦. Or had she used another word? A diner perhaps? This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Betty sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t mean to abandon you, guy, but I gots to eat. So, I¡¯ll be back. Me being vermin makes finding food easy. I¡¯m gonna run over to Destiny Square, grab some crumbs from the market, and I¡¯ll be back before you know it.¡± The mouse then scurried away, deftly leapt off the table, caught a beam edged with white plaster, and then was up and out of the window in seconds. For the first time since his resurrection, Sal was alone. Normally, he didn¡¯t mind being alone. Dark Lording was a very solitary occupation, and for a good reason. No friends, no betrayal, no swords through the chest. Sal, though, found he didn¡¯t want to be alone in this strange place which shouldn¡¯t be that strange since he¡¯d basically spent his entire life on Torment Island, in Grief City, or that was the old name. Tower City was the new name. He didn¡¯t like it. The God Spear would always be a reminder of his tragic end. Sal felt his stomach grumble, and he knew food was going to be of real concern. He knew where to find water even though Champion Plaza¡¯s fountain was no longer working. Shutting it off had probably been a very keen bureaucratic choice. No one was there to appreciate it. Sal figured he might as well take a look at his inheritance. Despite the non-murder clause in his contract, he wasn¡¯t going to go exploring without being armed. He grabbed the short sword off the floor. From there, he moved into the old dining hall to his left. Nothing jumped out at him, but there were more bodies on the floor, some wearing robes gray with dust, others in rusted chainmail. Leering skeletons grinned at him. Not removing the corpses was a lapse in governance, and yet, it also pointed to the cursed nature of the establishment. Had it been so vile and dangerous that the bodies were left to rot? It seemed so. Several of the tables in the room were smashed, and several of the benches showed signs of burning. Actually, it looked like someone had thrown either a lantern or a fireball against the far wall, which wasn¡¯t wood and plaster but stone. It was why it hadn¡¯t caught flame. Also, kinda dumb to start there. If one were to burn down a building, starting with stone wasn¡¯t optimal. At the same time, Sal knew the madness of battle, the song of adrenaline, when higher reasoning was often not utilized to its fullest. Still, he had more bodies to deal with. But first, he¡¯d check out the kitchen and the back alley. If there was a back alley, given the nature of the God Spear. He moved past the counter and into the kitchen where an open slot would allow the cook to pass dishes to the frontline staff. Would he have staff? The thought shouldn¡¯t depress him, but it did. He¡¯d commanded hundreds of thousands at the peak of his power. He held the power of life and death over countless. Why did the thought of a cook, a dishwasher, and a waitress make him shudder? Oh, right¡ªthe responsibility, the headaches, and the complaining¡­so much complaining. Why do I have to take that castle? Why do I have to collect taxes from them? I can¡¯t pillage today because my brother-in-law¡¯s best friend needs my help with his barn. Staff meant endless excuses and last-minute scheduling. He went to the stove, felt the burners, and they were cool. Of course, there wasn¡¯t a fire underneath. There was an oven for bread, but the whole kitchen would be an oven in the summer. So much sweating. In Caya Idle, when he and his father had been brought low, and Mickey decided to cook his iffy eggs, Sal hadn¡¯t spent that much time in the kitchen. No, he¡¯d slaved away in other ways, doing light prep, acting as the ma?tre-d, and generally doing all the things his father didn¡¯t want to do. Which wasn¡¯t much. His father, Mickey, loved every part of the caf¨¦, so there was little work for Sal. He¡¯d handled the books, which had been easy because even at his most successful, there hadn¡¯t been much money coming in, just enough for them to break even. Sal went back into the storage room and found broken shelves. The only thing there was a large ceramic bowl up high. When he walked underneath it, the shelf collapsed, the bowl tumbled toward his head. Again, Sal¡¯s young reflexes surprised him. He caught it without a second thought. The bowl was empty, but he had the idea if it had hit him, it might have accidentally-on-purpose bashed his brains in. A door in the back of the storage room led to an alleyway. Sal touched the solid stone of the Godspear Tower, no windows, no doors, just solid smooth stone. Then alley cut left and right and narrowed as it went. It might be impassable. He¡¯d have to check. There was nothing to do but trek up the steps to the upper rooms. It was a three-story structure, with a basement, and he wasn¡¯t about to go into the basement of a haunted tavern. Not without at least one spell. Would he get spells? Nothing deadly, that was the game, according to Betty. The idea he had Youngin Reflexes did buoy his confidence. If he could get that, he could get others¡­if he managed to unlock his Diagraff. The wooden steps to the basement were to his right, near the back door. The steps leading upstairs were in the main room across from the double-doors. Those upper rooms were for the owners of the restaurant, as was the attic above. Attics were a bit less creepy than basements, but not by much. The irony that there were places in the caf¨¦ he was afraid to go wasn¡¯t lost on Sal. He¡¯d walked forbidden places before, lots of times, and he¡¯d just spent the last thousand years in the Abyssmuck. Compared to the Abyssmuck, this place was as dangerous as Caya Idle on a warm spring day. Sal trekked up the stairs, ready for them to collapse. He paused, hand on the rail, and called out. ¡°Hail, cursed tavern! If you are to be my home, perhaps we can come to an understanding.¡± Nothing answered him. ¡°I shall not burn you down, if you stop your attempts to murder me. How is that for a bargain?¡± Boards in the upper room squeaked, there was some shuffling, but nothing else. Sal continued his climb. There was the main room with two doors and probably two rooms. The main room itself was empty, except for the dusty boards, including the one that had swung loose. He took a moment to wedge the wood into place. He¡¯d have to nail it down once he had a minute. And some money. He walked to the window, opened the shutter, and looked down at the fountain¡¯s statue. He wasn¡¯t amused that he¡¯d be looking at Kenny¡¯s dang sword for most of his time there. To the right, he pushed open the door and saw a bed, probably crawling with vermin, a small desk and chair and a wardrobe. He could well imagine finding a skeleton in the wardrobe. He wasn¡¯t in the mood. He surveyed room to the left. A ladder, with several broken rungs, led up to an attack through a hole like a screaming mouth. That was probably where the banshee lived. The left room was bigger than the one on the right. Two stacked bunk beds stood on either side of the ladder. Locked trunks sat in front of the beds against the walls. A barracks? Maybe the remains of the soldiers below had gotten tired of sleeping in piles and had murdered each other. Sal had slept in a bunk bed before, after Grandfather Mood died, and he hadn¡¯t found the experience very pleasant. When your bedmate shifted, you shifted, and it made sleeping an endless task. And he wasn¡¯t a very good sleep to begin with. It was a skill he lacked. He always thought of that as his secret weapon. Others slept, while he schemed, or plotted, or trained, or studied. Should he open the trunks? They could have money or supplies, and he was in need of both for the time being. That would change, however. He had a plan. He¡¯d tell Betty only a little, lest she try and stop him. He went to one trunk, thinking of throwing it open, but then he remembered the traps he¡¯d had installed in his own treasure chests. He used the sword to undo the latch and lift the lid. A poison needle shot out of the latch. It would¡¯ve stung him for certain. Dead so soon? That was an irony he didn¡¯t enjoy. The trunk was empty. The second trunk was not trapped, and wonder of wonders, it wasn¡¯t empty. There were carpentry tools, hammers and saws and such. Sal had a plan for a big chisel and an even bigger hammer. There were also some heavy nails there. He could fix the board. There was a mirror hanging on the wall in that room. He took a second to stare into his face. The magic of Deux Coin had kept him young, but he¡¯d still had some weathering. Those wrinkles were gone, as was the scar. He touched his face, truly felt grateful. That scar had been a weight on him. It had symbolized so much of a life he hadn¡¯t wanted. He truly had a new road to walk. The idea was intoxicating. Again, there was shuffling, but this time it was coming from below in the main room. Then the chains on the double doors rattled. The ghost had switched up its haunting. Sighing, Sal grabbed the chisel and hammer, and a few other items, and went down the steps, but by the time he reached the bottom, all the noise had stopped. Of course. The ghost was just trying to scare him. At least none of the corpses were coming to life. Sal climbed out the window, again, and was out before he could be pushed. He had felt something behind him, hands out, to give him another shove. Ha, he¡¯d outsmarted the ghost again. That felt good. He went around and found a good spot to chisel through the chain. It took a dozen strikes, but the link finally gave away and the lock crashed to the ground followed by the chains. The double doors opened on their own as an eerie laughter rang out. Sal surprised himself by laughing along with the specter. It truly was a new day. Now, if he could only find something to eat. For that, he needed money, and he thought he had an idea on how to find enough coinage to buy not only a cookie for Betty but an entire feast for the both of them. Maybe, just maybe, there would be enough treasure that he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about the super-cursed caf¨¦. No, he¡¯d buy a palace and then consider his plans from there. First treasure, then palace, then he could decide what he wanted to do for the rest of his second life. Chapter Five – Man About Town Cleanup. Basement. Attic. Betty¡¯s return. Tower entrance. Market thoughts. Confusion Street. All different kinds of murder. At first, Sal wasn¡¯t sure why he was waiting for Betty to come back. For one thing, he couldn¡¯t trust her. For another, what help could the tiny mouse give him? Then he realized that she had valuable information about the new world he found himself in. If nothing else, she was his guide, and so he would wait for her to come back. In the meantime, he busied himself by fixing the board. Then he removed the bodies from the bottom floor. He considered tossing the weapons, robes, and armor, but there was a chance they might be more than what they first seemed. None of the items seemed magical, not that he could tell, since he himself wasn¡¯t magical, not anymore. What was on his Diagraff? Something about Porridge Peasant? That was rather insulting. In the end, he threw some very plain metal rings into a bowl with the rest. He might be able to polish the stuff up and sell it if his plan to get money didn¡¯t come to fruition. In the end, he piled the bones in the back alley. The lane narrowed on either side to allow a single man to pass if her were very, very slender. It wasn¡¯t any kind of thoroughfare. As for all the gear, he chanced going down into the cellar. All he found there was a dirt floor, some old, empty barrels and walls of shelves. Most were empty, but some held old crockery and a few grimy pots. He could use them to get water from the church well. There were spiders, of the usual size, but no ghouls or anything of that nature. He did find a trapdoor in the corner leading to a subbasement, and the thought kind of unnerved him. How far down did it go? That would be work for another day. He packed the shelves with the weapons and armor. There was one treasure in the cellar¡ªa spindly old broom with some dubious-looking bristles. He took it up the steps and started sweeping. For being a one-time Dark Lord, he surprised himself by enjoying the sweeping. There was something satisfying about the cleaning and seeing the immediate results of one¡¯s labor. There was shuffling upstairs, but he was growing accustomed to the ghostly noise. He wasn¡¯t going to be sleeping on a bench, not when there was a bed upstairs. He took the mattress out into the sun and to beat the dust out of the sheets and blankets. The one hard pillow needed some attention as well. He was surprised at the lack of foot traffic¡ªa times, he thought the city was deserted. Then he would hear the market on the other side of the tower, the shouts, the people, the chatter, shouts and laughter. The normal city¡¯s noises set him on edge. If anyone discovered his true identity, they would come with torches and pitchforks and swords, so many swords. He¡¯d have to do a tremendous amount of lying to keep himself safe. Such lying would kill him thanks to his Karmic Gauge. He set the bedding on the empty fountain and returned to the caf¨¦, and there he found Betty leaning against her bowl. ¡°Someone has been busy! Hey, pal, I feel bad about not bringing you back food, but really, I only got a few crumbs from some literal garbage. You hungry enough to eat garbage yet?¡± ¡°I pray I am never that famished,¡± Sal returned. ¡°Did the caf¨¦ try and kill you again?¡± Sal thought for a moment. ¡°I do not believe so, but alas, there was a poisoned needle in one of the trunks upstairs. Yet I still live. Now, how about a little jaunt about town?¡± ¡°You ready for that, chief?¡± Sal shrugged. ¡°Perhaps not. However, my belly is more than ready. I fear it may become a master I cannot disobey.¡± The mouse fell quiet, gazing at him. ¡°What?¡± Betty shrugged. ¡°Trying to figure out what you just said. About your belly and stuff. Oh, I get it. You¡¯re getting hungry. Okay. Yeah. Let me show you the sights.¡± ¡°I know the sights,¡± he returned, somewhat indignantly. ¡°Yeah, yeah, yeah, sights from a thousand years ago. The world, and this city in particular, has changed a whole bunch.¡± ¡°Why does this section of the city seem so deserted?¡± Sal asked. Betty motioned around the caf¨¦. ¡°Super cursed and off the beaten track. You¡¯ll see. Let¡¯s go!¡± Sal scooped up the mouse and set her in the pocket on the breast of his shirt, like he¡¯d done oh so long ago. ¡°Verily, my situation is rather simple. Currently, I need money for food, and if I find enough treasure, we can forgo the tavern work. I know, I know, it shan¡¯t be a tavern nor an inn, but a diner in your modern parlance, also known as a caf¨¦. Call it what you will, yet, the work would be the same. Grueling labor for ingrates and gluttons.¡± ¡°Oh, buddy, don¡¯t be so negative. It¡¯s not a good look. Let¡¯s go!¡± Sal closed the door and set up the chain and lock so at least it looked locked. He then walked down another narrow street, which led to people, a ton of people, of all sizes, shapes, colors, and races. There were few elderly Primogeny, wearing informal robes. Their pointed ears had grown, and there was a surprising amount of ear hair in both the women and the men. There were Hajawan milling about¡ªFilinar, the cat heads, Canus, the dog heads, Eagalis, the bird heads, and even some Torta, the turtle heads, with their thick shells covering their backs. A group of Gimm, the Stoneskins, hustled past, chattering away in their hard language. Their skin looked like rock, hence the name. They had a great deal of hair, however, growing out of their stony scalps. The mouse provided color commentary. ¡°So the Primogeny are elves now, the Stonekins are called dwarves now, though they¡¯re taller than the storybook gnomes, which yeah, don¡¯t really exist.¡± ¡°And the Hajawan?¡± Sal asked. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Still called the Hajawan. So ya got that goin¡¯ for ya.¡± Sal saw human warriors in full armor, with any number of weapons sheathed, and a fair number of sorcerers in robes, carrying staves. Those had to be the Tower Climbers, though there were other commoners there as well of all ages, races, and sizes¡ªfair-haired northerners with pale skin and darker skinned southerners. He found himself on a grand avenue. To the left was the church but the street continued, all the way down to the harbor. To the right, was a striking sight¡ªthe grand entrance to the tower, with wooden arches, hanging plants, and guards in purple and gold livery. The soldiers had swords on their belts and large, silver halberds in their hands. Sal didn¡¯t want anyone seeing him gawking, and so he found a good place to stand off to the side, with his back to a building. ¡°Purple and gold, those are the colors of the Menold.¡± Betty squeaked laughter. ¡°There aren¡¯t any Menold no more. Those are Yanir soldiers. Long story short, Torment Island is just one more republic of the Yanir Republics. Those guards are for show. See that thin, gangly women back there? She¡¯s the real threat.¡± It took a moment, but Sal eventually saw the person that Betty was referring to. She was an older woman with silver hair, and yes, as gaunt as Sal felt. A big, hooked nose dominated her wrinkled face. She wore a fabulous ensemble of robes and scarves, mostly purple, with some gold accents that matched her jewelry. She was currently talking to a motley group of adventurers, who wanted access to the tower. Betty squeaked more. ¡°Oh, boy, they don¡¯t have the right paperwork. You have to fill out all kinds of forms to do a tower climb, and those climbers don¡¯t have it. Gail isn¡¯t going to let them pass.¡± ¡°Gail?¡± ¡°Gail Questor, that¡¯s the name, though it sounds made up, if you ask me. You didn¡¯t ask me, though.¡± ¡°Why is Gail the real threat?¡± Sal asked. ¡°She¡¯s a big spellcaster, or that¡¯s the word on the street. The Yanir of your times were warriors, but now they¡¯re wizards, because of the wars with the Scallia Capra. That¡¯s a long story that I don¡¯t know how to shorten, chief.¡± Sal threaded his way through the crowds marching by the tower entrance, and soon, he found the real marketplace of the city, packed with vendors and buyers¡ªmore Hajawan animal heads, and a variety of humans. The clothes people were wearing weren¡¯t what he expected. He saw very few tunics and togas, Mostly, the various people wore boots, pants, and blouses. A few of the women wore dresses. Farther down, several restaurants seemed to be doing very well¡ªthey had packed chairs around tables under umbrellas out on the street. A few of the places had colorful awnings shading their patrons. Sal found himself musing. ¡°We possess enough space outside of our restaurant to set up similar dining accommodations.¡± ¡°Thought you didn¡¯t want to do the diner thing.¡± Sal didn¡¯t respond for several long moments¡ªuntil a response wasn¡¯t necessary. Instead of turning down the market streets of Destiny Square, he made his way toward the governor¡¯s mansion, which was far lusher and more decorated than the church. Back in his day, the palace had been Kenny¡¯s home, the traditional home of the Dark Lord¡¯s general dating back all the way to Sal¡¯s grandfather. In front was a happy fountain splashing water with several statues of people Sal didn¡¯t recognize. He hardly recognized his city at all. There were more Yanir soldiers there, guarding the gated entrance. ¡°I do not enjoy the idea of the Yanir ruling my island,¡± Sal groused. ¡°Not your island anymore. Being a part of the Yanir Republics is a pain in the tookus, friendo, but better than the Scallia Capra. Or maybe not. I don¡¯t know. Lots of changes. Where are we headed, chief?¡± Sal nodded at a side street leading to his left. ¡°Currently, whether you know or it, we are on a little treasure hunt. Shall we continue?¡± ¡°It¡¯s your second life, boss,¡± the mouse replied. ¡°But I have to warn you¡ªdown that way is Confusion Street, which is actually a buncha streets, and let me tell ya, it isn¡¯t the best part of town. And you can¡¯t get into a fight. If we run into bandits, I can run, but you¡¯ll be stuck on the wrong end of a sword. Why are you carrying that pigsticker anyway? It¡¯s not like you can use it.¡± Sal had the short sword thrust through his belt. ¡°I am painfully aware of the restrictions, yet it is best to keep up appearances. Let us simply hope for the best.¡± Sal strode down the cobblestone road, and it wasn¡¯t long before the stink started. The gutters held filth, but the main stench came from butcher shops and tanneries and other industrial concerns to the south and to the west, which seemed to clustered around a tall citadel. That seemed to be the source of the unbearable fragrance, made worse by the heat of the day. The buildings were all clustered together in a tangle of narrow alleyways. This section of city had housed his Gorbin army, back in the day, but new buildings had been constructed along with tents, shanties, and every type of shelter, which filled whole alleys. Here there were taverns and inns as well, though they didn¡¯t have the posh appearances of the eateries back in Destiny Square. Dirty-faced women eyed him, along with scruffy men, fingering knives. Half-naked children ran here and there. The Dark Lord knew how to handle such places. He fixed an expressionless look on his face, walked with purpose, as if he knew where he was going and was late for a very important appointment. In the end, he looked as scruffy as many of the men¡ªthat should probably keep him safe, since he probably appeared like he had nothing to steal. That was the truth after all. Leaving the dangerous part of town with bags of gold coins, or pockets stuffed with treasure, would be more difficult, but he¡¯d have to cross that bridge when he came to it. He couldn¡¯t show any fear or worry, ever. Grandfather Mood might¡¯ve been wrong about some things, but he wasn¡¯t wrong about showing your vulnerabilities to the world. Oftentimes, that meant either a dagger in the back or kick in the teeth. He finally found what he was looking for¡ªthe statue of Yeshu of the Book, in front of a little chapel that seemed so small next to a large structure packed with people. Laundry fluttered on any number of crumbling balconies. From inside, babies cried, mothers shouted, and all the noise seemed to make the day even hotter. Sal sought shade next to the statue of bad Alikor¡¯s good son, Yeshu, who supposedly had written the first book. In some stories, he wrote it. In others, he bought it, with his very own Deux Coin. Betty seemed happy, and yet, at the same time, a bit unsettled. ¡°I always liked that Yeshu. There¡¯s a god who did some good in this world. Not like his dad. So this is supposedly where the treasure is, ace?¡± ¡°In the crypts below.¡± Sal glanced around. ¡°But it¡¯s all so new.¡± ¡°That big hunk of stone, wood, and plaster is the Rat¡¯s Den. Take like fifty rooms and pack in a thousand people. It¡¯s to house all the folks who work at all the jobs that the God Spear brought in. Glad we¡¯re not going up there. Crying human babies are kinda annoying. Mouse babies, though, are too cute not to cuddle.¡± Behind the statue of Yeshu was the main door, and thank the Creator, it was half-open. Sal moved to go in. Betty wiggled in his pocket, stopping him. ¡°Hold up, pal. What¡¯s our story going in there? You can¡¯t just say you¡¯re the former Dark Lord, looking to rob the place. And there¡¯s something I want to emphasize.¡± Sal felt his heart drop. ¡°What is the topic of your emphasis?¡± ¡°Just wanna drive home the fact, big guy, that there¡¯s a lot of ways to murder in this world. In the end, a lie murders the truth. Lie and you become a murderer. Stealing is just murder on a smaller scale. You¡¯re killing people¡¯s faith in the world and other people. To sound like you, chief, you must walk the virtuous road.¡± He thought of the Karmic Gauge section of his Diagraff. He¡¯d lied, and he¡¯d felt the consequences, dropping from 2% to 1%. He still remembered the icy pain in chest. The mouse continued. ¡°So, what¡¯re are you going to say if we run into the Ponti?¡± ¡°Do you mean the priest?¡± Sal asked. ¡°Not a lot of people use that word anymore. It¡¯s Ponti, as in Pontifex, but we don¡¯t use that word anymore either. So, we go in there, and the Ponti comes out, what are you going to say?¡± Sal felt himself smile. ¡°I am very confident I might talk to the Ponti without uttering a single falsehood.¡± Why wasn¡¯t he finding his Benefactor¡¯s restrictions more vexing? Put simply, he found the challenge intriguing, and, dare he say it, fun. The fun wouldn¡¯t last long, if he got too hungry. He couldn¡¯t let that happen. So inside the chapel he went. Chapter Six – The Strangely Handsome Priest Strange paintings. An unexpected cleric. The joy of bread and butter. A fear of ghosts. Treasure! Sal was hoping for the best. Ideally, he¡¯d get inside, the Ponti would be gone, and he¡¯d simply waltz down into the crypts and nab the treasure. He¡¯d talked to a crypt raider back when he¡¯d been alive who said that there was a veritable goldmine below the Yeshu of the Book¡¯s chapel in the religious district, back when Confusion Street had been the barracks and training ground of his Gorbin army. The chapel had been kept there to avoid angering the gods. That hadn¡¯t worked, given the Godspear Tower that had pierced the city¡¯s center and destroyed his palace. And killed Kenny in the process. Entering into the church, Sal noticed the thick stone walls kept a great deal of the heat outside. As did the fact that half the building was underground. He descended the steps and had to pause to let his eyes adjust to darkness. Candles on the walls flickered under paintings of the Sacred Family, mostly of Yeshu, who was in various stages of writing books, or holding books, or purchasing books with his Deux Coin. The god¡¯s face was angular and stylized, and his hands were equally ornate. Betty noticed it. ¡°Weird paintings! And why aren¡¯t they keeping them touched up? Weird or not, you¡¯d think the church would wanna preserve their art.¡± ¡°Do not pose such questions to me,¡± Sal replied. ¡°I have been deceased for a millennia.¡± Sal reached the bottom of the steps where there was a semi-circle of prayer benches surrounding the central statue, which was carved by the same artist who did the Yeshu out front. This one was the studious Yeshu, holding a book in one hand and pointing upward with his other hand. In his palm was his Deux Coin. Candles and flowers and books filled two tables on either side of the central statue. To the left was the Ponti¡¯s quarters. Not only would he live there, but he would also talk to the faithful or prepare for services. To the right, behind an iron gate, were steps down to the crypt. Even from a distance, Sal could see there was no lock. The place was empty! Such luck! Sal couldn¡¯t help but feel a sense of destiny as he started for the iron gate. He expected to see a warning message about his Karmic Gauge, but nothing came. A second later, the Ponti of the chapel came out of his quarters. He was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and handsome. surprisingly so. Most of the priests that Sal had ever met were big, round, and doughy. Not this person. His chest muscles swelled his tunic. His biceps bulged. The Ponti¡¯s noteworthy face brightened. He came forward and bowed. ¡°A visitor, in the mid-day, and normally, we¡¯re closed, and I was just going for the door. I was going to nap. Ah, a nap, to refresh one¡¯s senses and to bring a new joy to one¡¯s life.¡± Sal wanted to joke, or ask why this young man was wasting the best years on a church that clearly didn¡¯t enjoy the power it once had, or comment on the man¡¯s thick eyelashes. Sal glanced down to see that Betty had ducked deep into his pocket. The Ponti seemed to take it as a sign of humbleness. He touched Sal¡¯s arm and then seemed to catch himself and took several steps back. ¡°Please, friend, feel free to stay and pray. Or are you seeking guidance? For Yeshu of the Book is very good at guidance. So much guidance!¡± Sal found himself with a million questions. He surprised himself by asking something a little bluntly. ¡°Are you good at guidance?¡± The Ponti blanched. ¡°Uh, well, I try to be. Truth is, I don¡¯t have as many opportunities as I¡¯d like to provide guidance. I do provide bread for the hungry. I¡¯m good at that. Would you like some bread? I have some butter to go along with it. Believe me, you¡¯d be doing me a favor if you had a little.¡± This was not what Sal had come for, not at all. He didn¡¯t need charity from some strangely handsome priest. However, both his stomach and his mind leapt at the idea of a little bread with butter. ¡°Yes,¡± Sal found himself saying. ¡°I do believe such a repast might quell the complaints of my tyrannical belly.¡± The Ponti titled his head. ¡°Come again, good sir?¡± He heard Betty squeak out a chuckle. ¡°Yes, I would like some bread and butter.¡± The handsome man waved him on. ¡°Then come with me, good traveler.¡± In short order, Sal sat down at a little table, in what could only be described as a library. Shelves were crammed with books of all kinds, and there were several scrolleries set into the wall. Among the books were a cupboard, a table, a little stove, and a bed. Vestments hung on the wall, and there were more pictures of Yeshu, though he looked more scholarly than divine. They weren¡¯t not the stylized paintings like in the chapel proper. The Ponti cut off a hunk of dark bread, slathered on the last of the butter, and then cut a little for himself. Both slices, one massive and one little, ended up on two blue plates, both with a splinter of cracks that added to their charm. The Ponti also poured them both little wooden cups of wine. He came over and sat down. ¡°I¡¯m Ponti Fabrizio, but you don¡¯t have to be all that formal with me. Ponti, or Fabrizio is fine, but please, don¡¯t call me Rizzo. I mean, if you do call me Rizzo, I won¡¯t stop you, but it¡¯s not a name I particularly like.¡± Sal sipped the wine first¡ªit was weak and watered down, and yet, the sweetness was so very pleasant. His heart sang inside of him. He¡¯d been far thirstier than he¡¯d first thought. He took a bite of the bread. It had such flavor, a deep, dark rye that was unapologetically strong. With the creamy butter, it was a perfect meal. Before he knew it, Sal had finished the entire piece without saying a word. Had he shoved it down too fast? Had he eaten like an animal? Where were his manners? He was shocked by his own unrestrained appetite. Fabrizio shot to his feet. ¡°Well, sir, it seems you were very hungry indeed! Sorry I¡¯m totally out of butter. But here, let me get you another hunk. I have a bit of ham to add to the feast.¡± It felt like a feast. How could that be? Why, it was better than Earl¡¯s squab! The Ponti returned with the food. This time, Sal stopped himself from eating like a spring bear. The ham was old, salty, and tough as leather. Still, it might have been the best thing Sal had ever eaten. He¡¯d forgotten how it was to be hungry. In truth, he¡¯d rarely been hungry, even on the lengthiest of campaigns. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. After more wine, he said simply, ¡°I promise to refrain from calling you Rizzo. I¡¯m¡­Salvang¡ª¡± he realized he had nearly said his full name. ¡°I¡¯m Sal Fang.¡± It was kind of a ridiculous name. Too late to change it. Was it ridiculous? He kind of liked how it rolled off his tongue. It was better than Sal Ord, and much safer. ¡°Good to meet you, Sal,¡± the Ponti said, then nibbled and sipped. It was clear he was just eating so Sal didn¡¯t have to eat alone. ¡°Well met, your grace.¡± Sal winced. Was that too formal? Fabrizio laughed. ¡°No one says that anymore. You must be new in town. Where do you come from? I can¡¯t place the accent, and the way you talk is so strange. Oh boy, I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t want to insult you. Now, let¡¯s talk guidance. How can I guide you?¡± Sal wasn¡¯t insulted, and he didn¡¯t want guidance, especially from a Ponti. He¡¯d never been religious at all, no, not when he had an inside information on the gods and goddesses and how truly strange and imperfect they were. Carrying around one of the primeval objects of power in the universe did that to a person. At the same time, Sal was grateful for the meal. Maybe he¡¯d ask for guidance he didn¡¯t need. What he really needed was to get down to the crypt, to grab the treasure, and get out of there. Then he wouldn¡¯t need a handout. He¡¯d buy feasts, real feasts for himself, and for Betty, of course. He couldn¡¯t forget the mouse in his pocket. She would have plenty of room in the palace that he was going to purchase. Maybe. ¡°I am new in town. In a sense,¡± Sal added quickly, careful not to lie. Grief City was new to him, and it wasn¡¯t even called that anymore. Tower City, that was the name, and for a good reason. ¡°I come from¡­another time, if I am to be honest. Verily, that is how I feel.¡± ¡°Do you have a place to stay?¡± The Ponti put up a hand. ¡°I only ask that because, you know, I want to help. While the Rat¡¯s Den is packed full, there are rooms in other parts of the city. You wouldn¡¯t be able to stay long because, well, Tower City is full to bursting!¡± ¡°I have accommodations. I have taken over the old tavern in Dark Lord Square.¡± He grimaced. ¡°Not that it¡¯s called that anymore. The Champion¡¯s Plaza, there. It¡¯s very deserted, which I find strange.¡± Fabrizio shook his head. ¡°Oh boy, but the Plaza is haunted. Everyone knows that. It¡¯s cursed, especially that old tavern, though I forget the specifics. Maybe it¡¯s because of the Dark Lord and all that Dark Lording he did. Not sure, though. I think it might be something else. Anyway, how did you find yourself there?¡± ¡°It is a long story.¡± Sal paused. Like he thought, he was able to duck many of Fabrizio¡¯s questions. However, he needed some sort of backstory that wasn¡¯t an outright lie, though he¡¯d grown up on Tower Island. It was where he¡¯d been born, and it had been where he¡¯d died. The first time. Sal let out a breath. ¡°As for guidance, I know there is magic to make deals with demons and ghosts, though the thought troubles me.¡± He¡¯d made deals with ghosts and demons before, that wasn¡¯t the issue. He was troubled because he didn¡¯t have the magic to solve the problem himself. Darn locked Diagraff. Fabrizio frowned. ¡°Well, if a guy has some faith, you know, a little faith, he can gently suggest ghosts move on. As for curses, again, a guy could probably get Yeshu to help. You know, light a little incense, do a little blessing, that kind of thing.¡± ¡°How much would that cost?¡± Sal asked, thinking that back in his day, the local Ponti would charge in full gold coinage. Fabrizio frowned like he might never smile again. ¡°Oh, it would be free, of course. I wouldn¡¯t charge.¡± ¡°Would I be so bold to assume that you will provide this service for me?¡± Sal asked. ¡°Will I do it?¡± Fabrizio shot to his feet. ¡°Oh, I probably shouldn¡¯t. You¡¯re not in my ward. That would be Pontra Genetrix, from the Church of the Sacred Family. You probably wouldn¡¯t want to ask her, though, because she¡¯s so busy! I have the time. I mean, I serve dinners at the Mind & Body Tables in the evening, and if you¡¯re still hungry, you¡¯re welcome there. And I have prayers in the morning to attend to, yeah, and I¡¯d love to have you there as well because, uh, attendance is sparse. But this time of day? I am very, very, very free.¡± Sal motioned for the Ponti to sit. ¡°Again, from your speech, I take it that you will aid me in dealing with the specters haunting my tavern. Caf¨¦. My cursed caf¨¦. Since the Pontra is too busy.¡± The handsome Ponti sat. ¡°Yes, well, I should probably get her permission, but really, Mr. Fang, I¡¯m not sure. You see, I¡¯m not good with¡­¡± he glanced around ¡°ghosts. My heart would fail me, and then, you know the stories, they come and kill me, and I become a ghost, and then I wouldn¡¯t be able to help people with bread and guidance. In short, I am terrified of ghosts.¡± Sal wanted to blink his eyes at this man and wanted to call him a coward. How could a holy priest be afraid of ghosts? This was an odd turn of events, truly. Instead, he kept all emotions off his face. ¡°This is the service I need, Ponti. Perhaps if you know you are helping me, you will find your courage. And your faith. For how can we secular folk believe in the power of the Sacra Famiglia if their representatives on Allbreath fail in their faith?¡± Was he being too forward? Had he just insulted the Ponti? This all felt so delicate. He hadn¡¯t needed to be diplomatic in a long time. Having a Deux Coin let one speak one¡¯s mind without any consequences. But Ponti chuckled. ¡°Sacra Famiglia? That¡¯s a term I haven¡¯t heard in a while. You¡¯ve got to tell me where you¡¯re from. Please. You seem so, I don¡¯t know, traditional. And the way you talk is like poetry.¡± ¡°Bad poetry,¡± Betty muttered from Sal¡¯s pocket. That stung. Again, Sal tried to think of a way to phrase things so he wouldn¡¯t be lying, but nothing came to mind. All he had was the truth. That wouldn¡¯t work because followers of Yeshu pretty much loathed Alikor and his sects. No one liked the Bad Dad, or that was what most people called Alikor, Yeshu¡¯s father and Madra¡¯s no-account husband. ¡°If you help me with my cursed caf¨¦, then yes, I will tell you all about myself.¡± Sal didn¡¯t like making the promise, but he felt cornered in some strange way by this strange priest. He added quickly, ¡°Do not think of it as payment. Think of it as a pleasant surprise. One thing though, what are Mind & Body Tables?¡± The Ponti exhaled with relief, then tittered. ¡°Oh, they¡¯re like a soup kitchen, only they involve books as well.¡± Sal glanced around, and there were plenty of books to choose from. ¡°So will you offer me succor for my cursed woes?¡± Fabrizio closed one eye. ¡°I think I understand what you¡¯re saying, uh, about succoring and woes and curses. Let me ponder it and pray about it. If I see the Pontrafax Genetrix, I¡¯ll ask her, but again, she¡¯s so busy!¡± Sal wanted to ask about Fabrizio¡¯s family, and why he wasn¡¯t married. He didn¡¯t have the marriage ring on any of his fingers. Sal wouldn¡¯t suppose he¡¯d have any trouble finding a wife, though maybe things had changed drastically. The church didn¡¯t seem to have the same power as it did back when he¡¯d been alive. The Alikor Acolytes had been an important part of Sal¡¯s arsenal, not so much on the battlefield, but as a way to raise money and to make his empire more legitimate, as far as evil empires went. It was very complicated. The Ponti looked pained about the interchange, though it seemed it was mostly shame about his fear of ghosts. He brightened his face with a smile. ¡°But I don¡¯t think you came for bread and guidance. Something tells me you came for another reason.¡± Sal¡¯s heart began to beat a little faster. ¡°Verily, I did. I came seeking treasure.¡± Finally, he could tell the absolute truth. Fabrizio laughed good-naturedly, his cheeks showing dimples. ¡°Oh boy, that¡¯s something I can¡¯t help you with.¡± Sal joined in laughing, though he felt himself sweat a little. ¡°I seek the treasures of joy and security in the arms of the Sacred Family, and the wealth they provide.¡± He was riding the edge between the truth and lie. He waited for the pain in his chest. Nothing happened except the Ponti laughed. ¡°That I can help you with. This is your home. Go where you like. I have an errand to attend you, and to show I have nothing to steal, I will leave you alone.¡± Sal¡¯s smile was as genuine as could be. ¡°It was both a surprise and a joy to meet you, Ponti Fabrizio Pasha. If I am not mistaken, I think perhaps you and I could be friends.¡± Again, his genuine enthusiasm was honest. And he was rewarded for his honesty. A message appeared. <<<>>> Friends are awesome! Karmic Gauge increased by 4%. The Ponti likes you! That¡¯s huge! Do more of that, and you will be rewarded. Current Karmic Gauge: 6% (A little brighter of a red) <<<>>> Sal felt his heart swell with warmth. He liked being rewarded. Chapter Seven – True Treasure Crypt fun. Church history. The trio and the secret room. An unlikely diary. A lack of luck. Sal found himself alone in the church. He waited a bit before going through the iron gate, down spiraling stone steps, to reach the crypts below. With the dust and shrouds on the stone shelves, it was clear that no one had been enshrined there in a long, long time. The crypts were narrow. There were shelves on either side of him, dug into the bare rock. Three levels of shrouded bodies laid there, probably the priests who had served the chapel before. For a second, he dreaded the idea of the dusty corpses coming to life to stop him from seeking the treasure. However, the bodies just laid there on their shelves, faces covered with linen. Betty had her head out of his pocket. She sneezed. ¡°Okay, smart guy, where¡¯s the loot? If you go digging through bodies, I¡¯ll probably throw up. Oh, and speaking of food, regurgitated or otherwise, why didn¡¯t you give me some crumbs? I love a good dark rye.¡± Sal felt bad. ¡°Betty, my friend, I have failed you in every imaginable way. To tell you the truth, I was a bit beguiled by the Ponti. Did you see how handsome and muscular he was? He had Yeshu¡¯s physique, which I always thought was a bit overdone, given the fact he eschewed the physical activity of a warrior¡¯s life for the life of a scholar and its indoor comforts.¡± ¡°The Ponti looked okay to me,¡± Betty said,¡± but all you humans kinda look alike. Was it me, or did I hear he was afraid of ghosts?¡± ¡°Not just you.¡± Sal had brought a candle down with him, and he held it aloft, but all he saw were bodies. ¡°The irony does not end there, for he sleeps with corpses under his feet.¡± The crypt stretched beyond the length of the building. It extended far into the distance. ¡°The raider I interviewed claimed that at the very end of the crypt, far underground, there was a secret door, which led to a chamber, which was filled with gold, the church¡¯s gold. Not simply for this chapel, but the main church by Dark Lord¡¯s Square, now known as The Champion¡¯s Plaza.¡± The mouse sneezed again. ¡°Gotta be careful about using the old names, ace.¡± Sal quickly moved through the crypts. He wasn¡¯t afraid¡ªif there had been a ghost or a ghoul, it would¡¯ve troubled the Ponti, and Fabrizio wouldn¡¯t be bedding down above the crypt. Since he was sleeping peacefully, it was only the dead filling the shelves, and the dead didn¡¯t move. Sal addressed the mouse riding in his pocket. ¡°I showed a great of restraint during my repast with the cleric.¡± ¡°You¡¯re killing me with the vocabulary, guy. Dumb it down.¡± Sal tried. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask that joker all my many questions while we noshed it up.¡± ¡°Ouch. Don¡¯t try slang. What¡¯s got you curious about the Ponti, pal o¡¯ mine?¡± ¡°Why he became a priest. Why wasn¡¯t he married? Why has he let the paintings of Yeshu fade? Why are his chapel and the grand Church of the Sacred Family in such disrepair? And how will I know if I sin gravely enough to lose Karma points? You see, I have a veritable multitude of questions.¡± ¡°Yeah, buddy, that¡¯s a bunch all right. Look, I¡¯d watch every little step. Like every little one. The way I understand it, you mess up too much, you die. Probably one big old heart attack. You clutch your chest, I watch in horror, and then I¡¯m on my own again. No big chocolate-chip cookies for everyone¡¯s favorite Gwynar!¡± ¡°Are you everyone¡¯s favorite?¡± Sal asked. Betty¡¯s ears drooped. ¡°Never fear, my Gwynar friend. You are definitely my favorite.¡± He took a second to lightly pet the mouse¡¯s soft little head between his big ears. ¡°Ahh, Sal,¡± Betty said. ¡°I¡¯m touched, chief. I didn¡¯t know you cared.¡± ¡°I do,¡± Sal said after a while. ¡°Without you, I would be lost, adrift on a sea of confusion, and not just on Confusion Street. Verily, I need you.¡± ¡°Verily, stop saying verily. What you need to know, friendo, is that the church filled the power vacuum after the goddess threw a tower through your palace. You bit the dust, Kenny did too, the Deux Coin is lost, and the Sacra Famiglia Religiosos takes over, offering people peace and comfort. And taxes. People got sick of the church taxes, fast, and then you had the Scallian-Yaniri War, which helped the Church a bit because war is hard on folks, and they can find comfort in their respective religions.¡± Sal had a question. ¡°This Scallia Capra alliance. Is this new? If I remember my geography, Scallia was an island to the east of the Capra peninsula. Both were very easy to conquer. Capram was a grand city, but its defenses were poor. Scallia was only a place for fisherman.¡± ¡°Yeah, well, the dragons changed all that.¡± ¡°Dragons?¡± Sal asked. Now there was a topic that was intriguing. The mouse sighed. ¡°One topic at a time. So, yeah, there¡¯s this war, but by the time the Yanir won, the church was already starting to decline. People were still smarting from the taxes, corrupt clergy, abuses of power, that whole deal. And so the wheel of history turns and turns. Nowadays, people are more interested in sorcery and dragons than giving ten percent of their cash to their local ward, even though it still could do some good. Like the book and bread thing that Fabrizio has going on.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t too surprised that people got tired of the corruption. He¡¯d gotten weary of the corruption himself, and he¡¯d been in charge of the whole deal. As the Dark Lord, he¡¯d became the de facto leader of the Alikor Cults. There was some bitterness over that word. Many wanted to call it a sect, or the one true path, but cult was fine. It was rather cult-y in the end. ¡°If people don¡¯t call it the Sacra Famiglia Religiosos, what do people call the church now?¡± Betty chuckled. ¡°People don¡¯t much refer to it at all. Or they call it the Church, you know, capital C. Oh, and before you ask, no more Alikor Acolytes. That whole cult vanished with you, or at least all the acolytes put on different robes and pretended to worship the Madras, the Warrior Mom. If you ask me, the Warrior Mom had the better abs, even better than Yeshu. She was shredded, brother. Totally shredded.¡± ¡°I am assuming that is slang and you are not referencing cheese.¡± Sal turned the corner and there, at the end of the crypt, was the last set of shelves and a rough altar set into the dusty stone. It was the Trio, statues of three of the seven gods¡ªthe grandparents and the grandson, Yeshu. Yes, there was Grandfather Breath and Grandmother Maker, standing behind Yeshu of the Book, who looked about ten years old. In his hand was the Deux Coin he¡¯d gotten for writing the first book. In that version of Yeshu, the god had made a bundle by writing an amazing book that captured the imagination of both gods and humans. Yeshu gave his father, Alikor, one chapter at a time until the Bad Dad was completely hooked. Until the end. Yeshu told his father it would cost him his Deux Coin to learn the ending. The Bad Dad paid and said it was totally worth it. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. In other stories, Yeshu used the Deux Coin he¡¯d had since birth to buy his first pen and paper, so he could write it in the first place. Given the nature of art, that was probably accurate. Finding someone to buy your actual book, even for a god, wasn¡¯t an easy thing. Most novelists died poor. Though in some stories, Yeshu convinced his mother to buy him his first pen and inkwell, and she did so, though she didn¡¯t give up her own coin. She¡¯d stolen it from Alikor after giving him too much wine. In all the mythology, Alikor had a definite drinking problem. He was the Bad Dad after all. Sal took a moment to regard the statues of the Trio. Grandfather Breath, Grandmother Maker, and little Yeshu were all motioning him to join them in the Eternal Happy Home. Dying meant going to your grandparents¡¯ house, or that was the hope, and for many that would be heaven. For Sal, for a long time, that was the case. He was desperate to see Grandfather Mood again. Now, he wasn¡¯t so sure. What would he even say to Mood? That magical immortality was too hard on the joints? That he¡¯d been betrayed by his only friend? That Dark Lording wasn¡¯t worth it? It certainly wasn¡¯t worth an eternity roasting in the Abyssmuck in eternal torment. Betty cleared her throat, and that was only when he realized she was gently tugging on his shirt. ¡°Hey, guy, uh, I¡¯m assuming the secret room is behind the Trio. Wanna get cracking so we don¡¯t have the Ponti asking us why we¡¯re wandering around his crypts?¡± Sal thought that would be a hard conversation to have, though he could probably come up with some mostly true thing to say. Nice thing about figurative language, you could play around with hyperbole and metaphor. He touched the coin on Yeshu¡¯s hand and felt it give as a switch clicked. Beside the Trio, there was a secret door in the rock that swung open a little. The doorway was small, and Sal would have to duck, but he¡¯d found a secret little cache, hidden away for centuries, and inside would be all the gold he could ever spend. A thought struck him. There would be enough to help Fabrizio with his chapel, maybe improve the food at the Mind & Body Tables, maybe earn some points with the Pontrafax Genetrix. He paused, and part of him felt almost disappointed. He¡¯d be rich in a few seconds. He wouldn¡¯t need to carry out all the gold today, but could come back, over and over, and take it. It wasn¡¯t stealing because no one knew about it. It was found treasure. Without a doubt, coming to the chapel had been a spiritual experience. The money would make his life so comfortable. Sal wondered at himself. Why the disappointment? Because he¡¯d been enjoying the challenge, and the promise of more challenges to come. With the Deux Coin, things had been so easy for so long. Not anymore. Betty, again, tugged on his shirt again. ¡°Hey, chief, are we going in there or not?¡± Another thought struck him. ¡°What if the Deux Coin is in there? You said it yourself. Madras threw her spear to stop anyone from finding the coin. What if it¡¯s in there?¡± ¡°It¡¯s at the top of the Tower, pal. Or somewhere. It¡¯s not in there. And you¡¯re counting your gold before it¡¯s hatched.¡± ¡°Betty, my friend, I do believe you are mixing your metaphors.¡± ¡°Fine. Counting your chickens before you have the gold statuaries to buy them. I¡¯m assuming there¡¯s gonna be statuaries, not that I understand what that is, but I¡¯m still trying to wrap my head around coinage, currency, promissory notes, and interest-free loans.¡± ¡°Ah, loans, yes,¡± Sal said. ¡°Do the Hajawan still do most of the loans?¡± ¡°Friendo, in this town, everyone does loans.¡± Sal opened the door, moving slowly, in case of traps. The Church in his time would¡¯ve trapped the secret room for sure. All he saw was a dusty stone floor, which was fine, but then he squeezed himself through the small door, and he stepped inside, again, moving carefully. The room wasn¡¯t empty, there were more shelves in the rock, but instead of bodies, they held books. In old writing, in Gorbin actually, across the wall in the monster speech were the words: New thoughts brought by books are life¡¯s true treasures. Sal got tired of stooping, and so he knelt, and pulled a tome off the shelf. It was written in Gorbin, as well, and it was called The Chronicles of GuNakt. Betty laughed. Sal laughed as well, oddly relieved. ¡°I was just thinking about the benefits of figurative language, but here are the drawbacks as well. I suppose there is some poetic justice here. I came looking for treasures, and it seemed I found some. I believe I knew GuNakt. I did not know he¡¯d penned a book. And his penmanship was quite good. What are the ethics of taking this volume?¡± ¡°If you bring it back, I think you¡¯re fine, though are you gonna tell Fabrizio about this little secret library? I know, the Gorbin used to be your lackeys, but things have changed quite a bit since then. Guess what some people are calling the now?¡± Sal had no idea. ¡°I will ready my intellect to be dazzled.¡± The mouse snorted. ¡°Some jokers call the Gorbin orcs. Like, what is even an orc? Isn¡¯t something that left on your plate after you¡¯re done eating?¡± ¡°It is an old world, a bit like goblin. But no the Gorbin weren¡¯t orcs.¡± Betty shrugged. ¡°Yeah, you ain¡¯t wrong there. But I have to warn you about the Gorbin. There¡¯s been some, uh, changes. Some advances.¡± ¡°What kind of advances?¡± Sal asked. ¡°Uh, it¡¯s a longer story than I¡¯m comfortable with, since we¡¯re up against the clock. We don¡¯t wanna get caught.¡± The mouse was right. Sal relented. ¡°As you wish. Perhaps when my situation is less precarious, I can let slip a question about the secret library. For now, I¡¯ll take the book, intent upon returning it.¡± ¡°You ever get tired?¡± ¡°Of what?¡± ¡°Of all them fancy words?¡± That made Sal laugh. Changing his speech wasn¡¯t going to be easy. He left the room and pressed the door closed until the mechanism latched it shut. With the book in hand and the candle held aloft, he hurried back through the crypts, he was glad it was a simple hallway and not a labyrinth. He climbed the circular staircase wearily and went back through the iron gate, which he closed and latched behind him. Waiting, he listened, but the chapel remained empty. Fabrizio hadn¡¯t returned. For a second, Sal considered staying, just to watch over the chapel, but it sounded like it would be fine, and the Ponti would be back in a second. He was on his way out of the chapel when the icy pain pierced his heart, and at the doorway, he clutched his chest. <<<>>> Petty theft! Lies of omission! Karmic Gauge reduced by 5%. You ever hear that old saying that the road to the Abyssmuck is paved with good intentions? Sure, you plan to tell that handsome Ponti all about the secret Gorbin library under his feet. And sure, you plan on returning GuNakt¡¯s book, but are you gonna? Current Karmic Gauge: 1% (So much flashing light the color of thick, thick blood) <<<>>> Betty looked at him with concern on tiny face. ¡°Hey, pal, you alright? ¡°No,¡± Sal said miserably. ¡°I have been given a strict warning by my Mysterious Benefactor. I have been punished for taking the book and not telling the Ponti about the secret library. My Karmic Gauge has made that clear.¡± Betty sighed. ¡°Well, friend, looks like you¡¯re walking a very narrow path. You¡¯re gonna have to be careful.¡± Sal didn¡¯t respond. He couldn¡¯t. He was still in so much pain. The thought of confessing everything to Fabrizio seemed like an impossible task. Connecting himself, in any way, to the Gorbin was dangerous. If the Ponti figured out he was the Dark Lord returned, Sal might lose everything. He¡¯d take his lumps and try to do better next time. Upon leaving the chapel, Sal was back in the heat and stink of Confusion Street. He did take a second to go and find the Mind & Body Tables, which were a series of rough-hewn tables and benches under a ragged awning next to a bakery with blackened outside walls. So that was where the bread came from. Fabrizio was probably baking it himself. Sal would come back for the free meal that night, but for now, he wanted to get back to his haunted diner with his book. And to consider his next steps. The treasure hunt had been a bust. Now what? He was on his way out of Confusion Street, which was really Confusion Streets, when four men watched him pass with malice on their faces and an empty disdain in their eyes. They fell in behind, and Sal knew his bad luck had turned into rotten luck. Chapter Eight – Desperate Banter Four ruffians. Less vocabulary. Ambitious encouragement. Mention of the Butter King. A former Dark Lord very displeased. The hot afternoon sun beat down on Sal and the four men, and while there were some people on the street, they hurried away. They knew a prey and predator situation when they saw it. While Sal had his reflexes, he didn¡¯t have his spells, and besides, did inflicting violence on someone count as murdering their sense of physical security? Probably not. However, Sal knew that defending oneself might have unintended consequences. He could run. Animals that were prey ran, and if they were quick, they got away. The problem was that predators instinctively chased prey. Sal turned on the four men. They were lined up biggest and ugly to littlest and ugliest. They wore long thigh length tunics of muted reds and faded blacks. Short pants went to their knees. Black leather belts held broad-bladed daggers while very complicated sandals covered their feet. There were a great many straps and buckles, and Sal had the thought it must¡¯ve taken them a very long time to get dressed. The minute he stopped, the largest and least homely charged forward to grab him. Sal danced away, spun, and found himself at the mouth of an alley. It would be short work to push him in there and then do terrible things. Was he supposed to just let them? That didn¡¯t seem fair. Sal held up his hands. ¡°Wait, wait, wait.¡± ¡°Why should we wait?¡± Big and not too ugly growled. ¡°Because while I am beguiled by your sandals, I could not help but notice the daggers in your belts. While they are too fat to be knives, they are too short to be swords. For example, I have this sword right here.¡± The little, way too ugly man laughed. ¡°And what are you going to do with that sword? There are four of us and one of you.¡± ¡°Mathematics would not be in my favor. However, I was just vising with Ponti Fabrizio, and I am in a very charitable mood. Have you had the rye bread? With butter, it is delicious. Regardless, I have a proposition for you fine gentleman.¡± ¡°What proposition?¡± the big one asked. ¡°A trade. I believe you were about to attempt to loot my pockets, but alas, my pockets are empty. Distressingly so.¡± He then pulled out his pockets. ¡°Perhaps I was in error in my assumptions. Perhaps you simply wanted to chat about the current state of affairs in your city.¡± The four men seemed baffled. The littlest and ugliest one frowned. ¡°What?¡± Sal was using too many multisyllable words. There was such malice in their eyes, and Sal wondered if this wasn¡¯t justice. How often had his Gorbin armies raided towns for weapons and food. It was stealing on a grander scale. How many times had townspeople either begged for their lives or tried to talk his dark army out of trying to rob them? The Dark Lord tried to use simpler language. ¡°A trade. Not one of you has a sword, and I do not believe I shall be using my own sword any time soon. What say I give you my weapon?¡± He expected them to laugh, but there was very little laughter. They were several exchanges of mystified glances. The big one spoke. ¡°If we take your sword, how are you going to defend yourself?¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Verily, it is a fair question,¡± Sal said. ¡°But I think you are on this road often, and if you are, you can use the sword to defend me. Of course, the sword will not be my only means of payment.¡± ¡°What other payment?¡± ¡°Do you remember when I mentioned the rye bread before? Rye bread and butter, quite good, and I can provide you such fare tonight at the Mind & Body Tables, just east of the Chapel down the way. The Chapel of the Book. Mention my name to the Ponti, and he will attend to you.¡± The little one eyed him. ¡°The food can¡¯t be good. It¡¯s free!¡± ¡°That sounds like contempt prior to investigation, my friend. Have you ever tried it?¡± The four shook their heads. Sal took out the sword, which had them drawing their daggers, but Sal took care of that. He carefully held it by the blade and offered it to the large man. ¡°This one is for you. Who knows? I might have more swords, maybe some armor, that I could bring you. But not for banditry, you four are far too honorable for that. Perhaps you could try your hand with the Tower. I think you four might do well as Climbers.¡± ¡°You do?¡± one of the middle big, middle ugly men said. ¡°I¡¯ve thought about it. If we found the Deux Coin, well, the sky would be the limit.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Sal agreed. ¡°The Deux Coin would give you immortality, powers beyond your wildest dreams, and some would say, the favor of the gods, Alikor most of all.¡± ¡°I like Alikor,¡± the big one said agreeably. ¡°He understands what it¡¯s like to be given the dirty end of a poo broom.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t going to ask about the idiom. Things were going too swimmingly for unnecessary questions. Was he really going to be able to talk himself out of the situation with a sword and some banter? He pressed his luck. ¡°I¡¯m Sal Fang, new in town, and possibly opening a caf¨¦, if my luck doesn¡¯t improve. May I know your names?¡± The little guy shook his head. ¡°No, you might get the governor¡¯s men on us.¡± ¡°Or tell the Butter King,¡± the other middling man said with a dopey look on his face. ¡°Butter King would kill us for, uh, doing this.¡± ¡°No, he wouldn¡¯t,¡± the big man said quickly. ¡°We¡¯re just talking¡­not doing no thieving. Just talking. We knew you were new in town. And we don¡¯t know the Butter King.¡± Which of course meant that the four knew the Butter King well. Sal shrugged and stepped back. ¡°Well, now, I don¡¯t blame you for maintaining your anonymity. Telling strangers your name is probably not a good idea, though I am rather proud of mine.¡± That was no lie. He was getting quite used to the idea of being the non-famous Sal Fang. The four fell silent, clearly confounded. Sal threw them a very informal salute. ¡°If we are done here, I will be on my way. Are we done?¡± ¡°You gonna to that Mind & Body Tables thing tonight?¡± the big one asked. Sal had been planning on it, but now, he figured he¡¯d tighten his belt, drink a great deal of water, and make the trek tomorrow. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have other plans for this evening. I shall make my way there eventually, however. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll meet again.¡± A large contingent of people, horses, and carts clattered up, heading toward the governor¡¯s mansion and Destiny Square. Sal stepped away from the ruffians, still smiling, and threaded his way through some birdheaded Eagalis merchants in sky blue robes, who were talking about something, though they were speaking in a mix of tweets, squawks, and Yeshin, the common language of most of the people of Allbreath. Yeshin, named after Yeshu, who had not only written the first book but also came up with the idea of language in the first place. As Sal walked in the crowd, he got a message: <<<>>> You avoided a fight! Karmic Gauge increased by 2%. That was some quick thinking, and here is your reward for coming up with a peaceful solution. Current Karmic Gauge: 3% (Still dark red, and only a little bit of flashing, which is good. Let¡¯s keep it that way.) <<<>>> Betty wiggled up out of his pocket. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that worked! You bartered away that useless sword to save your life.¡± ¡°I did at that,¡± Sal said, though he found himself displeased. He¡¯d been a grinning, chattering fool, and that encounter might¡¯ve gone either way. To think he¡¯d once conquered continents, and now, he was basically begging for food out of poverty and desperation. And when confronted with bullies, he¡¯d not reduced them to bloody splotches on the pavement with his Black Blast but gave them a weapon which they¡¯d undoubtedly use to engage in more robbery. This was his life now, and when he entered Destiny Square, and smelled the meat roasting for the dinner rush, he couldn¡¯t enjoy the fragrance. He was hungry again, and he was worried that his hunger would become his constant companion. At least he had something to read before the sunset. He didn¡¯t have the candle length to read for very long after it got dark. And his caf¨¦ was still very, very cursed. Chapter Nine – Another Banshee Morning Sunrise scream. Two spears. The murderous miscreant. Well water and another church. GuNakt¡¯s criticism. The eternity until dinner. Sal went to bed that night in the upstairs room, the one without the bunks. He woke the next morning to the screaming, which made his bones shake and sending his heart into a series of rather concerning spasms. Dust sifted down from the boards covering the ceiling, otherwise known as the attic¡¯s floor. Sal let out a shriek, which wasn¡¯t very Dark Lordly of him, and jerked himself off the straw-filled mattress. There was a spear, right there, and it nearly¡ªvery nearly¡ª skewered him. The weapon had been wedged onto the floor, stuck between the desk and the bed. That meant the spirit and/or spirits had moved furniture around. Not only were they trying to kill him, they were not cognizant of the room¡¯s flow. The former Dark Lord had dodged the weapon at the last possible second, and he flung it away. Footsteps pounded across the attic floor above. He¡¯d moved Betty¡¯s bowl to the windowsill. She yawned, stretching, and then rubbed sleep from her eyes. ¡°That scream is better than any hotel wakeup call I¡¯d ever had. Which, to be honest, is zero. We generally avoid inns because of the cats. Let¡¯s see, that banshee is better than any rooster I¡¯ve ever heard. It¡¯s dawn, pal-o¡¯ mine. Time to rise and shine.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t in the mood to exchange pleasantries. Dressing quickly, he dashed out of his room, into the room to the left, and climbed up the ladder and into the attic. And almost got speared again. His eyes had only adjusted to the darkness for a second when he saw the flash of metal. Another spear, taken from the weapons in the basement. He saw movement in the shadows across from the window, which was red from the sunrise. Like the rest of the place, the attic had been cleaned out except for a length of chain circling one last trunk on the premises. That trunk was locked up tight. The attic itself was freezing, and he wrapped his arms around himself for a little warmth. The shadow moved, and he saw a pale face staring at him for a moment, and he had the sense of a great deal of unkept black hair and flowing robes, and then the shadow was gone. On the wall, ice appeared, a spiderweb of cold. Words appeared there, outlined in the frost. You¡¯re a murderous miscreant who doesn¡¯t deserve the breath in your lungs. Sal exhaled mist as he felt the flesh crawl on the back of his neck. He knocked away the spear and found himself yelling, ¡°I never wanted breath back in my lungs, if you must know. At the very least, phantom, I do not scream every morning like I am having my throat cut! You are dead! Stay dead!¡± Of course, nothing was going to answer him, no, which was strange because of the nature of the banshee¡¯s magic. A single word would kill him outright. As it was, the ice outlining the insult were already melting away to nothing. He went to investigate the trunk, both the thick chains and the box itself were gone. Vanished. Had he only imagined the whole episode? No, the icy words were still there as confirmation. There had to be chains in the building, other than the front door, because he heard them being rattled all the dang time. He sighed and talked more to the shadow lady who wasn¡¯t there. ¡°I lied. I did want breath back in my lungs, I would think. I cannot recall my time in the Abyssmuck. However, I am fairly certain I would have done anything, made any promise, to be allowed an escape from the torment, an escape back to Torment Island. The irony is not lost on me.¡± He didn¡¯t expect an answer. But he was still rather disappointed he didn¡¯t get one, not even one written on the wall. His stomach growled. He pushed a hand against the pain. ¡°I know, I know, you task me, belly, and yet, I fear I am not up for the work. Not until later this evening. We shall return to accept the Ponti¡¯s hospitality and hope for the sake of the Sacra Famiglia¡¯s continued wealth that he¡¯ll come and try and take care of this cursed banshee!¡± But was it the banshee that was trying to kill him? If she did have murderous intentions, all she had to do was talk to him. Perhaps she was simply bad at her job. She did some fairly good haunting¡ªthe screams were blood-curdling and a silhouette in a window was always unnerving. He probably should¡¯ve complimented her rather than shout loud nonsense. He took the spear from the attic and found Betty just slipping out of her bed bowl. ¡°Talking to ghosts, Sal? That can¡¯t be good. Any info?¡± ¡°None that I can use,¡± he said, tapping the spear on the floor. ¡°What are the ethics of supplying murderous brigades with weapons in exchange for goods and services?¡± Betty winced, which was unbelievably cute. ¡°Wow, talk about a gray area. If you¡¯re not paying them to kill, and you¡¯re just exchanging goods, I don¡¯t think our Benefactor would mind, but you¡¯re not thinking about employing those four morons? For one thing, they ain¡¯t good-looking, and I only like dealing with pretty people. Yes, I can tell.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°That seems inconsistent with what you said before, Betty.¡± ¡°Half-joking on all accounts.¡± The mouse wrung her hands. ¡°Yesterday, I left you in the lurch. Today, I¡¯m feeling bad about getting my own breakfast and leaving you here all hungry and looking kinda pathetic.¡± Sal waved him on. ¡°Go on. I plan on water and reading to get me through the day while I ponder my next move. I was counting on the chapel¡¯s treasure far more than I realized. I will endeavor to recall other possible caches of use that might benefit my surprising¡ª¡± He stopped short when he saw the mouse¡¯s eyes glaze over. ¡°Right. Simplifying my language would be most beneficial. In my defense, the banshee called me a miscreant. I am a bit unsettled at the idea of sleeping here tonight.¡± ¡°So far, so good, though, amiright?¡± Betty squeaked. ¡°Have fun with your water and reading. But first, give me a lift downstairs.¡± Sal carried the little animal god down the steps, walked past the counter, and found the tables and benches in both the counter room and the main dining room all stacked on top of one another. The bodies weren¡¯t there, praise be the Family, and neither were the weapons. ¡°Weird,¡± Betty quipped. He set on the widow seal, and before he could open the shutters, she had wormed her way underneath and was gone. Swiveling on a boot, the Dark Lord looked on the bright side. At least he had room around the benches to let him sweep up the place again, and this time, he could do a better job. First, though, we went down into the basement, and stopped short. All the piles of armor and weapons hung suspended there, and if there was a squad ready to annihilate him. Icy sweat leaked down his sides and the hairs on the back of his neck went rigid. Then he saw the armor and gear hung from the shelves, on nails, that he hadn¡¯t seen the day before. He touched his heart, got it beating again, and then moved to get a ceramic pot. He regarded the trapdoor to the subbasement and knew he¡¯d have to do a little more exploring at some point, but he wasn¡¯t in the mood right then. Up the stairs and out the door he went. He cut down a narrow lane and came to the well outside the Church of the Sacred Family. He took a second to walk around in front of the cathedral, to admire the sculptures of all seven of the gods and goddesses¡ªtwo grandparents, probably the best and most powerful, then the two troubled parents Madra the Warrior Goddess and Alikor the Bad Dad, and then the three children¡ªYeshu, Mendica, and Venita. ¡°If I were a praying man, I would pray to you, Mendica the Penniless. If you have it in your heart, help a fellow beggar today. The Ponti was right. I do need guidance.¡± While Yeshu was scholarly, and Mendica was beggarly, Venita was her mother¡¯s daughter. Like Madra, Venita of the Wind was a powerful warrior goddess, but unlike her mother, her questing weren¡¯t all that noteworthy. Venita had issues, like all of the Sacra Famiglia. Sal went to the well, where several local women filled their jugs, talking and laughing. He filled his own pots and carried them awkwardly on his hips. He¡¯d have to come up with a better way of retrieving water. He spilled half the water getting them back to his cursed caf¨¦. Well, he needed a quick washup anyway. Out back in the alley, he splashed his face and washed his unmentionables, and then found he needed to take another trip. He did to get more water, which he drank, and then swept up and unstacked the tables. He sat on a bench at the front window with a view of the dang fountain. He spent the morning reading The Chronicles of GuNakt, which depressed him more than anything. He took another trip to get more water, and he spent some time inside the cathedral, along with more people, but not as many as there had been at the chapel. This place was far grander, though, and in a better part of town. While he sat on the benches behind kneeling seats, a few tourists came in to admire the stained glass¡ªthose that were still intact¡ª and the statuary in the sanctuary, where even Alikor was there, the Bad Dad, the original Dark Lord. It could be that Alikor was Sal¡¯s Benefactor. The god of second chances was Alikor the Unsteady. And who had damned Sal¡¯s soul in the first place? That was the righteous Madras, the Mother of Warriors and the Goddess of Judgement, firm but supposedly fair. Visiting the church broke up his day and gave him a break from the heat, but he soon grew tired of the smell of incense and the people whispering their many prayers. He returned to the caf¨¦, but was starting to worry about his mouse friend, when she came in and scurried up the infrastructure of the table to get to the top. She then regarded the book. ¡°What¡¯s it about?¡± ¡°Nothing I want to talk about,¡± he said. Then he said what he was thinking. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to open this caf¨¦, aren¡¯t? Deal with the curse, find foodstuffs, remember how to cook, and deal with customers.¡± ¡°I think that¡¯s right, buddy. But look on the bright side. I¡¯ll be here to help sample your iffy cooking every step of the way!¡± ¡°Who says it will be iffy?¡± he asked darkly. ¡°Because I¡¯m pretty sure that cooking wasn¡¯t high on your list of skills when you were looking for global domination.¡± ¡°I just wanted to¡­¡± He couldn¡¯t finish the sentence. It all felt so meaningless, and he felt so heartbroken. The book had revealed several truths that pained his very soul. ¡°Look on the bright side, chief. You and I can get some good down-home cooking and some extra reading time with the Ponti! Let¡¯s take a quick nap and then head on over to Confusion Street. If we¡¯re really lucky, we¡¯ll run into our four best friends in the world. Fingers crossed.¡± She held up her tiny pink hands with, yes, her fingers were crossed. Sal stomped up the steps and found knives in his bed. Literal knives, from the kitchen, thrust through the mattress. It was obvious, but the point was clear: He was not welcome. And there was some mysterious force that was sure he was a murderous miscreant. According to GuNakt, that was what he was, and in the end, he hadn¡¯t even been very good at that. Sal was pretty sure it was several eternities until dinnertime, and he thought his chances of making it until then without dying were iffy at best. So he returned to the book, but he was having trouble concentrating. He had to get money, and he thought of other treasure troves that might still be around. A few came to mind, including a mansion near the Weeping River. Would it still be there? A lot had changed in a thousand years. He finally cleared his mind enough to read more about GuNakt¡¯s life as a sorcerer in Sal¡¯s dark army when a peach rolled to his feet. He glanced up. The fruit had come from the doorway into the kitchen, he was sure of it, but there was nothing there. He gulped in a breath, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up. Was the peach poison? He wasn¡¯t sure, but he was too hungry to stop himself from picking it up. Water made for a poor breakfast. He bit into the peach¡¯s sweet, juicy flesh, and it was so delicious. If it were poison, it would be a good way to die. Again. In the end, it was just fine, and he was thankful. Maybe not all of the ghosts in the diner thought he was a miscreant. The thought made him feel better, though he was well aware his Karmic Gauge was still red. He¡¯d have to be very careful to make sure it didn¡¯t get any redder. Chapter Ten – Dinner with a Sorceress Books and bread. The Yaniri sorceress. Unintended history lessons. Fake names. The summer poem. Sal slid down onto the seat at one of the Mind & Body Tables with a full tray, a wooden cup, and a beaten, bent metal spoon. The bread came pre-buttered. The table had worn books on it, some heavily illustrated, some thick with prose. He recalled that Fabrizio said that the evening meals were to nourish both the mind and the body, hence the name. The ragged canopies above offered little shade, and it was still several hours before sunset. The heat was the worst of the day. He wasn¡¯t going to stop sweating any time soon. This time, he remembered to give his buddy Betty a bit of the rye bread, not the crust, but the spongy center, which should make her happy. He included a bit of butter to make Betty¡¯s experience better. As for Sal, he didn¡¯t pause. They had the rye bread he¡¯d had before and with that wasn¡¯t meat but a curried lentil, which was thick and very buttery, so it was almost like a stew. There were several chunks of potatoes in there. He started eating. At first, the Dark Lord was by himself, but soon, someone sat across from him, a woman with her heard covered by a collection of dark purple and gold scarves, which matched her dark purple robes. Across her throat was the tattoo of a crow with its wings spread. She shot him a dirty look, as if daring him to talk to her. She didn¡¯t want conversation, clearly, though Sal surprised himself by talking to her. ¡°You were with the group trying to get into the tower the other day. I remember.¡± ¡°Remember what?¡± the woman spat. She then held up her hand. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m just here to eat a little. It¡¯s one of the only places I can still eat. But you know all that because, you know, godless Yaniri sorcerer here. Whatever. How about you don¡¯t talk to me, and you get my leftovers?¡± ¡°Leftovers would be a welcome addition to my humble repast.¡± This time, Sal purposefully used all the vocabulary he could muster. Might as well counter her gruff reaction with flowery language. ¡°Right¡­¡± It took her a long time to say the word. Sal glanced at all the people eating there, and there were a ton of women and children, but also a few men. The Ponti hadn¡¯t been in the little nameless bakery, that had the oven blazing and big cauldrons of the lentils bubbling over fires, that had blackened the big chimneys there. It wasn¡¯t long before the lines started, and already, the tables were filled to capacity, so people sat on the ground, chatting. One dark-skinned man, in a red kilt, a leather vest, and the complicated sandals, played on a lute while a woman sang. It was more like a party than anything else, and Sal found himself enjoying himself. He did wonder if he¡¯d see the Ponti again. There were also the matter of the four men and the one sword he¡¯d given them. He didn¡¯t see them anywhere. Her was glad for that. They had been very unpleasant. ¡°Yeah, you might¡¯ve me at the tower yesterday,¡± the woman said suddenly. ¡°I was with my party, we called ourselves The Astounders, and we were going to go up. We thought we¡¯d filled out the right forms, release forms, sponsorship declaration forms, that whole deal, but nope. We missed the detailed background form, which would¡¯ve been problematic for us because, of, uh, legal troubles. Let¡¯s just leave it at that. It was a dodgy party anyway. Now, I¡¯m stuck in Tower City, eating lentils. I suppose life could be worse. The lentils are tasty and a good source of protein. Best of all, no dairy.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure how to respond without sounding like he had no clue what she was talking about. Besides, she¡¯d said she didn¡¯t want to talk, though it was pretty obvious she did. He decided on going the safe route and agree with everything she said. ¡°Bureaucratic paperwork is one of the banes of our existence, is it not? For can the government forms ever begin to capture the poetry in our souls? Can you quantify desires, hopes, dreams, in a simple formula? I think not.¡± She gave him the normal reaction. ¡°You¡¯re not from around here, are you?¡± ¡°I am not,¡± he agreed. ¡°I come from a distant island, that was very much like this place, though now the entire world seems so different, and I am stranger, to Tower City, and to myself.¡± Everything he said was exactly the truth, though he meant the distance of time rather than of place. ¡°So the Yanir Republic administrates Torment Island?¡± ¡°It sure tries to.¡± The woman regarded her food and his empty plate for a second, and then slid her tray over to him. ¡°There you go. Don¡¯t worry, I don¡¯t have any diseases, not ones that I didn¡¯t choose. Either way, they aren¡¯t catching.¡± She had that easy way of speaking, not unlike Betty Don¡¯t-Bite. It was the informal Yeshin, full of contractions and slang. The woman sighed. ¡°This is where we exchange our life stories, but look, we¡¯re strangers, chatting, and it¡¯s probably best we remain strangers. Though I have questions. Okay, I¡¯m curious, so take me to court. What distant island?¡± ¡®It doesn¡¯t exist anymore. The island was destroyed, drank up in the ocean¡¯s time. Unexpectedly, I arrived in Torment City and thought I might find treasures here, but alas, the treasures were not what I thought.¡± ¡°You come here to tower climb? Looking for Salvanguish¡¯s Deux Coin? People have been looking for it for a thousand years, and whole wars have been fought over it, but you can take me to court if you want, but I say nobody is ever gonna find it. Lost forever, or back with the gods, or used to buy another world or whatever. The treasures here on Torment Island are few and far between.¡± ¡°So it would seem.¡± Sal started eating her food, which seemed a little desperate, though he wasn¡¯t going to let pride get in the way of filling his belly. Besides, she seemed clean enough. One thing she did say that was strange, she mentioned a disease she¡¯d chosen. Who would choose to have a disease? The answer was simple. A great many people would, in all sorts of ways, which is why taverns served drunkards. ¡°So are you a refugee then?¡± she asked. Sal knew he was a refugee of time and fate. Instead, he said, ¡°I lucked into a caf¨¦ in The Champion Plaza that I¡¯m thinking of opening.¡± ¡°That whole plaza is cursed, haunted, totally, not a place anyone should be. Not sure why, but even the gangs and their bosses don¡¯t go there. You see the doorway to the Abyssmuck there? That¡¯s what people are saying. Or a backdoor into the tower¡¯s dungeon, though I doubt that. Ziggy would have guards there, and there would be all the paperwork all over again, even with the spooky ghosts.¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°Perhaps there is a doorway to the Abyssmuck,¡± Sal said absently. ¡°It would explain a great many things, but alas, no, I have not seen any sort of portal. I have had my fair share of encounters with specters. They have tried to kill me at every turn, but so far, they have been unsuccessful.¡± ¡°If you do open your caf¨¦, make sure you have dairy-free options. You¡¯ll get more Yanir if you do, especially of the spell-wielding sort. You know the deal.¡± Sal mopped up some lentils with his bread. ¡°I am not sure I do. Again, I am a stranger here. I read about the Yanir, but I thought they were warriors.¡± That made the woman burst out laughing. ¡°Oh, right, the Menold, those guys who helped the Primogeny kill Mood, but we had to change it up when we fought the Dragonriders, right? You can have all the swords in the world, but at the end of the day, the dragons were too way too powerful, and so it all changed, and Yanir got smart. Sorcery was the answer, but we paid a price for it. I guess the sorcery was the right way to go. We run Torment Island and the Republics are basically an empire. Am I rambling? I¡¯m rambling. You don¡¯t need a history lesson.¡± ¡°But I do!¡± Sal protested after swallowing his last bite. He was comfortably full, and better yet, he might eat this same meal every night, happily, for a long, long while. It was a miracle. He¡¯d never given Yeshu that much thought, but if his church was providing free food, well, he might just become Sal¡¯s favorite god. The woman laughed. ¡°I¡¯m not the right teacher. I focused on destroying large portions of my soul, and that takes a lot of fricking time and effort. Don¡¯t ask for dates. I don¡¯t know dates. But what do you want to know?¡± ¡°The Dark Lord was¡­¡± Sal almost talked about Kenny¡¯s betrayal, but he wasn¡¯t sure if that was common knowledge or not. ¡°How as the Dark Lord slain?¡± She had a bored look on her face. ¡°The Champion killed him, right? I mean, the Kinkaid family still brags about that. Though if you ask me, I think it was probably the Godspear. Killed ¡®em both in the end. Smote by the gods. Good riddance. Dark Lords and Champions are pain in the you-know-what.¡± Sal muttered, ¡°Pain in the heart. Mostly. Then what happened?¡± ¡°The Church took over for a good bit,¡± the woman replied. ¡°But people got tired of that because if you¡¯re promising heaven while you¡¯re stealing money, that¡¯s only going to last for so long. Hypocrisy, corruption, whatever. The Scallia Caprans got their dragons, and they conquered a bunch, until the Yanir Republics decided they wanted their turn conquering, and you have the Scallian-Yaniri War. Yanir got enough magic to kill a bunch of dragons, and then took over, not only Torment Island, but a ton of other places. Created new republics and here we are. So you don¡¯t know about the Scallian-Yaniri War?¡± Sal shook his head. Several women, some with children, were looking for a place to sit, and they were eyeing Sal and the sorceress woman with the crow-tattoo on her throat. An old woman next to them finally said something. ¡°Dearies, if ye are finished eatin¡¯, move to let them families sit. Don¡¯t make ¡®em sit on the ground.¡± Sal stacked their trays, cups, and spoons and picked them up. He addressed the sorceress. ¡°Please, ma¡¯am, could we continue our conversation? I am not foolish enough to think I am requesting a great deal, for the heat is sweltering and you undoubtedly have no desire to school a stranger.¡± ¡°No desire, you¡¯re right.¡± She stood up. ¡°But after Yeshu¡¯s free meal, I feel like I owe him something. I¡¯ll help you out. Should we do the name thing? It¡¯s probably a mistake, but I feel like we should do the name thing.¡± ¡°The name thing?¡± Sal asked. Was this a new custom. ¡°Yeah, the name thing. You tell me your fake name, and I tell you my fake name, and we pretend we¡¯ll be friends forever, though little encounters like this never amount to much. You¡¯ll forget me, and we¡¯ll continue on with more little encounters all the days of our lives until we die. End of story. You can take me to court on that.¡± ¡°What court?¡± ¡°Just a figure of saying. Tell me your fake name, so we can get on with it.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s find a place to chat.¡± Sal returned the trays to the bakery, and while it was hot outside, inside it was even worse. He thought the woman might¡¯ve left, but she was waiting for him. They tried inside the chapel itself, but the place was full of people praying, which made Sal glad for some strange reason. He wasn¡¯t religious, not at all, but he knew the Ponti would be happy. The Yanir sorceress snorted derisively. ¡°Free meals my boots. It¡¯s a marketing scheme. A pretty effective one by the looks of it. Worked on me. Felt guilty about Yeshu¡¯s hospitality and now I¡¯ll sweat with some rando until the sun sets.¡± ¡°Might not take that long,¡± Sal said. He looked down, and she was wearing enormous boots that disappeared up her leg, hidden by the robes. She must be sweltering. ¡°Do you know of a place?¡± The woman sighed. ¡°Not really. Look, I¡¯m tired, I¡¯m figuring out my finances, and I¡¯m still wondering if the Astounders are even going to be a thing. I thought about calling ourselves the Astounding Ascenders, but now it sounds dumb.¡± ¡°Not dumb,¡± Sal said. ¡°Though I am probably not the person who would know about such things, since I am a new arrival.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t wanna be rude. But let¡¯s do the name thing and part ways, okay? Okay. I¡¯ll go first.¡± The sorceress put out a hand. ¡°I¡¯m Kaixo Allakarra. Is that my real name? You¡¯ll probably never know. What¡¯s your fake name?¡± Sal smiled. ¡°I go by the name Sal Fang.¡± ¡°Fang like snake fangs?¡± ¡°That is a connotation that I did not consider.¡± ¡°Hey, Sal.¡± ¡°Hello, Kaixo.¡± She reached up, undid the scarves, and then untied them, revealing her half-shaved head. There was a tattoo there, though Sal couldn¡¯t see what it was. Stringy, blonde hair fell down to her shoulder. ¡°Much better, though people will talk smack behind my back. We¡¯re supposed to keep our heads covered, unless we¡¯re in a church. That¡¯s one point for being religious. A cool head in a room that¡¯s not so fricking hot.¡± She then nodded at him, a little smile on her face. ¡°See you around, Sal.¡± Kaixo then turned and walked on her very large boots. Was that part of her magic? He¡¯d seen the big boots before. They seemed as ever-present as the very complicated sandals. There was something in her stride that hinted at happiness. A second later, he got a message. <<<>>> You tried to make a friend! Karmic Gauge increased by 1%. It seems you brightened up her day a little. Keep up the good work. Current Karmic Gauge: 4% (Red but getting brighter) <<<>>> Sal was a little surprised he¡¯d be rewarded, though he wasn¡¯t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He¡¯d simply have to become a more friendly person. That seemed like a lot of work. At the same time, the idea of returning to the cursed caf¨¦ alone depressed him, and so he went back to the tables, to wait until the crowd thinned. He found a place to stand, in the shade, near one of the ragged canopies poles, shoved into a bucket loaded with rocks. The lute player and singer had stopped, and in the middle of the tables, the Ponti stepped up onto a stool that brought him upward. Sal saw that some of the women were looking at his face with some appreciation. Fabrizio didn¡¯t see him, and besides, he was otherwise occupied. He lifted a book. ¡°This is poetry from Gallias Protean, one of my favorites, about the heat of summer and the comfort of a cool summer¡¯s night.¡± He then began to read, lifting his voice. Many of the current conversations were muted as he read. Some people still chatted, though they did so in whispers, out of respect. Sal had to shake his head. That Ponti wasn¡¯t reading from Yeshu¡¯s Book, no, but from some poet that probably no one had ever heard of. He tried to listen, but his thoughts returned, again and again, to his encounter with Kaixo Allakarra, the sorceress, and possibly one of the founding members of the Astounders. If she couldn¡¯t get into the tower, what would she do? And what was this tower climbing business to anyway? It seemed it was a search for his Deux Coin, and maybe it was, but after a thousand years, if no one had found it, why were people still looking? He knew the answer. Hope was a powerful thing. And Sal had his own hopes, though they had nothing to do with magical coins. Betty piped up. ¡°Hey, that poetry ain¡¯t half bad. And you can tell, the Ponti loves it.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been quiet,¡± Sal said. ¡°Just letting you talk to the Yanir sorceress. Hey, I like the story about your island being destroyed by the oceans of time, or whatever. Nice.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°No, thank you. That rye bread and butter was good. This Butter King seems to know his business.¡± Sal had forgotten to ask about that. And who was this Ziggy that Kaixo mentioned? Maybe Fabrizio would know. Sal planned on talking, if not begging, with the Ponti after he finished his poetry recital. His life hung in the balance because magical peaches aside, another night in the cursed caf¨¦ just might kill him. Chapter Eleven – Dishes and Dishing Stacks of trays and soapy water. Who is Ziggy? The Butter King and the Pork Poet. Facing your fears. Hatred for the Dark Lord explains a lot. Sal made the decision to join the Ponti in the cleanup. That had to increase his Karmic Gauge a little, though he still hadn¡¯t come clean with Fabrizio. He¡¯d have to do that, if only to get out of the red. The priest did need his help. It seemed people didn¡¯t mind coming to set up, nor did they mind serving the food, but when it came to washing cups and wiping trays? There didn¡¯t seem to be much interest, and this was night after night, six days a week. Sal would have to figure out what to eat on Sunday night, given the fact he didn¡¯t have any money, and he wasn¡¯t clear on what he should do with the suits of armor and weaponry in his basement. The former Dark Lord loathed doing dishes. That had been one of his tasks when he¡¯d worked at his father in Caya Idle during those dark times after Mood died and before Salvanguish¡¯s rise to power, and all the drama that entailed. But he and Fabrizio talked while they washed and dried the trays, cups, and spoons. There were many piles to deal with. As they worked, a Diagraff message rewarded him with five whole percentages points. His Current Karmic Gauge was a bright red color now, sitting at 9%. ¡°Who¡¯s Ziggy?¡± Sal asked. ¡°Oh boy, that¡¯s the governor, and he is quite something.¡± The Ponti scraped a tray and then put it in the hot soapy water, where Sal washed it. ¡°His real name is Craig Clifton Zigglesworth, though I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ve ever heard anyone call him either name. He likes being called Ziggy. Maybe that was the problem.¡± The Ponti made a face. ¡°He¡¯s not respected.¡± ¡°Has he not the fate of the island in his hands?¡± ¡°You¡¯d think. But not really. The Yanir doesn¡¯t provide him with a whole lot of resources, and they tax us all a lot. That money goes back to Yanhome on the mainland, for troops, because there¡¯s rumors that the Scallian Caprans are breeding dragons again, the big ones and not the little ones.¡± ¡°Dragons,¡± Sal said quietly. For him, dragons were huge, rare, and dangerous., too dangerous to deal with. His grandfather hadn¡¯t even tried to recruiting the dragons. When it came to taming them, they were worse than cats, cats who were suspicious, and rightly so, of the more sentient races. ¡°There¡¯s been talk of war between the Yanir and Scallia Capra, another one, which would be terrible. I wish we could just¡­not do war. Life is hard enough for most people. I don¡¯t know. I find current events depressing.¡± Fabrizio scraped another plate. Sal washed it and set it on the rack. They would get a pile, then dry them, and then put them away. ¡°Do you normally do this all by yourself?¡± ¡°Almost never,¡± the Ponti said good-naturedly. ¡°There¡¯s always at least one person, sometimes ten, it all depends. Glad you¡¯re hear with me, Sal.¡± The Ponti gave him a smile, complete with dimples. ¡°I must admit, I have an ulterior motive in this aid I am providing.¡± The Ponti winced. ¡°I know. I¡¯ve been thinking about your situation, I have, but Sal, I might end up making things worse. We should wait for the Pontrafax Genetrix. She could do it. She¡¯d be really good.¡± ¡°But she has not done so. How long has The Champion Plaza been so deserted?¡± ¡°As long as I¡¯ve been here,¡± the Ponti admitted. ¡°It¡¯s not just the one caf¨¦. The whole plaza isn¡¯t right. You know, the last Dark Lord looked down on it from his palace. People hate that guy. The statue was replaced right away.¡± ¡°How did he die?¡± Sal had heard a couple of versions from Kaixo Allakarra. He wondered what the Ponti knew about it. ¡°There are a lot of stories about that,¡± the Ponti said. ¡°Most people think that the Reborn Champion, Keyneth Kinkaid used the Destiny Blade to cut the Deux Coin away from the Dark Lord, but Salvanguish was too powerful, and it was Keyneth¡¯s faith that saved him. That was when Madra threw the Godspear through the city. It¡¯s why there¡¯s a statue of Keyneth in Champion Plaza. I like that story. It shows that even a Dark General can change. Be that as it may, people are still paranoid that the Dark Lord will return someday, wielding his Deux Coin, and slaughtering innocents. Some say his ghost is still around, searching for the coin. If he were to find it, I shudder at what he would do.¡± Sal set a clean tray in the drying rack. ¡°The Dark Lord is long dead. I would think if he were to come back, everyone would know.¡± The Ponti nodded, his dark eyes on Sal. ¡°I¡¯m sure that¡¯s right. Salvanguish would gather his Gorbin armies to once again try and conquer the world. That might be difficult because the Gorbin have changed so much.¡± Sal wanted to ask about his former minions, but what he¡¯d read in The Chronicles of GuNakt had depressed him so much that he was desperate to change the subject. He felt Betty shift in his pocket. He wondered what she thought of their conversation. ¡°What of the Butter King?¡± Sal asked. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°That¡¯s the problem with nobody respecting Ziggy. And the lack of resources. You have all these gangs¡ªwe call them Braggadorios¡ªtaking control of different parts of the city. The Butter King doesn¡¯t really have a presence in Confusion Street. It¡¯s strictly the territory of the Pork Poet. You¡¯ve smelled the rendering factories, right?¡± Sal had. It wasn¡¯t pleasant. A thought struck him, though. If Confusion Street wasn¡¯t in the Butter King¡¯s territory, and if the four thieves he met were working for him, they were moonlighting under the nose of their enemy. That was pretty brave, or pretty desperate. Or perhaps it was simple stupidity. None of those brigands seemed very clever. ¡°There¡¯s five major Braggadorio families, and they all have their corresponding food group. At some point, you might have to deal with them. If you get your diner open.¡± Sal stopped washing. ¡°The Pork Poet? It is my assumption there is a story there.¡± Fabrizio nodded. ¡°Or an epic poem more like. I might have more trouble with her, if we didn¡¯t share a common love of poetry. Did you like the Gallias Protean poem I read?¡± ¡°I attempted to, Fabrizio, but I fear my mind wandered.¡± What strangeness, telling the truth all the time. It was rather nice. He didn¡¯t have to remember lies. The Ponti shook his head sadly. ¡°I know why you¡¯re helping me. I feel so guilty for not jumping right in to help you with your ghost problem, like a good Pontifex should do.¡± Sal took a moment to explain how he¡¯d woken up with a spear in his face. And how he had encountered another spear in his attic. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly go back there!¡± Fabrizio said with some concern. ¡°I do not have the luxury of options. My pockets are empty, and yesterday I had to donate my short sword to alleviate a stressful encounter with cutpurses. You said it yourself, finding accommodation in Tower City is not a simple matter.¡± Fabrizio then closed his mouth and squeezed his lips together. No dimples, but his dark eyes, with thick eyelashes and full eyebrows, were determined. ¡°Oh boy, then I gotta help you. We¡¯ll walk back through town to your cursed caf¨¦, and I¡¯ll bring my incense, my best candles, and my Book of Yeshu, and we¡¯ll convince the ghost to move on.¡± ¡°Verily, friend, do you speak the truth?¡± Sal asked in a sputter. Betty Don¡¯t-Bite sighed in his pocket. Sal switched up his language. ¡°Will you help me, Ponti?¡± ¡°You can call my Fabrizio,¡± the priest said. ¡°We¡¯re in this together, Sal. But if I make it worse, you¡¯ll have to forgive me.¡± ¡°That will not be an issue,¡± the Dark Lord said. For his many, many crimes, Sal was pretty certain he was beyond forgiveness. Forgiving the Ponti was the least he could do. <<<>>> You¡¯re really not going to tell him about the secret library and the book you took? Karmic Gauge decreased by 1%. Current Karmic Gauge: 8% (Red but not flashing) <<<>>> Despite the warm, soapy water, Sal felt the spike of ice in his heart. Ouch. They finished up quickly, putting all the trays, spoons, and cups back in the cupboards. The pair then hurried out and walked through town. Once they reached The Champion Plaza, night had come. Across from the statue, there was an empty warehouse with shadowy figures filling the windows. Sal had walked by there on his way to the Church¡¯s well. Another glance, and the windows were empty. Fabrizio had a large leather satchel for his exorcism supplies. He was pale, and his upper lip was covered in sweat. ¡°It¡¯s times like these when I question my calling. What kind of priest is afraid of ghosts? And we won¡¯t mention my demon phobia. I have to tell myself, over and over, that the Primogeny closed the gates to the Abyssmuck when they defeated the Dark Lord Mood. Sal wasn¡¯t about to tell him the truth about those gates. They were mostly closed, but not quite sealed, which is how Sal had recruited an ash demon as one of his minions. Dergle Driptongue had come directly from the Abyssmuck. Sal didn¡¯t want his Ponti friend any more nervous. He tried to be encouraging. ¡°We are not attempting to reanimate a corpse, nor are we trying to enslave the spirit. We are merely encouraging them to move on.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard stories they hate that. She¡¯s here for a reason.¡± ¡°Why would you suppose her sex to be of the feminine persuasion?¡± That series of word made Betty pinch him. Fabrizio shrugged. ¡°Just a hunch. I don¡¯t know. You said she screams every morning, and most banshees are women, so, two plus two equals four. Did I mention I like poetry and math? A lot of people think if you like one, you have to hate the other, but I¡¯m living proof that¡¯s not the case. I like the precision of mathematics. Don¡¯t get me started on the quadratic equation. It¡¯s amazing.¡± Sal thought his nervous chatter was adorable, though he knew many folk wouldn¡¯t be so patient. Maybe that was why the Ponti didn¡¯t have a family. Sal pulled away the lock and chain and opened the double doors wide. He saw a pale face in the doorway to the kitchen. A second later, there was the sound of feet pounding up the stairs to the upper level. The tables and benches were all stacked up once again. If the ghosts could move furniture, maybe they could help him cook. That was unlikely, however. He had to banish them so he could open his diner. With the caf¨¦ uncursed, businesses might return to Champion Plaza. Why hadn¡¯t the church elders in town cleared out the ghosts? And Kaixo had mentioned something about the gangs and the plaza. He still had so many questions. Fabrizio had gone quiet. Sal could almost hear the priest¡¯s heartbeat. ¡°Not all of the ghosts are bad, Fabrizio. One rolled a peach to me. I¡¯m not sure where he got it, but the fruit was as sweet as candy.¡± ¡°More than one ghost?¡± the Ponti sputtered. ¡°Oh, Yeshu, protect me with your pages. Sanctify me in your precious ink. May the spine of my life never be cracked!¡± Sal sighed happily. ¡°I do find figurative language so satisfying.¡± The Ponti gulped in a breath. ¡°I should take that as a compliment. Where do you think the, uh, banshee that¡¯s trying to kill you lives most of the time?¡± ¡°If pressed, I would guess the attic.¡± ¡°I¡¯m pressing, Sal. Oh, boy, am I pressing.¡± Fabrizio waved him on. ¡°After you. I think I¡¯m going to have a heart attack. I¡¯m so scared. Are you scared? You don¡¯t seem scared.¡± Sal had dealt with actual demons from the Abyssmuck, on many occasions, daily if you counted Dergle Driptongue. He¡¯d had his own experiences with ghosts, vengeful and righteous, and he¡¯d even lost one of his Gorbin legions to an actual army of specters. Most of the time, phantoms were just lost souls who needed a little guidance to find the afterlife. Sometimes they weren¡¯t. The Dark Lord had no idea what he was dealing with, only that the banshee might know his true identity. She had been around when he¡¯d been resurrected, and she¡¯d called him a miscreant. What if she revealed that he was the Dark Lord Salvanguish Abner Ordinal? The Ponti was a good, good man, but forgiving a Dark Lord might be beyond him. ¡°Follow me,¡± Sal said as he walked into the caf¨¦ and up the stairs. The place, as always, was unnaturally cool, which felt heavenly after the heat of the day. Fabrizio did follow, which given the circumstance, was a very admirable show of courage. That touched Sal. He hoped neither one of them would live to regret the Ponti¡¯s courage or the Dark Lord¡¯s resurrection. Chapter Twelve – A Rather Loud Exorcism An unexpected oath. Eyes filled with darkness and death. The threat of holy water. The banshee¡¯s strange request. Sealing the deal. No spears blocked their way, and there wasn¡¯t any daggers, but Sal was annoyed to find his bedding scattered around his room. He¡¯d made his bed so carefully. Checking, the bed was turned upside down, and the desk and chair were on top of it. The wardrobe had been turned to face the wall. If he¡¯d had anything inside of it, that might¡¯ve been problem, but all he had were his own clothes. They tried the left-side door, and it took some shoving, but they pushed the trunks away¡ªboth had been stacked in front of it. They bustled into the room but paused at the bottom of the ladder. Up in the attic was where the real fun would begin. Though it was chilly, Fabrizio wiped the sweat off his forehead. ¡°Should I take this as a good sign? Oh boy, I don¡¯t know, but it seems the banshee knows what¡¯s coming. Hey, ghost, sorry to come and, uh, kick you out, but you can¡¯t go around trying to murder the rightful owner of this caf¨¦.¡± That brought shrieks of laughter, loud laughter, from above. Fabrizio covered his ears. Sal suffered through the explosion, and he felt Betty wrestling around in his pocket, probably hurting more than either of them. ¡°You are the rightful owner, right, Sal?¡± Fabrizio asked. Now the ghost was very quiet. The Dark Lord tried to figure out what to say. The truth was that no one seemed to own any of the buildings in Champion Plaza. He returned to what Betty had said at the beginning of his adventures. ¡°I¡¯m here to do some good, Fabrizio. Do I have the deed to this building? No. Will I take care of it and make the city a better place? Yes. Yes, I will.¡± Fabrizio squeezed his eyes shut. ¡°I hate moral quandaries. They¡¯re all so gray and ambiguous. Do you promise to open the diner and help people?¡± Sal saw he was dangerously close to being forced to take an oath, which in this case, probably meant he¡¯d die if he broke it. ¡°I will not be able to provide free food to my patrons, yet at the same time, greed will not be my driving force. I will provide food, employment, pay my taxes, and perhaps find a way to bring other industry to Champion Plaza. You have my word.¡± Wait. What just happened? He waited for a Diagraff message, but none came. Again, silence from the ghost¡ªno screaming, no shrieking, no laughter that sounded like church bells peeling and threatening to destroy the entire word with noise. ¡°I¡¯m going to hold you to that,¡± the Ponti said with a smile, dimples, dark eyes, and all. Sal sighed. ¡°I know. Let¡¯s just take care of the ghost, so I can sleep in at least one morning a week.¡± He knew what he¡¯d just signed up for. Running a restaurant was a calling, in and of itself, and he would have to be as committed to his business as Fabrizio was to his chapel. Maybe even a little more so, because he wouldn¡¯t have the mother church helping him if his profits failed. The Ponti pointed. ¡°I¡¯ll, uh, come up in a moment. But if you¡¯d like to go first, that would be, uh, great, because, I¡¯m, well, you know...¡± ¡°Weary under the weight of your fear?¡± Fabrizio grinned nervously. ¡°Glad you didn¡¯t say beleaguered by my own cowardice. So glad you¡¯re not using the word cowardice at all.¡± ¡°Never. You are here, my friend. Bravery isn¡¯t lack of fear, that¡¯s foolhardiness. Bravery is walking through your fear afraid.¡± ¡°Oh boy, I¡¯m sure doing that all right.¡± The former Dark Lord was very proud of his new friend. He took hold of the rungs and clambered up the ladder and into the attic. He was met with shrieks and chains rattling and a huge thump from his left. That was the chest rolling over onto its side. On his right, the pale-faced woman with all that dark hair screamed at him. Her eyes were twin voids promising annihilation of mind, body, and spirit. Part of him thought the theatrics were a good sign. She knew what was coming. Another part was pretty sure she would open her mouth and speak to him, which if the lore was correct, would kill him and the Ponti on the spot. Banshees would scream to frighten people away, but every one of their actual spoken words acted like a dagger in the heart. ¡°Is it okay up there?¡± Fabrizio called in a trembling voice. Sal so wanted to lie. He couldn¡¯t. ¡°No, my friend, it is a horror. However, we are here to deal with the horror.¡± He held up his hand. ¡°Not that I am implying you are a horror, spirit. Nonetheless, you must be cognizant that this horrific scene is uncomfortable for both the living and the sane.¡± If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. That brought out another scream, and for a second, all Sal saw was a cavernous maw in the pale face, eclipsing the rather attractive nose and those twin abysmal eye sockets. ¡°Fabrizio, I think our time is short,¡± Sal said, mouth suddenly dry. ¡°Have faith. Yeshu is with you.¡± Or that was the hope, though with how fickle gods could be, perhaps Grandfather Breath¡¯s grandson had other ideas. Praying to the dark god, the Bad Dad, somehow felt easier. For a long moment, Sal thought Fabrizio would stay down there, but no, the Ponti scrambled up, shoved his way past the Dark Lord, and started unpacking. First thing he did was light three candles with a sparkstick, murmuring, ¡°For Grandmother Maker, for Grandfather Breath, for the good grandson who wrote the first book.¡± It was the Trionic blessing, the comforting trinity of gods that didn¡¯t have the issues some of the other gods had. The ghost in the shadows screamed again, and this time, a freezing wind swept across them, and the trunk thumped back onto its bottom. The candles flickered, almost went out, but the flames stayed strong, a testament to Fabrizio¡¯s faith. Sal found mad laughter inside him. ¡°Am I wrong to enjoy the chill? For long hours, the afternoon inferno boiled my blood.¡± He heard Betty squeak. ¡°That was a good one.¡± Fabrizio was as white as the ghost¡¯s pale cheeks. He didn¡¯t comment, but was murmuring more prayers, and opening up Yeshu¡¯s Book. He held it in his left hand, a ribbon acting as bookmark draping down from the page he¡¯d marked. In his right hand, he held a vial of holy water. He gulped in a breath. ¡°I don¡¯t want to splash you with holy water. You know the deal, ma¡¯am, this is where I call down the wrath of the gods on you. Just, uh, leave, why don¡¯t you?¡± The woman¡¯s face was back to normal, well, normalish. Her black eyes were sunken into the pale spectral flesh. Her hair was standing at end like a midnight halo. On the wall, ice cracked as frost formed, and there were more words there. I do not want to leave. I want to stay. ¡°Oh boy,¡± Fabrizio whispered. ¡°She¡¯s not gonna go quietly.¡± Sal laughed nervously. ¡°I would assume more screaming is on the horizon. Yet, she does not speak words. She does not want us dead.¡± Frost popped and creaked as the words changed. That is presumptuous. I have tried to slay you at every turn. Sal shook his head. ¡°You have the means to kill me outright, spirit. One word would send me back to the Abyssmuck.¡± The words escaped him before he could stop himself. It was so cold, and he knew he stood on the razor¡¯s edge between life and death. Fabrizio didn¡¯t seem to notice Sal¡¯s slipup. The Ponti was reading from Yeshu¡¯s book, the vial of holy water in his hand. He glanced up. Mist puffed from his lips as he spoke. ¡°One splash and you¡¯re gone. I think. I would hope. No, no, no, it would work. I have so much faith right now.¡± Did the banshee smile? Yes, she did smile, and it was charming. Those black eyes glittered with amusement. Sal wanted to hurry on to cover his mistaken reference to the Abyssmuck. ¡°If leaving is not pleasing to you, what do you wish?¡± More frosty words on the wall. To stay. Perhaps a job. Will you be true to your oath? Will you open the diner? Sal winced. ¡°So you heard that? It seems the very gods themselves want this cursed caf¨¦ open. I will endeavor to open a thriving business to feed the hungry people of this city. Why do you ask? Are you seeking employment.¡± The banshee seemed torn. Then her smile and amusement were gone. She seemed to gaze into Sal¡¯s very soul. On the wall appeared a very significant question. Are you a changed man? It hit the former Dark Lord like an a Gorbin ax to his skull. ¡°That is my hope. Do I have faith in myself? No, I do not. Do I have faith in this Pontifex to keep me right? I believe I do.¡± He turned and saw the Ponti looking at him, and there was bright expectation in his dark eyes. And yes, some love. The pair had become fast friends. It was the essence of irony, and yet, it was a powerful story, repeated often¡ªa holy man befriends a fallen man, and together, they are healed. Water ran down the wall from the melting ice, but her reply soon was visible. Let me stay. I will aid you in your endeavors. I, too, will keep you on the righteous path. ¡°That is going a bit far, I think,¡± Sal said with some bitterness. ¡°I doubt I shall I ever walk the righteous path. Though, in my present state, I am being forced to wear the chains of righteousness. I am surprised to find I do not mind the weight. Perhaps, I will even begin to enjoy the burdens of goodness.¡± He thought of the short sword and the four brigands. He thought of finding the Gorbin library in the crypt instead of the treasure, and how it was somewhat of a relief that he hadn¡¯t been given riches. He thought of all the challenges he¡¯d already faced, without lying, without stealing, without killing. He was proud of himself. His bitterness was gone. ¡°To be honest, I am already am.¡± The banshee approached him. Her hair had relaxed, and she looked more human than ever. She held out a pale hand. She wanted him to take it, to shake hands, to make some kind of deal. Clasping hands with a spirit, demon, or otherwise unhinged entity was never a good idea, and yet, Sal found he trusted the banshee. She could¡¯ve killed him, but she hadn¡¯t. And he knew why. She¡¯d heard his conversation with Betty Don¡¯t-Bite. She knew about Sal¡¯s Mysterious Benefactor. And then he remembered the first frosty words he¡¯d seen. She knew who he was. Sal took the cold hand in his, and in that instant, he felt a strange power flow from him, and he thought of his strangely locked Diagraff Vitalis. His resurrection hadn¡¯t only altered his body, it had altered his very soul as well. <<<>>> We have a whole laundry list of goodness! Karmic Gauge increased by 7%. Taking an oath! Helping a ghost! Encouraging a friend! Current Karmic Gauge: 16% (A cheery reddish orange color! You¡¯re almost out of the red!) <<<>>> Sal didn¡¯t know what that all meant, though he found it encouraging. Before he could truly consider the implications, the ghost in front of him changed. Color returned to her cheeks, and while she was still transparent and ghostly, she took on a more corporeal form. He saw the lines in the linen gown she wore, and glancing down, he could make out every one of her toes on her feet. She was there, in some possible way, with a far more substantial body. Ice creaked across the wall. Then we have a deal. The banshee then turned transparent again before fading away completely. The Ponti blew out a breath. ¡°Uh, what just happened? And where is the trunk and all those chains?¡± Sal and Fabrizio were alone once more. Chapter Thirteen – A Bit of a Confession The power of a hug. Lies of omission. A formal introduction. The Gimm and the Gorbin. Goodbyes. Late night reading. Fabrizio fell against Sal, then grabbed him, and hugged him. ¡°Oh boy, that was intense. Thanks, Sal. Thanks for believing in me.¡± The former Dark Lord stiffened at first, but then relaxed into the embrace. He threw his arms around his friend and hugged him back. He was surprised to find the human touch so comforting. When was the last time he¡¯d been hugged? It saddened him to realize it had been a very long, long time. Maybe it was his father who had hugged? Maybe it was Clarice? No, Clarice had been dead for a very long time. With a shock, Sal realized it had been his father, Mickey the Cook, who had last held him. The former Dark Lord was surprised to find himself on the edge of weeping. It needn¡¯t be said, but Dark Lords are so rarely embraced with legitimate affection. And outright crying was unheard of. He didn¡¯t break the embrace, which was equally surprising, but it was the Ponti who eventually stepped away. Both stood near to each other as they stood pondering the water dripping down the wall. The room wasn¡¯t as cold anymore. Sal missed the touch of his friend, and so he took Fabrizio¡¯s hand for a moment, before remembering himself before dropping it and stepping away. ¡°The chained chest remains a mystery for the time being. As for our friend the banshee¡­¡± His voice died in his throat as more words appeared on the wall. My name is Shivaun. And tell him about the book. I think it is of some importance. ¡°What book?¡± Fabrizio asked. Betty giggled softly in his pocket. Sal squeezed his eyes closed. This banshee knew all of his business. ¡°Let us retreat downstairs, and I will show you. I would beg you to remember that on the path of righteousness, even the best of men are wont to stray.¡± Fabrizio laughed. ¡°Our banshee friend talks like you! I mean, not talk, but you get the picture. This has all been so unexpected. I thought the ghost would be totally evil and stuff. Oh boy, but she was surprising. This night just keeps getting better and better. She¡¯s not gone, is she?¡± ¡°No, she is not gone. Verily, it seems I have an undead partner in this business.¡± He helped Fabrizio pack up his things in silence. Sal felt the fear in his belly as they made their way down to the ground floor. The book was on the windowsill, where he¡¯d left it. He lifted The Chronicles of GuNakt and gave it to the Ponti. ¡°I have to confess at least one of my many sins. The other day, when we first met, I strayed down into the crypts. I found a hidden library near the Trionic statues at the far end of the tomb. I borrowed a book, intent upon returning it. I should¡¯ve told you, but my fear kept my tongue still.¡± Every word was the truth, and he was rewarded for it. <<<>>> Confession is good for the soul! Karmic Gauge increased by 5%. Current Karmic Gauge: 21% (We have achieved orange!) <<<>>> Sal liked the shade of the orange color, and he was so glad to be out of the red. At the same time, he wondered if he could game the system. Could he relapse, do something bad, to make it worth losing Karma points? He could then do good to increase it. But to what end? If he wanted to increase his power, he couldn¡¯t go back into the red, that was fairly clear. No, taking the book and not telling Fabrizio had been a devastating mistake. He couldn¡¯t do that again. Fabrizio opened the tome. ¡°This is in Gorbinish. A secret library in the crypt? Oh boy, but I hated going down into the crypt. Maybe I won¡¯t be so afraid anymore because not all ghosts are completely evil. That¡¯s a surprise.¡± He frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t know any Gorbinish. Not many people do. Every so often, you see one in town, but they mostly keep to themselves. They live in the caves in the mountains, down deep, below the Gimm cities.¡± ¡°Gimm cities?¡± Sal asked. The Gimm were the Stoneskins, from up north, a savage people who used their tall ships to pillage towns. There hadn¡¯t been any Gimm on Torment Island for as long as Sal could remember, and that was a long, long time. ¡°Yeah, the Gimm started out coming to Tower City as Climbers, but some of the Stoneskins kinda liked our island, and so they settled into the mountains. Then when they got tired of being out in the wild, they move into town, in the northern part. People like to move to new places. But Sal, why didn¡¯t you tell me? This isn¡¯t stealing, exactly, but it is lying. A lie of omission.¡± The Dark Lord nodded. ¡°What can I tell you? I justified taking the book in all kinds of ways. Yet, if you and I are to be friends, we must be honest. I will be as truthful as I can be from here on out. I swear to you.¡± Increasing his Karmic Gauge depended on it. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Fabrizio searched his face for lies, and Sal had to glance away. He felt very exposed. And shameful. It had been a mistake, one that his new banshee friend, Shivaun, wanted him to correct. The Ponti¡¯s voice was gentle. ¡°What kind of Pontifex would I be if I couldn¡¯t find a little forgiveness in my heart. I want us to be friends, Sal. You¡¯re not like anyone I¡¯ve ever met.¡± That made Sal laugh. ¡°Let me show you another of my secrets.¡± He reached into his pocket, more afraid than ever, and gently removed his little mouse friend. Would Betty speak? He hoped she wouldn¡¯t. That would open a can of worms that Sal didn¡¯t want to fish with any time soon. He knew, though, he¡¯d have to tell Fabrizio his entire story at some point. The little gray mouse lifted a pink paw and waved. Fabrizio¡¯s smile was innocent and delighted. ¡°She¡¯s a smart little thing. Is she your familiar?¡± ¡°Just a friend,¡± Sal said. Fabrizio shook the little pink paw with a finger. ¡°I¡¯m Ponti Fabrizio Pasha.¡± When the mouse didn¡¯t answer, Sal took up the task. ¡°She¡¯s Betty Don¡¯t-Bite. Until I met you, she was my only friend. In some ways, me coming to this cursed caf¨¦ was her idea.¡± ¡°This is all right out of a storybook!¡± the Ponti said enthusiastically. ¡°A mouse in your pocket? A secret Gorbin library underneath my chapel. How could this be?¡± Sal replied truthfully. ¡°I have no idea.¡± Fabrizio put the book on the table and opened it near the end, where there were some graphs and symbols that Sal hadn¡¯t seen before. They reminded him of his vision, something he would have to take a bit more seriously. Shaking hands with Shivaun had awakened something inside him, and he still felt the power, thrumming through him. Or it might be the adrenaline. Either way, things had changed. ¡°What¡¯s the book about?¡± the Ponti asked. ¡°It is the journal of a Gorbin foot soldier, one of the Dark Lord Salvanguish¡¯s minions. He did not think too much of the Deux Coin Dark Lord, and much of it concerns Salvanguish¡¯s missteps, his moodiness, his arrogance. He hated the Dark Lord. Everyone did. They laughed at him behind his back, and they thought he was foolish, arrogant, and blind.¡± Sal felt emotion choke him. He had to clear his throat to continue. ¡°That¡¯s the first part. The second part concerns a magic system, but I do not know what the charts and graphs reference. I will have to read more.¡± Fabrizio seemed captivated by the book. Yet, his next question was aimed at Sal. ¡°How can you read Gorbinish? No one can read Gorbinish. For a long time, it was illegal. I always thought that was taking things a bit too far. How can you outlaw an entire language?¡± ¡°Those must¡¯ve been dark times,¡± Sal said. And meant it. ¡°Yeah, I get that.¡± The Ponti paused. ¡°It was the church that did it. You know, I bet you that some Pontifex thought that was some grade-A malarkey, and stashed the books in the crypt. You know, there might have been treasure down there at some point, but it got moved or stolen or whatever, and the Pontifex, a righteous man of Yeshu, swore to keep the books safe.¡± There was that word again. Righteous. Now that was a word full of connotations, some welcome, some not. How many righteous people had committed atrocities because of their own self-important righteousness? Betty patted Sal¡¯s finger. She pointed at him. He knew what that meant. She wanted him to answer Fabrizio¡¯s original question, but how could he? He surprised himself by finding an honest answer. ¡°Growing up, I loved books, and language, and history. This should not be shocking, given my fondness for sentences overflowing with metaphor and elevated diction. I wanted to know all the languages, to read every tome ever written, so hence, I learned Gorbinish.¡± ¡°Where did you grow up?¡± Fabrizio asked. ¡°On an island now lost, drank up by the oceans of time, never to return,¡± Sal said. ¡°I came here as refugee, and found an unexpected home in this haunted place, now a bit less haunted thanks to you.¡± The Ponti chuckled quietly, blushing a bit. ¡°Oh. Boy. What did I do? I lit some candles and threatened Shivaun with some water. I did have the book.¡± ¡°And your faith in Yeshu, my friend. When Shivaun screamed, and there was that freezing wind, your candles flickered but they were not extinguished. It could be, that threat of extinction was what brought about the banshee¡¯s change.¡± ¡°And you shook hands with her. Oh boy, that took some gumption. Did you notice she kinda got less ghostly after your handshake?¡± ¡°I did. And I felt something, deep down, as well. Some kind of power exchange.¡± The Ponti laughed nervously. ¡°Don¡¯t you go getting evil on me, Sal.¡± ¡°Never, Ponti Pasha.¡± In his mind, Sal added, never again, but he kept those words quiet. Fabrizio closed the book. ¡°Keep this for now. I¡¯ll go and check out the secret library, and see if I can find a dictionary. I¡¯d love to learn Gorbin. I¡¯ve read all the books I have, and I¡¯m kinda tired of re-reading. Not that re-reading isn¡¯t fun, but there¡¯s nothing like a new book. And now I have a whole new language!¡± ¡°Is Gorbinish still not illegal?¡± The Ponti shrugged. ¡°Not really. I don¡¯t think anyone much cares anymore. We have, like, whole new worlds of trouble to deal with, what with tensions between the Yanir and the Scallia Capra brewing. And the Isham are traveling more. You¡¯ll see whole groups of the southerners around. But that¡¯s a whole thing, and I¡¯ve had a long, long day. I gotta go.¡± Sal put out a hand. ¡°Thank you, again, Fabrizio.¡± The Ponti shook his hand, gave Betty a little salute, and moved toward the door. ¡°I¡¯m just glad I could help. Stil not sure how much I did help, but hey, it was kind of fun in a terrifying kind of way. Will I see you at dinner tomorrow night?¡± ¡°You will,¡± Sal said. ¡°Every night, at least until I can get the caf¨¦ operational. I will remember my oath.¡± ¡°Yeah, you will,¡± the Ponti chuckled. ¡°If I¡¯m not around, you¡¯ll have a banshee to light a fire under you.¡± He wasn¡¯t wrong. ¡°Are you safe to walk home alone?¡± Sal asked. That made Fabrizio laugh. ¡°Certainly! I have Yeshu of the Book with me! What¡¯s some banditry compared to the power of a god?¡± Sal had direct experience with that particular truth. He¡¯d bartered away a short sword for his life. It was only a few moments until he was alone in the caf¨¦ with Betty. He sat at a table with the mouse in his hand. ¡°Why did you keep your tongue still?¡± Sal asked his friend. Betty jerked her thumb back behind her. ¡°Listen, champ, if I would¡¯ve dazzled that guy with my wit and wordplay, he would¡¯ve had ten zillion questions. You and I aren¡¯t ready for that action, and we need him for all kinds of reasons. For one, that rye bread is die for. Another? The butter. Have we talked about the butter? Dee-lish!¡± Sal smiled. His little caf¨¦ was quiet, no chains, no screaming, no spears appearing in unexpected places. Shivaun seemed satisfied, at least for now. Sal did wonder about the ghost who had rolled the peach to him. They might¡¯ve soothed one of the specters in his little establishment, but he had the idea there were more. And he wasn¡¯t going to forget about the chained chest any time soon. He opened GuNakt¡¯s journal again, skipping sections that reminded Sal of the kind of man he¡¯d been before. It wasn¡¯t easy to read any of that. But he wanted to get to the charts and graphs. He thought they might be the key to unlocking his Diagraff. Chapter Fourteen – Two Weeks of Relative Comfort Sunrise greetings. All dished up and nowhere to go. A happy puppy and the Copper Key. Gorbin secrets. A strangely expected visitor. The next two weeks passed comfortably for the new Sal Fang. He thought the banshee would let him sleep in, but he was sadly mistaken. Early next morning, she howled him awake and when he asked the empty room why there was such screeching, frosty words appeared on the wall: I am compelled to start my day with a good scream. The end result was that Sal was encouraged to go to sleep went the sun went down because he would certainly be waking up with the sunrise. Each night, after eating dinner at the Mind & Body Tables, he would help Fabrizio with the cleanup and then hurry home to get to sleep. After his daily morning shriek, he would study GuNakt¡¯s book for several hours, and then make plans for his great reopening. Foot traffic was going to be an issue. As were supplies because he didn¡¯t have any money to buy any actual food to cook. On a brighter note, every morning, as he read, the friendly ghost rolled a peach to him. It was a simple breakfast, but the quality of the fruit made up for that. He tried to remain positive. He had a lot to be grateful for. He had the building, tables, benches, and the dishes along with tableware. Many of the plates and bowls were cracked, yet to Sal, that added a certain charm. And his silverware, not actually made of silver, was large and old-fashioned. That seemed like a bonus to the former Dark Lord, who liked holding a knife and fork with some weight to them. Everything needed several good cleanings, and Sal did the first round, and Shivaun took care of the second, third, and fourth. She also reorganized the pots and pans, and even spent some time sharpening the knives on a whetstone. She was very useful, not only with her more substantial hands, but also with the fact that her presence kept the place cold. That was going to be his main marketing ploy¡ªa cool place to eat, even at noon, so come and try the eggs! If only he had the eggs to cook. While the market had many egg vendors, their supplier was another one of the Braggadorio families, who had divided up the city. The Feather Pharaoh had cornered the market on both eggs and chickens, and there wasn¡¯t anyone in the city that weren¡¯t forced to deal with him if they wanted a supply of eggs. Sal figured he wouldn¡¯t be doing a ton of business, at least not a first, so he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d had to deal with the Feather Pharaoh at all, nor the Butter King, nor the Pork Poet. He knew where to buy his supplies. He simply didn¡¯t have the money to buy them. When it came to selling the armor and gear in his cellar, Shivaun was adamantly against it. She¡¯d write on the walls to let them be, and it was clear that she had some sort of connection to them. He also had the idea that one of those bodies had been hers. Which one, it was impossible to say, and she wasn¡¯t forthcoming with information. In order to keep their peaceful relationship, Sal wasn¡¯t going to push it. He was just grateful that she wasn¡¯t pushing him to talk about his past. For now, they had a good working relationship. He¡¯d make a request for her to clean something, or to organize something, and she would do it without complaint and with only a few words of conversation on the walls. As for the bodies in the alley, he stayed up late one night to carry them over to the church. He laid them against a side wall and was relieved no one had caught him in the act. That part of town was so very deserted, though on the other side of the church, Tower Road, which had the higher end shops along the path, all the way from the port to the tower itself and to the governor¡¯s mansion nestled into an arm of the mountain. Kenny always did have a good view. Sal was a bit worried that once Shivaun¡¯s body was burned, she would vanish like early morning mist. And yes, he didn¡¯t like the idea of a basement full of skeletons. There was a good chance the Pontrafax Genetrix would simply add the bones to the crypts below the church. Then, Shivaun could stay with him forever. The idea was soothing. He¡¯d certainly had worse friends. There was another issue that Sal didn¡¯t know how to solve. For now, he was going to the church well for water. That would prove to be a major issue once they started serving customers. There was a faucet in the kitchen. It didn¡¯t work. They needed a water supply, but the faucet, like the fountain out in the plaza, was dry. It was like Kenny was laughing at him. One night, while Sal was going home, he saw a triumphant team leaving the tower with much fanfare. One of them, a big doghead warrior in plate mail, raised an oversized key made of bright beaten copper. The doghead had a big meaty sword in a scabbard and he was grinning, tongue dangling. For the proud Hajawan, such an undignified and animal appearance would be unthinkable if he hadn¡¯t been captured up in the moment. He was with other Canus soldiers with furry faces and furry hands. At the time, Sal thought the Copper Key was treasure, but come to find out, it was a key they could use to gain access to the next floor of the tower. He didn¡¯t have a good working knowledge of how the tower climbing worked, since in the end, he could never be a climber, not with his enforced pacifism. In some ways, he was glad he didn¡¯t have to walk that path. From all accounts, entering the tower meant treasure and power, but it also meant certain death. It was the rare person, indeed, who won any of the keys. It was rather sobering that after a thousand years, no one had reached the top of the tower where supposedly the Deux Coin rested. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. There were plenty of theories about where the coin might be, and some thought it was floating around as just a normal coin, and some idiot had it, but didn¡¯t realize it. There were any number of stories of people across time and history who¡¯d had a coin and didn¡¯t know it until it was too late. If Sal had to bet, he would¡¯ve wagered that the coin was in general circulation. It was easy to think that it might end up in his till at some point, though Betty had made it clear that he wouldn¡¯t even be able to touch it without dying. That would be ironic if he took money from someone only to wind up dead at the counter. He¡¯d just have to risk that chance. He didn¡¯t think he¡¯d ever have the money to hire help that wasn¡¯t undead. Speaking of restless spirits, it wasn¡¯t Shivaun who rolled his daily peach breakfast to him. She wrote that she didn¡¯t know who it was, but they seemed nice. The word in question was ¡°seemed¡± because everyone knew a ghost could turn churlish for any reason at all. While a fickle specter was a worry, Sal wasn¡¯t going to turn his nose up the peaches. They were his breakfast, snack, and lunch, while he waited for dinner. As he thought, fourteen days of lentils and rye bread still hadn¡¯t grown tiresome. In fact, each night, the food seemed to improve. And on Sundays, when the free meal wasn¡¯t available, Fabrizio would give him an extra loaf of bread, and a crockery of butter, which was so generous. Much to both of their delight, the Ponti did find a Gorbinish to Yeshin dictionary, and Sal helped him find a book simple enough that Fabrizio could start translating it. It was a Gorbinish book for adolescents, which gave all sorts of advice for both boys and girls alike. It was written in very simple language with some very simple diagrams. One section was sobering. It talked about how the outside world viewed the Gorbin, and how they should conduct themselves. Mostly, it was to act aggressively and savagely, to keep up the myth of the Gorbin being monsters who didn¡¯t have any skin at all, and were in fact, partially dead. That wasn¡¯t the case. The Gorbin simply had transparent skin, and so their tissues and tendons were visible. That and their large mouths, filled with sharp teeth, made people think they were monsters. Gorbin were generally a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than you¡¯re your normal human. Traditionally, before they¡¯d been recruited for the Dark Lord¡¯s army, they¡¯d lived in underground cities, most of the time organized around natural caverns, but extended through muscle and hammer, to become gorgeous subterranean palaces. Sal had thought that the Gorbin were rather simple-minded, but that wasn¡¯t the case, obviously. It was carefully crafted cultural persona to keep their secret safe. In fact, the Gorbin were very sophisticated in some surprising ways. And they valued peace, at least the ones who hadn¡¯t fought in his army. This was all so surprising. Most surprising of all, the Gorbin had done a great of research into their Diagraffs and found ways to improve their powers. That fascinated Sal. To think, he¡¯d had not the slightest clue. It begged the question: Why they didn¡¯t share their findings with him or his lieutenants? To keep such a closely guarded secret only showed their dedication and cultural loyalties, of which he¡¯d had little knowledge of. Sal could only wonder if he could use that to help him with his own powers. He was starting fresh again, and he didn¡¯t want sorcery for conquering or fighting, but magic in the kitchen would prove so very useful, miraculously so. He¡¯d already seen the benefits of having a ghost working for him. There were also drawbacks. She would disappear for hours on end, or appear in the middle of the night, ready for work. She said she didn¡¯t get to decide when she appeared and disappeared, that her days and nights couldn¡¯t be tracked in time mortals could understand. Betty didn¡¯t know what that meant, and Fabrizio, who hadn¡¯t studied very much about ghosts, given his phobia, was ignorant on the subject. Sal knew only one sorcerer in town, and in this case, it was a sorceress¡ªKaixo Allakarra. Either her fortunes had improved, or she¡¯d left the island for other adventures. He kept expecting to see her again at the evening meals, but she didn¡¯t reappear. Nor did the four ruffians, though that might be explained by the fact that they worked for the Butter King and not the Pork Poet, and probably wouldn¡¯t want to be caught in the wrong part of town. Sal was still figuring out the territories of the various Braggadorio bosses, but he knew there were two people that he would eventually encounter. One was the Pontrafax Genetrix, because Fabrizio had admitted he would have to talk to her about the new owner of the cursed caf¨¦, which wasn¡¯t so cursed anymore. At least that building wasn¡¯t. The other was the governor, whom no one respected but who had a reputation for being hands-on. Normally, he would send some magistrate to either ask for a deed or to collect taxes from someone taking over an abandoned building in his town. Fabrizio was pretty sure that Ziggy would come himself. Fabrizio thought so. They would discuss things as they did dishes every night after dinner. The good deeds paid off, as did Sal¡¯s gratitude and his positive attitude. His Karmic Gauge, increased from orange to yellow, and after the two weeks, he was at 50%, a yellowish-green color. Sal thought he might be understanding the Karmic Gauge a little more. According to ancient Menold color theory, there were six colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. If his goal was to get to a hundred percent, that meant at every 16.6%, he would change color. He drew up a quick chart, rounding up. <<<>>> 1% ¡ª 17%: Red 7% ¡ª 34%: Orange 34% ¡ª 51%: Yellow 51% ¡ª 68%: Green 68% ¡ª 85%: Blue 85% ¡ª 100%: Purple <<<>>> He couldn¡¯t be sure his chart was correct, and he didn¡¯t know what would happen once he reached purple, but the process gave him some hope. He had gone from orange to yellow around the 34% mark, which validated his theory a bit. That was all fine and good, but he had to get his diner open. He had to honor his solemn oath. But the thought of cooking even a simple egg made him anxious. On Monday afternoon, when Sal was about to leave to walk to dinner, Tower City¡¯s governor showed up. He found Craig Clifton Zigglesworth strange in all of the strangest ways. Chapter Fifteen – Governor Ziggy Black and white fashion. The masked governor. The rudeness of squatting. Tony Belly. The deal. An unnamed Favor. The frightened ghost. That fateful day, Betty left him, like she normally did, going off to retrieve her breakfast of crumbs. However, she didn¡¯t return, which made Sal worried. Late afternoon, while the former Dark Lord was getting ready to leave for the Mind & Body Tables, he heard the clatter of hooves on the cobblestones, coming up from the southeast, which made sense since that was the widest avenue connecting the harbor to Champion Plaza. The gleaming white carriage wouldn¡¯t have fit on Champion Road, which connect the plaza to Tower Road. Most of the carriage was white. The wheels were black. There were six horses, all a remarkable black and white color, with their manes combed and clean. They had equally coiffed hair around their forelocks, giving them a jaunty appearance. They were very happy horses, but then, they also had blinders on, and Sal thought maybe that was the crux of their happiness. If he¡¯d been given a steady diet of hay, a comfortable place to sleep, and if he¡¯d had his eyes covered, maybe he¡¯d be equally happy. Come to think of it, he had peaches, lentils, and a place to stay, now safe given that Shivaun wasn¡¯t trying to kill him at every turn. Maybe his sight was the source of his sorrow. Ignorance had a bliss all its own. Not that Sal wasn¡¯t happy. He was restless, though, and he had definite questions about his future that remained unanswered. There were four footmen, two driving, and two hanging off the back of the carriage. All wore black and white checkered pantaloons that swelled their legs, while their vests were very tight and constricting. Two of the footmen wore black cloth masks and two had faces covered with white lace. The horses might be happy, but the soldiers next to them weren¡¯t. They were scowling men, the bottom part of their faces visible underneath the visors of their white lacquer helmets. They too wore a mixture of whites and blacks to match the horses. They had big black polearms with white ribbons hanging down. The soldiers rode up on mounts not connected to the carriage. They dismounted and formed a line, six men each, creating a path from a very surprised Sal up to the carriage. A voice called out. ¡°Colonel Jim, are you ready?¡± One of the soldiers, a huge man with burn scars on his stubbled chin, pounded his polearm onto the stones. ¡°Governor, sir, yes, sir!¡± The carriage door was flung open, and outstepped someone who could only be Governor Craig Clifton Zigglesworth, otherwise known as Ziggy. He swung out dramatically, dressed in a black lacy topcoat, blinding white pants, and with two boots, one black and one white. The Governor had a wide brimmed hat, black, and a white porcelain mask, marred by a black tear, held up with a stick. He held the mask in place while gripping the handle of the carriage. ¡°So it¡¯s true! I thought it was just talk, but it¡¯s true! Someone has moved into Tony Belly¡¯s place, but it¡¯s so cursed!¡± Colonel Jim pounded his polearm. ¡°Presenting, the most esteemed Governor of Torment Island, mayor of Tower City, child of the Yanir Republic, thirty-second in line for the emperorship of the Yanir Republics, lesser duke of Malenka, his royalty and guiding hand, Governor Craig Clifton¡ª¡± The Governor cut his off the colonel. ¡°Yes, yes, yes, I think he knows who I am. How could he not? Except, maybe, the mask confuses him.¡± The Governor stepped down and walked down the aisle of armed men, who were not in the traditional purple and gold of the Yanir, but all very monochromatic. Sal was so thoroughly confused. Those men had miliary training, and only an idiot would go at them because those polearms weren¡¯t just steel and wood, there was a magical gleam to them, a white light, which was fortunate because any other color of light would interfere with the theme. The Governor was smiling. ¡°Does the mask confuse you?¡± He didn¡¯t lower it but sighed. ¡°I¡¯m Governor Zigglesworth, but you can call me Ziggy, because everyone does. Sorry it¡¯s taken so long for me to investigate you squatting, but I had to decide on just the right look. I went with the masked midnight white collection, and I know, it¡¯s a little much during the day, and without a proper masquerade, but why have clothes and livery that you don¡¯t use? Makes no sense! Not a lick of sense. What of the curse, man? The curse?¡± Sal went to answer. Ziggy dropped the mask. He was a thin man, who didn¡¯t seem to have any hair, except for his eyebrows, which were remarkably dark and bushy, above his bright, inquisitive hazel eyes. He was pale where he wasn¡¯t flushed. His nose had a nice shape to it. He had full lips, which he probably took pride in, since he was man who clearly liked to smile. He seemed as happy as the horses. ¡°There, this is me, Ziggy, Governor Ziggy, and you are? Let¡¯s have your name, sir, so we might talk man to man about the curse. Oh are you a ghost? Please, tell me now! You¡¯re so young!¡± Sal debated on either folding his arms across his chest, and taking a more aggressive stance, or bowing, because the Governor seemed like a man who would enjoy a good bow. However, it would be so humiliating to bow. A handshake. Sal figured since he¡¯d shaken hands with a ghost, he could do the same with the governor. It would be a friendly gesture. Sal reached out, and immediately found himself shaking hands with a halberd. Ziggy knocked the weapon away. ¡°Ease up, Bob. It¡¯s fine. He was about to tell me his name and tell me why he¡¯s breaking all sorts of laws. Well, not laws, maybe, in this case. More like social conventions. It¡¯s so rude to squat! Did I just say that out loud? Why, yes, yes, I did. Give me the glad hand, my good man.¡± The former Dark Lord clasped the governor¡¯s hand. ¡°I am called Sal Fang, and it pleases my soul to enjoy the condescensions of the great Governor of Torment Island. I will regale you with tales of the fraught encounters I have experienced with any number of ghouls in this humble diner.¡± Ziggy put his hand, the one not holding his mask stick to his mouth. ¡°Ghouls? Are they the source of the curse? I bet they are. They have to be. Was it scary? Were you scared?¡± The Governor reached out and grabbed Sal¡¯s arm. Ziggy gave it a squeeze, then cleared his throat, and then placed the mask against his face. It was clear he was waiting for Sal to say something. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°I will not lie to you, Governor.¡± Sal laughed inwardly. He couldn¡¯t lie, not if he wanted to keep his yellow status. ¡°I cannot, in fact, lie at all. That is a long story. Suffice to say, I made a deal with the banshee living in this dark diner. She will not kill all who enter, as long as I start a thriving business, providing food for the hungry Tower Climbers, seeking their fortune.¡± The Governor listened, clearly spellbound. Then he frowned. ¡°Was it Tony Belly¡¯s ghost? No, it couldn¡¯t be, because you said banshee, and I think banshees are girls. But maybe not because we¡¯re dealing with the spectral realm. What does gender really mean if you¡¯re dead? All that aside, have you seen Tony Belly?¡± Sal had no idea who that was. He did recall that the sorceress, Kaixo Allakarra had said something about the gangs having a connection with Champion Plaza. Perhaps this Tony Belly was a gangster lord. Or had been. The governor was waiting on him. Sal found words. ¡°Someone, or some mysterious force, has been giving me peaches. I do not know where from whence they come.¡± The Governor dropped the mask and looked at him, skeptical for the first time. ¡°You talk like a ghost. Oh, this is one of those stories, where the passerby meets a nice man, but come to find out, the nice man was a ghost all the while! This is very exciting.¡± ¡°I am not a ghost.¡± Sal had to laugh at that. He had come back from the dead and yet, he was now fully reanimated. Not a ghost. ¡°I will try to adjust my speech. I come from far away, another island, lost to time. Might I ask who this Tony Belly is?¡± ¡°Wait, wait, wait. Sal, my friend, you show up, walk into the most haunted part of the city, and then what? Make a deal with a ghost that literally murders anyone who goes into the caf¨¦? Really? I am not one to be suspicious, but by the Sacred Family¡¯s Purchase Festival¡¯s presents, this makes me suspicious.¡± ¡°It was fate,¡± Sal said, and again, he didn¡¯t have to lie. ¡°I came to this island, dead in all ways that counted, and I found myself, quite by accident here. It was deserted, and I thought I could pass the night in peace. As you said, I was nearly slain a dozen times. It was only until, I somehow managed to talk with the ghost, that I was able to make the deal.¡± He thought it was prudent not to include his friend the Ponti in this business. He had no idea, not really, all the parties involved. He knew there was some political hijinks afoot, that much was for certain. Why else hadn¡¯t the Pontrafax Genetrix cleared out the ghosts? Sal needed more information. ¡°Who is Tony Belly?¡± ¡°Was, not is, as far as I know!¡± The Governor laughed. ¡°You don¡¯t know who Tony Belly is, uh, was?¡± He turned, addressed his guards, ¡°This guy doesn¡¯t know about Tony Belly. Okay, fine, fine, fine. To catch you up, Tony Belly was the original Braggadorio, the first mafia boss, and this was a long time ago, like maybe a hundred or even two hundred years or something. I like fashion, not history, though, hmm, I do like the history of fashion. But I don¡¯t know anything about Tony Belly¡¯s actual clothes. Tony Belly kept the city together through some rough times. They didn¡¯t have my amazing leadership back then, right? I¡¯ll answer that for you, Mr. Sal Fang. I will answer in the affirmative. Tony Belly retired to this caf¨¦, when his sons took over. Only, you know how it is, brothers can never get along, this one gets a resentment, that one starts singing to their cows, and a hundred years later, you have these crime lords, which I would take care of, I would, but how? I only have enough resources to keep things from falling completely apart. And for the most part, they¡¯re fine. I¡¯m not sure how fine they¡¯ll be once they learn that you¡¯re in Tony Belly¡¯s place, but maybe you and I can come to an arrangement.¡± Sal had a thought. Could it be that the entire plaza was kept empty out of respect for the long-dead gangster? He wasn¡¯t sure, though by the glint in the governor¡¯s eye, Sal assumed this was where Ziggy would ask for money, a lot of money, to let him stay. Why wouldn¡¯t the governor fleece him for everything he was worth? Sal had no legal standing. However rude the word, he was squatting. ¡°I am listening very carefully, Ziggy,¡± Sal said finally. ¡°I am open to arrangements.¡± This was a half-truth, at best. He wasn¡¯t penalized, though, so maybe his Mysterious Benefactor was showing him some mercy. Ziggy had his mask back in place. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a deed, make it legal, and that might be okay with the Braggadorio families. Maybe. I still don¡¯t think they¡¯ll like it. There¡¯s a reason this whole square has been deserted, and I think, before you can say vendetta, you might find your place firebombed. Because, you know, Braggadorios. I¡¯m just glad they don¡¯t mess with the Tower Climbers and that whole thing. That brings in the taxes, and the revenue, business for everyone, and that¡¯s probably why they just fight among themselves. This place gets too dangerous for the climbers and what-not, we¡¯d be sunk., All of us. So they know that.¡± Sal thought of the dry faucet. ¡°If you give me a deed to the diner, would you also be able to help me get the water working? I have been getting water from the church well. Such a journey during a busy breakfast rush might be my undoing.¡± ¡°Oh, the poetry of your ghost talk! Sal! Fal Fang! Sally, my friend, I am your biggest supporter in this endeavor. Yes, yes to your faucet, no, no to the fountain. The fountain kinda belongs to the church. Long story short, I don¡¯t mess with the church.¡± He glanced around and then whispered, ¡°We have an understanding.¡± He said no more. Sal had no idea what that meant. It didn¡¯t seem prudent to ask more. Finally, Sal said, ¡°Thank you. Now, I don¡¯t mean to be rude, but I am rather late for a dinner engagement.¡± The Governor took his mask and thrust it into Sal¡¯s chest. ¡°Wait one second, mister. I¡¯ll do the paperwork for your little diner¡­well, not me, I have people, a scribe, maybe you know Gail Questor? Doesn¡¯t matter. She¡¯s one of those sorceress types, you know, the ones who helped win the wars all that, and she handles most of the tower stuff, but her staff is excellent at paperwork. Kinda have to be, really. So yes, paperwork, paperwork, paperwork.¡± With each word, he tapped Sal¡¯s chest lightly with his mask. In another life, Sal would¡¯ve cast untold spells on the strange little man. Burned him alive in fire. Or frozen him solid and ice and then shattered the ice. As it was, he simply had to let the man tap his mask on his chest. ¡°Where was I?¡± The Governor nodded. ¡°Yes, I do this for you. And someday, I might need you to do me a little favor. This is definitely a this-for-that type of situation. No money. Just a favor. This town runs on favors, thanks to the Braggadorios. But when in Capram, do as the Scallia Caprans do! And in this case, exchange favors, and be friendly. I can¡¯t wait to eat here. This is the part where we shake hands, again, to seal the deal. Do we have deal, Sal Fang?¡± Sal had no idea what he was getting himself into by making a deal, but at the same time, if he didn¡¯t legally own the diner, it would be taken away from him, and he didn¡¯t want that. It was a place to stay, and if he played his cards right, it would provide him with an income. Besides, he had some definite ideas on how to run the place without it driving him crazy. ¡°We have a deal, Governor,¡± Sal said. They shook hands again. Ziggy replaced the mask. ¡°Yes, a deal, Ziggy provides you a deed, fixes your faucet, and you give good ol¡¯ Ziggy a favor. Send word to me, when you¡¯re open for business. That¡¯s going to be tricky, since the Braggadorio families control all the food, but you seem like a guy with pluck.¡± Sal raised a finger. ¡°One question, Governor.¡± ¡°Ziggy! Call me Ziggy! Everyone does. What is your question, Sal Fang?¡± The governor was yelling, but there wasn¡¯t any malice in the shout. ¡°Ziggy, is part of the deal dressing in black and white and finding a mask to wear?¡± The Governor leaned in close, a little too close, dropped the mask, and his twinkling hazel eyes turned deadly serious. ¡°It might be, Sal Fang. It might very well be.¡± Then Ziggy was laughing, dancing back through his men and climbing onto the step. From the carriage he turned and called out, ¡°Only kidding. Somewhat. A little. Less than you think. Probably just wishful thinking on my part. But I¡¯m out of here. Colonel Jim, escort please!¡± Colonel Jim didn¡¯t show a lick of annoyance or frustration, didn¡¯t show any emotion at all, except for military discipline, as he and his men mounted up, and soon the retinue was clattering up back down Fishstink Street, the unfortunately named southeast road out of Champion Plaza. The southwest avenue had a better, Holyboat Road, which connected to Wellwater Lane. Sal knew the way well because that was the way he took to get water. He heard the governor laughing, even from inside his carriage. Sal had the idea it was all fun and games and laughter, until it wasn¡¯t. A blast of cold hair blew out of the caf¨¦, and Sal saw Shivaun was waving him in. On her pale face was a look of expectation, surprise, maybe a little fear. Why would the banshee be afraid? Chapter Sixteen – The Ghost’s Concerns Such distrust. Words of warning. The past is not part of the deal. Careful with the leash. Lies of omission revisited. Sal had tried to engage the banshee in several conversations, but Shivaun had only wanted to work. He didn¡¯t know if using her frost words took a lot out of her, or not, but she normally used them sparingly. Or maybe she didn¡¯t like talking to him at all. Either way, he was simply glad she¡¯d stopped trying to murder him. He wanted to give her space. But after the Governor¡¯s visit, she seemed eager to talk. The sun was still relatively high in the western sky, so Sal had a bit of time before dinner, though he wouldn¡¯t be able to help Fabrizio set things up. That was probably all right because he had no trouble finding people to help him cook the night¡¯s free meal. The cleanup was the issue. Shivaun stood behind the counter, in the shadows she liked. She pointed at the wall. We can¡¯t trust him. He¡¯s a Governor, and Governors are always trouble. ¡°I had the same thought. I have seen it before¡ªthe laughing fool can thrust a dagger in your back as easily as the frowning assassin. At the same time, anyone aiding me with paperwork is a welcome ally.¡± He paused. ¡°Did you know this Tony Belly?¡± Her first words were already melting. She added more below them with pop. I knew of him. It was why we came here. It was deserted, even back then. He was the only governor of any power that we knew of, and he wasn¡¯t even the governor. The ghost mentioned a very mysterious ¡°we.¡± Who was the ¡°we?¡± Sal smiled. ¡°Is this where you tell me about your past?¡± Do you want to talk about your past, Salvanguish Ordinal? A shiver touched the back of his neck. ¡°What would you like to know?¡± The ghost frowned at him. The black eyes in her pale face narrowed. I know enough. You wanted to kill us all. You wanted to rule the world and enslave all free people. ¡°Ah, my legacy.¡± He slowly closed his eyes. ¡°It was more complicated than all that, I assure you.¡± He took a moment before opening his eyes. ¡°But I feel I am at a disadvantage. You know about me, but I know nothing about you. Is the ¡°we¡± you mentioned your friends I found here when I first arrived? If I had to guess, I would think you were Tower Climbers.¡± The ghost waved her pale hands at him. More frozen words appeared on the wall. Yes, but that is my own business. I never said I would reveal anything about me or my past. That was not part of the agreement. ¡°You are correct.¡± Sal found himself strangely disappointed at her non-response, though he had been given one kernel of the truth. She had been a Climber. He let the subject drop. ¡°So you wanted to warn me about the Governor. Is that why you are afraid?¡± I AM NOT AFRAID! ¡°Capital letters,¡± he mused. ¡°I believe I have struck a chord. Forgive me, and yet, I thought I saw fear in your eyes. Was I mistaken?¡± YES! Sal tilted his head. ¡°I do not mean to be impolite, but you are dead. What is there to fear?¡± She pointed at the wall, at the capital letters, as if to emphasize her lack of fear. ¡°Hey!¡± Betty cried from a table near them. ¡°I¡¯m back. I think I missed something. Did the governor finally pay a visit?¡± She took a minute to read the frozen words on the wall. ¡°Yeah, he did visit. He¡¯s a strange guy, from what I hear. Not like any governor that Torment Island ever had, present company included. Why is Shivaun freaking out then?¡± Again, there was furious gesturing on the part of the banshee. ¡°That¡¯s a whole lotta of protesting from our cold girl here.¡± Betty itched her head, which made her wiggle her ears. It was so cute that Shivaun was left smiling. She soon found her frown again. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°What do you know of this Tony Belly?¡± Sal asked. Betty shrugged. ¡°He owned this place, right? I figured his name would come up at some point, since we¡¯re crashing in his former diner. That¡¯s about all I know, other than what our ghost girl wrote up there. He did bring some much-needed order, but then that fell apart. It¡¯s how the cookie crumbles. Speaking of which, when am I going to get your father¡¯s recipe for chocolate-chip cookies, Sal? I¡¯m getting tired of scrounging.¡± ¡°I am endeavoring to open soon,¡± Sal said. ¡°If not, I think Shivaun might return to her cursed ways.¡± The ghost shook her head in disbelief but didn¡¯t add any more words to the wall. Betty wrinkled her little nose. ¡°Listen, girlfriend, I¡¯m curious about you like this big mook is. You¡¯re right, though, you didn¡¯t say you¡¯d give us the lowdown on your past. I did have a question, since we¡¯re chatting. You alone here, Shivaun? Or are there other ghosts? Like Mr. Peaches. Hey, could that Tony Belly maybe?¡± Sal had the same idea, but he kept quiet. Shivaun had run out of room on the wall, and so she started back at the top, freezing new words on top of the old, melted ones. This whole square is full of ghosts. Yes, there are other spirits here, but I am not here to be social. I am here to work! With that, she vanished. Sal was glad she didn¡¯t scream, though he was still wondering why the governor¡¯s visit upset her so. It could be, she didn¡¯t like the idea that Sal having to do some unnamed favor. That was a worry, though they could fret about that at another time. Betty rolled her little eyes. ¡°Well, champ, that wasn¡¯t all that helpful. We should be happy, though, she¡¯s on our side. Kinda. Tell me about what you and Ziggy talked about.¡± He relayed the conversation, which, in his mind, had more good news than bad. The mouse nodded. ¡°So we¡¯re gonna be legit. Righteous. I can¡¯t help but think we might not want the Governor on our side. He¡¯s not popular, especially with the Braggadorio families. And we¡¯re gonna need to deal with them. At least we have the church on our side.¡± ¡°We have Fabrizio with us, but not the church. I have not spoken a single word to the Pontrafax Genetrix, and she wields far more power. She is close, and yet, she has not contacted us, neither directly nor through a messenger.¡± ¡°She might not know we¡¯re even here, champ,¡± Betty pointed out. ¡°And I say good. Let¡¯s keep a low profile until we get things off the ground. If we open up a great place, we¡¯ll be in a good negotiating position if she gives us any trouble. The more I think about it, being on the governor¡¯s good side might have some benefits.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure, but he was hungry, and he¡¯d think better on a full belly. ¡°Are you up for a trip to Fabrizio¡¯s chapel for dinner?¡± ¡°That rye bread and butter? You bet! It¡¯s almost as good as a good chocolate-chip cookie. Ha, not really. Let¡¯s go, captain!¡± Sal gently dropped the mouse into the pocket, took a moment to read the melting words again, and then sighed. Shivaun didn¡¯t want to talk about her past, which was fine. Sal didn¡¯t want to talk about his either. At the same time, he knew that he would have to come clean at some point, with both the banshee and himself. He put the chains and lock back up, knowing that he¡¯d have to buy new ones when he opened. He¡¯d have to secure his meager cashbox when the time came. At least now, he¡¯d have the right paperwork and a working faucet. Walking past the tower¡¯s entrance, he saw a group exit, scorched, battle weary, and frowning. He didn¡¯t know what was in there, and he didn¡¯t really want to know. He had enough on his plate as it was. Confusion Street was as crowded and loud as usual, and when he got to the Mind & Body Tables, he was too late to get a seat. He got in line, got his tray, and ate sitting on a wall near the chapel. He gave his mouse friend a bit of bread and butter, and then enjoyed the yummy noises that Betty made. Her reaction, in some ways, was more satisfying than eating the food himself. It wasn¡¯t long before Fabrizio hurried over to him. ¡°Sal! I have a treat tonight. I was going to read more poems from Gallias Protean, his poem on the ease of a midnight cold after a hot day, but then I found a very compelling passage from a Gorbin philosopher. It¡¯s on the benefits of charity and selflessness, thinking about other people more than you think about yourself. Oh boy, it¡¯s good. Really good. But I can¡¯t really say it¡¯s from a Gorbin philosopher, now can I? So what should I say?¡± Sal found himself grinning. ¡°Are you asking me to help you lie, Ponti? For, at present, I cannot partake in obfuscations of any kind.¡± The Ponti seemed shocked, but then he smiled, dimples and all. ¡°Are you thinking I should just tell the truth? That¡¯s a spicy take.¡± The Dark Lord thought for a minute. ¡°Maybe say an unnamed philosopher, a great thinker from a lost text, that you have been translating. Emphasize the exotic wisdom, perhaps. None of that is untrue.¡± ¡°A lie of omission. It doesn¡¯t sit well with me. However, it is the safer bet. At some point, I¡¯m going to need to tell the Pontrafax Genetrix about the secret Gorbin library. Oh boy, that¡¯s not going to be easy. And if she tells me we have to destroy the books, I¡¯ll be in a big pickle.¡± He shook his head. ¡°But hey, I think I found something that I want to talk with you about. You know those charts and sigils that you found in The Chronicles of GuNakt? I found out more about them. Let¡¯s talk after we cleanup. Would that work for you?¡± Sal nodded, very enthusiastically. ¡°It would indeed.¡± He had to wonder at the Ponti¡¯s abilities. It had been two weeks of study, and already Fabrizio was discovering any number of mysteries from a language he hardly knew. It was a testament to the man¡¯s brilliance. Sal liked having such a brilliant friend. The tomb raider had promised a treasure in the chapel¡¯s crypt, and Sal was coming to find out, treasures came in all sorts of sizes, shapes, and qualities. Chapter Seventeen – Dinner Discussion Gorbin sermon. To tea or not to tea? Finding magic. Finding suppliers. The Feather Pharaoh¡¯s Secret Obsession. The Diagraff. Sal was very much impressed with the Gorbin essay, though he could tell that Fabrizio didn¡¯t get the translation right in certain places. He knew enough about the Skinless to know that probably wouldn¡¯t use certain words, and yet, he had to correct himself. Most of his knowledge was based on faulty information, since the former soldiers in his grand army of darkness hadn¡¯t been forthcoming when it came to their magic and skills. To think, the Gorbin had kept so much hidden and for so long. It was sobering in all sorts of ways. After the dishes were done, Sal found himself with Betty in his pocket in the Ponti¡¯s chambers, sitting with three very large books on the table. Fabrizio seemed embarrassed. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to come across as an expert or anything, not a bit, and you know so much more than me. Oh boy, this is nerve-wracking. Do you want tea? We should have some tea. Very soothing tea. I¡¯m so nervous.¡± Sal sat back at the table. ¡°Why the nervousness? Remember, you are the mighty priest who won over a terrifying ghost. I have complete faith in you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just that¡­¡± Fabrizio walked over to the table, considered the tea, and then walked back, to his little stove. ¡°It¡¯s still so hot in here, even with the evening breeze. Boiling water is probably not a good idea.¡± He then paced back to Sal. ¡°It¡¯s just that this is so odd.¡± ¡°What is odd is that a ghost of unknown origins keeps giving me peaches. And you keep giving me dinner. It does not exactly motivate me to open my restaurant. Besides, I do not have the money to buy the actual ingredients of anything I could cook.¡± ¡°But you can cook, can¡¯t you?¡± the Ponti asked, still obviously debating the tea. He finally sat down. ¡°I know you can cook. You¡¯ve helped me with the lentils.¡± ¡°Where do you get the lentils?¡± ¡°The Viscount of Grains.¡± Fabrizio opened one of the big books and then closed it. ¡°He gives me a discount, I think, just to mess with the Pork Poet. They hate each other. But all of the Braggadorios hate each other.¡± Sal had to smile. ¡°The Viscount gives you a discount. Would you call it the Viscount discount deal?¡± The Ponti laughed politely. The former Dark Lord was very appreciative of that fact. He then told Fabrizio about his encounter with the governor and about Tony Belly. The priest brushed a hand through his dark hair. ¡°I thought Tony Belly was some old legend, like something to justify all of the Braggadorio families. He owned that diner?¡± ¡°And I wonder if Tony Belly liked peaches or not. He was and is real. And I now own the strangest piece of real estate in Tower City, if not on Torment Island. Let us remain focused on the topic at hand. What are those charts and graphs?¡± ¡°The Gorbin don¡¯t call it the Diagraff Vitalis, and oh, by the way, I got a huge number of Experience Points for dealing with your ghost. Thanks for that. Anyway, they called their Diagraff Vitalis the Magica Plexus. And they have a lot of theories on Prana, the mystical energy giving everyone and everything life. Thank the Sacred Family that the grammar is so logical because the vocabulary isn¡¯t.¡± ¡°So Prana is like Mana,¡± Sal said softly. ¡°Mana powers magic.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what the Yanir sorcerers use,¡± Fabrizio agreed. It was also what Sal had used, when he¡¯d been a sorcerer himself, and thanks to the Deux Coin as well as other magic, he had possessed an almost unending supply. His SoulWork Modifier increased his natural Mana which grew as he leveled. Most wouldn¡¯t even reach a 100% increase in their lifetimes but at the height of his power, he¡¯d been able to get over 300% more Mana added to his Maximum Modified Mana. Sal couldn¡¯t remember what his current SoulWork Modifier was, and so he pulled up his Diagraff. <<< ? >>> Salvanguish Abner Ordinal Diagraff Vitalis (Locked) Karmic Gauge: 53% Dark Green but congratulations! Race: Resurrected Human-Alive and Kicking Vitalis Type: Still can¡¯t really say, but probably Commoner, though it¡¯s pretty clear you¡¯re not common. Vitalis Path: Sticking with Porridge Peasant for now¡­ Initial Mana Potential: Let¡¯s say 10. Remember how you used to have an Initial Mana Potential of 10,000? No anymore. Maximum Modified Mana: 11 because you get a ten percent increase. Isn¡¯t math fun? Current Level/DevStep: Level 1, DevStep 1 Experience Point Monitoring: Not Applicable BodyWork Modifier: 10% SoulWork Modifier: 10 % Proficiencies: (All Locked) <<< ? >>> A SoulWork Modifier of 10%? Sal hadn¡¯t been that weak since he¡¯d been a child. And to think, his body was more powerful than his soul, which was also strange. He was just glad he had that one proficiency. He¡¯d never get back to his old strength, ever. But all of this talk was dangerous. There wasn¡¯t a half-truth big enough to cover the truth¡ªthat for whatever reason, Sal had the strangest Diagraff possible, with that Karmic Gauge, that was slowly creeping up. He¡¯d been given another percentage point for doing dishes. He was at 51%, and so, he¡¯d reached green. At this point, about two months of dishes would get him to purple and beyond. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. What would be beyond purple? There was no way to know. The Ponti wasn¡¯t looking any less uncomfortable. ¡°Sal, you don¡¯t have to tell me about your past. I know you¡¯re a good person, and I want to help you in any way I can.¡± Was Sal a good person? He thought of Shivaun and doubted she¡¯d think so. However, with all those bodies in the caf¨¦, maybe she wasn¡¯t a good person either. Sal found himself wanting to tell Fabrizio everything. He couldn¡¯t. But he could ride the edge of the truth. ¡°I was a sorcerer, before I arrived here, in this city, now. I lost my power. I never dreamed I would be able to embrace the magic I once wielded, and yet it seems, to some extent, I can. Now that I would ever want to hurt anyone.¡± He didn¡¯t want to hurt anyone because he couldn¡¯t hurt anyone. It was a subtle distinction. ¡°How did you lose your power?¡± Fabrizio asked. Sal swallowed hard, giving himself over to the truth. ¡°I died a kind of death and was gone from the world for a long, long while. Awakening, I was powerless, penniless, and wondering how I can open up a rather cursed caf¨¦ without funds.¡± The priest grinned, his dimples showing. ¡°You might not have funds, but you do have friends.¡± ¡°I am learning there are many kinds of treasures,¡± Sal admitted. Fabrizio tapped the book in front of him. ¡°A former sorcerer who knows the Gorbin language? That should make me wonder about you. But no, you¡¯re okay, Sal. What do you need to open your restaurant?¡± ¡°Eggs,¡± Sal said. ¡°My father ran a restaurant, and I helped in the sullen way adolescents aid their parents. There are several mistakes I will not make. I shall not have a large menu. I shall keep it simple. And I shall not try and serve all the meals all day long. There lies madness. Breakfast and lunch, but mostly breakfasts. Open at 6 a.m., close at 2 p.m., which is a long enough day. I shall have to wake up early for the baking, if I cannot get Shivaun to accomplish the task. We shall see how much skill our ghost has.¡± The Ponti chuckled. ¡°Oh boy. Here we are, talking about forbidden Gorbin magic one minute, and then about eggs the next. You seem torn between your diner and your sorcery, but you talk about both a lot. I dunno. I don¡¯t think you¡¯re this power-hungry guy. Am I wrong?¡± Sal thought about that, riches and power, commanding armies, vain attempts to conquer the world, to be on top. To rule. To inspire adoration and fear. The climb was exhausting. The view from the top? Unsatisfying in some strange way. Because there was no real summit that could feed the soul. There was always another vista to conquer. If anything, it was the climb that was the important thing. Wasn¡¯t there a song about that? Fabrizio winced. ¡°Did I say something wrong? I did, didn¡¯t I? Gosh, I didn¡¯t mean to. We can try and get you magic, Sal.¡± ¡°I do not want magic,¡± he said finally. ¡°I want eggs. I need to make an appointment with the Feather Pharaoh and see about an arrangement. He supplies the city with both eggs and chicken, does he not?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right. You¡¯re not exactly in his part of town, but close enough. The chicken ranches are down in the flatlands.¡± Sal knew, at some point, he¡¯d have to map out the town and understand the sections better, and who ruled them. It was his understanding that the governor did still control the center of the city, and that included the God Spear Tower, Destiny Square, and The Champion Plaza. It was probably a good thing that Sal had made such a favorable impression on Ziggy, maybe. There was a lot of moving parts to his life and his situation, and it all felt precarious. He did know something about the flatlands. Before, they¡¯d been marshland, with a great house staring down at the muck. It was the home of a rich merchant that had built himself a palace that overlooked the sludge of the Weeping River. Was it still there? It had been called Riverglitter Manor, and even back then, it had been an ironic name because the Weeping River was anything but glittering. Sal took a chance on asking Fabrizio about the mansion. ¡°That¡¯s a new one on me. But you have to be careful, Sal. The Braggadorio families are strange, erratic and dangerous. And if you get to be friends with the Feather Pharaoh, that might be a problem with your other suppliers.¡± ¡°What do other restaurants do?¡± Sal asked. ¡°They pay, a lot, to all the families, and they have to play it carefully. It¡¯s what I do to keep the Mind & Body Tables open. You¡¯ll have to do the same.¡± The Ponti sighed. ¡°The Viscount of Grains and the Butter King all get their quote unquote taxes. They¡¯re still a bit religious, so that helps them not gouge me too much.¡± ¡°And here I am, in the middle of the city, in Tony Belly¡¯s old place, in the middle of a haunted plaza. Will that hurt me or help me?¡± Sal smiled. ¡°Most likely, it will be a little bit of both. I might need some magic after all.¡± ¡°You might,¡± the Ponti agreed. ¡°So let us set aside my plans for the diner for now. My own Diagraff is locked and strange. Who can help me?¡± Fabrizio shrugged. ¡°You probably don¡¯t want to talk with the Gorbin out in the mountains, since they don¡¯t like strangers much. If I were you, I¡¯d talk with a Yanir sorcerer.¡± ¡°How about a sorceress? I met one a fortnight ago, Kaixo Allakarra. She ate at the Mind & Body Tables. I have not seen her since. Any idea of where I could find her?¡± ¡°Oh, right, the Yanir Sorceress. She was a Climber, I think. She¡¯d know more about this magic stuff than I do. I just pray to Yeshu and hope for the best, and he blesses me with Experience Points. And I read a lot. That¡¯s a kind of magic. Lots of different kinds of treasures. Lots of different kinds of magic.¡± ¡°That is very true,¡± Sal agreed. ¡°She was part of the Astounders, a party of Climbers. They failed to fill out their paperwork properly, and so, they did not get a chance to do any climbing. Her plans, when I talked with her, were still filled with uncertainty.¡± Fabrizio thought about it. ¡°There are Climber inns if you keep going east on Confusion Street, and that¡¯s probably where she is. Unless she did get into the Tower, then, um, she might be dead. That¡¯s a terrible thing to say, but it¡¯s the truth. Maybe they got some treasure, and she¡¯s in the inns over at Destiny Square. She¡¯d be close to you.¡± Sal saw it as another project, and he was torn. ¡°Do I pursue this magic? Or do I try and open up my restaurant? Or do I simply continue my simple life and do literally nothing with my days?¡± The Ponti quirked an eyebrow. He didn¡¯t need to say a word. The Dark Lord sighed. ¡°My oath. Yes, my oath. It looks like I will be journeying down to the Weeping River, where I shall get my boots dirty. Once there, I shall suffer through the stench of far too many chickens. I assume there will be a great many chickens.¡± ¡°Tons of chickens. Oh boy do they stink! But hey, one thing you should know, the Feather Pharaoh is, um, very light on his feet.¡± ¡°What does that mean exactly?¡± Sal asked. ¡°He likes to dance. Like, it¡¯s his obsession. Do you dance?¡± Rhythmically gyrating to rhythms was not high on a Dark Lord¡¯s list of activities. Very little of world domination rested on the ability to dance in any meaningful way. Sal only grinned. ¡°Since coming to Torment Island, I have done a great deal of dancing, in all sorts of ways. Is there a trick to dancing I should know of?¡± The Ponti¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Don¡¯t ask me! In its long history, the church has run hot and cold on the whole dancing issue. Sometimes it was illegal, and sometimes was okay, and we had liturgical dancers for a while. Those were strange times. Lots of flowers in the inner sanctum.¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t Mendica the Penniless dance for coins in one of the stories?¡± Sal asked. Fabrizio nodded. ¡°That was how she got a Deux Coin for a while, but that sort of thing is kinda frowned upon. Uh, Mendica isn¡¯t anyone¡¯s favorite god.¡± Sal took a deep breath. ¡°I might be the exception. More and more, I feel exactly like Mendica, a penniless beggar without a Deux Coin.¡± That made the Ponti laugh. ¡°You and I both.¡± He gestured at the books. ¡°I¡¯ll continue to study the Magica Plexus and Prana stuff. Say hello to Shivaun for me. I think she¡¯ll be very happy you¡¯re going to see the Feather Pharaoh. But like I said, be careful.¡± Sal nodded. At some point, Betty said he was walking a narrow path, but it felt more like a ledge. Any misstep might plunge him into the abyss, or in his case, the Abyssmuck. Torment Island might be a difficult place to live, but it was a lot less difficult than being tortured for all eternity. Chapter Eighteen – Otto the Feather Pharaoh A little walk down memory lane. Factory on the flatlands. The gate. Dancing lessons. Another gate. The half-naked gangster. The way to the Weeping River flatlands was easy and familiar. Things were different undoubtedly, yet at the same time, Sal could discern landmarks that had been there since the time of Grandfather Mood. There was the old wall, the old marketplace, and Fisherman¡¯s Village, which had some new houses built up there. From the little he knew, he thought that fishmongers were still under the control of the Yanir Republic government, which meant the governor held some power there. Sal¡¯s father had used smoked fish for a special boiled bread sandwich he used to make. It was next-level breakfast food, and it involved cream cheese, capers, and red onion. If Sal was on the governor¡¯s good side, he might have an in there. That was the hope at any rate. Even from a distance, Sal could smell the chickens, wafting out of the warehouses where the Feather Pharaoh kept them. Showing up unannounced was a risky business, granted. However, Sal had a bit of a plan, given what Fabrizio had told him the night before. Sal was still smiling, remembering Shivaun¡¯s reaction to him taking actual action. If this worked out, they might be able to open next week. He¡¯d have eggs, at least, maybe some chicken, though he didn¡¯t want to add another menu item. If he started serving chicken right away, his customers would come to expect it. But who was he kidding? What were the chances he¡¯d have any customers at all? That would involve sales and marketing, a lot of sales and marketing. As a Dark Lord, he¡¯d not had to do much self-promotion. Getting people to fear you was easier than getting people to love you. Swords and sorcery helped with the fear part. Good governance helped with the latter. He had to think positive. He had an oath to fulfill. At the center of the chicken warehouses was a tall spire, rather grand in fact, and if Sal wasn¡¯t mistaken, it had been built where Riverglitter Manor used to stand. Yes, he recognized a sunken section of wall with rusted iron spikes stinking out of the muddy ground. The spire reminded him of the tower he¡¯d seen southeast of Confusion Street, where the pork rendering plants were. Did all the Braggadorios have such towers? Beyond was the Weeping River itself, a wide muddy stream that branched off to drain into the sea. There were docks there, and wide barges, taking the Feather Pharaoh¡¯s eggs to other places on the island and maybe even to the mainland itself. It was a big, bustling operation, and there were workers everywhere, wearing bright yellow, tight-fitting jumpsuits. Some of the more slender workers wore them better than the chunkier ones. Sal walked up to the main offices without anyone stopping him. The spire itself rose from the southern part of a building, and it was clear there was a courtyard inside. The building had been built out of yellow brick, a bit more muted than the outfits the workers wore, though he could see it had been painted in a vain attempt to match the theme. Sal encountered a gate blocking his entry. On the other side, in a stone corridor, sat a woman at a desk. She was talking to a huge man, with bulging biceps and an expansive chest. He wore a short-sleeved, tight yellow shirt above bright yellow pants and even brighter yellow boots. A tight blond beard clung to his chiseled face. He had long, curly hair, which didn¡¯t help the spots thinning up top. Both the man and the woman were in deep conversation. Sal cleared his throat to get their attention. The huge man turned on his heel. ¡°Oh, there¡¯s a guy there. Hey, guy, what do you want?¡± He spoke with an accented voice, maybe from someplace north, though Sal couldn¡¯t place it. ¡°I¡¯m here to see the Feather Pharaoh.¡± The blond giant grinned. ¡°Ja, that is me.¡± He jerked a thumb at his chest. ¡°Maybe you like eggs, guy?¡± Sal had been called buddy, chief, ace, and pal o¡¯ mine long enough that he didn¡¯t mind being called ¡°guy.¡± That was thanks to Betty, who was in his pocket, probably sleeping from their long walk to the Pharaoh¡¯s flatlands. ¡°I enjoy eggs a great deal, as a matter of fact. That is only one of the reasons I¡¯m here.¡± ¡°Ooh, mystery guy. Maybe you pack weapons, guy? Maybe spells, guy? Any spells you want to tell me about?¡± ¡°Not a one.¡± That was the truth. His Diagraff remained locked down tight. ¡°The gate, she is open, guy. You come in, maybe.¡± Sal pushed and was surprised that the gate opened inward. He stepped into the shade, thankful for the cool air. ¡°I¡¯m Sal Fang, and I was wondering if you could help me learn how to dance.¡± This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. This was the truth. Sal was wondering if this gangster could dance at all, and if dancing was in his repertoire of skills, could he pass those talents along? The blond giant glanced at the woman, who wore a yellow dress that was struggling to keep her body covered. There was a vast expanse of tanned cleavage. She was as blond as the giant, with similar features. She wore a yellow scarf, probably to hide her own thinning hair. If he had to guess, Sal would think they were siblings. Or was he an uncle? That could be. ¡°You believe this guy? I ask about eggs¡­he says maybe dancing. That maybe funny, maybe. What you think, Olga?¡± ¡°Ja, Otto. You have time before lunch. How about you give him whirl?¡± There was a small smile on her face. It was not one you could trust. Otto and Olga. Sal had some names to remember. Otto the Feather Pharaoh put his hands on his hips. ¡°Out of all the dinglebricks in this tower town, you come to me? You think, maybe, I don¡¯t have better things to do?¡± Sal smiled. ¡°It sounds like you are enjoying a moment of relaxation before lunch. The dancing was just one of the things I wanted to see you about. It perhaps is not the issue of major importance, and yet, I thought I would start our conversation there.¡± Otto frowned. ¡°You not from around here, guy. Maybe you come from other places?¡± ¡°I am new in town.¡± Sal then gambled everything. ¡°I want to open a diner in Champion Plaza, in Tony Belly¡¯s old place. Do you know if Tony Belly liked peaches?¡± There was a moment of painful silence. Then Otto grunted laughter. ¡°This guy, he kills me. That my great great grandad. He dead long time now. What I know of peaches?¡± Then he turned deadly serious. ¡°You get that place how? Tell me, guy, because maybe me and other Braggadorios not like it much.¡± ¡°Not like it at all, Otto,¡± Olga agreed. ¡°I not like it.¡± ¡°You not alone, sister, in this not liking.¡± So they were siblings. Sal chose his words carefully. ¡°Verily, my tale would be long to tell before lunchtime. In short, I sought shelter there, and managed to befriend one of the ghosts with the help of a Ponti. If you were to ask me, I would say it was a matter of destiny. Not to be confused with Destiny Square.¡± ¡°Befriend a ghost?¡± Otto erupted into deep-throated laughter. The sister wasn¡¯t laughing at all. There was only suspicion in her eyes. ¡°I will soon have the legal paperwork,¡± Sal said quickly. ¡°What I do not have are eggs. How can one cook without eggs? They are the very foundation of most every meal. That and onions. I grew up with a father who taught me how to chop onions only a few days after I learned to walk.¡± ¡°Not from around here at all!¡± The giant guffawed. ¡°The brass eggs on this guy. I like. I like. So you come to me before you go to the Viscount?¡± ¡°I might be mistaken, but I do not believe the Viscount knows how to dance.¡± That brought more laughter, and even a quick smile from the sister. The giant spun. ¡°Come then. I have Ollie drum. He in the courtyard. We talk while we dance.¡± He turned back. ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t get Ollie yet. Maybe I see if you have any rhythm, guy, before you waste my time. I clap. You dance.¡± It was the very acme of indignities. Sal was about to turn and march right out of the gate, when he thought of Mendica the Penniless, the lost middle sister of the Sacred Family. She¡¯d danced for her Deux Coin, and he would do the same. It was time to put his pride in his pocket. Betty would take care of it. He motioned for the giant to commence clapping. Otto did, clapping away, with a rather vile look of expectation in his blue eyes. Sal couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d even attempted to move to a beat. He had to give it to you the giant, his clapping was hypnotically rhythmic. Sal took a few jerky steps, trying to move his feet to the beat, but what should he do with his hands? He did some very awkward hand motions, and all in all, he didn¡¯t think he was doing too badly. And he did have Youngin Reflexes proficiency. That seemed to help. Only the pair laughed. He thought this was the end of it. He¡¯d be ousted without another word. Otto, though, nodded. ¡°We can work with that. This, this guy, he do anything for eggs. We can work a lot with that. A willing mind brings happy feet, maybe. Come. Come.¡± Following the giant, Sal left the woman and walked through the corridor. He saw a rusted gate to his left, with steps leading down. Could it be that led to Riverglitter Manor? It had to be around here somewhere. ¡°Sir,¡± Sal started. ¡°I heard rumors of a great mansion that used to be here in the Weeping River Flatlands. Do you know if its fate?¡± ¡°Buried by the river, guy. I built this place on top of it.¡± ¡°Has anyone been down there, to, how do I put this? To see what might lie underneath. The Chanticleer family had a great deal of wealth.¡± ¡°Buried, guy.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure about that. He¡¯d very much like to see for himself. That piece of business could wait. First, the dancing lessons. The corridor opened up into a courtyard, made of cobblestones. Above the stones was a dancefloor made of polished wood that included a stage with big candelabras on either side. There were several trees there, planted in circles of dirt, cut into the wood. Couches lined the walls underneath canopies. Sal could imagine what the place would be like at night, with the candles burning, a band on the stage playing, and the dance floor packed. At this point, there was only a drummer relaxing in a cushioned chair up on stage. The blond giant caught him looking. ¡°That Ollie Ovum, a nephew, he drum. Ollie, you drum, okay? This guy came for dancing lessons. I show him how to do it good.¡± Well, Sal corrected the giant in his mind. Well is an adverb, that is meant to describe how well you dance. Ollie Ovum grabbed a big drum next to him and started up a rhythm. For a second, Sal considered the name. Was it Otto Ovum? Did they have the same rather awkward surname? It was a miracle of vocabulary as it was both awkward and very on the nose. Otto laughed. ¡°Now, that is the beat, ja? Can you feel beat, mystery guy? I think maybe you can feel it. I can. I can feel it with my whole body. It is the heartbeat of the world!¡± The giant stripped off his shirt and kicked off his boots. A second later, after pulling off his very yellow stockings with chickens embroidered on them, he stood there barefoot, only wearing pants. Sal smiled, a bit uncertainly. ¡°What kind of dancing are we talking about, your feathery highness?¡± Chapter Nineteen – A Delicate Matter Shirtless and shoeless. A very quick lesson. The sad dancer. A muddy trip. The mirror and the truth. A small fee. The giant blond man frowned. Sal held up a hand. ¡°Do not misunderstand me. I appreciate the work your pantaloons are doing, currently, and I understand that you are making a point. I assume your wardrobe, or lack of one, allows you to feel the beat more keenly when more of your naked flesh is exposed.¡± Otto clapped along with the drummer. ¡°You speak like you don¡¯t have sense, guy. I prefer the dance in my bare feet. As for the shirt, I do not want to get sweaty on it before lunchtime. Just watch, guy.¡± The big man moved gracefully to the rhythm, using only his feet, with his arms behind his chest. He did start to sweat, though Sal hardly noticed. ¡°Faster, Ollie!¡± The drummer drummed faster, and Otto didn¡¯t miss a step, going heel to toe at one point, and then leaping around with a while of his arms, and slapping his feet on the polished wood. Sal could¡¯ve stayed in the shade, but he wanted to get closer. He stepped out into the sunlight. ¡°Now, guy, dance like I do. I go easy now for you.¡± Otto was done showing off, and started a quick bit of steps that Sal could copy, though while the Feather Pharaoh¡¯s feet smacked the wood, Sal¡¯s boots clomped. He didn¡¯t like the sound, and so he took off his own boots and socks, which he¡¯d just washed, thankfully. Laundry had been the last item on his last, though, having only the single set of clothes made some things mandatory. He wouldn¡¯t get anywhere if his stench arrived five minutes before he did. There was also the issue of getting water, which Sal hoped would be solved when the governor fixed his faucet. Sal felt the sweat dripping down his sides. He could now appreciate why Otto had stripped. The former Dark Lord would have to do laundry that night. Otto stopped and shouted to Ollie, ¡°Okay. Okay. Okay. This guy here, he can dance now. I give him lessons. He okay now.¡± ¡°Are you certain?¡± Sal asked. The Feather Pharaoh wiped some sweat off his face. ¡°You no come to get dancing lessons, guy. I know that. You come for eggs. I sell you eggs. You have diner. Maybe it better that it brings people food and happiness rather than just a home for the ghosties. Still laughing that you so lonely you make ghost your best friend.¡± That kind of stung. Sal hid his hurt and wiped some sweat off his own face. ¡°It certainly was not a part of my business plan, sir. I do have some questions, though. Why Pharaoh? It seems to be an old Hajawan word for ruler, if I am not mistaken.¡± ¡°It not mystery, guy. It has same sound as feathers. And Hajawan bird folk dance good. Maybe I show you my dancing chicken sometime. It might hurt your feelings. She dance better than you!¡± That made Otto laugh long and hard. Sal laughed as well, though he was still disturbed by the adverb trouble. Ollie smirked up on the stage, then forced some laughter when Sal threw him a rather threatening glance. ¡°That right, Ollie? Can Henrietta dance good?¡± ¡°She dance good, boss.¡± Otto then turned to Sal. ¡°More questions or no, guy? I am entertained just now.¡± ¡°Yes, one more, though it might be of a delicate matter.¡± Sal was in a bind. He couldn¡¯t ask the Feather Pharaoh for free eggs. At the same time, he also couldn¡¯t ask for a tour of the Braggadorio¡¯s basements. However, being there, he remembered he¡¯d been to Riverglitter Manor before, and he¡¯d heard tales of a secret treasury there. He had to come up with a story to get down there, because even a bit of gold would go so very far in his quest to open his diner. Otto snapped his fingers. ¡°Get me towel, Ollie.¡± The smiling man was gone. The ruthless Braggadorio boss had turned cold. ¡°You say delicate matter. I say you want to cause me problem. I no like problem. Maybe I don¡¯t ever going to trust you, guy. Out with it.¡± Sal¡¯s mind raced. He had to tell the truth, or as much of it as he dared. He still didn¡¯t know how far he could take a lie of omission before his Benefactor would mind. ¡°Mr. Ovum, sir, I am a student of history.¡± This was true, Sal quite liked history. ¡°I know a little about the Weeping River Flatlands.¡± Also true, though he knew more than a little. ¡°Have you ever considered why the mansion below us was called Riverglitter Manor?¡± Otto shrugged. ¡°People name things. People name things good sometimes. Sometimes, the names, not so good. You tell me, guy. Tell me about this delicate matter.¡± Sal spoke quickly. ¡°Back when it was built, some ancient prince, I¡¯ve forgotten his name, wanted to make the Flatlands into a place where people wanted to come. Rather than Sludgewater Manor, he christened it Riverglitter. That is historical truth. But could it be that there was a secret treasury, filled with glittering gold, that might have been the originator of the name? That is a question I have asked myself, though it might be some fiction.¡± All of that was skirting the truth. He felt the mouse in his breast pocket squirm a bit, but that might have been from the sweat and exertion of keeping up with the dancing giant. Sal waited. But it seemed that rhetorical questions weren¡¯t going to get him into trouble. That was a relief. A lifetime passed in the powerful man¡¯s silence. Then a smile lit up his face. ¡°You think there¡¯s buried treasure, guy? You want to go look?¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°I would very much like to look, sir.¡± For a moment, Sal bristled at this servile scraping. It was humiliating. At one point in his life, he could¡¯ve strode in, casting spells to deal with the guards, and the Braggadorio, no matter how large, strong, and graceful, would¡¯ve been no match for him. Sal probably wouldn¡¯t have used lethal magic to force his way into the basement, but with emotions running high, he could¡¯ve have sworn he wouldn¡¯t. Kenny would¡¯ve wanted him to. It would¡¯ve been good PR. But Kenny, as well as any number of Sal¡¯s minions, were always thinking about public relations and marketing. A Dark Lord had to have an ominous reputation, after all. But had it stayed Kenny¡¯s betraying blade? No. No, it hadn¡¯t. ¡°You want me to miss my lunch, guy.¡± There was a smile on Otto¡¯s face, yes, but his blue eyes were icy. Then he laughed. ¡°We go quick. I show you mud pits. Flooded, sunk, the old manor is gone to the gods. I show you. I show you quick.¡± ¡°Quickly,¡± Sal said before he could catch himself. ¡°It¡¯s the adverb.¡± Otto might¡¯ve punched Sal in the face, but he didn¡¯t. He just grabbed Sal¡¯s shoulder in one big, meaty hand, and pinched, hard. ¡°My Yeshin, not so goodly. We speak different in north Yanir Republic. I come from Krasnaya, but you know that guy, from my accent. And my blonde hair. Krasnaya is good part of Yanir republic. We not crazy with magic like most Yanir. Fine, fine, fine. We go quickly! Adverb, this guy say. Ha! Like I care about grammar!¡± Sal¡¯s head was spinning. The geography had changed dramatically in the last thousand years. Maps aside, this truth business was working. Now, if there was a treasury, how could he manage to get something without stealing it? That was a good question. Because there was no way the blond Braggadorio was ever going to give Sal gold out of the goodness of his heart. He¡¯d take everything, and the former Dark Lord would leave empty-handed. Ollie returned with a towel, and Otto wiped the sweat off his face and did a quick dab of his armpits. Then the shirt, socks, and boots went back on. Otto called to his sister. ¡°Olga, bring me lanterns. I go seeking buried treasure with the new crazy guy. It delicate matter!¡± Olga hurried to him with a lantern. ¡°Lunchtime, Otto. You going to be late.¡± She had an extra lantern for Sal. ¡°They can wait! I bet you a Deux Coin my guys start without me. They pigs. No self-control! And no rhythm. This new guy has rhythm. He dance with sad steps, though. I think he have tragic backstory.¡± Sal didn¡¯t like to hear that. He didn¡¯t want to be a sad dancer, but Otto would know. The Feather Pharaoh took a sparkstick and lit the two lanterns, then took Sal back into the corridor, back through the gate, and down stone steps that circled around and around. They were rather like the circular stairwell back in the Yeshu¡¯s Chapel on Confusion Street. They passed down past the stone of the current building, through a section with wood on the walls, the boards soaked and rotting. But then they stopped on a section of stone, and some of the mud had been scraped away, forming an oozy path down the way to more stairs, that had to be part of the original castle. They were deep underground, and it was clear there had been some cleanup, but not much. The Braggadorio¡¯s workers probably got tired, and after finding ruins, weren¡¯t going to waste much of their time. Above just stone. And more mud. So much mud. Down a staircase, they came to a door. It opened inward, and beyond was a room packed with mud. There was some finery on the walls, a mostly submerged fed to the left, and a broken window, showing more wet dirt that oozed through the cracks. ¡°See, guy? This old prince¡¯s bedroom, and it gone. We at the top of the manor. It sunk deep. Probably happened when the Godspear Tower was thrust through the city.¡± ¡°It was probably sinking even before that. The Menold Prince, Flavius Kushna built his mansion too close to the river. He misjudged, tragically, the strength of the foundation.¡± ¡°Oh, so you know name of prince, now. It don¡¯t matter. You see, guy, this manor full of mud.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t going to give up that easily. If he were right, there would be a mirror, and he might have to do some digging, but behind the mirror would be a secret passageway that would lead to a vault. Sal held his lantern high. ¡°I shall dirty my outfit in an attempt to find some glitter.¡± Otto only laughed. ¡°This guy, has answer for all the things. Okay, guy, you get dirty. I wait, but not long.¡± Sal crawled onto the dirt, sinking in up to his wrists. His knees also sank, and he ended up wiggling across the slime and grime until he saw the mirror. His heart leapt, and he found himself enjoying the experience. He shouldn¡¯t. Betty dropped from his pocket and moved stealthily in front of him. The mud leveled off, and there was an open space of wooden floor in front of the mirror, which was stained by dust and time and more mud. Sal set the lantern down, and tried to find a way of swinging the mirror open. He couldn¡¯t find the latch, and from the sighs, he knew he was running out of time in direct proportion to the Otto Ovum running out of patience. A chair leg was sticking out of the mud to his right. ¡°Excuse me, Mr. Ovum, would you mind if I broke this mirror. I believe there might be a secret room behind it.¡± Otto wiggled his lantern at him. ¡°Ja, guy, get to it. No one ever comes down here ever. Break what you want.¡± Sal snapped the leg off the chair, which was very easy to do, since it was so rotten. Betty backed away from him, hidden by the mass of mud, so Otto couldn¡¯t see her. The mouse put her hands over her ears. Then Sal smashed the mirror¡¯s glass. Behind it was a dusty corridor without a speck of mud. Whatever happened, the secret room had been undisturbed for centuries. On the shelves were piles of gold coins, a series of silver bricks, and several books with bejeweled covers, and a scroll tube. Those had to be grimoires. Whoever had moved in had to have been a practitioner of sorcery. There were some piles of documents as well, all hidden away. Sal so wanted to just reach in and grab some of the coinage. He could have taken a few without the Braggadorio seeing him. Probably. Betty squeaked and jerked a pink thumb back at Otto. Her message was clear¡ªhe would have to tell the gangster everything. Sal closed his eyes. This honesty business would be the death of him. ¡°I found the glitter of Riverglitter. Coins, grimoires, and a scroll that is probably magic, and some silver bricks. I do not know the value, though I would expect it to be a tidy sum.¡± Yes, a tidy sum of treasure that would never be his. Still, he was given a reward all the same. <<<>>> Honesty is the best policy! Karmic Gauge increased by 7%. You could¡¯ve tried to come back and break into the guy¡¯s place, but you didn¡¯t. You told the truth, even if it meant being as penniless as Mendica. That must¡¯ve been a hard one for you. Current Karmic Gauge: 58% (Happy Green!) <<<>>> ¡°Coins you say?¡± Otto thundered. ¡°Perhaps a special coin?¡± Sal didn¡¯t know if there was a Deux Coin in there or not. Probably not, but that begged the question. Could he tell if he picked up the coin again? The simple answer was yes. If he picked it up, he would die immediately. That made digging through the secret treasure a bit less appealing. Still, the news of the day was that a rich man was about to be richer. And that wasn¡¯t news at all. So it was unbelievable to Sal when the blond Braggadorio exploded into laughter. ¡°You find it, guy, and so all of it is yours. Except you not pay me for dancing lessons. For the dancing lesson? You pay half.¡± At that moment, it felt like the sweetest of deals. Chapter Twenty – Menu Planning Joyful laundry. The sadness of fruit. Hours of operation. The Astounders and the book. Search for a sorceress. Porridge Peasant. Sal didn¡¯t mind doing laundry that night. Part of it was the working faucet in the kitchen. It was a miracle. With a few pumps, new water gushed out. However, most of his serenity came from the fact that he¡¯d started the day as a pauper, praying for eggs, and now he was a rich man, with a new friend. Maybe friend was too strong of a word. Otto Ovum certainly wasn¡¯t an enemy, however. The Feather Pharoah had even sent some of his men to escort Sal home, with his treasure on the back of a little donkey, that the Feather Pharaoh offered Sal to keep, though the former Dark Lord had to decline. He didn¡¯t want another mouth to feed, and he didn¡¯t think he¡¯d have any real use for a donkey. The day only kept getting better. The governor had sent a man to fix Sal¡¯s faucet. He now had running water inside of the diner. That might have been the real miracle of the day. No, it was the cash. He brought home five bricks of silver and fifty gold coins. It was more than enough to open this restaurant, and even better, Otto had thrown in a deep discount on eggs, as long as Sal ordered them in bulk. He could put the eggs in the basement. With Shivaun around, they would be kept cold. The whole place was frigid, which felt so good compared the oppressive heat outside. One nice thing being rich, Sal didn¡¯t have to do laundry naked, in the back alley. That same day, he¡¯d bought himself a brand-new pair of pants and a white linen shirt with leather ties closing up the throat. He also bought more underwear and socks, which felt almost sinful in its decadence. He was out back, pushing the mud out of his clothes on a washboard with an attached bucket, also just purchased, when he turned to see Shivaun¡¯s pale face staring at him. On the diner¡¯s rocky wall, words formed. Are you going to honor your oath? Sal scratched at a stain in the knee of his old pants ¡°I will open this diner soon, Shivaun, I promise. Water from the faucet is a miracle, though it does make me wonder about the fountain. If the governor could fix my sink, why can he not fix other things in the square? He said that he and the church had an understanding. I find that bit of gossip so very salacious.¡± The banshee gestured at her words again. Clearly, she was unimpressed. Sal sighed. ¡°First things first. I think we need a menu, do we not?¡± Betty scrambled out from the diner and leaned against the same wall where Shivaun was writing. It seemed Sal had his team together, so they could do some planning. ¡°I know what we should serve, chief. Chocolate-chip cookies, your father¡¯s recipe, all day and all night. Open twenty-four hours a day, and it¡¯s all cookies, all the time!¡± ¡°No,¡± Sal said fiercely. ¡°We will be open six to two. No, eight to two. We will be serving only breakfast, which means eggs, sausage, pancakes, and coffee. That¡¯s it. No substitutions.¡± He didn¡¯t mention his idea of the boiled bread, smoked fish, capers, and red onions. Ice popped and crackled on the wall. No fruit? ¡°Fruit spoils,¡± Sal returned. ¡°And once one considers fruit, then the mind turns to vegetables, which no one likes. They say they like them, but that is a lie people tell themselves in hopes they will live longer.¡± Betty held up a finger. ¡°Correct me if I¡¯m wrong, ace, but aren¡¯t potatoes and onions considered vegetables.¡± Shivaun had a strange look on her pale face, and her black eyes seemed sad somehow. I miss fruit. I would like to see people eating fruit. Betty crossed her arms. ¡°Hey, buddy, don¡¯t forget, Torment Island has a ton of oranges and lemons. Wasn¡¯t there something about Grief City being sour back in the day?¡± ¡°Grief City, a sour city, when not besieged by grief, a sorrow not even its fruit can sweeten,¡± Sal quoted softly. ¡°But that bit of doggerel didn¡¯t consider the lemonease we make, all the various kinds of lemonease. Salted, iced, and the rest. Even back then. We could and we did sweeten the sorrow, if only for a time.¡± All this talk of cookies and fruit had him thinking about his father, which pinched his heart. Sal couldn¡¯t forget their final words to each other, nor what happened afterwards, which had all gone to plan. It was scheming that he would take back. If only he could. He saw Shivaun¡¯s eyes on him, begging him, but she wrote no more. With another sigh, he gave in. ¡°Very well. You are right, lemons and oranges are plenty, and we can use them before they spoil. Our diner will be special, especially at noon, when the heat is fierce. We will tell the city that the coolest place in the summer is at the diner, where we will offer lemonease. Also, since many enjoy orange juice when they break their fast, that will be on the menu. The fruit shall either cut into slices or squeezed into juices, but like I said, we must be careful with any foodstuffs that might spoil.¡± Betty squinted at him. ¡°Uh, what was that about doggerel? If you even think about putting puppies on the menu, I¡¯m outta here.¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°Never that. Doggerel is an old word, my little mouse friend, and we are past that.¡± More frosty words appeared. Tomatoes. Beans. Boiled Bread. Toast. ¡°When did you have boiled bread?¡± Sal asked. Shivaun shrugged. There was that hurt still in her eyes, and he didn¡¯t like it. ¡°I will capitulate, spirit, on some things, but not on others. We shall keep our menu simple because too many items would quickly become cumbersome, a workload that might break our backs.¡± That wasn¡¯t going to bother the ghost. Even dead, she seemed to have limitless energy, and she would be helping out, mostly in the back, cooking and doing dishes. However, they would need her in the front, later on in the morning, to keep the place cool. The plan was to put on a cloak on her and remind her to keep her face covered. Since their handshake, she had a far more corporeal body. She still disappeared, randomly, though she seemed to have more control. For now. With ghosts, anything might change without notice. Even when she disappeared, the diner was cold, the basement positively chilly, which was a good thing since it also doubled as their storeroom. It also made the floor cold, which would be another novelty they could advertise. Who knew having a banshee around would be a clever marketing ploy? As long as she didn¡¯t speak, they¡¯d be fine. Killing customers wasn¡¯t a good business strategy, unless your business was murder, and Sal was grateful he wasn¡¯t in that sorrowful industry any longer. Betty clapped her hands together in delight. ¡°I love boiled bread! Why not try boiling Fabrizio¡¯s rye bread? That would be delicious!¡± ¡°I have not committed to that. If I did, I would stick to white bread, maybe some seeds, but we would need smoked fish, capers, and onions, all of which keep well, I suppose. It would be something relatively novel, for I have not seen anyone serving the boiled bread.¡± Betty had a silly grin on her small face. ¡°If you¡¯re boiling bread, buck, you can fry dough. We need the sweet stuff on the menu. Fried dough, with tons of sugar, and we¡¯ll have sugar, right? Because we¡¯ll be serving chocolate-chip cookies, every day, from seven to three.¡± Sal didn¡¯t correct the mouse. He was tempted by the idea. as tempted. Fried dough strings had been his favorite, right out of the grease, but that meant a deep fat fryer, which he would have to buy for that one, single purpose. He had money, but he wouldn¡¯t for very long, if he gave into his appetites. At least he had a logical reason to give the mouse. Yes, he was arguing with a mouse. Better than dancing with a Braggadorio. ¡°There are other places that make their own fried dough strings and fried dough rings. We could test them on the menu, not by fabricating them ourselves, but by buying the product already made.¡± Betty waved her paws at him. ¡°Your fancy words don¡¯t make any of that tempting, ace, but I get what yer selling. Yeah, we could buy some baked goods, price them up a bit, and see how it works. We¡¯ll be doing our own bread, yeah?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Sal said. ¡°That is economical.¡± ¡°Can you bake bread?¡± Betty asked. ¡°I can.¡± Sal remembered his father insisted on it. Grandfather Mood might¡¯ve wanted him to conquer all the lands, but all Father Mickey wanted was his son to get his dough right. Betty called up to the ghost standing over her. A bit of her words had melted and splashed the mouse between her ears. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s cold. Hey, Shivaun, did buddy boy tell you about the books and scrolls?¡± ¡°Scroll singular,¡± Sal said. ¡°It was a Killword spell. A way of killing anything with a single word. Perhaps, I should¡¯ve¡­should¡¯ve taken it. But no, it meant another couple bars of silver for me.¡± Sal had been so torn. Otto had offered it to him, almost forced him to take it, but in the end, Sal didn¡¯t want to be bothered with such a powerful spell. It would¡¯ve been too tempting to use it because nothing greased the wheels better than murder. He¡¯d just have to live with rusty wheels. Still, he sighed. ¡°What is the morality of that, Betty? I gave a Braggadorio the means to murder with ease.¡± Betty looked pained and winced. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe Otto Ovum won¡¯t do anything with it. He¡¯d have to learn the language, ¡®cause it was ancient Menold, and yeah, not a lot of folks know it. You got the book, though. At least one of them.¡± He did, and it was written in the same Menold, which of course Sal could read. Back then, the Menold wrote histories of battles and warfare strategies. He¡¯d been surprised the Menold had changed into Yaniri sorcerers, but that was to fight the Scallia Capran dragons, which also was a surprise. Ice creaked on the wall. Why do you look upset? Betty laughed a little. ¡°More combat spells are written up in that book. Looks like whatever prince or whats-its who lived there liked the rough stuff. Tons of spells to melt people¡¯s faces off. I say we sell the book ¡®cause of all the gems on the cover. Gems, silver, gold, that book is worth a goldmine.¡± ¡°I think I have a better idea,¡± Sal said softly. ¡°Remember, my Diagraff is locked, but I think there might be someone who can help me. And this book just might be enough to bribe her.¡± Betty¡¯s voice burst out. ¡°It¡¯s that woman you met, part of the Astounders.¡± Sal had resumed washing his pants on the board. ¡°That is correct. I would be very pleased if you knew where she was, or if you heard about the Astounders in some fashion.¡± Betty narrowed her eyes. ¡°Yeah, buddy, this is where I play the mouse card. Not sure. But I can check some places out tomorrow, sneak in, sneak out, real quiet like.¡± ¡°Please do.¡± Sal was grateful for the riches, and yet, at the same time, he couldn¡¯t help but be nervous. Once they opened, there was a good chance he would use every bit of coinage to keep it going while they waited for customers. Or perhaps, even worse, the diner might be very successful, which meant he would be slaving away, serving a new empire, one that might never die. His fears didn¡¯t mean much because of the oath he¡¯d taken. He would open the diner, as soon as he secured the supplies. He also wanted to make a splash, and he had some definite ideas about doing that. Betty had scurried off. Shivaun remained. Sal thought of the bejeweled grimoire, and the magic it contained. Such spells wouldn¡¯t help him. No, he needed a new kind of magic, one that included more creative sorcery that might actually help in his daily life. He considered the strange Vitalis path he was on¡ªPorridge Peasant. What did that mean anyway? Like the banshee, it was something that added spice to his enterprise. Would Kaixo Allakarra be able to help him? If she were dead, then the answer was simple. He had to hope for the best. Shivaun remained standing in the doorway, her hand on the wall. She was leaning out, taking in what she¡¯d written. Her words were melting into each other, but two sentences stood out. I miss fruit. I would like to see people eating fruit. That was what the banshee was looking at it, without glancing away. Maybe she was thinking what Sal was thinking. Why did those sentences look like they were tears leaking down the wall? Maybe the words were the tears that Shivaun couldn¡¯t cry. The next night, Betty returned with great news! She¡¯d found Kaixo Allakarra. It seemed that Sal might start his diner with a bit of magic after all. Chapter Twenty-One – A Charitable Meal Some meat. Trouble at the inn. The New Astounders. Kaixo scowling. Cold orange juice and one good egg. Serving the customers. Sal had enough money, now, he didn¡¯t need to go to the Body & Mind Tables for dinner, so he grabbed a quick meal at The Shorn Unicorn¡¯s Horn. He had to reread the sign outside, several times, to make sure he was reading that right. It explained why the horse on the front had pink skin and looked rather embarrassed. Once seated, he ate a big joint of beef, smothered in a thick gravy, along with some roasted asparagus and potatoes. It had been weeks¡ªa thousand years of weeks¡ªsince he¡¯d had meat, and he enjoyed every bite. He thought of Shivaun, and her sadness over fruit. Working at the diner might be hard for her, and there was no way to ease her suffering. Would seeing other people eat help her? He hoped so. Sal had eaten early, so there weren¡¯t that many patrons filling the tables inside. Outside, with a little breeze to ease the heat, there were more customers, and again, Sal knew he had to get tables and umbrellas for the square outside. He was glad he wasn¡¯t going to be open at night because the ghosts wouldn¡¯t help any. Most people lost their appetite when confronted with the restless dead. He might do well with the nervous eaters, but that was a gamble. After he was finished, he left Destiny Square and walked down Confusion Street, a little anxious. He wasn¡¯t all that worried about brigands. He was a little uncomfortable at the idea of asking Kaixo for help. She hadn¡¯t been the easiest person to relate to. Fabrizio had pointed out the Climber inns down the way, closer to the pig farms on the edge of the city. He could smell all those animals, and it wasn¡¯t pleasant, but it might be better than the sewer smells that accosted his senses as he came to bustling row of inns and taverns. These were where the poor Climbers stayed, and those who were just starting out. Those who were more successful, like the Hajawan dogheads that had won the Copper Key, stayed in Destiny Square, at the more expensive inns there. Betty said that Kaixo was at the Copper Key Inn, which was behind the major inns, down a little alley where several warriors in various armor leaned against the wall, drinking from beaten copper cups, and eyeing him out of the sides of their eyes. He walked down the cobblestones, keeping his face stone, and walking with purpose. Well, that was the case. He¡¯d grabbed a leather satchel from his basement, and he¡¯d stuck The Chronicles of GuNakt as well as the Riverglitter Mansion tome inside. Both books fit perfectly. Most likely, it was from a wizard or wizardess, maybe even Shivaun herself. He¡¯d left most of his fortunes back at his diner, locked inside the trapped chest upstairs. He¡¯d gotten a new chain for the door, and a new lock, so that made him feel better. He only had a couple dozen gold pieces on him, in the satchel. He kept one silver and some copper in his pocket as mugger money¡ªquick cash he could give up easily if someone tried to rob him. Gripping the strap, Sal moved to the door of the Copper Key Inn and pushed it open. That was when the yelling started. It wasn¡¯t just anyone yelling, but Kaixo herself. ¡°Come on, Cheryl, I¡¯m good for it! I know I¡¯m late but come on! I found a new team, right? We have the paperwork for Gail. It¡¯s going to be any day now. You can take me to court if I miss another week!¡± Kaixo looked leaner than the last time he¡¯d seen her, and now she was almost gaunt. Her face was pale against the purple and gold scarves piled on top of her head and draped down on her wizardess robes. Around her, she had several burlap bags, overflowing the clothes and books. Cheryl was a large woman standing at a counter off to the side in the cramped space. A big mole tipped her large nose, which made her small eyes seem even smaller, piggishly so. Stairs led upward. It was stifling in the room, and Cheryl waved a dingy magical white fan to move the air, at least for her. Kaixo was there, sweating. ¡°Please. I¡¯m begging you.¡± Cheryl closed one, tiny eye. ¡°Missy, we talked about this. Today was the day. No money no stay!¡± ¡°But I¡¯ll have money soon!¡± Kaixo protested. Then she saw Sal. ¡°He can vouch for me.¡± Cheryl grunted laughter. ¡°I don¡¯t know him from Yeshu. And who¡¯s your new team? The Amazingness?¡± ¡°The New Astounders,¡± Kaixo said fiercely. ¡°We even have a Scallia Capran with a dragon! See? We can¡¯t miss and you can take me to court on that!¡± Cheryl lost the little patience she had left. ¡°What court?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just an expression!¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s not!¡± ¡°How much does she owe?¡± Sal asked. Kaixo flung out a hand at him. ¡°Oh, no, you¡¯re not going to give me charity. Not on your life, buster.¡± Cheryl sighed heavily. ¡°I don¡¯t care who pays me. I just want to get paid. She can¡¯t pay. Can you?¡± Her tiny eyes never left Sal¡¯s face. ¡°I can pay. But I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll let me.¡± The big woman slammed her hand down on the counter. ¡°Then out she goes! Why don¡¯t you two step outside to talk? I¡¯m tired of looking at you.¡± ¡°Fine!¡± But the Yanir sorcerous wasn¡¯t leaving. Sal wasn¡¯t sure how to handle this. How could he get the woman to take his money? He¡¯d only just found it after all. And then he had an idea. ¡°I need assistance with my magic. I could pay you for lessons.¡± Kaixo wrinkled her nose in disgust. ¡°That¡¯s not a thing. I spent my life and destroyed large portions of my body and soul to get where I¡¯m at. You know, Cheryl, you shouldn¡¯t mess with me. I¡¯m, like, super powerful. I could burn this whole place down with a word!¡± ¡°Try it,¡± Cheryl shot back. ¡°I have protection. I pay the Pork Poet enough that they¡¯d step in to deal with the likes of you.¡± Sal noticed she didn¡¯t mention Ziggy at all. It was pretty clear who ran the city. ¡°Just five minutes outside, Kaixo. Please.¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Fine!¡± This time, the sorceress marched outside. Sal left the heat of the inn for the heat of the merciless sun outside. Kaixo leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed. ¡°I don¡¯t like this a bit. Why did you just show up on the worst day of my life? What¡¯s your angle?¡± ¡°No angles. I need the help of a sorceress, and at this time, you are my only magical acquaintance in city. I am glad to see you, Kaixo. I heard that you might be dead. Did your team not go into the Tower?¡± ¡°The old Astounders did. Didn¡¯t go well for them. My New Astounders are going to do so much better. And you can take me to court if we don¡¯t.¡± Her scowl was truly epic. Sal continued. ¡°Instruct me on the nature of your sorcery.¡± Kaixo closed her eyes and sighed. Her eyelids fluttered open. ¡°It¡¯s mostly about hunger, if you want to know the truth. You get hungry enough, the body starts shutting down, and then, well, the magic comes easier. It¡¯s why you haven¡¯t seen me at the Body & Mind Tables. The food there was too good. That bread is off the hook. And the lentils, don¡¯t get me started on the lentils, and there isn¡¯t even any meat involved. Mostly, I¡¯ve just been going through the bureaucracy to get the right paperwork for the New Astounders, and this time, we¡¯re not going to mess things up like before. You ready to get hungry, buster? The answer, or it should be, is no, no, you¡¯re not.¡± ¡°I have never been more famished than I have been during my time in Tower City. Hunger has dogged my every step.¡± That was the absolute truth. ¡°I can access my Diagraff, but I find it locked in some strange way. While it shames me, I must admit I find myself at Level One, Step One, and I do not see a clear path to Two. Please, I need your assistance!¡± ¡°Yeah, you and everyone else.¡± She sighed again. ¡°And you are also in need of my help,¡± Sal said carefully. ¡°In the end, we both can end up victorious in these matters. ¡°How come I feel like I¡¯m going to get the short end of the deal? Is your diner open?¡± ¡°Not yet. I¡¯m thinking about next Monday. I want to do some practicing. What say you come back with me, and I can cook us up some nourishment, and then perhaps you can study my Diagraff.¡± This was risky business. How was he ever going to explain the Karmic Gauge to her? He couldn¡¯t tell her the truth, no, but he might not have too. His Diagraff was so strange that it might not need any explanation. He was in uncharted waters. ¡°I could go for an egg,¡± she said softly. ¡°Just one. Just to take the edge off the hunger. That¡¯s the secret, to be starving just enough you¡¯re not weak as a kitten, or as moody as a full-grown rock lion.¡± ¡°So I can pay for your room?¡± For one wild second, Sal thought about offering her the other room above his diner. There was also the attic. Before he could do that, he¡¯d have to check with Betty and Shivaun first. It was only polite. That was a departure. In the past, he would¡¯ve just told his friends what he was going to do, and they would just have to deal with it. He didn¡¯t mention the Riverglitter tome, but he could unveil that to her in time. Kaixo flung herself away from the wall. ¡°Yes. You can pay. Let¡¯s just get this over with!¡± She then marched back inside. ¡°Cheryl, Mr. Charitable is going to handle my bills for now. But know this, the second I get treasure from the Tower, I¡¯m going to be checking out and finding a far better place to stay.¡± Sal heard the big woman laugh. ¡°Or you¡¯ll be dead. Makes no difference to me. I¡¯m just trying to run a business here!¡± Sal settled up the bill, and a message flashed, rewarding him with twenty whole percentage points. He didn¡¯t have time to check his percentages, but he thought he might have hit blue. Then he was walking with Kaixo back down Confusion Street to Destiny Square, and then around the corner and down to his diner. He unlocked the door and hurried inside, grateful for the cool temperatures. ¡°Thank you, Shivaun,¡± he muttered under his breath. Kaixo came in, glanced around, and nodded. ¡°At least it¡¯s clean. But what about the ghosts?¡± ¡°I have won over one particular ghost, a banshee, who keeps the diner cool. Yet, let us have that be a secret between the two of us. Now, about that egg. I have just come in possession of such inventory.¡± Kaixo shook her head. ¡°Oh, Sal, you do have a way with words. Okay, let¡¯s try your cooking. Do I go back there with you? Or do I stay here?¡± ¡°Remain here. Would you like some orange juice? I can squeeze some in no time at all.¡± Kaixo sat down at a table. ¡°I suppose. It¡¯s so nice in here, so much cooler than outside. That¡¯s bound to help you when you get this joint open.¡± ¡°That is my hope.¡± Sal went back to the kitchen and started loading the stove for the first time. Behind him, Shivaun appeared out of the shadows. She had a frown on her pale face. The wall to the left the stove popped with ice as her words appeared. Who is that? Sal kept his voice low. ¡°That¡¯s Kaixo Allakarra. She¡¯s going to help me with my Diagraff. I do not have many illusions about the nature of my magic. However, I do still have some aspirations that sorcery might help me with my little establishment.¡± He broke kindling up and got a fire going. ¡°If nothing else, it might help me get fires started more quickly.¡± There are elementals in the tower. Your friend is a Climber. You could ask her. ¡°Not a terrible plan.¡± Sal fed larger pieces of wood, waiting for the stove top to heat. ¡°Perhaps, though, we should walk before we run. Would you be so kind as to squeeze some orange juice for our guest? I would like some as well.¡± He¡¯d just loaded the stone butter crockery that morning, and so he had plenty of the stuff to grease the pan. When was the last time he¡¯d cooked? He didn¡¯t know, but he found himself sweating. Part of that was the fire. The other part was acute anxiety. Why should he be afraid? He¡¯d nearly conquered the entire world. He¡¯d commanded tens of thousands of troops and he¡¯d dealt with demons straight out of the Abyssmuck. This shouldn¡¯t be an issue. And yet, he wanted Kaixo to like his cooking. He let the butter sizzle in the pan, and then cracked two eggs. She¡¯d only wanted one, but one egg wouldn¡¯t do. He needed some bread, or something to go along with it, but he¡¯d not baked that morning. That had to change. He¡¯d get on the baking the next day. Would Fabrizio give him the recipe for his rye? He could only hope.¡± The former Dark Lord waited until the egg set, and he then turned it with a spatula, though he hadn¡¯t waited long enough, and so when he tried to turn the egg, it ended up making a mess. One of them was okay, but the other was an ugly mess. And how did Kaixo like her egg? He probably should¡¯ve broken the yolk right away, but it was too late. He¡¯d just have to hope for the best. He could eat the bad egg, and he could give her the good one. Sal realized it was something his father would¡¯ve done. This cooking business made him think of Mickey like nothing else. What would his father think of his son back at the stove? That was easy¡ªMickey would¡¯ve loved it. While he cooked, Shivaun busied herself squeezing the orange juice. She also got a try and set it on the counter along with two plates and two heavy metal forks. He then set an egg on each. He also had two cups made of thick glass. Both had orange juice in them, beads of condensation dripping down the sides. He wasn¡¯t sure how well the banshee¡¯s cold hands would do with warm meals, but for anything cold, she was perfect. He took the trays and went out and set them on the table. ¡°It is a simple repast, and yet, I hope you like it.¡± He snapped his fingers. ¡°Salt and pepper. I should have added them during the actual cooking preparations. It is too late for that, unless I should return to the kitchen for a second attempt. That made Kaixo laugh, which was a rare occurrence. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Sal. I can sprinkle some on after the fact.¡± He thought about calling to Shivaun, but her appearance might scare Kaixo away. Or at least make her leery about eating at his restaurant. He went and got the two bowls with the little spoons, somewhat glad that all of his tableware matched. He caught Kaixo sipping the juice. ¡°It¡¯s so sweet and cold! Did the ghost make it? Tell me the ghost made it.¡± Sal grinned. ¡°A chef never reveals his secrets. Let us eat.¡± They ate, and he watched her, more nervous than ever. She caught him looking and shrugging. ¡°It¡¯s a fried egg, guy. It¡¯s fine. I kinda like my eggs scrambled, and I¡¯m not a huge fan of runny yolks, but it hit the spot.¡± Sal ate his, and though it didn¡¯t look pretty, it tasted good. The orange juice was far better, a miracle really, with how cold it was. Both brought back more memories of eating the eggs his father cooked. For Sal¡¯s first attempt, it wasn¡¯t bad. He¡¯d have to remember to ask people about their preferences. He was no longer a Dark Lord. Now, he was a servant to his customers. Was this really his life now? Chapter Twenty-Two – Very Personal Magic The banshee does the dishes. The intimacy of magic. Diagraff madness. Mana transfer. An orphan in court. Keeping secrets. After Sal and Kaixo finished eating, he brought their dishes into the kitchen. Shivaun immediately started washing up. Her cold hands in the hot water resulted in a great deal of steam as she worked, though that cooled down the restaurant even more. The heat of the day might rage on outside, but inside his caf¨¦, it was a chilly heaven. Sal returned to the main room. The sorceress motioned to the back. ¡°So, your banshee does dishes?¡± ¡°She does.¡± ¡°Convenient.¡± ¡°That single word scarcely gives her the credit she deserves. In a very real way, all my culinary efforts can be attributed to her. In that way, it is a personal inconvenience, though one I find myself oddly grateful for.¡± Sal sat down, hauling out the books from the leather satchel. He set them on the table. ¡°Do you know how to read Gorbin?¡± Kaixo snorted. ¡°No one knows any Gorbin. They don¡¯t much like outsiders, and to be honest, we don¡¯t much like them. They¡¯re so weird.¡± She¡¯d taken off her head scarves, and they lay folded at the edge of the table near the open shutters. Her stringy blond hair seemed to glow in the sunlight where her head wasn¡¯t shaved. Sal found himself wanting to look at the tattoo on his scalp, to get closer to her, but that would¡¯ve been a mistake. He had to focus on the task at hand. ¡°Before I came to Torment Island, I had a warrior/sorcerer¡¯s Diagraff, but then, things changed, and I was given a new chart, though it was strange and locked. I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d like to see it.¡± Kaixo¡¯s mouth dropped open. ¡°No one shares their Diagraff. It¡¯s so¡­personal. And you don¡¯t know me. If I had access, I might do terrible things to you.¡± ¡°I understand,¡± Sal said. ¡°But I find myself a bit desperate. Nay, I live in full desperation. To lose all my old proficiencies was a blow. Even worse, though, is the idea that I do not fully understand the rules of this new game. That you can aid me is my dearest hope.¡± ¡°I can try.¡± Kaixo¡¯s brow was furrowed. Her mouth turned small into a frown. ¡°I hate that you paid Cheryl for that tiny room. It stinks like the wrong end of a poo broom. But oh well.¡± There was that idiom again. Sal found it shocking, but he moved on quickly. ¡°Think nothing of it. I also have this grimoire as payment. I do not believe I can use a single spell inside it.¡± He slid the book over. Kaixo paused. ¡°Ugh. Dealing with magic and strangers. This could be cursed, and you could be trying to steal my soul. Come on, Sal, you can¡¯t just give me this book. The jewels on the cover alone would be worth a fortune. ¡°Verily. But I believe I mentioned my desperation.¡± That made her smile. ¡°Verily, you talk like you verily don¡¯t belong here. But fine. I¡¯ll trust you. You seem super excited to trust me. Which is stupid.¡± She opened the book to the first page and read some. ¡°Oh, ancient Menold. It¡¯s like Yeshin but not really. Lucky me, I can read it.¡± Her eyes widened. ¡°Wow. Talk about a page-turner. I¡¯m even hooked by the table of contents. Lots of kill spells, some ice magic, and yeah, this is amazing. Why are you being so nice to me?¡± That made him chuckle. ¡°I have learned that being nice pays off. Now, cast the magic to look at my Diagraff. I am assuming you have that capability.¡± ¡°That I do.¡± She turned so she as straddling the bench. ¡°Give me your hands.¡± He shifted to match her, and then was surprised at her rough hands. They were warm and small, and he could smell her spicy scent. She whispered a word, and then they were both looking at his Diagraff. <<< ? >>> Salvanguish Abner Ordinal Diagraff Vitalis (Locked) Karmic Gauge: 78% Blue! We have achieved blue! Race: Resurrected Human, back from the dead and ready to party Vitalis Type: Commoner, though that may change. Vitalis Path: Porridge Peasant for now, but after some purple, this might get more exciting. Initial Mana Potential: 10ish Maximum Modified Mana: 11ish Current Level/DevStep: Level 1, Developmental Step 1 Experience Point Monitoring: Not Applicable To Your Unique Situation BodyWork Modifier: 10% SoulWork Modifier: 10 % Proficiencies (All Locked) <<< ? >>> Kaixo dropped his hands. ¡°Are you messing with me? You have to be messing with me. Granted, yours is only the third ever Diagraff I¡¯ve seen up close and personal, other than my own, but come on. It doesn¡¯t look like you even can get Experience Points. And what in the muck is this Karmic Gauge thing?¡± Sal was speechless. He¡¯d forgotten how informal his Diagraff was. The Yanir Sorceress squinted at him. ¡°Resurrected human? Did you get some kind of spell to bring you back? I know there are resurrection relics in the Tower, which can come in handy, but I¡¯ve never actually met a zombie before.¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°I am not a zombie,¡± Sal said firmly. ¡°And if you press me more, I cannot come up with a lie quickly enough. Verily, I cannot tell lies at all, or my Karmic Gauge would be reduced. It comes with a pain, in my heart, that I find disconcerting.¡± Kaixo closed one eye. She wasn¡¯t talking. ¡°Say something,¡± Sal begged. ¡°What can I say? This is all so weird.¡± She nodded. ¡°Though it kind of makes sense. You were probably dead for a while, which is why you talk the way you do. Verily this and verily that. Disconcerting? Yeah, that¡¯s an understatement.¡± She then closed the book and stood up. ¡°I can¡¯t help you. I can¡¯t take this book. I¡¯ll pay you back once we do our Tower Climb. Not ¡®we¡¯, but me and my new team. Yeah, so, thanks for the egg.¡± Sal pulled her back down. ¡°Sit for a few more minutes. Let me tell you my theories.¡± He then explained his experiences with the Karmic Gauge, how it was increased and decreased by his actions. He even mentioned that he¡¯d been given twenty percentage points for helping her with Cheryl. He loved that he was in the blue now, but the real question was what would happen if he reached purple and one hundred percent. ¡°Would that unlock my Diagraff?¡± he asked. She snorted again. ¡°Like I would know.¡± For a second, Sal wanted to tell her everything, about his past, his death, and his resurrection. Betty wouldn¡¯t like it, and it might have unforeseen consequences. Would she keep his secret? That was the real question. He simply couldn¡¯t risk it, not yet. Her gaze softened. ¡°There is one thing I could try. I have a Mana transfer spell. You just might need a little boost. But wait, so you got this new Diagraff after you got resurrected. Do I have the timeline right there?¡± ¡°That is correct.¡± Sal prayed she wouldn¡¯t ask more. ¡°I guess that makes sense. Maybe.¡± She sighed. ¡°Though if you have your old soul and a new body, I would think you¡¯d have the same old Diagraff. That¡¯s how most of the resurrection relics work, or so I understand. Starting over would suck if that wasn¡¯t the case. For a Climber, that would mean you¡¯d have to be beginner again, and in the middle of a floor, that would make you useless.¡± ¡°I do not feel useless in my present state.¡± Sal was surprised by his own honesty. ¡°In fact, I find this puzzle a bit fascinating. Though I remain desperate to get my magic unlocked. Running a diner with proficiencies would make my life so much easier.¡± ¡°So do you want to try the Mana transfer?¡± Sal considered the option. Before he¡¯d had a spell called Soul Steal, and he¡¯d used it to rob people of their Mana to fuel his own magic. It came with certain side effects, however. He got a glimpse of the lives of the people he¡¯d steal from, and if that happened, she might see into his past. Then she would know his secret. On the plus side, he would see into her life. He was curious about her. He summoned his courage. ¡°Let us try. But try not to gaze into the depths of my heart. You would not like the results.¡± ¡°Same goes for you, Sal. There is bound to be some soul-swapping, and I really don¡¯t like the idea. Just know that¡­that I tried to do the best I could with what I was given. Yeah? Life has a way of sending us down some bad alleys.¡± ¡°I understand that like no one else.¡± He found himself sweating in the chill room. His heart was pounding, and yet, he didn¡¯t have that icy pain, and he was grateful for it. Again facing each other on the bench, they took hold of each other¡¯s hands. Then she whispered a word. Immediately, he felt the power flow into him. He opened his eyes to gaze at the woman, as dark smoke poured from her eyes. He smelled her even more strongly now, and he knew she could smell him, and he was grateful he¡¯d just done laundry and washed himself. Then the diner disappeared, and he saw her, younger, a child on the streets of Yanhome. She was running from some men, and in her hand was a loaf of bread she¡¯d just stolen. An instant later, he saw her in a dungeon cell, and she was older, a full-grown woman, with her hair cut short, though she still had half of her hair shaved. Her tattoo was new, and he could see it in detail. It was a hand with a knife thrust through the palm. He didn¡¯t know what it meant, but he knew it had been important to her, a kind of ritual inking that probably had something to do with her magic. And then, yes, she was in court, in Yanhome, pleading her case. The words were lost, though, and then their connection was broken. Kaixo leapt to her feet. ¡°A mouse? That mouse is important, probably a Gwynar maybe, though I don¡¯t know. I just don¡¯t know. And your father, I saw you with your father, in Caya Idle, at that tavern. Ha. That¡¯s an old word. You¡¯ve been to Torment Island before. Dang, were you different. I think I know what you did¡­did to your father, but we don¡¯t have to talk about that.¡± Sal felt a lump of pure shame in his stomach. He didn¡¯t want her to know that. Out of his many sins, that just might be the worst. She moved on quickly. ¡°That¡¯s all I got. It didn¡¯t work. I didn¡¯t think it would work.¡± While she talked, she backed up against the wall, like she wanted to flee. ¡°Who in the muck are you, Sal?¡± ¡°A lost soul,¡± he said. ¡°Like you. I saw you as an orphan, then in a jail cell, then at court. What does the tattoo mean?¡± He asked it before he could take the words back. ¡°If you don¡¯t know, I¡¯m not going to tell you.¡± She was then unfolding her scarves, tying them around her head. ¡°Let¡¯s pretend this never happened. You keep the book. I¡¯ll pay you back. Good luck with the diner. That orange juice is going to be a big hit. Take me to court if it isn¡¯t.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t want to go back to court,¡± Sal said softly. ¡°Dang straight I don¡¯t.¡± Her eyes were wide with shock and fear. The whole endeavor seemed like the stupidest of mistakes. Sal got to his feet. ¡°Are you alright? I mean, as far as your magic is concerned. I was worried that it might affect you some way.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she said sharply. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go.¡± Sal walked to the front doors and pushed them open. ¡°Please, take the book. It will help you with your climb. I cannot use it.¡± She scooped up the book. ¡°You mentioned the Gorbin before. Why?¡± He pointed at the remaining tome on the table. ¡°They have their own Diagraffs, which they call Magica Plexuses. Er. Plexi? Regardless, they access Prana, which might be another word for Mana, but I don¡¯t think so. It could be they might be able to help me.¡± ¡°Wish you luck there, Sal.¡± She walked to the door and slid by him, careful not to get too close. Once outside, she seemed to relax. ¡°Let me know when you open. You know where I live now. You could send the note with the mouse, though she can talk, right? She¡¯s not just a mouse.¡± ¡°Not just a mouse,¡± Sal agreed. ¡°Please, keep that a secret. Keep this whole encounter hidden. Can we agree on that?¡± ¡°We can. I just¡­I wish¡­.¡± She didn¡¯t say more. Sal nodded. ¡°I know. You don¡¯t need to finish. Please tell me when you plan to do your climb. I¡¯ll light a candle at Yeshu¡¯s chapel. I¡¯ll get Fabrizio to pray for you.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Like that would help. Maybe Alikor might throw me a blessing or two, though more likely, he¡¯ll be too drunk to do much. But yeah, I¡¯ll let you know. Let¡¯s not lose touch. I want you to succeed. You¡¯re a good guy, Sal. At least I think you are.¡± ¡°I hope I am.¡± And that was the truth. She stood in the sunlight. ¡°What are you going to call your place?¡± She then lifted a hand. ¡°Oh, hi.¡± Sal turned. There in the shadows, stood Shivaun, with her arms crossed. The banshee looked like a pale woman, though if your gaze lingered on her eyes, you could see there was something very wrong with her. In short, she was dead. Shivaun lifted a hand back, carefully, cautiously. Kaixo took a breath. ¡°Wow. A Gwynar and a ghost. You weren¡¯t kidding. So, what are you going to name this freakshow?¡± She winced. ¡°Uh. No offense.¡± Sal had some ideas. None of them were very good. He shrugged. Kaixo grunted. ¡°Oh, come on. That¡¯s like the most important thing! How about the Orange Juice Caf¨¦? Just get that out there. Or since this was the Dark Lord¡¯s Square at one point. How about the Dark Lord¡¯s Diner?¡± Sal searched her face. Did she know something? ¡°No, not that.¡± ¡°The Champion Caf¨¦. You can say you serve the breakfast of champions. I mean, that¡¯s pretty good. You are in Champion Plaza after all.¡± Don¡¯t remind me, Sal thought. ¡°I¡¯ll think of something.¡± ¡°Good luck with that.¡± Without another word, she left him alone in the diner. He¡¯d be opening his caf¨¦ without the help of magic. He turned and went back in, and Shivaun was there, pointing at the wall. Her frozen words made it clear what her opinion was. The Champion Caf¨¦ is the name. Let that be a reminder to you. Sal sighed. ¡°How shall I ever forget my death at the hands of the champion?¡± Chapter Twenty-Three – The Stink of Marketing Remembering that oath? Out and about. Flyers that don¡¯t fly. A rocky conversation. The newspaper. The stink. After the disappointing encounter with Kaixo, Sal didn¡¯t have the heart to make the trek over to the Mind & Body Tables. He slept in and ate his morning peach in bed. He was grateful the ghost didn¡¯t force him down the steps to get his morning fruit. Sal spent most of that day in bed, sleeping, or thinking, or doing a little mixture of both. Betty was out and about. Was she angry with him? He¡¯d told her about what happened with Kaixo, including how she¡¯d seen into his past. As far as he knew, Kaixo might know about his greatest sin, but she didn¡¯t know about his Dark Lording. Betty seemed to take in stride, though she¡¯d soon vanished after that. Maybe she wouldn¡¯t come back. Could Sal blame her? He wasn¡¯t sure why he was taking his locked Diagraff so hard. it wasn¡¯t like he could work to get new spells. What he needed was a day off to sleep and eat and not worry about his magic or about the diner. His benefactor had other ideas. Around three in the afternoon, he was napping, when he got the warning message: <<<>>> Warning! Karmic Gauge reduced by 1%. That solemn oath isn¡¯t going to fulfill itself. You¡¯re too close to stop now! Current Karmic Gauge: 77 % (Still blue, but dontcha wanna get to purple?) <<<>>> Sal drew himself up out of the bed, rubbing at his chest. The banshee stood at the top of the steps, arms crossed, looking angry. ¡°I know, Shivaun, I know. I needed to rest. I guess I have rested enough. It¡¯s time to start spreading the word. I¡¯ll go and help Fabrizio get the Mind & Body Tables ready, which should give me the percentage point I just lost. And I aim to get more than that.¡± Sal got out of bed, washed himself out back in the alley, and put on a fresh set of clothes. He then hurried across town, pausing at the entrance of the Godspear Tower, where a few battered Climbers were limping out, having failed to get the Copper Key. He¡¯d only heard whispers about what an actual Tower climb was like, though he couldn¡¯t blame those adventurous souls for trying. The reward of a Deux Coin was a strong incentive. Anyone who got one might do a little Dark Lording of their own. Sal touched the stone and knew that if he could lure in some of the foot traffic off Tower Road, he might just fill his diner. For that, he needed to get creative. He¡¯d start with a sign, though he knew that was just a start. Fabrizio met him outside the Chapel, and they walked back around to the little kitchen back by the Mind & Body Tables. While they cooked lentils and baked bread, they talked about all of Sal¡¯s ideas for opening his diner. Fabrizio liked some, hated others, but insisted that what Sal needed were several big signs and some flyers. Sal wasn¡¯t clear on that flyers were, but he trusted the Ponti like no one else. There was a Gimm shop up near the North Wall, that might be able to help him. The Stoneskins were very clever when it came to merging gadgets and magic. Cheryl¡¯s fan back at the Copper Key Inn had been an example of that. The North Wall section of town would fall under the power of the Viscount of Grains, someone that Sal hadn¡¯t met yet. And after his strange encounter with Otto Ovum, he was okay with that. Sal also had another request for Fabrizio. The former Dark Lord wanted to help people, either financially or with some work, because it was clear Sal wasn¡¯t going to be to cheat his way into unlocking his Diagraff. At this stage, he thought his best chance for success was getting his Karmic Gauge to 100%. Helping Kaixo had given him a full twenty points. If he could house another poor soul, that might just push him over the edge. Fabrizio only laughed. Finding people to help in Tower City wouldn¡¯t be difficult at all. Everyone needed something. For now, that was great news for Sal. However, he couldn¡¯t let that get in the way of opening his caf¨¦, however. After helping Fabrizio clean up, Sal swung by the Copper Key Inn and offered Kaixo a job. She didn¡¯t like the idea, but she agreed, because the book he¡¯d given her had provided her with any number of powerful spells. The New Astounders had a Tower Climb appointment, in the next ten days or so, and she promised to tell him when they had an exact date and time. He was glad. He wanted to be there and wish her and her team well. He was also curious about meeting one of the Scallia Capran dragonriders. He¡¯d only seen two dragons in his long, long life, and they had been magnificent creatures. But how could they get one into the Tower? The next day, he was up bright and early, getting breakfast on the way. He stopped by a stand selling fried dough rings along with spicy sausage rolls, deep-fried. When he asked the proprietor¡ªan old Primogeny woman with graying hair and way too much ear hair¡ªher name, she said it was Madame Benyay. After some conversation, he learned that she used two different deep-fat fryers for her food. The old elf woman had laughed, eye-crinkling. ¡°Yes! Two fryers. Who wants a sweet sausage roll?¡± Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Sal asked Madame Benyay if he could buy a few dozen of the dough rings for his caf¨¦, which prompted a whole conversation on the cursed nature of Champion Plaza and why it was closed. Madame Benyay was pretty sure that Sal would be dead within a week, once the Braggadorios learned that he was trying to open Tony Belly¡¯s old place. Then again, Madame Benyay couldn¡¯t believe that a ghost hadn¡¯t killed him already. Shrugging, Sal was simply happy to have a source for the pastries. He wanted a dozen plain, a dozen sprinkled with powdered sugar, and a dozen of the lemon rings. It was probably too many, and Benyay made it clear that they only were good right out of the grease, and that he shouldn¡¯t try and sell anything day-old. Sal made no promises. He hurried off to a busy street near the North Wall, where many of the Gimm lived and worked. He found Faerg¡¯s Printing Shop next to a tall building with name in scrolling letters across the front. The Tower Today! There were several men and Gimm talking excitedly out front, either holding large pieces of folded paper or writing in notebooks. He wasn¡¯t sure to make of it, so he pushed his way into Faerg¡¯s shop. Faerg himself stood on a stool at his counter. His skin was gray and cracked, and he was as wide as he was tall. A big mop of black hair covered his head, parted in the middle. He had three big fingers and was screwing a nut tight into a nut on a gadget. ¡°Welcome to Faerg¡¯s. Whatcha be needing?¡± The Gimm man spoke in a deep, rough voice. There were any number of jokes about Stoneskins having gravelly voices. Sal wasn¡¯t about to insult the man by making another one. ¡°I have come for three signs, and some things called flyers. I can only guess they are magical pieces of paper that fly through the air.¡± Faerg titled his head. ¡°No, no, that¡¯s not how any of that works. What do you want them flyers for?¡± ¡°I am opening the Champion Caf¨¦ on Champion Plaza, in Tony Belly¡¯s old place. I have dealt with the ghosts, and all will be safe, I assure you.¡± Faerg shifted his arm, and a few rocky growths on his arm clattered across the counter. ¡°Excuse my stones,¡± the Gimm printer said. ¡°Do any of the Braggadorios know?¡± ¡°Otto Ovum knows,¡± Sal said. Faerg grunted. ¡°You might be okay then. Don¡¯t expect much help from Ziggy. He¡¯s only in town to play dress up.¡± He cleared his throat, then spit a stone into his hand, which he dropped into a basket near him. He also swept the few rocks on the counter into a big palm and tossed them into the same place. Sal was used to the oddities of dealing with the Gimm. ¡°Yes, sir, so, if you wouldn¡¯t mind, could you explain how flyers work?¡± ¡°I print up a bunch of paper, and you hand them out, and tell folks about your diner before someone cuts your throat.¡± He grumbled laughter. ¡°It¡¯ll be harder to market when you¡¯re dead!¡± ¡°Or if you have a sword in your chest,¡± Sal said with a sigh. ¡°I see. The paper does not actually fly. Where I am from, we were limited to writing a sheet of paper, one at a time, though sometimes, we enlisted legions to aid in the copying.¡± Faerg grunted laughter. ¡°Don¡¯t know what to say to that. Anyway. How many do you want?¡± Sal didn¡¯t know, but he worked with Faerg on the number, the design, and what might be on the signs. He planned on hanging them on all three entrances to Champion Plaza, which meant Tower Road, at the corner of Holyboat and Wellwater Lane, and down near the harbor at the mouth of Fishstink Street. He was hoping he might get some of the fisherman traffic. Before he left, Sal had to ask, ¡°I do have one question. What is the Tower Today?¡± Faerg squinted one eye shut, which caused a pebble to drop off his chin. ¡°You really aren¡¯t from around here. That¡¯d be the newspaper. If you¡¯re opening your diner, you should pay for some advertisement. I know a good rocky running the printer press, and he knows everyone else. You should also get someone to review your place. Would be good publicity.¡± Sal thought he was so lucky to be working with Faerg, but then that was thanks to Fabrizio, who once again proved invaluable. Well, he¡¯d never have to pay for another breakfast or lunch for the rest of his days. Or as long as Sal had the caf¨¦ open. Sal was about to leave, when his curiosity got the better of him. ¡°Excuse me, Faerg, I would like to ask about the Gimm and the Gorbin who live out in the mountains. Do they really live in peace? I have heard say they do, though I always though the Gimm and Gorbin were loath to be in each other¡¯s company.¡± Faerg wrinkled his rocky nose, which sent more pebbles clattering. ¡°Whole lotta Gimm. Whole lotta Gorbin. Some hate each other, some don¡¯t, but here on Torment Island, we¡¯re mostly peaceable. Got a good life out there, in the Undersun Caverns.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you live there? If I might be so bold to ask such a question.¡± Faerg blinked, and it was like rocks clicking together. Nothing dropped off him, though. ¡°Here is where there¡¯s business. Folks like you need printing, and I¡¯m also a Notary Public, and that keeps me busy thanks to the governor and all his paperwork. We Gimm keep close to the North Wall, though, just in case we might have to rock on back to the Undersun City. You being new, we call it the Undersun, or Undersun Caverns, or Undersun City. But you get the point.¡± Sal had an idea, and he thought Faerg might help him. ¡°Are there Gorbin sorcerers in the Undersun?¡± Faerg squinted his eyes suspiciously and didn¡¯t respond. It was clear the Gimm man wanted more of an explanation. Sal had one. ¡°I have a book, written by a Gorbin, and I found some magical theories that I am eager to discuss. Verily, I do not need a necromancer to help with my diner, as I have the ghosts under control. My inquiry is more to satisfy my curiosity than anything diabolic.¡± Faerg wasn¡¯t impressed. ¡°Neither the Stoneskins nor the Skinless much like visitors. People have hated us for either having too much skin or not enough. If you went up there, you¡¯d have to do some fast talking. Still might not save your neck. The Gorbin sorcerer you want to talk to just might kill you for fun.¡± While he doubted that was the case, it was clear Faerg didn¡¯t want to help him. He thanked the Gimm, and then left. He¡¯d return the next day to pick up his signs and flyers. He was going to open in three days, on a Monday, and he¡¯d spend the weekend getting the word out. He¡¯d still need to advertise. He went over to the Tower Today building, and had the name of Faerg¡¯s friend, with the unlikely name of Anthrokite. In the end, he didn¡¯t need a contact. All he needed were some gold pieces and yes, he would have a half-page ad about his restaurant. He bought fourteen days of space, hoping that would be enough. He also bought himself a subscription. It would be a great way to keep track of current events, and he might even learn more about the inside of the Godspear Tower. All in all, he was feeling optimistic. Until he returned to his diner. He planned on cooking himself lunch, practicing both his eggs and his pancakes, and he also wanted to try some bacon, though he was having a hard time finding that cut of pork. It seemed bacon wasn¡¯t as popular as it once had been. The first thing he noticed as he pushed through the front doors was the smell. It was horrible, a mixture of nightmare stenches, from latrines to graveyards to slaughterhouses. With a little rotten food thrown in to really make your stomach turn. The second thing he noticed? Shivaun, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking insanely upset. Chapter Twenty-Four – Life is Difficult The smell! Signs and flyers. The wrong person for the job. Fabrizio¡¯s failure. More work. Some hope. Sal couldn¡¯t take the stench. He¡¯d smelled pillaged villages that smelled better, and that included piles of heroic warriors who¡¯d soiled themselves after getting a Gorbin spear through their vitals. The Gorbin. Sal felt the real guilt of his crimes, and it threatened to submerge in a mire of despair. He¡¯d ordered the villages burned. He¡¯d sent the Gorbin in, thinking they were mindless minions, literally monsters created by Alikor. Because that was who created them. Alikor, the Bad Dad, didn¡¯t think creating sentient beings was all that hard, and so he stole Grandmother Maker¡¯s Deux Coin, and he brought forth the Gorbin, though he didn¡¯t get the skin right. That made them very sensitive to sunlight among other things. By the time his mother retrieved her coin, the damage had been done. Stealing stuff from your own parents? Alikor was just the worst. Sal knew that at some point, he¡¯d go to Undersun City, and try and get some help with his Diagraff. But confronting the Gorbin, given his new knowledge, wasn¡¯t going to be easy. For the time being, he had other problems. He retreated out through the front doors, spun, and spoke to Shivaun, still standing in the doorway. ¡°Do you smell the stench, spirit? Perhaps that is why you appear so sour. Perhaps not. Verily, upon my life, I swear that the odor is appalling!¡± The banshee, unamused, pointed at the door. Icy words appeared there. Verily, I can smell it. Why do you think I am so upset? One of the ghosts here has decided that he does not want our establishment to open. ¡°So it is a he? Any idea of his history?¡± She shook her head. If only Sal had his old Diagraff! He could¡¯ve cast his Phantom Philter, become a ghost himself, and then searched for the offending specter. He couldn¡¯t open with such a stink! He couldn¡¯t. At the same time, the wheels were in motion. He wasn¡¯t about to put off opening the diner again. He had his oath to consider. On top of that, he was spending money left and right, without any income. Maybe he should¡¯ve sold the Riverglitter grimoire or the Killword scroll. Nay, it was far too late for that. Even if he¡¯d accepted the Killword scroll, he wouldn¡¯t have sold it. It was evil magic, and he didn¡¯t want to be responsible for it. Should he have taken it and destroyed it? That might¡¯ve been the best option. Too bad he couldn¡¯t travel back in time. ¡°What can we do?¡± Sal asked finally. A word appeared on the door. Ask our Ponti friend for help. ¡°Our Ponti friend?¡± Sal felt a welcome smile curve his lips. ¡°I¡¯m glad you like Fabrizio. I like him as well. That is a good idea. Or do we ask the Pontra Genetrix? We are in her ward after all. And yet, I am not certain we can trust her.¡± Where¡¯s Betty? The ghost shrugged. For now, they needed a more practical solution. ¡°I shall get a Gimm fan. Might as well spend more money as if my coffers shall never be depleted. For now, open every window, and pray.¡± Pray? To which god? ¡°Vendita. We need her winds to come and blow the smell away. She blesses the heroes, and opening a new business is a heroic act. It takes far more courage than I ever would have thought.¡± As Shivaun went to throw open the shutters and wedge the back door open, Sal braved the smell and got more money. He then hurried back to the North Wall, and there, he acquired a fan and hurried back. Setting up the fan on the counter that separated the kitchen from the main room, the magical device did a fair job of clearing the air, though the stink remained. That night, Fabrizio had made plans to visit a family after the Mind & Body Tables closed, and so he couldn¡¯t return with him. Sal spent a stinky night in his room, with the fan in the window, to bring in fresh air. Betty had returned, and she was as confused as he was. At the same time, she made a good point. Before she went to sleep in her bowl bed on the windowsill, she yawned and then said in a cheerful voice, ¡°Listen, chief. Planning on opening a diner is one thing, but actually doing it is a whole different kind of cookie. We were bound to get some attention, some good, some bad. This is, uh, on the bad, smelly side. Do you get undertones of rotten fish? Or is that just from the harbor?¡± It wasn¡¯t. It was from the stinky ghost that was causing them trouble. ¡°So you are not angry with me?¡± Sal asked. Betty shook her head. ¡°Not at all. Just has some Gwynar stuff to take care of. Sorry I¡¯ve been gone so much. It¡¯s just me, TCB.¡± ¡°TCB?¡± ¡°Taking care of business. Good night, buddy.¡± ¡°Good night, my friend.¡± That night, Sal slept fitfully. He kept smelling bodies burning, which made him consider his many sins, and he had a vision of confronting Kenny outside of Hearthhome, after the battle, which was now called a slaughter. That was the truth. It had been a slaughter. Most of the time, Sal had been careful not to hurt civilians. Ruling over resentful folk was much harder than trying to get taxes from normal people who just wanted to go about their lives. The next day, he picked up the copy of the Tower Today on his doorstep and then made himself a couple of eggs. Shivaun had baked their first batch of breads, miniature loaves of flaky white bread and some hearty rye bread, Fabrizio¡¯s recipe, which Sal knew was good. Both kinds of breads turned out far better than he would¡¯ve thought. Slathered with rich butter, they were better than the eggs he¡¯d cooked for himself. While the stove fire was hot, Shivaun kept the kitchen a comfortable room temperature. Reading the newspaper while eating was very comforting. Sipping coffee, the first cup he¡¯d had since resurrecting, completed the experience. The headlines were all about the Good Boys, the Canus climbers he¡¯d seen before. They¡¯d won their way through the second level of the Tower, and had the Silver Key now. There was a helpful paragraph on the various levels of the Godspear¡ªCopper, Silver, Gold, Platinum, Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald, Diamond, White Diamond, Black Diamond, Double Black Diamond and beyond that were the elemental levels of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. Then the Soul levels started, but only a handful of Climbers in the last thousand years had made it that far. At the very top? The Deux Coin Spire far, far above. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Sal read through the paper and then left his diner to pick up his flyers and signs. He then spent some time nailing one up at the intersection of Holyboat Road and Wellwater Lane. He also put one up near the front of Fishstink Street, on the southeast road that led from the harbor to Champion Plaza. Instead of hanging the last sign up on Tower Road, he nailed it to a board. He then gave the board to Kaixo. She frowned at him, while they stood on the empty Champion Street, which connected with Tower Road. ¡°You¡¯re serious about this? I¡¯m going to hold this dumb sign up and talk to people. I don¡¯t like people. Have I made that clear?¡± ¡°Have you eaten?¡± Sal asked her. She shook her head. ¡°Too busy reading the Riverglitter grimoire. The hunger focuses me. Instead of feeling it, I read. It all works out.¡± She closed her eyes. She was as pale as Shivaun. Sal fished his morning peach out of his pocket. ¡°Here. Eat this.¡± Kaixo made a face. ¡°Eat your pocket peach? No thank you.¡± ¡°There is no dairy. And they are still very good. The quality will decline in the coming weeks as the weather changes.¡± ¡°Better hope it doesn¡¯t change too much. A comfortably cold place to eat is one of your selling points.¡± She pointed at the sign. <<<>>> GRAND OPENING! THE CHAMPION CAF¨¦! THE BEST ORANGE JUICE AND LEMONEASE IN TOWER CITY! TAKE A BREAK FROM THE HEAT IN OUR MAGICALLY COLD CAF¨¦. ENJOY THE BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS! SPECIAL DEALS NOW AVAILABLE! OUTSIDE SEATING! ENJOY THE QUIET OF CHAMPION PLAZA! <<<>>> Sal read the sign for the hundredth time, looking for spelling mistakes. He was glad he didn¡¯t find any, while at the same time, he thought his sign was too wordy. Too late for that now. One of the benefits of Dark Lording was embracing the imperfect. Nothing was perfect when you were trying to conquer the world. The sign was fine. However, Kaixo¡¯s sour attitude probably wouldn¡¯t entice customers. He wished Fabrizio was less busy. The Ponti¡¯s cheery outlook would work so much better. ¡°Just eat the peach. And try to take on a more positive appearance. Let your visage shine with enthusiasm!¡± Kaixo frowned. ¡°Is that a fancy way to tell me to smile? Good luck with that, buster. This is so embarrassing. If you hadn¡¯t given me the best book ever, I wouldn¡¯t even be here. But fine.¡± She took the peach, sniffed it, and then took a bite. She sighed, closing her eyes. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s some good fruit right there. Hits the spot. You were right.¡± Sal smiled. ¡°I enjoy hearing that. I¡¯ll spend the day passing out flyers. We shall meet up back at the caf¨¦. The workman should deliver the two tables, the four chairs, and the umbrellas this afternoon.¡± Kaixo devoured the peach until only the pit was left. She tossed it to him. ¡°I notice your fancy sign doesn¡¯t talk about how your place stinks.¡± ¡°Verily, I cannot argue that unfortunate fact. We are working to improve the situation. Fabrizio promised to come by tonight.¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t he afraid of ghosts?¡± ¡°Let us not discuss that. He endeavors to improve.¡± Sal left her as she held the sign limply. She was not the right person for the job, but again, in the real world, you worked with what the gods gave you. Sal then walked down Tower Road and started handing out flyers, trying to adjust his words, so he sounded more like a modern local and not an ancient, far too educated Dark Lord. Most people took the paper, not reading it, while others balled it up and tossed it into the gutter a second after they walked away. That was depressing. A few people read over the flyer while they stood there, which felt humiliating in a way that Sal wasn¡¯t prepared for. In another life, he would¡¯ve ordered these commoners to come to his caf¨¦ on pain of death. Now, according to his Diagraff Vitalis, he was also a commoner. Sal did notice one thing, walking up and down Tower Road. There were church shops lining Tower Road, selling all sorts of things, some religious, some secular. For the most part, they did a thriving business even with the Sacra Famiglia religion in decline. When he was out of flyers, he went to check on Kaixo, who was leaning against the deserted warehouse near the grand entrance of the tower. The sign was pointed toward the wall. She raised her chin in defiance as he walked up to her. ¡°I¡¯m just taking a break, boss. Believe me, thirty seconds ago, I was signing up a storm, and smiling, always smiling.¡± He doubted that. ¡°Has there been any interest?¡± The Yaniri sorceress shrugged. ¡°Not a lot. Some people think you¡¯re crazy to open your caf¨¦ in a haunted plaza. You¡¯re only going to get the crazies. And ghost chasers. That might help you. Probably not.¡± ¡°It is not something I want to advertise.¡± Kaixo returned to work, holding the sign and talking to people. Again, most weren¡¯t interested, and one guy, a man in black and red armor, grilled him on his menu, no pun intended, and asked about dough rings and coffee. Sal assured him he¡¯d have both, including a lemon glazed donut ring that would change his life. The former Dark Lord had to talk about everything with such enthusiasm, as if his iffy breakfast was as good as retrieving the Deux Coin at the top of the Tower. It was exhausting. And the self-doubt crept in. Would anyone show up? Or would his diner fail in the most dramatic way possible? Sal finally called it a day, nailed the sign to the wall on Tower Road, and figured he¡¯d have to get another sign made, so he could have one they could carry around. Then he got a bunch more flyers and treated himself to lentils and rye bread at the Mind & Body Tables. After cleaning up, which helped his Karmic Gauge creep higher towards purple, he and Fabrizio walked back through the city to Champion Plaza. Sal stopped short when he saw the graffiti on his sign. Someone had written HAUNTED in huge letters across the front. And they scratched out all references to CHAMPION and wrote CHUMP instead. Fabrizo stood with his hands on his hips. ¡°Oh boy, that¡¯s a shame. The Breakfast of Chumps just doesn¡¯t have the same ring to it.¡± ¡°You are not wrong there.¡± Sal shook his head. ¡°This is impossible. Especially with the smell. And the workers didn¡¯t bring my tables. I shall have to return to North Wall to see what the matter could be. And to get more signs made. Most likely, my other signage has been ruined by this outrageous slander.¡± Fabrizio laughed. ¡°I could listen to you talk all day long, every day. But the gods make the path steep to strengthen us. What you are trying to do is hard. It¡¯ll be worth it, though. Mark my words, Sal. You¡¯re going to be stupidly successful.¡± The Ponti paused. ¡°Breakfast of Champions. It¡¯d be great if your food could give Climbers some buffs. You know, strength, speed, that kind of thing. Eggs that protect you! Magical shells! The works!¡± Sal sighed, dying a little. ¡°If only my Diagraff was not locked away, as hidden and protected as any treasure.¡± ¡°The real treasure were the friends we made along the way!¡± Fabrizo said loudly. A few Tortas chuckled at him as they walked past. In the end, neither the Ponti, nor Sal, could find the source of the smell. Fabrizo went room to room with his candle, praying to Yeshu, and sweating all the time. Given his phobia, it was a heroic act, and Sal was grateful for the effort. He walked Fabrizio back to his chapel. The Ponti had some good news for him. ¡°Last night, I spent some time with Edna Gomee and her kids. They¡¯re so wonderful. Nothing like children to give you some hope. Edna, though, is in a mess. Her husband left her, left the island for good, and she¡¯s stuck doing laundry for coppers. They lost their room at the Rat¡¯s Den. I¡¯m putting them up in the chapel for now. But they need a place.¡± ¡°I can pay,¡± Sal said. ¡°If you can secure them another place to live.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°It would be my pleasure, Ponti. In more ways than one.¡± Fabrizio knocked him with a friendly elbow. ¡°For your Karmic Gauge. I¡¯d love it if everyone had such a thing. It would make my job so much easier.¡± ¡°Life is difficult for all,¡± Sal said. He thought of Kaixo, growing up an orphan in Yanhome. ¡°We all try to do the best we can, though life has a way of sending us down some bad alleys. Worse yet, we have little understanding of our fate. It is a wonder that there is even a bit of goodness in the world.¡± ¡°More than a bit,¡± Fabrizio replied. ¡°People are good at their heart. I¡¯ve seen it, over and over.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t so sure. He¡¯d lived a long time, over two thousand years, and he knew all about the desperate evil some held in their hearts. Good, normal folks were capable of astoundingly vile acts. True, innate evil was rare. He wanted to put himself in the former category, and yet, he most likely was the latter. True evil, intrinsic by nature. Yes, he¡¯d found himself walking that dark road. He thought of his father, and what he¡¯d done to poor Mickey. It shamed him. Shamed him to his very core. Chapter Twenty-Five – The Grand Opening Waking up early. Two kinds of bread. Last minute signage. The first customer. A little Accident. Free samples. Monday morning, Sal got up way before daylight. It was their grand opening, and he immediately lit incense to try and deal with the ungodly stench. Luckily, he had outdoor seating¡ªthe two small tables, their corresponding umbrellas, and four sturdy chairs had all been delivered. It was going to be another hot day, which wouldn¡¯t help them that afternoon, but for the morning, it was perfect. With the magically-powered Gimm fan blowing and the stick of incense burning, the smell wasn¡¯t terrible, but it still wasn¡¯t the very welcoming scent that Sal had wanted. He had to figure this out, and quickly, or he¡¯d be ruined. Early word-of-mouth was going to be critical, and if that wasn¡¯t five stars, they were going to have some real issues. It might mean they wouldn¡¯t be able to open at all. Shivaun didn¡¯t seem to mind his help baking, but Sal soon left to get the dough rings. He¡¯d come back quickly to get the urn of coffee brewing, and they¡¯d have hot water for teas. As for meats, he hadn¡¯t found the good cut of bacon he wanted, so he¡¯d went with sausage and ham. A trip to the Pork Poet was in his future. Didn¡¯t anyone eat bacon anymore? If that was the case, that would definitely help his diner. Such a delicacy would have the people coming in droves. They had the orange juice, and two kinds of lemonease, sweet and salty, but he figured those wouldn¡¯t sell until the day heated up. Maybe the ghost would have some mercy on them and keep the stink to a minimum because after eleven o¡¯clock, he wanted his customers inside the supernaturally cold main dining room. For now, they closed off the bigger room because the smell was the worst there. There were some sliding barn doors that did the trick. If they were forced to use both of the dining rooms, they¡¯d cross that bridge when they came to it. In the main room, the stove and cooking smells, along with the incense, did a fairly good job covering the stink. Sal wasn¡¯t going to simply sit and wait around for customers. He was open. He¡¯d get someone to come, even if he had to be very persuasive. He didn¡¯t have spells, but he did know how to do the hard sell¡ªwhat can I say or do to get you to come to my caf¨¦? Betty was as excited as they all were. She was pacing on the table. ¡°Oh, dear, this is so stressful, ace! My little immortal heart can¡¯t take it.¡± Shivaun sighed from the kitchen. ¡°Listen,¡± Sal said. ¡°I shall go to Tower Road in an attempt to drum up some business. Betty, I have a job for you. If a customer wanders in and I¡¯m not here, run and get me. And you have my gratitude for staying with me this morning. I appreciate it. I know you like your cookie crumbs for breakfast.¡± Betty laughed. ¡°Oh, no, I had Shivaun tear me off a big hunk of those lemon dough rings. If I wasn¡¯t so nervous, I¡¯d have eaten the whole thing. Those dough rings just might have me off the chocolate-chip cookies for good!¡± That was high praise. At this point, Sal was only buying a few of them, since he had to pay full price from Madame Benyay. If they became popular, he just might have to get a deep-fat fryer and make his own. Then Sal hurried to the corner with another sign on a board, this one proclaiming that the Champion Caf¨¦ was open for business! At seven in the morning, not many people cared. They were engaging in their normal morning routines, and they didn¡¯t care that a new restaurant had opened in Champion Plaza. The crowd was small, and Sal was glad, because he didn¡¯t want to open any earlier than six. Try as he might, he couldn¡¯t entice anyone to his caf¨¦. Nor did Betty come running to tell him he had a customer. That would¡¯ve been awkward. Shivaun couldn¡¯t chitchat without murdering, and if she wrote her icy words on the wall, there was no telling what people might think. But Sal wasn¡¯t going to give up. In the end, a customer came to him. He wasn¡¯t a stranger, however, not strictly speaking. The first customer was a youth in black and red armor, and he couldn¡¯t have been more nineteen. He had an angular face, with olive skin, and ink-black hair. He was lanky and tall, and his Adam¡¯s apple was a bit too pronounced. He had a thick broadsword in a scabbard at his side, though it somehow seemed way too much sword for someone so young. He might¡¯ve looked better with a wooden practice sword. Even then, that might¡¯ve been trying too hard. Before Sal could go into his sale¡¯s spiel, the kid started talking in a cracking voice. ¡°Hello, sir, you must be Sal Fang. I¡¯m Theovanni Balanacci, but you can call me Theo, sir. I¡¯m one of the New Astounders with Kaixo. She said maybe you would have breakfast for me? She never eats breakfast. I¡¯m staying in her room until we get a slot for the Tower Climb. Because, uh, I¡¯m a Tower Climber.¡± Awkward pause. ¡°Sir.¡± Everything about this kid screamed awkward. He was so uncertain of himself, and yet, he was there to eat. It was a pity customer. And from someone who didn¡¯t have enough money for their own room. All in all, it felt like family. Sal, though, surprised himself by seeing it as an opportunity. ¡°Why, yes, Theo, I am running a new caf¨¦ in Champion Plaza.¡± He kept his voice loud and full of excitement. ¡°What? Did you say you were famished for the best breakfast in Tower Road? I have the best breakfast in Tower Road. Please, come with me, quickly, because we shall fill up every seat before long. Come, come, come!¡± You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. His outburst did have people staring. Was that a good thing? Sal hoped so. Sal quickly tacked up his Grand Opening sign to the wall and then marched Theo down Champion Street. Before the kid knew it, he was sitting underneath an umbrella outside the front door, where the shutters were thrust open, and the smell of coffee wafted out. Along with a little graveyard rot thrown in, but that was easy to ignore. ¡°So, Theo, what can I get you? We have everything!¡± Sal winced. That was a mistake. <<<>>> Warning! Karmic Gauge reduced by 1%. There¡¯s gonna be some hyperbole when it comes to advertising, but come on, you don¡¯t have everything. Like waffles. You do not have any waffles, nor do you have the means to make waffles. Current Karmic Gauge: 83% (So close to purple you can taste it! What does purple taste like? More purple!) <<<>>> Sal corrected himself. ¡°Alas, verily, we do not have everything. But we have eggs, pancakes, sausage, oranges, and orange juice, which Kaixo must¡¯ve mentioned.¡± The kid¡¯s face brightened. ¡°Orange juice! Yeah, that, and just what you said. Eggs, pancakes, sausages. I, uh, eat a lot sir. But I have some money.¡± Sal so wanted to sigh his heart out. And he wanted to raise his fist to heaven. He did neither. ¡°How about we make a deal. You get free breakfast, all you can eat, if you go and hold my Grand Opening sign. That should¡ª¡± A second later, a dragon came flying down from the heavens. At first, Sal thought it was a pigeon, but no, it was a dragon, only it was about the size of a pigeon, with black and red scales, not unlike the armor the kid was wearing. Theo lifted a hand, and the pint-sized abomination wyrm landed on his wrist. ¡°Hey, you found me. Good. Didja get a rat for lunch?¡± The little dragon breathed out a good bit of flames, which caught the umbrella on fire, and Sal quickly leapt onto a chair, batting out the canopy, which was now marked with soot. And it was brand new! Theo jumped to his feet and backed up. ¡°Oh, my goat, sir, I¡¯m so very sorry. It was only that Sparky got so excited.¡± ¡°Sparky?¡± Sal asked. ¡°Did my ears catch his name correctly?¡± The kid grinned. ¡°Well, he was born Sparkannathrax Peior, of the Peior line of dragons. My goat, but Sparkannathrax is a mouthful, so Sparky it is!¡± Sal put it together. ¡°So you¡¯re the Scallia Capran dragonrider on Kaixo¡¯s team?¡± ¡°Uh, yes, sir. I am. Or I will be. In like five hundred years. All the big dragons got killed during the war. Sparky, though, is, uh, growing a bit every day. About your canopy, sir, I¡¯m terribly sorry. We can buy you a new one once we do our Tower Climb. I just know we¡¯ll get the Copper Key. I just know it.¡± Sparky let out a squawk. This time, there were no flames, but by the gods, the pigeon dragon looked as young and as green as the kid himself. ¡°Sit, sit, sit!¡± Sal urged. ¡°We can worry about the umbrella later. For now, let us fill your belly full, so you have the strength to wield the sign with the dragon circling. That should bring in some interest, for your wyrm has a certain charm to it.¡± ¡°Did you hear that Sparky? You have charm!¡± The kid chuckled. ¡°And I am super hungry, sir!¡± Sal got the specifics of Theo¡¯s orders, and then went back inside. Betty squeaked at him from the table. ¡°Uh, Sal, there¡¯s a dragon outside. Don¡¯t wanna be tootin¡¯ my own horn, but I¡¯d make the perfect dragon snack. Can I get in your pocket for safe keeping?¡± ¡°It was my understanding that you were immortal, friend,¡± Sal went and grabbed Betty and slipped her into his pocket. Betty stood in the pocket of his shirt. ¡°Doesn¡¯t work that way, ace. While I can¡¯t die of what you would call natural causes, my ticket still be punched the old-fashioned way. With a lot of spit, teeth, and swallowing. Why does that kid call you sir anyway? From his point of view, you¡¯re practically the same age.¡± ¡°Perhaps he sees I possess what is commonly known as an old soul. I am surprised I do not find it more grating.¡± Back in the kitchen, Sal threw on some sausages and grabbed the bowl of pancake batter. On one of the shelves in the kitchen, he¡¯d found a long metal griddle that fit into the stove top. It was in place, and heating up, while Shivaun worked on squeezing the orange juice. In no time flat, Sal had three big pancakes, with butter and syrup, along with two scrambled eggs and two sausage links. These he brought out and set before the dragonrider. The dragon sat on his shoulder, looking at the food intently. His reptilian eyes went from his master¡¯s face to the plate of food, and then back. ¡°Oh my goat, sir, this looks delicious. And it¡¯s so peaceful back here, not like the crowded and successful restaurants on Destiny Square.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Sal said demurely. ¡°Nothing like the other crowded and successful restaurants that have repeat customers and full cash boxes. Nothing like that at all.¡± Theo didn¡¯t get that Sal was being ironic. The kid was too busy eating, and drinking the orange juice, or feeding his dragon. Sparky only got a bit of the sausage, before he let out a screech, and the kid fed him more. Sal thought about taking the sign himself back to Tower Road, but no, something his father always said, was to celebrate your successes. When running a restaurant, it was a never-ending list of tasks, and you had to force yourself to stop and enjoy the moment. He sat down across from Theo. ¡°You¡¯re my first customer, Theovanni Balanacci. Now, tell me, how did you meet Kaixo?¡± Theo had finished his eggs and sausages and was attacking the pancakes. He ate fast, though he did have some manners. He wiped his lips, and he didn¡¯t talk with his mouth full. Actually, he seemed to slow down, taking pains to eat a bit more politely. There was some breeding there. ¡°Well, sir, we were both at the Copper Key Inn, and I was looking for a Tower Climber team, and Kaixo saw my sword and my dragon, and thought I¡¯d make a perfect New Astounder. I can¡¯t believe how lucky I got. You see, I didn¡¯t bring much money, and thought I might have to join a mercenary team, one of the ones funded by the Braggadorio¡¯s. They aren¡¯t so worried about a guy¡¯s safety. It¡¯s just climb, climb, and meatgrind with those guys. Kaixo, though, and the others, are more likely to have my back.¡± Sal wanted to ask about Theo¡¯s history, and why he didn¡¯t have much money, when every part of his ensemble matched. It had all cost a pretty penny, and he was so young. Did he come from some bit of Scallia Capran royalty? Sal had little knowledge of the Scallia Capran Empire to the east. They were a new power that had grown in the last thousand years. Sal stood up. ¡°Thank you for being my first customer. I do appreciate it.¡± ¡°And I appreciate the free meal, sir. I still feel awful about your umbrella. But I¡¯ll buy you any number of outdoor furniture. Just you wait. You can count on me! Sparky and I will do a good job with the sign job. We like talking to people.¡± Theo left for Tower Road, and Sal waited. After another hour, when no customers appeared, he cut up half of the dough rings into quarters, slapped them onto a tray, and delivered them to Theo. The free samples helped bring in a team of Climbers, which filled up all four chairs under the umbrellas. The next couple of customers were alone, singletons, that sat inside. Sal put them right next to the window, where the stink was the least noticeable. All in all, the first morning well pretty well. It was the afternoon, right before closing, that everything fell apart. Chapter Twenty-Six – The Church Lady More free samples. The nice bird lady. The mean dog men. An unexpected visitor. A banshee¡¯s hate. A sad dragon. That Monday, by noon, it was sweltering outside, and the two tables were in direct sunlight. No one with a lick of sense would want to sit out there. Inside the caf¨¦, it was delightfully cold, which made it doubly good to step out of the heat and into the caf¨¦. Betty had taken off, saying she was going to find a hotter, less stinky place to take a nap. Sal hated having an empty restaurant, so a little before one, he took cups of their lemonease¡ªboth the sweet kind and the salted lined up on a tray in two rows¡ªout to Tower Road. There, Theo was holding the sign and talking to people. Sparky had found a place to sleep on a windowsill in a bit of shade, though as a dragon, he shouldn¡¯t mind the heat. Theo wiped some sweat from his brow. He must¡¯ve been cooking in that armor. Sal lifted his tray. ¡°Please, Theo, quench your thirst with one of my offerings. There, on the rim, is the difference. The pink is salt, the yellow sugar.¡± He¡¯d only filled his glasses about a quarter full. Theo swept up a salty lemonease and knocked it back. ¡°Oh my goat, it¡¯s not completely salty! There¡¯s a sweet there as well. Might I try it, sir?¡± Sal nodded. Theo tossed down one of the yellow-rimmed glasses. ¡°Oh, wow, sweet and tart! So good!¡± An Eagalis woman with preened feather and vermillion eyes tossed back her hood. ¡°A sweet lemonease? That would do the trick. How much?¡± ¡°I can provide you a taste for gratis,¡± Sal replied, offering her one from the tray. ¡°However, I have a new caf¨¦ on Champion Plaza, free of ghosts, where you might purchase a larger size.¡± A message flashed. He knew for a fact his place was still haunted, and he¡¯d been caught in a lie. He¡¯d lost another percentage point. Worse yet was the icy stab of pain in his heart. His Current Karmic Gauge was at 82%. Sal talked through the pain. ¡°And if you want refuge from the heat, my caf¨¦ is very cold, better than any shade in the city.¡± He might just have to put that on a sign. It was the truth. ¡°Ghosts?¡± the Eagalis woman twittered. ¡°Is that why your caf¨¦ is so cold? I thought you said it was ghost-free.¡± Sal so wanted to lie. He couldn¡¯t. However, he needed an answer. ¡°Champion Plaza has many, many mysteries. The chill of my caf¨¦ is one of them. I do not understand it myself.¡± That was true enough. If he did fully understand what was happening with his diner, he would¡¯ve gotten rid of the stench undermining his efforts. The Eagalis poured the salty lemonease into her beak, and then used her long black tongue to lick that last of the pink salt off the rim. ¡°I would like more. Where is your caf¨¦?¡± ¡°I will lead you there.¡± He handed Theo the tray. The kid had been a gift from the gods. He was willing to work in the heat, and he was so friendly, and a smile so bright, most of the customers had come that morning due to his enthusiasm. Sal sat the Eagalis woman at a table near the window and brought her a glass of lemonease along with a bowl of oranges. Things were going well until the group of Canus warriors came charging through the doors, a little after 2:45, just fifteen minutes before closing. Sal recognized them as The Good Boys, the successful Climbers that had won both the Copper and the Silver Keys. They burst in, with Rex Torso leading the way. Sal had learned their names from the newspaper articles about them. At this point, they were appearing in the Tower Today a great deal, given their success. Rex had white fur with a black splotch around one eye. Both a buckler and a mace was clipped to his belt below a solid gold hauberk covering his upper body. His torso. As in Rex Torso. It must¡¯ve been a homonym. Sal didn¡¯t care. If he could get a favorable review from the number one team currently climbing the tower, it would set him up for success. Opening day? The Good Boys? This was such an amazing turn of events. ¡°Welcome!¡± Sal called out. ¡°Come in and find solace from the heat. Our caf¨¦ is comfortably chill, and we have cold drinks, and fruit, if you like, and we are still serving food, breakfast, all day long. It is a wonder.¡± Rex and his other dog-headed team took three steps in, sniffed, and then started laughing. A few put their hands to their noses. Rex was far more forward. ¡°What¡¯s that smell? Oh, by the Grandmother, something died here. No way we are staying. This place still has to be cursed, man.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± another of the dog men barked. ¡°Cursed with stink!¡± Rex left with his team trailing after him, laughing and saying that they were never coming back and the place was doomed. Completely doomed. Sal closed his eyes. The Eagalis woman might¡¯ve just been too polite to mention the smell, or her nose wasn¡¯t as sharp. The Canus were known to have very good noses. Shivaun stood in the kitchen¡¯s entryway, leaning against the door jam, her arms crossed. Sal felt himself fuming. Success had been theirs for the taking, but the cursed stink might¡¯ve just destroyed them. ¡°We shall have to close,¡± Sal sighed. ¡°Verily, we cannot open until we suss out the source of the smell.¡± A woman¡¯s voice cut through the air. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You won¡¯t be opening at all. Ever again.¡± Shivaun had vanished like September¡¯s morning mist. She hadn¡¯t said those words? Who had? Sal turned. A woman stood in the doorway, flanked by armed soldiers in chainmail shirts. Elderly soldiers. Not one was under seventy. A few might have been approaching ninety. They didn¡¯t have halberds, swords, or axes. Instead, they gripped ornate cudgels, carved, decorated with beads, that formed words on the wood. They were very aged members of the Sacra Templar, holy knights of the church and protectors, and they would¡¯ve been at some point. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. The woman herself was older, in her sixties, and thick around the middle. She wore heavy robes, despite the summer heat, but what gave her identity away was the thick golden amulet on her chest. It was a spear thrust through a tree, a symbol of Madra, the warrior mother. She had blonde hair going gray, and the round face of a grandmother. This was the Pontrafax Genetrix. And she didn¡¯t look happy. Sal suddenly wondered if her elderly guard might come and start breaking things. They looked like they wanted to. Both the men and the women glanced around at his caf¨¦ with hate in their eyes. But most of the loathing came from the Pontra herself. ¡°I am Sal Fang.¡± He took a few steps toward them, to show he wasn¡¯t afraid. ¡°And you are the Pontrafax Genetrix, Kizi Adamu. I¡¯ve been meaning to come and say hello to you.¡± That wasn¡¯t exactly true, though Sal had been curious to see what kind of woman she was. Regardless, he didn¡¯t lose any Karma points. The Pontra¡¯s grin was feral. ¡°Oh, I know who you are. We have a mutual friend, a certain Pontifex who runs the Yeshu Chapel on Confusion Street. Fabrizio Pasha thinks highly of you.¡± ¡°I think highly of him.¡± Sal paused. She¡¯d said something about him not opening at all, but he didn¡¯t want to confront her right away. ¡°Please, you and your guard can sit. I was just about to close, but I can keep my doors open for such guests. Perhaps I can tempt you with our very delicious lemonease, either sweet or salty.¡± The Pontra shook her head, and frowned, dramatically. ¡°Oh, Mr. Fang, I¡¯m sorry, but we can¡¯t stay. Not with the smell. I think it¡¯s the gods telling you that they do not want you open. Why else would you have been having such trouble?¡± Then she smiled, as if she herself was the source of the stink. Sal could tell that she often smiled to hide the barbs in her words. Dark Lording, you met a great many people who knew about power, and how to wield it. At times, you had to crush them under heel or find your throat cut. At other times, you enlisted those kinds of people, and if you could motivate them, they would become vital to your empire. Sal smiled back. ¡°Verily, the smell is unfortunate. I plan on going through our caf¨¦ again, to see if I can find the source. I do need the blessings of the gods. Maybe you could put in a good word for me.¡± The Pontra laughed. ¡°Oh, yes, I will pray for you, Sal Fang. However, I cannot pray for your restaurant. This whole plaza is cursed, and has been so for centuries, since old Tony Belly died, or that¡¯s my understanding. Some places are just beyond help. I¡¯m afraid, your diner is one of those places, doomed, cursed, forbidden. You could try opening a place on Destiny Square. You¡¯d get much more foot traffic.¡± Her lips were grinning, and her eyes twinkled. She seemed to like giving people bad news. Sal noticed her use of those two words, foot traffic, and remembered the religious shops near the church on Tower Road. That street had become the main artery from the harbor to the governor¡¯s mansion and Destiny Square. If Champion Plaza re-opened, it would pull crowds from there, and so those religious shops would do less business. He laughed. ¡°Well, Pontra, I don¡¯t have a deed for a place on Destiny Square. I have a deed for this place, and yes, I would assume Tony Belly has something to do with the cursed nature. And there are many specters about. One tried to kill me, until I managed to come to an understanding. I am hopeful I can turn Champion Plaza around and make it every bit as vibrant as Destiny Square. Starting with the fountain. Would you know how to get it repaired, so that I might hear the happy water splashing down?¡± The Pontra¡¯s smile only widened, though her eyes changed¡ªless sparkly and more threatening doom. ¡°I have my well at my church, which is a very reliable source of water. I know nothing about fountains and such. You do realize that I could¡¯ve used the power of the gods to clear this plaza decades ago. I chose not to.¡± ¡°I do understand that,¡± Sal said. And then decided to rely on honesty. ¡°I wondered why you have not done so. You are clearly a favorite of the Sacra Famiglia.¡± Her eyes narrowed for an instant, only an instant, and then she widened them in feigned surprise. ¡°I appreciate you saying such a thing, and for using the old language. That is surprising, given your age. You¡¯re no more than twenty, if you¡¯re a day.¡± ¡°A few days older than twenty,¡± he agreed. ¡°Yet, I have respect for the church.¡± That hadn¡¯t been the case, not until he¡¯d needed to eat, and the church had fed him, nightly, for nearly a month. Then there was sweet, dear Fabrizio, who wanted to help everyone in the world. If that Ponti had a Karmic Gauge, it would forever be purple. ¡°As if the young should not respect the sacred family?¡± The Pontra waved her hand as if clearing the air. ¡°I decided not to lift the curse off Champion Plaza as a symbol, a sign, that pride is a sin, and this city is full of proud Tower Climbers who think they can become gods, if only they can reach the Deux Coin at the top, which really is the bottom, the butt end of the spear. No, they will fail, just as the Dark Lord Salvanguish failed, cut down because of his pride. No one, no mortal, should ever aspire to hold a coin. We are children of the divine, and not the divine themselves.¡± Her words were rather pretty. They were also filled with lies. She¡¯d kept Champion Plaza cursed because she didn¡¯t want to lose any foot traffic. And he bet that she had other economic interests in Destiny Square. He¡¯d not be surprised if she were a partial owner of the Shorn Unicorn¡¯s Horn. Sal stood nodding, showing he was listening carefully. When she finished, he cleared his throat. ¡°I wish I could move my caf¨¦¡ª¡± yes, he did, right across from her church on Tower Road, where throngs of people passed every day. ¡°But I cannot. I was blessed with this diner, through a very strange set of circumstances. However, now I have the paperwork, and I have my oath, a solemn oath I swore to open this diner and provide people with food, comfort, and kindness.¡± ¡°But the smell, Mr. Fang. The smell. It is the stink of hate. It is the odor of my righteousness.¡± Her righteousness did stink, and now he knew why her religion was waning in Tower City. Because of her odor of her avarice and deceit. ¡°I shall deal with the unfortunate fragrance,¡± he said quietly. ¡°And to put it bluntly, Pontra, I am going to make this diner a success, with or without your help.¡± He then fake-smiled at her, like she was fake-smiling at him. ¡°I would very much like your help, however.¡± She smiled. ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll have it, sir. If you plan on going against the will of the gods, you will need all the help you can get. Perhaps I was mistaken about this plaza. Maybe I will help you get the fountain repaired. I will be in touch.¡± She then lifted her hand, weighed down by a huge ring, a hefty diamond a platinum setting¡ªclaw, shoulder, bridge and shank¡ªall of the parts of a ring. As a Dark Lord, you generally studied rings a great deal, for any number of reasons. Sal was supposed to take her hand, and kiss her ring, but he wasn¡¯t about to do that. He took the hand and shook it, noting her brief grimace. ¡°Thank you, Pontra. You have my gratitude for coming to visit my humble caf¨¦. Yes, we must be ever vigilant for pride¡¯s poisons, and we must stay humble, forever humble, and let me show you the way out of the stink, which is very strong indeed!¡± He got her moving, and her elderly guard fell behind them, until they were outside in the heat. The Pontra had her fake smile back on her face. ¡°Goodbye, Mr. Fang. Again, I wish you the best in your endeavors, though I fear the curse is far too strong for either one of us to ever break it.¡± ¡°I must keep hope in my heart, Pontra.¡± Sal then spun about and went back into his caf¨¦, slamming the doors behind him. Shivaun appeared in the doorway and shrieked. Her angry words appeared in thick ice on the wall. That woman is insufferable! Insufferable! She smiles like she is our friend, but she is our enemy! She is our enemy! Sal threw his arms around himself, shivering. He thought the same thing. He¡¯d finally opened his caf¨¦, and yet, it seemed doomed. The smell would drive customers away, and he was pretty sure that the church leader was going to do everything in her power to sabotage him. Perhaps she herself was the source of the stench. No, she had seemed surprised by it. She had come as a warning. Next time, she might be more direct. Maybe she¡¯d send her elderly guards to bust his kneecaps. He had his Youngin Reflexes, so he might survive the encounter with his legs intact. However, there were a great many of them, and you could only do so much dodging. There was a knock on the door, and Sal went to it, and threw open the door. There stood Theovanni, with his dragon, both looking devastated. It was after three, and so his shift was over, but why were they frowning so? Even the little dragon¡¯s tail drooped. The sad dragon made Sal sad. ¡°What is the matter?¡± he asked. Theo shook his head sorrowfully. ¡°Uh, sir, well, could we stay here with you? We¡¯d work more for our rent¡­both me and Sparky would.¡± Sal found himself mystified. ¡°Why not return to Kaixo¡¯s room?¡± The kid didn¡¯t answer. It was clear, he didn¡¯t want to say more. Chapter Twenty-Seven – Unexpected Housemate The limitations of ghosts and mice. The trouble with Kaixo. Palace slip. Dragon farts. The voices of self-hate. Betty¡¯s warning. Sal told Theo and his dragon to remain outside while the former Dark Lord went to check with Shivaun and Betty about a possible houseguest. He had the room, that wasn¡¯t the problem, but he wondered about how Kaixo would react. And what was going on with the sorceress in the first place? Theo was staying tight-lipped, which wasn¡¯t helping Sal any. In the end, Shivaun and Betty were fine with the kid staying in the barracks room. He¡¯d have his privacy, and it shouldn¡¯t be an issue, if his dragon didn¡¯t burn down the place. And if Sparky didn¡¯t think Betty Don¡¯t-Bite was a snack. Having Theo around would be helpful. Sal¡¯s other workers¡ªa ghost and a mouse¡ªhad severe limitations. Both had to be hidden, for one thing, and Betty couldn¡¯t do much because of her size and temperament. She had proclaimed herself the diner¡¯s official taste-tester, but since she¡¯d spent a good deal of her existence eating garbage, her palate was questionable. As for the banshee, she was limited to remaining in or near the diner and her appearance was frightening, even when she was doing her best to appear human. They could throw a cloak over her, though it had a way of slipping through body and falling to the floor. Also, a single word from her would mean the murder of a customer. Sal finally went outside, closing the doors behind him, to take a break from the stench. He put his hands on his hips. ¡°Verily, Theo, you can stay, though I have to warn you, the caf¨¦ is still haunted. I would request you keep that piece of information to yourself. You should be safe enough. However, there is the matter of the smell.¡± Sparky squawked, then licked his own eyeball with a long tongue. It was rather disconcerting. ¡°I understand, sir.¡± Theo paused. ¡°Sparky has a really good nose. He might be able to help you find the source.¡± ¡°I believe it to be either a ghost or sabotage.¡± Sal shook his head. ¡°But more than that, you and I need to discuss something. While you can reside here for the time-being, your stay cannot be indefinite, and I worry that Kaixo will take offense.¡± Theo sighed. ¡°Kaixo won¡¯t even know I¡¯m gone. She¡¯s, um, burning naptha incense, and it makes me dizzy.¡± ¡°Would that be part of her magic?¡± Sal asked quietly. Theo nodded. ¡°She says it helps her focus. She doesn¡¯t eat, doesn¡¯t sleep, she just keeps her head in that book you gave her. The first couple of nights, it wasn¡¯t so bad, but like I said, the naptha makes me so dizzy. And Sparky likes it dark at night. The candlelight makes him restless.¡± Another squawk from Sparky. The kid sighed. ¡°After working here today, and seeing your place, the thought of going back to Kaixo¡¯s just felt unbearable. Oh my goat, I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m asking you for this.¡± Sal was worried about the sorceress, her legal troubles, the strange tattoo on the side of her shaven head. He wasn¡¯t surprised about the naptha¡ªthat had been an old sorcerer¡¯s trick back during his time. However, it was worrying that she hadn¡¯t mentioned using it to him. Keeping such a thing a secret was a bad sign. Sal had a thousand questions, not just about Kaixo and her possible naptha addiction, but also about the kid himself. ¡°I suppose you will have to gather your things from Kaixo¡¯s room, and I shall go with you.¡¯ Theo grew pale. ¡°No, she¡¯d kill me if she knew I¡¯d told you anything. Please, sir, let me go alone. I will explain that you needed help with our caf¨¦, and that I would be working long hours for you. Besides, I do believe that Sparky can find the source of your stinkiness. Sir. If I may be so bold.¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Sal held up a hand. ¡°Wait. Are you at all concerned about the ghosts? I tell you the diner is haunted, and you don¡¯t seem concerned.¡± The kid shrugged. ¡°Ghosts, sure, no problem. I grew up with ghosts. Our house was haunted by this dragon ghost that farted a lot. Talk about smelly.¡± The kid covered his mouth. ¡°Oh, my goat, I shouldn¡¯t be talking about farting dragon ghosts. It¡¯s not polite! But yeah, ghosts are fine. Unless they¡¯re banshees, but then you¡¯d be dead already.¡± Sal winced. ¡°Verily, it is a banshee.¡± Theo blinked. ¡°Wow. And you¡¯re still alive, sir. She must really like you, then. Did you figure out her big tragedy? Banshees have like this big tragic past.¡± ¡°Not yet. And she has not been very forthcoming. I believe she would rather keep her past to herself. She works for me, if you must know, but again, Theo, I am risking my business being honest. Please, be discrete.¡± The kid nodded. ¡°Discrete! Yes, sir, I shall. Oh my goat, this is great. I get my own room. Sharing a room is something I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever get used to. I always had my own room growing up in the palace.¡± He then got a horrified look on his face, as if he¡¯d said too much. He turned away and lifted an arm. His pigeon-sized dragon landed on his wrist. ¡°Be back in a few, sir. Should I buy dinner while I¡¯m away?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯ll feed you. We have leftover dough rings, if nothing else.¡± ¡°Yum!¡± Sparky let out a spout of flame. Then the pair hurried down Champion Street to Tower Road. Sal was immediately rewarded. <<<>>> Kudos for housing that nice dragon boy and his boy dragon! Karmic Gauge increased by 10%. Current Karmic Gauge: 92% (What a lovely shade of purple) <<<>>> Sal felt the warmth in his heart, and he couldn¡¯t wait to see what happened when he reached 100%. With any luck, his Diagraff would be unlocked, and he¡¯d be well on his way to gaining magical powers. Well, with a dragon around, lighting fires would be far easier. And that dragon might not breathe normal fire, but dragonfire, which might melt his stove, maybe even his brick oven, if he wasn¡¯t careful. They¡¯d have to be careful. Sal didn¡¯t want to go back inside his stinky caf¨¦, and his feet were hurting, so he sat down on one of the sturdy chairs and put his feet up. He found himself staring at the scorched umbrella, and he had to smile. It had been quite a day. He¡¯d had to work to get customers, and that would be his life, for a while, but he had hope. He really might bring some life back to Champion Plaza. His eyes went to the fountain. There was Kenny, standing heroic. The old pain of betrayal seemed distant. He¡¯d been given a new life, and with that new life, he wanted a working fountain. The sound of merry water splashing would bring some more life to the plaza. He might have to ask Ziggy about it. Sal saw the words appear on the stones on the outside of his building. Naptha is a terrible, terrible mistress. Your friend is on a dangerous path. ¡°I understand, Shivaun, but I am not her father. I am barely her friend. Perhaps I should not have given her the grimoire. I do not know if I am responsible or not for her decline. What do you think of Theovanni Balanacci?¡± He is very young, and he is royalty. Only royalty have dragons, however small. His presence might drive the Yanir away. There is little love between the two peoples. Sal nodded. ¡°Yes, I believe he is royalty. His manners are very good, and I think he left his wealth behind for some reason. While he is a mystery, we could use his help. Do I need to ask if you will hurt him?¡± There was several long moments where nothing happened. Had Sal insulted the banshee? He couldn¡¯t see her face. He couldn¡¯t see her at all. They were talking through the wall. Finally, ice cracked and popped across the bricks, forming words. He means nothing to me. I only tried to kill you because I hated you, what you were, what you did. ¡°Do you still hate me?¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to know the answer. I hate myself far more than I could ever hate you. Let us not talk about this. Bring your dragon child into our home. He will be safe. And perhaps his little dragon might be able to sniff out the source of our current trouble. Betty came scurrying out of the caf¨¦ and raced up to his feet. ¡°Hey, chief, heard that we¡¯re going to have a new housemate. A dragon guy? Those Scallia Caprans are weird. And hey, if that dragon tries to eat me, he¡¯s out on his ear. You get me, big guy?¡± Sal reached down and lifted Betty into his hand. ¡°I understand, Mrs. Don¡¯t-Bite.¡± Betty rolled her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t call me that, ace. Gotta say, friend-o, I¡¯m impressed you got the diner open. Your first day went pretty well, and hungry dragon or not, it¡¯s because Theovanni helped out a bunch.¡± That was the truth. And the kid and his dragon would be critical that night, in dealing with the smell that was making their Grand Opening far less grand. Chapter Twenty-Eight – An Understanding One¡¯s own room. The evils of naptha addiction. The dragon and the mouse. A direct order. A good sense of smell. Theovanni returned, along with Fabrizio, who was helping the dragonrider carry his trunk along with several bags and backpacks. It was a surprise to see the Ponti. Sal left his diner, the only place lit among the dark buildings of Champion Plaza. He stood out in front. The night felt sweltering after leaving his cool caf¨¦. ¡°Fabrizio! Do you know our fine Master Balanacci?¡± The handsome young priest grinned. ¡°I didn¡¯t until I saw him struggling with all of his stuff. Then we chatted, and I found out he was your friend, so I thought I¡¯d help him carry all this stuff. I wanted to check on you anyway. First day! How did it go?¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d considered Theo a friend just yet, though Fabrizio was doubtless his best friend, outside of the mouse in his pocket. ¡°The day went well, but most of that was thanks to this intrepid young man and his fearsome drake.¡± Sparky squawked, as if he liked the sound of that. How smart was that dragon? Betty shifted around in Sal¡¯s pocket, probably uncomfortable about the presence of the predator. Theo shrugged. ¡°Oh, just doing my bit for the cause. The food was so good, especially the orange juice. And don¡¯t get me started on the lemonease! By my goat, I could drink a barrel of that stuff.¡± ¡°The sweet or the salty?¡± Fabrizio asked. ¡°Both!¡± the kid said exuberantly. ¡°Come inside. Let me show you your room!¡± Sal then brought both the dragonrider and the priest up the steps and into the second room, where the ladder led to the attic. Theo set his trunk down at the feet of one of the bunk beds. He turned, tears in his eyes. ¡°Oh my goat, sir, this place, it¡¯s amazing. It¡¯s so big, and I get my own room, which is nice, believe me, since I¡¯ve had my own room before. But anyway. O.M.G!¡± Fabrizio didn¡¯t say anything, but he had his hand over his nose. The stink was exceptionally strong. Sal felt his heart soften. ¡°O.M.G. As in oh my goat. Do not worry, Ponti, for the lad has not blasphemed. Far from it.¡± The kid¡¯s tears of gratitude were getting to the former Dark Lord. Theo was so young, and so fragile, it seemed, despite the armor, sword, and baby dragon. ¡°You are very welcome to stay, Theo. How did Kaixo take it?¡± Theo sniffed and wiped at the tears that hadn¡¯t fallen. ¡°Oh, she hardly noticed me, you know, with the naptha incense, and her studying, but I did get her to eat a bit of flat bread, with olive oil, no butter. She says the dairy hurts her magic.¡± ¡°You say, she hardly noticed you were leaving?¡± Sal shook his head, a bad feeling in his belly. ¡°Does she know you are moving in here?¡± ¡°Yeah, but she didn¡¯t get all goat-y about it. In fact, she said it was for the best. And she¡¯d visit me. She even promised to eat.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Sal wasn¡¯t sure how to take it. But a second later, Sparky flew about the room, landed on Sal¡¯s shoulder, and was about to thrust his beak into his shirt pocket, when Sal¡¯s Youngin Reflexes kicked in. He deftly unseated the dragon and gently tossed it away, before dancing back against the door. ¡°Sparky! Don¡¯t be rude!¡± Theo then spoke a word, and the dragon flew back to his hand, squawking and squealing. Sal pulled Betty out of his pocket. ¡°Theo, this is Betty, and please, if your dragon is wont to eat rodents, it would be a pity, and it might be a problem. Can your beast leash his more culinary urges?¡± The dragon burped smoke, eyes on Betty. Theo was pale, eyes round, mouth hanging open in shock. ¡°A mouse in your pocket? That¡¯s twelve goats of awesome. It¡¯s like a storybook!¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I said!¡± Fabrizio spouted. More goat talk? Sal had no idea why there was so much goat talk. Betty turned and gave Sal a long look. It was mostly annoyance, with a little dash of fear thrown in. ¡°Your dragon cannot devour my mouse friend,¡± Sal said firmly. ¡°Can we agree on that?¡± Sparky¡¯s eyes never left Betty. Until Theo held the little creature in both hands, and then said a word that filled the room. Theo¡¯s eyes blazed with actual fire as his whole visage darkened with some unnamable power. He spoke in a harsh language, and Sparky didn¡¯t squawk, scarcely breathed, as the pair gazed into each other¡¯s eyes. The fire left Theo¡¯s eyes, and his face returned to normal. ¡°Okay, I made it clear that your mouse was off limits. Actually, since we¡¯re both living above an actual caf¨¦, I made it clear that he shouldn¡¯t eat any kind of rodent at all, mouse or rat or anything. It¡¯ll be better that way. Good ol¡¯ Spark is smart, but you know, a hungry dragon has trouble thinking, or so the saying goes.¡± Sparky wrestled free of Theo¡¯s hands, went flying around the room, and then shot down the steps. Theo grinned. ¡°I told him to find what¡¯s stinking so bad. I think he¡¯s on to something!¡± Sal stuck Betty back into his pocket, and she stood on her hind legs, gripping the edge of his pocket with her tiny pink claws. Fabrizio bustled out of the room. ¡°This is so exciting. I brought my candles and book and anti-ghost stuff. Sorry, Shivaun, not that I¡¯m prejudiced against ghosts!¡± ¡°Who is Shivaun?¡± Theo asked. Sal sighed. ¡°She is our resident banshee, which I believed we discussed. But let us see what your dragon might have sussed out, concerning the stench that threatens this enterprise. Oh, and I would be remiss if I did not warn you that the trunk in front of that bed has a poison needle trap. Best to only deal with your own trunk.¡± ¡°Thank you for the warning, sir,¡± the kid said. They left the room and hurried down the steps. Fabrizio was pointing to the back kitchen. ¡°Sparky went down into the basement. I was going to follow, but, well, my courage failed. Ghosts are one thing. Basements are another. And oh boy, ghosts in basements are the worst!¡± Sal then realized where the smell might be coming from. He¡¯d forgotten all about the subbasement. He went into the kitchen, quickly lit a candle, and started down the steps. He found Sparky sniffing around the trapdoor. He then squawked at Sal before flying around Sal and up to a shelf. He stayed there, sitting atop where Sal had stored all of the armor, weapons, and gear of the dead climbers. Betty grunted in disapproval. ¡°Not sure about that dragon sorcery, pal, but I ain¡¯t never gonna trust Mr. Squawky Scales any. Now, this next part might be a tad dangerous. Our Ponti ain¡¯t wrong. Ghosts in basements are bad. Ghosts in subbasements? Probably a lot worse.¡± Sparky made some trilling noises in his throat, and they kind of sounded like he wanted to make peace with Betty, maybe, now that he knew she could talk. Sal lifted the trapdoor, and his candle was immediately blown out. A second later, Sparky flew down next to him, and breathed out just a little finger of fire. It was enough to relight the candle. ¡°Thank you, my good beast,¡± Sal said. More trilling from the pigeon dragon. Sal saw an old ladder going down into the darkness. Even as a former Dark Lord, it looked ominous, and most likely, a trap. With the trapdoor open, Sparky flew down there, and then breathed out some more flames, showing there was a shadowy corridor below. Fabrizio called down from the top of the steps. ¡°Sal? You okay down there?¡± ¡°I am going to descend into the subbasement. I believe Sparky endeavors to continue to aid me in this quest.¡± He heard Theo laughing. ¡°That¡¯s a dozen goats of vocabulary right there. Me and Sparky are just glad we can help, sir!¡± ¡°You are helping!¡± Sal said. ¡°And here I go.¡± Chapter Twenty-Nine – The Boss Underground A surprising hallway. The torture chair. Bad moustache. The importance of gnocchi. When families crack. Locked in purple. Sal carefully climbed down the ladder holding the flickering candle. It wasn¡¯t easy. At the bottom, he expected a muddy tunnel, but he got a dusty one, with plaster on the walls and a cut stone floor sank into cement. It was far nicer than it should¡¯ve been, even nicer than the basement itself. He walked down the surprising hallway with a bad feeling in his belly. He reached a room that had, of all things, bright red and gold wallpaper, wooden wainscotting, and a thick carpet on the ground. Maybe a bit too thick? Dust grayed everything. A big brass candelabra stood next to the door. Then there was the chair with the spikes, and the straps, and the obvious bloodstains, which were a different color from the chair¡¯s rusty iron. The torture chair sat in front of a desk, and that¡¯s where the little gray-faced man sat, with his white-hair receding into a shiny scalp. A little broom brush moustache covered his upper lip. When had that kind of moustache been in fashion? It made Sal glad he¡¯d spent the last thousand years in the Abyssmuck being tortured. Hot pincers probably weren¡¯t as bad as that particular piece of facial fashion. The little man had a little belly pooching out his lime-green shirt, the collar undone to show a chest of white hair. He was sitting on a cushion, which elevated him enough that his belly could be seen above the desk. He had dark brown eyes, almost black. He could¡¯ve passed for Theovanni¡¯s grandfather, which meant he was definitely a Scallia Capran. The dragon landed on the desk and let out a belch of flames, right in the man¡¯s face. The man didn¡¯t notice. Of course he didn¡¯t. He was a ghost. Sparky turned, eyes blinking, giving Sal a long look. Was he looking for praise? Well, that would take more than that. Darn thing had burned his umbrella and threatened to eat his best friend. The little dragon had a long road of repentance ahead of him. And he wasn¡¯t the only one. Betty spoke up unexpectedly. ¡°Hey! I betcha I know who this guy is. Betcha a million gold pieces he¡¯s Tony Belly. Hey, guy. Miss the pasta?¡± The ghost laughed, black eyes twinkling. ¡°Hey, yourself, Mrs. Gwynar. What you doing hanging out with this mook?¡± His voice came out with a definite accent, a bit of whisper, and he bushed his finger up his cheek. ¡°I am many things, Mr. Belly, but I am not a mook.¡± Sal walked into the room. He thought about calling down Fabrizio, though it might take Yeshu himself to get the Ponti into the torture chamber. Though in its defense, it was the nicest torture chamber Sal had ever been in. As a Dark Lord, he¡¯d been in a few. Kenny liked them. Sal saw them as more of an unfortunate decorating choice. The little man shook his head. ¡°Oh, you, Mr. Dark Lord, you¡¯re a mook all right. I¡¯ve seen my fair share of them over the years. You think you¡¯re going to reopen my restaurant without asking my permission? You think you can disrespect me like that?¡± ¡°We did not realize we were disrespecting you,¡± Sal said. Betty echoed him. ¡°Yeah, we didn¡¯t know, Tony. And hey, chief, you aren¡¯t that big. I expected to see someone with a much bigger belly. And someone taller, like, a lot taller.¡± ¡°Such disrespect.¡± The ghost coughed, sending out a wave of stench that made Sal¡¯s stomach doing a flip-flop. Puking on the floor wouldn¡¯t help his cause any. It was time to get diplomatic. ¡°Mr. Belly, we were not aware of your presence. Verily, our friend the banshee said that while they were many ghosts in this caf¨¦, that they mostly kept to their own counsel. You have my deepest apologies.¡± Betty squeaked in agreement. ¡°Yeah, yeah, yeah. But I wanna know about the name. Tell us about the name!¡± The ghost belched, adding more stink, and patted his belly. ¡°My cousin Joey was the big gentleman, and he liked the pasta more than I did. It was all in jest, my name, ¡®cause Joey had the huge gut, and I only have my little belly. Be that as it may, people learned to respect me. They didn¡¯t ask me to explain myself. You did. Because you don¡¯t know your place.¡± Betty laughed. ¡°I¡¯m a pocket mouse, pal. My place is in Sal¡¯s shirt pocket. Which shows you my place in the world. How ¡®bout we get to the part where you tell us what you want?¡± Sparky breathed fire out of his nostrils. Like he was agreeing with them all. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Tony Belly held up a finger. It was transparent. ¡°First, you can call me Tony, Secondly, no short jokes. And no fat jokes, they¡¯re stale, like last week¡¯s seven-layer pasta pie. Next, you ask for my permission. It¡¯s still my place, no matter what that fancy pants governor says.¡± Sal put his hands on his hips. ¡°Can we re-open your restaurant, Tony?¡± ¡°Depends. Is the food gonna be any good?¡± ¡°I can confirm our orange juice is very good. And we get our fried dough rings from a very reliable source. They are delicious, praise-worthy even. And Shivaun¡¯s breads are unexpectedly a source of pride. We shall do your place justice. You were aware of our activities, and so you saw the pleasure on the faces of those people who ate at our diner, did you not?¡± Tony Belly shifted around on his elevated cushion. ¡°Yeah, I saw them. It was good to have living people back in the place. Brought some warmth. I think I heard you say you were dealing with Otto Ovum. That was my daughter Oliva¡¯s grandson. She married some Krasnaya imbecile, but sons-in-law are like gnocchi, hard to find a good one that isn¡¯t too soft. You get eggs from Otto?¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Sal said. The place was already smelling better. It seemed that Anton was feeling better about their arrangement. ¡°Another one of my daughters, that would be Kathy, married a freakin¡¯ Yanir musician, and he did the twinkle, twinkle song all the time. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, shining over all the cows. Something like that. He got the idea of idea of picking a last name for them both. It was dumb, but the guy was dumb. Trying to make your living off of any kind of art takes more stupidity than courage, if you ask me.¡± Sal kept quiet. It was clear the mob boss liked to hear himself talk. ¡°Now there¡¯s the five families in Tower City,¡± Tony Belly said softly. ¡°I used to run the whole island, from this little restaurant, my own little palace. I helped people, kept people safe, back when the Yanir thought they could kill people on Torment Island, like they wanted it to live up to its name. Now, they don¡¯t care much about it. As long as the Climbers pay their fees and taxes. That¡¯s all the fancy pants governor cares about. Not the people.¡± Tony Belly¡¯s eyes had grown distant, and his skin went from a dusky gray to a transparent white, like he was slowly fading away into memory. Funny, Tony hadn¡¯t commented on the dragon at all. It was like the fire-breathing scaly pigeon didn¡¯t matter a bit. Then, the mobster, the original Braggadorio, stared hard at Sal. ¡°I am not one for history, friend, but I know about you, some fancy pants Dark Lord, thinking he could conquer the world. Yes, I know who you really are. All us ghosts do.¡± Sal felt the shame hit. The irony wasn¡¯t lost on him. Here was a crime lord, sitting in front of his torture chair, seeing Sal as the bigger evil in the room. There was judgement there, and Sal could feel every bit of it. He knew that no matter how long he lived, the guilt would be there. Not for Hearthhome, no, but for everything else. Betty piped up. ¡°Hey, Tony, any of the ghosts you know like peaches? There¡¯s a peach ghost around here. We¡¯re dying to know who it is.¡± The gangster ghost shrugged. ¡°I keep to myself, mostly, like the girl told you. I get lost in memory, which is what us spooks do most of the time, unless something gets our attention. For a long time, I knew you were around, but didn¡¯t know what you were doing. Then, when you got serious about opening my restaurant, well, that got my attention. Now, I wanna make a deal with you. If I keep the stink down for you, then you gotta do something for me.¡± ¡°And what would that be?¡± ¡°You put gnocchi on the menu, for lunch, a good gnocchi in a cream sauce, with lots and lots of cheese. Like grandma used to make.¡± Sal had no idea what gnocchi was. And he hated the idea of expanding his menu, at all, because it would mean more work. It was a slippery slope. Adding gnocchi might lead to a full-on pasta bar, and that was an expense he didn¡¯t want to consider. It was the classic mistake most restaurants made. Too big of a menu, open too many hours, and suddenly running your business felt like being tortured. The former Dark Lord sighed. ¡°Yes, I will make gnocchi. If you keep the smell down.¡± Tony Belly grinned for the first time. ¡°Thank you, friend. It warns my cold, cold heart. And maybe come and talk to me, every now again, about my relatives, my no-good great-grandchildren that lost all respect for what I wanted. I wanted this place, my restaurant, always open for the people. But the greed and the hate and the suspicion, it all killed my caf¨¦ like it killed Champion Plaza. Hate¡¯s bad, but greed is worse. It was the money that destroyed the family, and when a family cracks, those cracks can kill. Ha. Greed. Money. Like them Tower Climbers, risking their lives for what? For money.¡± The gangster ghost shook his head at the state of world. Then he nodded at the dragon. ¡°Back in my day, the dragons were bigger, better. This little guy isn¡¯t even a dragon. It¡¯s a frickin¡¯ pigeon. Pardon my language.¡± Sparky¡¯s head dropped and his fail went flat on the desk. Sal hurried forward and scooped him up, and set him on his shoulder. ¡°Sparky will grow. I will make the gnocchi. You will keep the smells down to a minimum.¡± The short ghost scowled. ¡°And you¡¯ll visit me. Tell me about the families. My descendants, such as they are. Otto Ovum, the dancer, it¡¯s like a bad joke, if ya ask me.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t. In the end, though, they had a deal. The stink subsided. Now, all he had to figure out was what gnocchi was. And how to cook it. He was climbing up out of the basement, when the message hit him. <<<>>> Do you smell that? It¡¯s the stench of hope in the air! Karmic Gauge increased by 10%. Dealing with Tony Belly was one thing, but there¡¯s a family that found shelter because of you and Fabrizio. Edna Gomee and her kids have a place to live! The Ponti just got the news! Current Karmic Gauge: Locked at 99% (Can¡¯t Increase the Purple. Can¡¯t get to 100%. Looks like you¡¯re stuck.) <<<>>> Locked. So, all of his good deeds didn¡¯t mean much, as far as his personal power went. Why wasn¡¯t he surprised? Was his mysterious benefactor toying with him? For a second, he felt the rage eating away at him. He wanted to give into his anger and rant. He couldn¡¯t. In the end, as long as he wasn¡¯t back in the red, his Karmic Gauge didn¡¯t matter. He had more important things to worry about than the possibility of having magic again. He had gnocchi to consider. Chapter Thirty – Send in the Clowns Ziggy¡¯s visit. Happy, painted amor. Uncertain spy work. Unwanted Gorbins and the Pontra¡¯s scheming. Surprise, surprise, the royal Yaniri governor, Craig Clifton Zigglesworth, arrived a little after ten in the morning of the next day to see the grand opening of the caf¨¦, which gave Sal a full house of customers. Colonel Jim, Bob, and the rest of the governor¡¯s guard filled the tables, and Sal even called Theo from his sign work to help get everyone all the food they could want. Instead of the white and black masquerade outfits that Ziggy and his governor wore before, this time, they were all dressed up in all manner of colorful clownery. Ziggy, himself, was a harlequin, with a pancake-powder white face, painted on black lips, and a bright red nose. A single blue tear was painted just below his right eye. The rest of his outfit was pure clownishness, including a huge red tie and overly large red shoes. His guard wore big puffy pants below their breastplates. Bright primary colors decorated their armor, though every picture appeared as if it had been drawn by a child. There were a great many happy faces, rainbows, and stick figures. The governor¡¯s carriage drivers had puffy clothes as well, blouses with abnormally large collars and sleeves. Their faces were painted with powder and color as well. And so, on his second day in operation, with the smells of breakfast cooking filling the air, Sal fed clowns. Ziggy sat at a table by himself as everyone ate with gusto. It was simple eggs, pancakes, sausages, and the fruit, though they all commented on the orange juice, and several of the men drank the sweet lemonease. The governor called him over. ¡°This is all good and well, though I must say, Mr. Sal Fang, I am a tad¡ªjust a tad¡ªmy finger and thumb held this close to convey the tad disappointment I am feeling. You bought those dough rings from Madame Benyay. I know those lemon rings. I know them too well! Isn¡¯t that cheating? It feels like cheating. Shouldn¡¯t you cook all of your own food?¡± Sal only shrugged. ¡°Madame Benyay has a certain magic to her, doubtless. I do have plans on expanding the menu. Have you heard of gnocchi?¡± ¡°Gnocchi! Oh yes, it¡¯s a Scallia Capran dish, a kind of potato dumpling, or it is pasta? It might be a little both. Oh, right, ricotta cheese is involved in some creamy way. I do like it in a creamy sauce with parmesan cheese, or is the cheese in the cream sauce? I can¡¯t remember. I¡¯ve also had it with pesto. Now, pesto is a joy!¡± Sal didn¡¯t know what pesto was, but he liked the way it rolled off his tongue. New customers came in, including a repeat customer from the day before, and they had to open up the ancillary dining area. Suddenly, it was a full-on rush, and Sal had to hurry off. The governor paid for his men, but before he left, he pulled Sal in close. Ziggy had drenched himself in cologne, and it was a bit much. The man whispered into his ear. ¡°Mr. Sal Fang, you have a start here, but remember, you owe me a favor. Let¡¯s not forget that, shall we?¡± ¡°How could I?¡± Sal tried to ease himself back, though the governor had other ideas. The governor smiled a bit too broadly. His teeth looked a tad yellow compared to his pancake white face. ¡°You did not comment on my outfit, Sal Fang. Why? Is it too much? I wanted something jovial and jaunty to celebrate your very middling breakfast eatery. All the world is a circus, full of clowns, some happy, some sad, but all painted up and pretty. Who wrote that?¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Verily, I do believe you just said it.¡± ¡°Verily!¡± the clownish man tittered. ¡°Now, for my favor. I need you to keep your ears and eyes open. This is not spying, only it might be spying, just a smidge of spying, a little sprinkle of the old espionage. While some Gimm have found a bit of a foothold in our fair city at the North Wall, I have heard word that Gorbins are thinking about coming to Tower City. Let¡¯s not forget that they tried to murder us all about a thousand years ago.¡± That was mostly Kenny, Sal thought. He kept those words in his head. On his lips, he tried his best to defend the Skinless. ¡°I do not believe the Gorbin are any more of a threat than the alarming number of elderly Primogeny in our fair city. Madame Benyay being one.¡± ¡°Oh, her ear hair, so much ear hair!¡± Ziggy gripped him harder. ¡°If you see a Gorbin, you¡¯ll tell me, right? You don¡¯t have to come all the way to my mansion, no, just let Gail Questor know. She¡¯s the¡ª¡± Sal stepped back, giving himself both space and a break from the cologne. ¡°Yes, she handles entry into the Tower. I understand.¡± He understood, though he wasn¡¯t about to report in on his former minions, not after all he¡¯d learned about them. Ziggy surged forward, as if playing a game of tag. ¡°Sal Fang, that is not all. The Gorbin are one thing, the Church is another. Has the Pontrafax Genetrix come to call? Yes, I see on your face, she has, and she has her own retinue of the elderly, though they aren¡¯t elves, but geriatric zealots. Is there a worse thing than geriatric zealots? Oh, how the mind grows rigid with age!¡± ¡°For some,¡± Sal said quietly. Ziggy waved away those words. ¡°Kizi Adamu is planning something, I know it. That Pontra, she wants everyone to call her Pontra Kizi, like she¡¯s all friendly and such, but turn your back for a second, and in goes the dagger.¡± He leaned in close. Sal got a fresh wave of cologne. ¡°Notice her businesses up and down Tower Road? There¡¯s a reason for that, you know.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Sal found himself a bit disappointed that the priestess hadn¡¯t requested he call her Pontra Kizi. It felt like a slight. Still, he decided to engage in a bit of gossip. ¡°She made sure Champion Plaza was as cold and silent as a graveyard, and so, traffic walked directly by her church shops. And yet, she has failed to improve the grand cathedral. It has fallen into disrepair, and at the same time, she is requesting donations for the work, getting paid twice.¡± A new understanding appeared on the governor¡¯s face. ¡°Diabolical! Sigh.¡± He actually said the word ¡°sigh.¡± ¡°And this is why the Church has fallen into such¡­such¡­muddy, muddy, muck, muck.¡± Sal didn¡¯t comment but thought of Fabrizio, and all the fine work he did. Ziggy then waved at him. ¡°Keep your ears and eyes open, for the¡ª¡± he put a hand up to cover his mouth ¡°you know what and you-know-who!¡± He then took his men out of Sal¡¯s diner, after paying way too much. Sal waited for the message accusing him of accepting the bribe, though it seemed Sal¡¯s mysterious benefactor saw it more as a tip, a little gratis for appreciation of the food. Sal felt a bit stung that Ziggy had referred to his diner as a middling breakfast eatery. He needed to change that, and that meant expanding the menu. He was going to be very cautious because it meant investing more money and time for an uncertain return. Sal had never liked criticism, though he hadn¡¯t put villages to the sword because of it. People liked to complain¡ªit was an eternal truth, and sometimes, they complained the loudest about the thing they liked the most. Maybe it was good the governor thought his diner was mediocre. It meant he wouldn¡¯t be coming by often. No one had any respect for the governor, and so Sal didn¡¯t want to hitch his business donkey to that particular fashionable mule. Customers came and went, and while there wasn¡¯t the rush of the morning, there was some traffic, thanks to the free samples that Theo handed out on Tower Road. Once people sat down in the chilly caf¨¦, free of the stink, they relaxed and were all smiles. There had to be forty-degree difference between the outside heat and the banshee chill. Shivaun worked tirelessly in the kitchen, but during her breaks, she went down into the basement and iced up the floor, making sure the place was comfortable. That would draw the crowds, and if he had something special on the lunch menu? Only served after noon? That might make the difference. And bacon. He had to secure his bacon connection. In the end, however, the bacon came to him. Chapter Thirty-One – The Pig Hats Hamletti Hooftop and Petunia. The evils of rhyming addiction. Unknown meats. An unlikely flirtation. The men in pig hats showed up, again, right before closing. He might just have to push his close to four, depending on how his lunch plans went. The pig hats weren¡¯t made out of actual pig heads, thank goodness, but fashioned out of a plush material, a bright pink, and surprising clean. The same couldn¡¯t be said for their leather jerkins and plaid breeches. They wore very large boots, not unlike Kaixo¡¯s, though these were stained in filth. They weren¡¯t all men. There was one very large woman there, with big meaty arms, though her face was clean and rather pretty, compared to the sullen scowls of the men around her. The strange collection of pig hats filled the entryway, and there were so many of them, Shivaun would have to work overtime to keep the place cool. The pig hatted retinue parted, to allow their obvious mistress to pass. She was a very petite woman with dirty blond hair streaked with gray. She had a very pointed nose, foxlike, and wrinkles around her eyes. Yes, she was older, and yet she seemed ageless, her skin a ruddy pink color. Good coloring was important. However, it clashed a little with her very formal pink gown, with white lacy strings that connected her sleeves to her white lacey gloves. ¡°I come to pass my judgement on thee. To judge you fair and drastically. How have you come to trespass so daring? Are you a villain or simply past caring?¡± It was nearly iambic pentameter, and that might have been a happy accident, but the rhymes were purposeful. He was being visited by another Braggadorio, and he knew exactly which one. He was tired after his long day, but also intrigued by the possibility of wordplay. Betty wasn¡¯t around to tease him, and Theovanni was taking a nap upstairs. Shivaun was there, though, keeping the place cool, though she remained hidden for obvious reasons. Sal had to grin. ¡°Oh wait, madam, you speak words so pretty. You must be the Port Poet so winsome and witty.¡± His own rhyming came surprisingly easy. Had he really just said that? The big woman¡¯s face fell open into a kind of dopey grin. ¡°Mistress Laureate, he did the rhyming and the words, Miss Laureate. He did what you do! He did. He did!¡± The Pork Poet frowned. ¡°Unexpected.¡± She didn¡¯t rhyme that word. She seemed to take a fresh grip on herself, shook off her surprise, and continued. ¡°Oh right, Petunia, how right you are. He is a poet come from afar. He comes to town to serve us in meals. In a place, he is borrowing, in a place that he steals.¡± The grammar wasn¡¯t right, and the rhyme was forced, and she knew it. That frown deepened. If Sal wanted to get ahead, and make his caf¨¦ more than mediocre, he had to play this just right. He couldn¡¯t show her up. ¡°I do love poetry. I am Sal Fang. I think your given name is Hamletti Hooftop, though your sobriquet is Letti, to those closest to you. I will refer to you as the Mistress Laureate, the grand madam of chops, the sultaness of sausage, the Pork Poet.¡± The Pork Poet¡¯s words came out in an angry splash. ¡°You dither, my dear, you dither and squirm. I asked you a question that you¡¯ve not answered, you worm. You reside in a place that is dear to my heart. You trespass where my great great grandpa practiced his art. His culinary magic, he practiced a lot. His pans were his poetry, and he danced with his pots. While speech is my canvas and words are my paint, my dear past ancestor Tony Belly you ain¡¯t.¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Again, she was working very hard to keep up her rhyming game. Was this an effort to intimidate him? Sal acted cowed. ¡°I do adore listening to you, Mistress Laureate, and I wish I could match your elevated wordplay. Alas, I cannot, and I shall not try. Suffice to say, circumstances forced me to take refuge in your great-grandfather¡¯s restaurant. The ghosts tried to kill me, not your ancestor, mind you, but others.¡± He left out the part of Tony Belly trying to exile him with his stink. ¡°The governor found me here, took pity on me, and gave me the deed, and it is my grandest wish to restore it to your great great grandfather¡¯s high standards. In fact, I will be serving his gnocchi recipe, in honor of him.¡± The petite woman blinked, opened her mouth, then closed it. Was she trying to come up with a rhyme for gnocchi? Or was she shocked by his story? It could be it was a bit of both. ¡°Oh, break me open, I¡¯m so surprised. To think you have spoken to one who died. You say the right words, but words are my art. I know you hide something deep in your heart.¡± The big woman chuckled. ¡°That was a good one, Mistress Laureate.¡± ¡°Thank you, Petunia.¡± Sal was surprised by the name. The big, muscled woman looked more like a Patricia than a Petunia. The Pork Poet snapped her fingers. ¡°Listen now, I will drop my verse. You have done well to survive the curse.¡± She closed her eyes and sighed. ¡°That one was by accident, I assure you. News is spreading of your caf¨¦ and what you do.¡± Another sigh. ¡°Old habits die hard. But enough!¡± She yelled it, and Sal jumped a bit. All of this was so strange. He expected the Pig Hats to start smashing up the place, maybe go back into his kitchen to confiscate all of his sausage. They didn¡¯t. Hamletti Hooftop pointed a finger at him. ¡°You, mysterious stranger, come upon our shore, trespassing in this sacred place for sure. This is your warning, this is my threat. Remember, remember, and don¡¯t forget. If you be villain, or if you be clod, or if you¡¯re a servant enslaved to a god. We will be watching, we will know. If the quality of your food is bad, then you¡¯ll go.¡± She closed her eyes and shook her head, sighing once more. ¡®In short, it is by mine own charity that you remain, and you will not besmirch this place¡¯s good name. There will be a price, lo, a stiff tax will be required. And you will pay it or else you¡¯ll be fired.¡± Here it was, the shakedown. She might talk in rhyming verse, but in the end, she was simply a crime lord with her hand out. And he would be forced to fill it on pain of death. Sal decided to ignore that for now. ¡°Wait, before we talk business, I have a more culinary inquiry to make. Where has the bacon gone? There was bacon, in time memorial, to fill the bellies of the hungry pedestrian.¡± Hamletti squinted at him. ¡°Is this a joke you are making? Using such an imaginative word as bacon.¡± Sal found himself feeling old and behind the times. What had happened to the beloved king of breakfast meats? That slice of fatty meat known as bacon? ¡°What do you do now with your pork bellies?¡± She shrugged. ¡°We toss them away, every day, as is s our way.¡± She closed her eyes, and titled her head, obviously disappointed in herself. She was hopelessly addicted to rhyming. ¡°I will buy your pork bellies,¡± he said quickly. ¡°Do you have a smokehouse?¡± ¡°That I do,¡± she said agreeably. She then clamped her mouth shut, so she wouldn¡¯t accidentally fall into another poem. ¡°I can show you how to treat the meat, and for this service, I will pay dearly. This will save me and your family¡¯s caf¨¦, clearly. For you see, avoiding the rhyme isn¡¯t done easily.¡± Her eyes softened, even as they filled with tears. She blinked them away and hardened herself again. ¡°Your meter was off. Pork bellies are greasy, so greasy, and would make your customers queasy.¡± A smile flashed on her face. ¡°That one I chose, for queasy is a delicious word. I find you very interesting, Sal Fang, and yes, I know your name, for across the city it rang, like bells upon a cold morn, offering a cool place to eat, and for people to meet, away from the street.¡± She laughed, somewhat bitterly. ¡°To give into the rhyme is a glee, even as it tortures me.¡± ¡°Near rhyme,¡± Sal pointed out with a friendly little smile. Suddenly, they both were laughing, and exchanging glances, and Sal found himself a bit shocked that he was flirting with a bloodthirsty Braggadorio who had come to fleece him for money. Instead, they set up a time for him to go to the pork yards and show her the cut of meat he wanted and how to cure it. There was still the mystery of why bacon had fallen out of favor, but Sal would figure that out in time. In the end, it turned out to be another sin of the Church of the Sacra Famiglia. Chapter Thirty-Two – The Impossibility of a New Business Saturday night sadness. The lock remains. Most restaurants fail. The melancholy of a red ledger. Every single day after he¡¯d reached 99%, Sal got messages about the good he was doing, though his Diagraff remained locked, and his Karmic Gauge stuck in the depths of a deep purple. He probably shouldn¡¯t have cared so much, but by Saturday night, he was thoroughly depressed. It wasn¡¯t so much he wanted the power, though there was that aspect to it, but it was more he simply hated feeling so stuck. Betty wasn¡¯t any help, and Kaixo was keeping to herself, now that she was alone in her room. At least they had a Tower Climb date, according to Theovanni, who was thrilled to finally have the chance to earn some money to give Sal some rent. Actually, the kid was no trouble at all. And starting the morning fire was simple. Sparky stood in front of the stove and breathed fire onto the wood, and it caught and burned easily throughout the day. The days were still as hot, but Shivaun was very good at keeping the room cool. That didn¡¯t seem to matter much. They rarely had repeat customers. There was the Eagalis woman, who came in every day and bought the half-price dough rings and chased them down with a sweet lemonease. That was a large amount of sugar, though the eagle woman seemed to relish every bit of her dining experience. Sal had bought advertising space in the Tower Today, but he didn¡¯t know if it was working or not. He thought about giving his customers surveys, about how they¡¯d learned about his restaurant, and yet that felt so invasively rude. Besides, he simply didn¡¯t have that many customers at all. Otto Ovum came to visit, along with his sister, and Cousin Ollie. Sal was very nervous as they ate his eggs and sausage, but they said nice things. However, Sal was forced to dance a little, for Otto, which was embarrassing¡ª far harder than rhyming on the fly. Otto mentioned something about one of his sorcerers studying the Killword Scroll, and for some reason, that put a bad feeling in the former Dark Lord¡¯s belly. He still didn¡¯t know what would happen if someone used it for murder. He¡¯d had the opportunity to take it, Otto had offered, but now it was too late. All in all, they ended their first week in the red. They¡¯d have to do better, though, if they wanted to make it. If Sal bought the same amount of inventory, and if they had the same amount of traffic, he¡¯d be broke in a month. It was a race. Could they get enough customers to break even before he ran out of money? It was very stressful. Unbearably so, or that¡¯s how it felt. Conquering the world felt easier. At least then, if you were losing money, you could send your evil army to sack a city. It was a quick way to get some revenue. But then there was the blood and screaming and gnashing of the teeth. There was a cost, a high one, for such activities. Yet, in that old life, he could force the world to bend to his will. Either by spell or sword, he could hack out a destiny for himself. He wasn¡¯t scrambling for customers, no, he had his armies to force people into being his customers, upon pain of death. He had to be honest with himself, though. Back then, the stakes were high. As he found out when he found his best friend¡¯s sword through his chest. In this new life, the stakes were so much lower, dramatically so. And yet, it didn¡¯t feel that way. He so wanted to succeed. He had to spread the word. People needed to know that the best way to escape the heat was spending the afternoon at The Champion Caf¨¦. It wasn¡¯t all bad news. Saturday, actually, had been a fairly good day for them. A lot of people flooded the town for a special Saturday market in Destiny Square. Theo was able to use his sign and dragon to get people to take a bit of a detour, promising them some delicious breakfast food. They would be closed on Sunday, since most people ate at home, and Tower Climbs were forbidden on Sunday, and that meant less traffic. Also, Sal was hoping that if he closed on Sunday, that might make the Pontra Genetrix a bit less hostile toward him. Kizi Adamu was planning something, he knew it, but he didn¡¯t know what it was. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. He was a poor spy for the governor in that manner. As for the Gorbin, he didn¡¯t see any in town, though he kept thinking he should take a trip into the mountains to see if the Gorbin, with their special knowledge of magic, could help him with his locked Diagraff. That Saturday night, Sal considered a trip across town to Fabrizio¡¯s Mind & Body Tables, but he didn¡¯t have the energy. He felt exhausted after those six days of work, and yes, they pushed their closing time to four, which he hated. Except, the afternoon traffic was so good, and people loved their lemonease. He needed to get moving on the gnocchi recipe before Tony Belly got mad and stank up the place again. That would be a task for the next day. Saturday night, Theovanni was out with Kaixo and the New Astounders, doing some training. Sal had reached out to Kaixo, but she hadn¡¯t reached back. Theo said she was just focused, but Sal knew it was more than that. She was pushing Sal away, probably because he¡¯d seen into her past, and she felt exposed. He regretted that. He regretted a great many things. He found himself outside, in the heat, sitting under the soot-stained umbrella. Betty was out and about. He wasn¡¯t sure where. She didn¡¯t like him keeping track of her, but if she were gone too long, he worried. He also remembered how she¡¯d abandoned him before, without a word. That wound still felt fresh. It was probably silly of him, but he felt what he felt. He liked it when all of his friends were together, and yes, it felt like they were all friends. Shivaun came out and stood in the shadows of the doorway. The plaza was empty, and there was very little chance of anyone coming there, not without some prompting. It was why they had all the signs, and even that wasn¡¯t enough. They had to have Theo out there, barking at people, to motivate them. Sal sighed. Words popped on the wall in icy letters. You have been sad for days now. Why? I demand to know. ¡°We are not profitable, my friend. I have fulfilled my oath. I have opened this establishment. We can run for another month before I run out of the financial resources I need to continue. I do not know what will happen then. And there is the gnocchi to consider.¡± Surely, this is nothing compared to what you have done before. ¡°I was just considering such things. My life before. My life now. I cannot enslave my customers by force. I must entice them. It is a seduction, and I am not gifted in that area.¡± You flirted with the Pork Poet. You like her eloquence and her dark addiction to rhyming. Sal felt his cheeks burn. ¡°That was not flirting. I was merely trying to secure a bacon reservoir. If anything, the salted and smoked meat will bring people here. Again, though, it is an expense, an expense that might ruin us if there is no return.¡± Shivaun shook her head. Her eyes bore into him. There is more to it than that. You want your magic back. You want to conquer. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± he said honestly. ¡°I would simply like this caf¨¦ to be profitable.¡± He knew if he wasn¡¯t careful, he¡¯d lose Karma points, and so he had to tell the truth. ¡°If I had a certain type of magic, something to do with food stuffs, that might mean the difference between success and failure. And yet, I find myself at a standstill. I see the opportunity, and yet, I cannot take advantage of it.¡± Shivaun dropped her head and let her long dark hair cover her pale face. When she looked up, her black eyes were shadowed and angry. If you could regain all of the magic you had before, would you take up the mantle of the Dark Lord? ¡°No. And the magic I had before would not help me run a caf¨¦. It was far too¡­violent. The rules of my life have changed.¡± I do not believe you. Sal knew he was powerless to change her mind. He wanted to defend himself, at least about Hearthhome, but no, there was no defense at all. It felt unfair. She thought he was evil, and he couldn¡¯t be, not ever again, unless he wanted his precious second life stolen away from him. He stood up. ¡°This is pointless, Shivaun. You wanted to know why I was sad, and I have told you. My Diagraff is locked, my caf¨¦ failed to be an immediate success, and I have worlds of labor ahead of me, none of which can be made easier through sorcery. What do you want from me?¡± Admit you are evil, now. As evil as I am. That made Sal pause. ¡°Are you evil, Shivaun?¡± She nodded at him, a broken kind of defeat on her face. ¡°How are you evil?¡± he asked. She vanished, even as her words melted down the side of his caf¨¦. That made Sal angry. He charged into the diner. ¡°Shivaun, we are not finished. I want to know about the corpses I found when I first got here. I want to know what is in the locked chest. You claim to be evil, but you offer no proof.¡± He stopped and smiled. ¡°Other than the fact you tried to kill me, several times, before I won your favor. Then again, a single word from you would slay me outright. That makes me question the extent of your evil.¡± Nothing answered. Sal charged up the stairs, took a left, and shoved open the door to Theovanni¡¯s room. It was a mess, all right, with a bunch of clothes on the floor and several cheap books scattered about. Sal wondered if he should ask the kid to keep his room clean. That seemed a little too parental. Sal went to the ladder and climbed the rungs up into the attic. That was where he found Shivaun, in the far corner, facing the corner of the attic. It was really rather creepy. Chapter Thirty-Three – Shivaun’s Trauma The remarkable tower climbers. Shivaun¡¯s evil. The wrong coin¡¯s evil. Not that coin. Killword blues. He breathed out and wasn¡¯t surprised to see his breath hanging there like a fog. ¡°Shivaun, it is not fair. You know about my misdeeds from the history books. Your transgressions remain a mystery.¡± The banshee didn¡¯t turn. Nonetheless, her frozen words appeared on the wall. And they will remain a mystery. ¡°I would¡¯ve spared Hearthhome. As you might know if you are schooled in the subject, it was not of any strategic importance. And yet, Keyneth Kinkaid, the famed champion, insisted we raze it to the ground. Which he did, against my orders. I went there, as soon as I heard, and we fought, the two of us, the only time we ever did, until, well, until much later in his life he killed me. Back there, back at Hearthhome, I slashed him in the face with my Black Blades spell. He used that dang sword of his to return the favor. Ever after, we had the matching scars. In the end, I would take the blame for the whole affair. I was not evil there, Shivaun. I did my best to stop the evil. And I failed. I did other things, though, of which I am ashamed of.¡± Saying all of that felt good. He knew, at some point, he would have to confess his sins against his father, perhaps his greatest crime, but then, being at the top of an evil empire, everything that happened was his responsibility in the end. There had been other war crimes than Hearthhome, but that was the one that had caught the imagination of the people. That was his legacy. It had started the revolution against him. It had led to the Yaniri Armada sailing into the port, and in the end, it might¡¯ve drove Kenny to kill him. No, Kenny simply wanted the Deux Coin. It was the lust for power. Tale as old as time. Shivaun turned. The trunk appeared in front of her, wrapped in chains. We came here. After the Tower. We made it to Stranded Soul level, above the Water Level, high, so very high. We only had three more levels to get the Deux Coin Spire. But as luck would have it, we found a Deux Coin outside the tower, or Tam did, throwing dice. It was in the alley out in the back alley of this very restaurant. There was someone there, who didn¡¯t know he had it. Tam was sensitive to magic, you see. He knew it wasn¡¯t an ordinary coin. Sal held up a hand. ¡°Wait. You found a Deux Coin in the city itself and not in the tower?¡± The ghost nodded and didn¡¯t say more. Sal, though, couldn¡¯t help but put the pieces together. ¡°You turned on each other. Tam might¡¯ve won it, but you all wanted, didn¡¯t you?¡± Sparkling tears tracked down the banshee¡¯s face. Her words were equally sad. They promised it to me. I was the highest-level sorceress. Tam was new to us, and he could cast defensive spells, sure, but he had very few offensive spells. He wanted to keep it. We met here. We had one coin, but we were so high, and we had the Ascended Soul Key. Only three more floor to get to the top. Sal knew them by name. ¡°Ascended Soul. Cursed Soul. Blessed Soul. And then, the Deux Coin Spire.¡± I was just going to cast a simple spell, to take it from Tam, but then, Erryn drew her sword, and Wulfgar roared, and then, we slew each other. I was the last to fall. I thought I had won. I held the coin, victorious. But Silas had stabbed me with his poison needle. I hadn¡¯t felt it. Before I knew it, I was dead, and I was angry, so angry, that I would never rest. I wanted¡­I wanted what you have, Salvanguish. I wanted a second life, where I didn¡¯t let my own greed and self-importance blind me. It seems, strangely enough, that I have found it. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Sal walked up to the chest, and saw that though it was chained shut, the lock was open. He easily undid the chains, and then, he opened the chest. It felt real enough. The chains were cold. The wood had been polished, and it was smooth to the touch. Opening the lid, he saw there was only thing inside. It was a Deux Coin, but it wasn¡¯t his. A second coin floating around the city? That seemed to be the case. But what had happened to it? Then, the coin disappeared. As did the trunk and the chains. They¡¯d never been there to begin with. This was leftover magic, probably from when Shivaun was alive. He approached and held out a hand. She took it, gently, as her eyes filled with tears, and he felt the energy passing again between them. Her wands were icy cold, unnaturally so, and he wasn¡¯t sure if he was giving her any comfort or not. He didn¡¯t let go, and he resisted the urge to wince at how cold her skin was. It was like holding onto ice. ¡°I know the power of the Deux Coins. I had a coin of my own remember. And Kenny killed me to get mine. Only, the gods had other ideas. It seemed they put my coin at the top of the spire. But what happened to the second coin?¡± Shivaun shook her head. Something had been bothering Sal for a long time. He titled his head. ¡°You could have told Fabrizio about me, about my past sins, and yet, you did not reveal my secret. Why?¡± The banshee lowered her chin as her face darkened, until her eyes were lost in shadows and even her nose and chin disappeared into an ink. Then her eyes lit up with a glow. I wanted to give you a chance. Truly, I did not think you would seize the opportunity to change. How many do? Sal felt the lump in his throat. ¡°We do, Shivaun. You and I.¡± When the governor came, when you had to deal with the Braggadorios and the fearsome church lady, I feared you would stray from your righteous path. But you have not. I had my doubts about your sincerity, and some linger still, but most of my fears have been laid to rest. It took a bit for the icy words to form, but with every letter, Sal felt relief. If this ghostly fiend could believe in him, maybe he could believe in himself. She still had her doubts about him, clearly, but he had his own doubts about his strange fate. Sal found himself laughing a little. ¡°No, my interactions with my potential enemies have surprised me, I must admit. It is an odd turn of events that the governor is less of a threat than the Pontra, at least so far, and has proven to be generous. Without the deed to this establishment, I would not have been able to open our doors. And verily, the temperaments of the Braggadorios have been so very surprising. So far I have encountered a dancer and a poet. What other mysteries await me with these peculiar gangsters?¡± A quizzical look of amusement curled Shivaun¡¯s lips. Perhaps there is a lesson there for us. That even hardened criminals are still human, if that be their particular species. Sal was about to respond when a second later, he was given a message that was far colder than the frozen words on the wall. <<<>>> Warning! Karmic Gauge reduced by 50%. Morgan Stramm used the Killword Scroll on Elivs Saddiq, a father and husband. He wasn¡¯t the best guy, which is how got crossways with Otto. You know how that goes. Even if he was an iffy fellow, his wife is now a widow and his kids are orphans. Current Karmic Gauge: 49% (You¡¯re Back to Yellow, but it¡¯s a greenish sort of yellow) <<<>>> It wasn¡¯t fair. He couldn¡¯t increase his power, and yet, he could lose a fortune in Karma points easily from the actions of others. How could he have known? But that was just it. He did know that such a scroll was powerful, too powerful, to have fallen into the wrong hands. He should¡¯ve taken it and destroyed it. Intuitively, he¡¯d known that, but he also knew he¡¯d have been tempted to use it. He thought he¡¯d evaded all responsibility. That wasn¡¯t the case. Shivaun saw the look of horror and disappointment on his face. What is the matter? Her words popped squeaked on the wall. Sal swallowed hard. ¡°I have to get that sword back.¡± It was only a matter of time before the Butter King¡¯s brigands used it to murder someone, and if they did, and if Sal lost another fifty points, he would find himself dead and back in the Abyssmuck, being tortured for all eternity. Chapter Thirty-Four –Sword Retrieval Race for the sword. Fabrizio¡¯s help. Stormdock. Names for the brigands. A lie. A fight. Hostile negotiations. Three percent. One last catastrophe. Sal didn¡¯t pause, not a second. He left Shivaun and the diner in a flash, sprinting down the street. The sun was low in the sky, but he still had plenty of light left, due to the long summer. He¡¯d lost fifty points when one of Otto Ovum¡¯s mages used the Killword scroll. What would happen if those brigands used that short sword he¡¯d given them? Losing another fifty points would kill him. Sal prayed he would find those brigands on Confusion Street, but no, they weren¡¯t there, nor had they been in a while. They probably had gotten smart and stayed in the Butter King¡¯s area of town, which was to the southwest of the tower, on the Middle Sea, across town from Otto¡¯s chicken farm. The Butter King shared a border with the Pork Poet, and that had been a problem it sounded like. Sal found Fabrizio cooking for that night¡¯s Mind & Body Tables. He had plenty of help, thankfully, and Sal dragged him outside to talk. He quickly told the surprised priest about losing half of his Karma points to the Killword scroll. Fabrizio frowned. ¡°Oh boy, Sal. You¡¯re taking this better than I would¡¯ve. It wasn¡¯t your fault. Where does the responsibility stop? If someone eats your food and does something bad, are you responsible?¡± Sal didn¡¯t know, but he simply wanted the sword back. ¡°My friend, you have far more of an understanding of personal responsibility than I do. I was offered the scroll, and I turned it down, though I had a good idea that it could be used for nefarious purposes. And here we are. I simply want to retrieve the sword, so I do not use any more Karma points.¡± Fabrizio squinted at him. ¡°I think I know where you can find the sword. But oh boy, it¡¯s not going to be easy. The Butter King likes to spend weekend evenings at Snoot¡¯s Stormrest, on the beach. That¡¯s where you¡¯ll find him. But he won¡¯t like talking business on a Saturday night.¡± Sal also knew that there was a good chance that this Butter King might be intoxicated. Or at least his men would be. There was some good news. ¡°I most likely will not have to engage the Butter King directly. I merely need to find his lackeys.¡± ¡°Be careful,¡± Fabrizio said. ¡°Word is spreading about your diner in Champion Plaza, and the Butter King might be mad about it. I mean, Hamletti was from what you told me.¡± Sal couldn¡¯t talk about the Pork Poet. He was too angry. ¡°If word is spreading why is no one coming?¡± The priest winced. ¡°They¡¯re afraid of the Braggadorios. They¡¯re afraid of ghosts. But, oh boy, your caf¨¦ is just new. New stuff really scares people. They just want to eat at their old favorites.¡± ¡°Like at the Shorn Unicorn¡¯s Horn,¡± Sal said with some distaste. He went to leave, but Fabrizio called to him. ¡°Sal, I¡¯m serious. Be careful, okay? You¡¯re going to be dealing with some bad people.¡± ¡°No,¡± Sal shot back. ¡°This Butter King and his minions will be the one dealing with a bad person.¡± Then he was stomping away, going south, making his way through unknown streets, as the sun set lower in the sky. A few ruffians appraised him. He almost wished someone would try and trifle with him. Sal couldn¡¯t shake the rage he was feeling. He¡¯d found the little Karmic game he¡¯d been playing rather interesting, if challenging, but this new wrinkle had thrown him. He wasn¡¯t worried about dying, no, he was really worried about losing his diner and failing his friends. And he was frustrated that he¡¯d lost fifty Karma points so fast. It had taken him weeks to gather the good deeds, and now, they were gone like dust in the wind. Should it work like that? He thought of Elvis Saadiq¡¯s widow and orphaned children. They would probably think so. Somehow, that only made him more furious. If he could get the sword back, then at least he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about it being used to hurt anyone, because if too many people were hurt, it just might kill him. Ironic, that most of his sins had been from the deeds of others. Hearthhome was an example of that. Now, his fate hinged on the actions of others. Perhaps there was some justice in that. He hurried through a cluster of houses, stacked on top of one another, and someone was having a loud house party, including at least one drummer. He hurried by men standing outside, drinking, and they didn¡¯t give him a second look. The houses grew nicer as he went, until he came to a row of shops with houses above them. This had been Stormdock section of town, which back in his day, had been little more than a collection of rundown houses mostly owned by poor fisherman. That had changed. The rolling green hills were shadowy mounds to his right. That was where the Butter King had his cows, and his palace, which explained the lights twinkling out there beyond the crumbling old western wall. New ramparts had been built farther up near the rising mountains there, though the granite mountain peaks were wall enough to stop any invading army from traipsing into the city. Sal found the big tavern¡ªSnoot¡¯s Stormrest¡ªon the beach front, where torches burned near the gentle waves lapping at the sand. There was a new boardwalk that took him right to the broad patio of the place, which was loud from a band playing inside. A large patio to the left held a crowd of people, wealthy people, of all races. This was a place for the elites, and Stormdock is where they lived. Sal wasn¡¯t sure who Snoot was, or why everything in the southwest part of town was storm this and storm that, but in the end, it didn¡¯t matter. He¡¯d grown up with a grandfather who wasn¡¯t the best at naming things. Names changed anyway. Only blood was forever. As luck would have it, the four brigands were in the entryway, and the biggest but least ugly of the men had the short sword, though he¡¯d gone all out and had bought a fancy bejeweled sheath for it. Sal found he didn¡¯t have a plan, not really, only in the back of his head, he did. Inside, the tavern was packed, and Sal didn¡¯t know what the Butter King looked like, but there was no one in sight that seemed to be a likely candidate for the Braggadorio. There were some Torta merchants, dressed in silks, with their shells painted. A few human women in revealing dresses stood near them, talking, and then there were the workers, carrying plates of food out to the patio. The clinking and eating was muted by minstrels, pounding drums, strumming lutes, and singing in a chorus. For whatever reason, the brigands stood at the back of the crowd. It was loud and chaotic, perfect for Sal¡¯s unwise plan. He tapped the smallest one on the shoulder. ¡°Greetings, gentleman. I have another deal to make with you.¡± The little one, the ugliest one, squinted at him. ¡°What kind of squeal? Squeal what now?¡± Sal shouted, ¡°A deal. I would like to make another deal with you!¡± Mr. Ugly wiped his nose. ¡°I don¡¯t know you from the Dark Lord Mood. Leave us alone.¡± Sal knew what he was doing wasn¡¯t smart, and yet, he was close to a solution to his unfortunate circumstances. He pushed past him and went to the big one, the one who had the sword. ¡°Excuse me, I do not know if you remember me or not, but we met on Confusion Street a few weeks back. I donated that sword to you.¡± But then Sal was dragged back, not by the small guy, but by the other two. One had a face covered in pimples. The second one was wearing a great deal of cologne, enough to make Sal¡¯s eyes water. It was covering an even more unfortunate stink. Sal was hauled outside, with the four following him, until he was thrown against the railing. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. He threw up his hands. ¡°Look, I did not come here seeking trouble. I wanted this to be a business arrangement.¡± Mr. Big didn¡¯t respond. He simply drove a fist into Sal¡¯s stomach. Sal found himself not able to breathe. He staggered back, until one of the men tripped him, and he went down. He expected one of the other men to kick him, but instead, the little guy stepped on his hand. Sal knew if he stayed on the ground, he might very well be beaten to death. He jerked his hand out from under the little guy¡¯s boot, and a second later, he jumped to his feet. Mr. Big grunted laughter. ¡°Oh, I know you. You were the daft bugger who gave me my sword.¡± Sal was trying not to show how much pain he was in. ¡°Yes, yes, that is what I have said before. I came into money, only a little, and I would like to purchase the sword from you.¡± He expected a warning message about him lying, but he could honestly say, the fortunes from the Riverglitter Manor were small compared to his finances, even smaller when compared to the vast riches he¡¯d once enjoyed. And he wanted bonus points for not trying to beat the men to death after they roughed him up. That was a very unlikely scenario. The big one chuckled. ¡°Hear that Snickers. He wants to buy the sword from me. Oh, I bet you do. Did you even know it was magical?¡± Sal¡¯s heart fell. He hadn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t have that kind of magic anymore. He couldn¡¯t let on that he hadn¡¯t know, or the price would skyrocket. ¡°Yes, yes, I did. Which is why I am offering a pretty penny to get it back.¡± <<<>>> Warning! Karmic Gauge reduced by 1%. Lying is not going to help you. Honesty is the best policy. Current Karmic Gauge: 48% (Yellow) <<<>>> Sal still had plenty of points left to play with. The little transgressions weren¡¯t as critical as getting that sword back. ¡°So, make me an offer, and I shall purchase the sword back from you.¡± He didn¡¯t have the money for this, especially since he still had to buy the bacon from the Pork Poet. She was unlikely to give him anything on credit. The ugly pipsqueak giggled. ¡°Oh, Jaxen, he don¡¯t know nothing. Like we¡¯re gonna sell an actual magic sword back to him. Not going to happen.¡± The big one, Jaxen, nodded. ¡°A thousand gold pieces.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have that,¡± Sal said. ¡°And besides, that would be for something extraordinary. Yes, my sword is magical, but it doesn¡¯t have that much magic to it. Besides, I know you haven¡¯t used it to hurt anyone.¡± Jaxen smiled showing straight white teeth. ¡°That¡¯s the magic of it. It scares people. You want a taste? Yeah, I bet you do. As a little reminder.¡± The big man grabbed the hilt and raised it, just to show the blade, which darkened right before Sal¡¯s eyes, turning from a gray iron to dark obsidian. Fear filled him, only it didn¡¯t make him want to run away. In fact, it fueled him forward because in the end, he knew he wasn¡¯t going to be able to buy the sword back. He was going to have to steal it, which would cost him, dearly, and in the end, might even kill him. But what choice did he have? Jaxen was surprised to find Sal right in his face, trying to grab that sword, which seemed like this awful, terrible thing, something Sal didn¡¯t want to touch, but he had to. He had to. If he¡¯d been anyone else, he would¡¯ve run screaming. But he wasn¡¯t just anyone else. Snickers¡ªthe little, ugly one¡ªstepped back, but Mr. Cologne went to grab Sal, and he ducked the ruffian, using his Youngin Reflexes. Pimples went to punch Sal. Sal knew he could¡¯ve ducked it, but he was tired of playing with these common brigands. He was tired of living this humble life, of being servile and scraping. His restaurant might not take off, and there wasn¡¯t much he could do to ensure its success. He could get that sword back, though, by any means necessary. Sal had lost all of magical combat skills, and yet, he¡¯d lived over two thousand years, and he knew how to throw a punch. Some things never left you. He punched Pimples right in his nose, a perfect blow, which sent the man staggering back. Back when Sal had conquered a good portion of the world, he¡¯d had a BodyWork Modifier of 285%. That basically tripled the damage he inflicted on his enemies. Now? He had a mere 10%, and while it was a good punch, it didn¡¯t break bone, which all in all, was a good thing. And the Bodywork Modifier wasn¡¯t just for attacking either, but it solidified his body and thickened his bones. Plus, the ability to instinctively dodge attacks was also taken into account. Rarely did he get hit, and when he did, his skin was simply tougher to pierce. He¡¯d nearly been a god! Now, he was just a guy in a bar fight. That fact didn¡¯t make his Mysterious Benefactor very happy. <<<>>> What is this? Violence? Unabashed violence? Karmic Gauge reduced by 20%. We don¡¯t hit! Current Karmic Gauge: 28% (Sour Orange) <<<>>> ¡°Hey! He hit Hugh!¡± Snickers shouted. ¡°Drew! Get him!¡± So, Mr. Cologne was Drew and Pimples was Hugh. Hugh and Drew? That tracked. They did seem like a matched pair. Sal dodged Drew and his cologne, and instead of hitting him, kicked the fragrant man right between the legs. <<<>>> Ouch! Karmic Gauge reduced by 10%. Kicking a guy in the nards is a low blow. Literally low. What are you doing? Current Karmic Gauge: 18% (A Self-Destructive Orangish Red) <<<>>> Sal couldn¡¯t argue about the ethics of self-defense with his mysterious benefactor. He could only fight, and that¡¯s what he did. Snickers came at him with his cane, which was really more of a cudgel. Sal had the reflexes to not only dodge his attacks, but to pluck the cudgel away from him. By that time, Pimply Hugh was coming at him again. Sal went to smack him in the face, but at the last minute, pulled the blow, which the guy was expecting. Instead, the former Dark Lord stomped down on his foot, and then kneed him in the thigh, which sent Hugh down to join Drew on the floor. <<<>>> Warning! Karmic Gauge reduced by 5%. There¡¯s a good chance you broke that guy¡¯s foot. And a charley-horse to the thigh never feels good. Wait, something strange is going on. Current Karmic Gauge: 13% (Back into the red) <<<>>> Sal was in the territory where he just might die from fighting too well. Snickers, in his heart was a coward, because he wasn¡¯t attacking. He stood back and wailed, ¡°Jaxen! Get him!¡± Mr. Big, otherwise known as Jaxen, was clearly surprised his sword wasn¡¯t working like he thought it would, but that was the nature of magical fear. There was a fight, flight, or freeze response, and Sal was responding with desperate violence. He realized he wasn¡¯t in his right mind. Jaxen drew the sword fully, and all that awful fear hit Sal, making him even crazier. Again, he had some magic in his Youngin Reflexes, because he dodged the sword, and he thought to cudgel Jaxen in the head, though that might¡¯ve killed him, but instead, he slammed the cudgel down on the big man¡¯s sword hand. The sword clattered to the ground. <<<>>> Warning! Karmic Gauge reduced by 5%. First feet, and now hands. Are you trying to break that guy¡¯s hand? Yeah, I think you are. But you¡¯re not in your right mind because of the fear magic in the air. So I¡¯m not taking a ton of points from you, but you still have to stop. You know that every time you throw a punch there¡¯s a chance you could kill someone. Current Karmic Gauge: 8% (A Dangerous Shade of Red) <<<>>> Sal yanked the blade up, and then, he whirled, stepping backwards, and keeping it out in front of him. He was already so tired from this little fight. With a better BodyWork Modifier, he could¡¯ve fought for hours. Luckily, he¡¯d had enough energy for this little scuffle, which seemed to be almost over. Snickers let out a scream of terror and went under the railing, onto the beach, where he dashed away, sprinting toward the water. Jaxen froze, his eyes wide, even as he cradled his hand to his chest. Both Drew and Hugh hid their eyes. Sal cursed himself for not asking Shivaun about the weapons in his basement. Thank goodness he hadn¡¯t sold them or given them away. At least not to known criminals working for a Braggadorio. He was going to be careful, very careful, from here on out. ¡°Now,¡± Sal said. ¡°I would like to buy this sword back from you. While I see now, a thousand gold might have been a very good price, I do question the ethics of our original arrangement. I gave it to you, so you would not hurt me. It seems to me, in our original encounter, you would have been satisfied with a few silver pieces. I will give you fifty gold pieces. No, a hundred. I have platinum. Have any of you ever seen a platinum piece?¡± Jaxen swallowed hard. ¡°No. No, sir.¡± He stood there, blinking, his eyes on the obsidian blade in Sal¡¯s hands. He hadn¡¯t used the sword in combat, and he hadn¡¯t used it to intimidate anyone, and that was why he hadn¡¯t been to activate the weapon¡¯s sorcery. It also explained why Jaxen hadn¡¯t had to use it. Was that luck or destiny? Sal flipped Jaxen a single coin. ¡°And you¡¯re going to throw in the sheath for that kind of money.¡± The big man hesitated for a moment before tossing him the sheath. Sal wasn¡¯t about to sheath the sword, no, because he wasn¡¯t sure what the brigands would do to him. No one had come out of the inn, and it seemed no one had seen the fight at all. The band continued to play inside the tavern. Sal wasn¡¯t surprised at the next message. <<<>>> Warning! Karmic Gauge reduced by 5%. Negotiating while using sorcery just isn¡¯t right. You got that sword back for a song. But we both know that while it was cheap as far as money goes, it just might be the most expensive purchase you¡¯ve ever made. Current Karmic Gauge: 3% (Red and flashing!) <<<>>> He¡¯d come for what he wanted, and he was leaving with his Karmic Gauge in the red. Only three percentage points from death. And he just might¡¯ve created a vicious enemy in the Butter King, and he was fairly certain that his gnocchi would need dairy products, probably a lot of dairy. ¡°He left the brigands with a last warning. ¡°Do not come seeking revenge. If you trifle with me, you will not like the results.¡± He then hurried away from the tavern. He felt safer with the short sword in his hand, now sheathed, because it turned out to be a powerful weapon. Too bad, in the end, it was one he couldn¡¯t use. He couldn¡¯t kill anyone, and he couldn¡¯t use it to scare anyone. That would be intimidation, and his Benefactor would surely hate that. The night wasn¡¯t over. He had another surprise coming. When he reached the intersection of Champion Street and Tower Road, he saw that his street had been blocked with bright yellow ribbons, with the words CONSTRUCTION ZONE tacked to either side of the avenue. He ducked under the yellow ribbon and walked to Champion Plaza itself. There, he saw that the cobblestones had all been torn up, and there were piles of rocks and dirt surrounding the fountain. The biggest stacks of rock were directly in front of his diner, with some of the bigger boulders pushing against the two tables and the chairs there. One of the umbrellas had been broken, and it wasn¡¯t the scorched one. It was his good one! His best umbrella! All the construction would most likely doom his poor diner, doom it to the Abyssmuck forever! Chapter Thirty-Five – A Little Help Late night ruminations. Betty¡¯s perspective. Kaixo¡¯s coolness. Powerful magic items. Help from the church. A cool afternoon. Sal had taken a chair and set it against the wall, to the right of his diner, and was surveying the wreckage when Betty came bounding up to him. She scurried up to his palm and he lifted her and sat her on his knee. ¡°Hey, chief,¡± the mouse said. ¡°You don¡¯t look so happy.¡± Sal then told her all about what had happened with the Killword scroll and the retrieval of the short sword. ¡°What did Shivaun have to say about any of that?¡± the little mouse asked. ¡°I have not spoken to her. Nor have I shown her the sword. I have been here, pondering this latest disaster¡ªfixing the fountain might very well have destroyed our dreams of a profitable diner.¡± He sighed. ¡°Remind me to never take another oath as long as I live.¡± Betty gave him a thumbs up with her little pink claw. ¡°Will do. Though that¡¯s not helping you at this point. Not sure what¡¯s gonna help you, to be honest. Did the governor pull a fast one?¡± Sal shook his head. ¡°Ziggy has never shown me anything other than support. No. I would have guessed the Butter King, since my encounter with his men might have drawn his ire. But the work here started as soon as I left. Otto Ovum wishes my continued success, as does the Pork Poet, for they have economic interests in supplying me my foodstuffs. Which leaves only one culprit.¡± ¡°Fabrizio!¡± Betty said with a snap of her claws. ¡°He was only pretending to be our friend.¡± ¡°No,¡± Sal said. ¡°However, I believe our villain is a member of the Church. Zizi Adamu, the Pontrafax Genetrix, might have found a way to shut us down.¡± ¡°Maybe, champ, but only if we let her.¡± Betty shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m far more worried about your state of mind, buddy. You don¡¯t seem like yourself. ¡° Sal gently petted his mouse friend¡¯s soft brown head. ¡°I found this game challenging, and I was grateful for the second life I was given. However, this evening, when I found that the actions of others might hurt me, I must admit, I lost hope. At first, it seemed unfair, and then, I realized that there is a certain justice at play here. I am responsible for my actions, but I am also responsible for what I put out into the world. Remember, I had questions about the sword and the Killword scroll. Those questions have been answered.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure, champ, but still. You ain¡¯t smiling about it.¡± ¡°I am not. For I do not know where I stand with the Butter King. Nor do I have any knowledge of how to combat the Pontra¡¯s ploy to drive me out of business. What if I fail, Betty?¡± The mouse only laughed. ¡°You can¡¯t fail. Way I see it, you¡¯ll get your caf¨¦ off the ground, one way or another. If you run out of money, we¡¯ll figure out something. Thanks to the governor, you own the building. And so far, I think you have two of the five families on your side. There¡¯s a lot to be grateful for. Nobody said this would be easy.¡± Sal knew that was true. Yet, at the same time, he thought that opening a restaurant should be easier than running an evil empire. Sparky came soaring down and landed on the scorched umbrella. He breathed fire and lit up the plaza for a second. With an uttered ¡°eep!¡±, Betty ran up Sal¡¯s arm and leapt into his pocket. Theovanni and Kaixo came strolling up. Both looked beyond exhausted. Kaixo had lost more weight, and she looked more gaunt than ever. She couldn¡¯t make eye contact, but instead, glanced around. ¡°Wow. Construction. Bet it¡¯s to fix the fountain. You can take me to court if it isn¡¯t.¡± Theo was far less reserved. ¡°Oh my goat! What¡¯s going on? There¡¯s all this stuff in front of the place. And oh dang, they broke an umbrella. And that chair is all bent. This is terrible.¡± Sal sighed. ¡°I believe it is the Pontrafax Genetrix that is trying to put me out of business.¡± Theo¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What¡¯s going to happen on Monday?¡± ¡°We shall open,¡± Sal said. ¡°After we clear a path from Tower Road to the shop. We can move the rocks across the way. It will be a great deal of work, but we can manage. And we will take down the yellow ribbon. I believe the governor is on our side.¡± Kaixo laughter was bitter. ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re going up against the Church. Fabrizio is the only church guy I ever liked. The rest can be found guilty and hanged by the neck until dead. If you ask me. But you didn¡¯t ask me.¡± She gave him a nod. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go, but first, Sal, thanks for taking the kid in.¡± Theovanni threw back his head. ¡°I hate it when you call me the kid. I¡¯m a fully grown adult.¡± ¡°Right. Keep telling yourself that.¡± Kaixo slapped him on the back, then turned, and left them. Sal wanted to talk to her, but it wasn¡¯t the right time. He was worried about her. If she was in the clutches of Naptha addiction, it just might wipe away her sanity and leave her an empty shell. He¡¯d seen it happen before. The former Dark Lord and Theo left the plaza and went back inside. Shivaun still didn¡¯t appear, not until the next morning, when she shrieked them all awake at the break of dawn. Sal had the short sword next to his bed. He grabbed the blade and leapt to his feet. ¡°Shivaun, I have questions for you! A great many questions!¡± She didn¡¯t appear, which wasn¡¯t all that surprising since she didn¡¯t like to go into his room. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Sal raced through his diner, down the stairs, until he found the ghost in the kitchen, doing a bit of cleaning. ¡°Shivaun, this sword, it casts a fear spell. What other weapons are magical? Or did someone in your party have magical armor? I know you had an assassin named Silas who had poison needles. And there was Tam, another sorcerer. I¡¯m assuming Wulfgar was some kind of warrior, as was Erryn. Who owned this sword?¡± Shivaun wiped down an already spotlessly clean counter. It was clear that she didn¡¯t want a day off. Truth be told, neither did Sal, but that day, he had some important work to do. Hopefully, it would allow him to keep going, even when there were so many things against him. ¡°Please, Shivaun, I need to know. I nearly lost my life retrieving this blade.¡± The banshee rolled her eyes. Word snapped onto the wall next to the oven, so many, the room dropped twenty degrees. I believe you are being overly dramatic. That was Silas¡¯s sword. He mainly used it to frighten enemies away so he wouldn¡¯t have to fight them. Wulfgar had his ax, which was supernaturally sharp. He had a leather hauberk that was magical as well. Cambria had her spears and magical chainmail. Erryn had magical heavy armor along with a very powerful shield, that cast defensive magic. Her mace did cold damage. Tam had a magic wand that threw lightning, called the Skycrack Wand, though he wasn¡¯t very good with it. Like I said, he mostly had defensive spells. He did have mercury boots and an umbra cloak. Oh, and he had two magic rings, one that gave him mana, and another that provided him with magical shielding. As she went through the list, Sal¡¯s first thought was to hire the brigands he¡¯d bested the night before, equip them to the gills, and then send them after the Pontra Genetrix. That would plunge his Karmic Gauge to zero and probably get him killed in the process. No, he could use all those magic items for something good in the end. But he did have some questions. A good number of them. ¡°Wait. Why did all of their gear seem so dusty and pedestrian? Also, they had no treasure, none of them did. I put the rings in a bowl downstairs because they didn¡¯t seem magical.¡± Shivaun shrugged and pointed to the wall. Tam had magic to destroy all the treasure upon his death. He was a petty, vengeful sort. In his mind, if he could not spend the coinage, no one should be able to. In our madness, we did not consider his spell, though simple coinage had lost its luster to us. All we wanted was the Deux Coin. Sal thought of how he reacted to the Fear Blade, how it had driven him to risk death during the fight, even as his Benefactor warned him, over and over, that he was doing was rash. More words appeared. Tam also cast the spell to hide our weapons and armor and magic items, so they appeared as plain as possible. ¡°That is powerful magic indeed,¡± Sal mused. You are not wrong. He wanted us to have the element of surprise in case we were attacked. Also, if we carried pedestrian items, there was little chance anyone would steal from us. Tam might not have been effective in combat, and yet, he did have his uses. Sal found himself mystified. When he¡¯d been a Dark Lord before, he might¡¯ve been able to detect such a spell, but he was such a commoner now. Well, a commoner who could still fight really well. ¡°And what were your magic items?¡± he asked. Shivaun shrugged. I sold any I had, or I incorporated them directly into my Diagraff. Through sorcery, I bound the magic items to my soul, so I couldn¡¯t lose them. Perhaps that is why I became a banshee. Or why I can touch physical objects in an effort to help you fulfill your oath to get your diner open. Sal realized just how powerful Shivaun¡¯s team had been. No wonder they¡¯d almost reached the top. ¡°What was the name of your team?¡± The banshee looked amused. The Midnight Crew. Rather dramatic. And rather fitting, given that I am working now with the Dark Lord himself. Sal lifted a finger. ¡°Former Dark Lord.¡± He took a deep breath. ¡°I lost my head last night, Shivaun. I nearly let the darkness reclaim me. Sure, I was attacked first, though I doubt I could argue that case with the Benefactor, but I doubt they would listen.¡± A second later, someone knocked on his front door. Sal left Shivaun and went to the door, and there he found a smiling Fabrizio. The man gestured behind him. ¡°Kaixo came by and told us you might need some help. So after Sunday services, I rounded up some volunteers.¡± One big, bearded man smiled. ¡°I didn¡¯t know there was a caf¨¦ in Champion Plaza. Food any good?¡± Fabrizio turned. ¡°Ralph, I put up signs. I had us all pray for Sal and his diner. This can¡¯t be news to you.¡± Ralph only grinned, slightly embarrassed. ¡°Don¡¯t know what to say, Ponti. I can be dense sometimes.¡± ¡°But you are strong, my friend,¡± the priest replied. ¡°And right now, we need your muscles, not your brains. We have to clear the way.¡± Sal drew Fabrizio away from the dozen or so believers he¡¯d brought with him. Sal grabbed the man¡¯s arm. ¡°I believe it is the Pontra herself, who is working on the fountain in an effort to close my diner down.¡± Fabrizio¡¯s face fell. ¡°No, Sal, you got that wrong. Why would she?¡± ¡°Because if there were less traffic on Tower Road, the church shops would make less money. I might be wrong, and I hope I am, however, I told you how she came by. She was not happy.¡± The Ponti got a determined look on his face. ¡°Well, we¡¯re not getting in the way of her fountain work. We¡¯re just clearing a path to your diner and making it look nice. She can¡¯t have a problem with that.¡± ¡°I think she will,¡± Sal said. ¡°If that is the case, you could get into trouble.¡± The priest smiled, his dimples melting Sal¡¯s heart a little. ¡°I might. But Yeshu of the Book is with me, and you¡¯ve helped me out a bunch. It feels good to return the favor. I think we¡¯ll both be blessed in the end.¡± And with that, Fabrizio got his followers to start carrying the rocks across the plaza, dumping them in front of one of the empty buildings on the other side. Ghosts appeared in the dark windows to watch them. Theovanni came down to help, while Sparky breathed fire into the oven, so that Shivaun could bake bread. She also squeezed some fresh lemons to make both kinds of lemonease, to cool the throats of the workers. They would also get some egg and sausage sandwiches on the freshly baked bread. That darn Ralph would know about the diner now. The sandwiches turned out to be a big hit. And when the day heated up, the workers came into cool off in the chill diner. Sal loved to see the happy people eating his food, and he would¡¯ve stayed longer, but he had to meet with the Pork Poet, to tell her about the magic of bacon. At the same time, he needed to find someone who knew how to make gnocchi. He would¡¯ve asked the Butter King, but Sal had been too busy beating up the Braggadorio¡¯s brigands. Sal was surprised to see his Karmic Gauge increase with a nice little message. <<<>>> You accepted help! Karmic Gauge increased by 3%. You know, when we let others help us, we are giving them the opportunity to be of service. And the world becomes a better place. Good job. Current Karmic Gauge: 6% (Still Way Too Red!) <<<>>> Fabrizio left, along with his followers, and Sal stepped outside to see how great everything looked. The piles of rocks and dirt had all been moved to the other side of the plaza. One of his umbrellas was so wrecked that he¡¯d have to buy a new one, but he managed to fix the chair, and so he had his tables. They¡¯d open on Monday without an issue. Sal needed to go talk with the Pork Poet, and it was across town, through the heart of Confusion Street. He took the Fear Blade with him, not that he could use it, but if he did run into trouble, he could use it to scare people away. Just being armed might make people think twice. He couldn¡¯t afford to get into a real fight, though. His Karmic Gauge was back to 6%. He had to fix that, but he couldn¡¯t use money for that. He was running low on funds. He was just leaving when he smelled the stench of brimstone cooking on a lake of fire, and fingernails, dirty fingernails, of hands that had never been washed. It was a very specific scent. And he knew who it belonged to¡ªDergle Driptongue, his old lieutenant. The demon from the Abyssmuck had come to visit. Chapter Thirty-Six – An Unexpected Return Demons are a pain in the ash. Careful conversation. The burden of lies. A simple task. No arson. Another headache. Dergle Driptongue was an ash demon that Sal had summoned from the Abyssmuck, and then kept him shackled to him by force of will. Demons weren¡¯t immortal, as such, but if no one actively destroyed them, they could live forever, getting more and more evil as they went. While there were souls in the Abyssmuck¡ªSal was an example of that¡ªDergle seemed to be one of the primal creatures that had been birthed there by some hideous means. Little was known about the specifics of the demon realm. Some thought all demons had once been people, while others claimed that the devils were a unique species. Most who studied demons died in the attempt. It was the riskiest of scholarly pursuits. Dergle¡¯s skin was the gray color of ash, and he left behind the dust of his ashes basically wherever he went. He had the broad face of a frog, a humanish body, though it was squat and flabby and wrinkled, and his arms and legs were stick thin compared to the swell of his belly. He had ridiculously small, scaly wings, emerging from his back. They didn¡¯t need to be big because Dergle could summon winds, and then turn his body to ash to he could ride those winds. That wasn¡¯t all. He could disappear into fire without being scorched, and he could hide in the shadows without being seen. His skin could go from ash gray to inky black in a matter of seconds. His eyes gleamed an evil ruby red. He wore a stained tunic that smelled terrible. Because he was a demon, he didn¡¯t wash his clothes, ever, and his body gave off that stink of brimstone and fingernails. Dergle appeared above him, sticking unnaturally to the crumbling brick of the building next to Sal¡¯s. He spoke in a thick, deep voice, that was wet and phlegmy. He continually had to clear his throat or blow his nose or both. Driptongue was a good last name for him. ¡°Emperor, my dark ruler, the source of my pain and joy, I am here, Salvanguish, to do your evil bidding forever. Or maybe just until Tuesday. What day is it?¡± The demon then slurped up the spit from his chin, which had mixed with the ash on his skin, to create mud, which he coughed out. ¡°Greeting, my dark minion.¡± Sal found that the words came easily, too easily. Was he being tempted by his Mysterious Benefactor? Maybe. Or maybe he¡¯d been given a gift. If Dergle had been there the night before, he would¡¯ve eviscerated Jaxon, Snickers, Drew, and Hugh. ¡°As for the day, I believe it is Sunday afternoon. I was just about to leave for a very important appointment.¡± Dergle grinned and slurped up spit. ¡°Sire, yes, an appointment for murder? Or is there torture involved. I freakin¡¯ love torture.¡± ¡°No. Neither torture nor murder.¡± Sal figured the pigs would probably disagree. He didn¡¯t speak that out loud, though. He didn¡¯t want to give his Mysterious Benefactor any ideas. ¡°Where have you been, Dergle?¡± The ash demon grinned, and spit leaked out of his mouth to sizzle on the stones below. His saliva was superheated, and the tiny flickering flames soon burned themselves out. ¡°I have been waiting patiently for your return. I knew that the chains of death could not hold you.¡± That was such a lie. Sal hadn¡¯t dealt with demons and liars in the weeks and weeks he¡¯d been back alive. He¡¯d forgotten how exhausting it all was. He couldn¡¯t trust Dergle, not what he said, and not what he¡¯d do. Also, Sal had to be extremely careful with his words. If he said that the Pontra Genetrix was his enemy, Dergle would immediately wait for her to leave the sanctuary of her church before ripping her in two with his claws. And then eating her because not only did he have the teeth for it, but he had the taste for it. Dergle liked eating people, plain and simple. Sal had the idea that the only reason the demon showed him any loyalty was because his armies gave him a grisly banquet table after every battle. ¡°Verily, you are a good servant,¡± Sal said. ¡°I find it very gratifying that you had such faith in me. And your patience! It has an epic quality to it.¡± ¡°Well, sire, it is the truth.¡± Dergle grinned, then licked his face with his long tongue, clearing it off ash for a second, before more ash bubbled up from his pores. ¡°How did you know I was back, my faithful demon?¡± ¡°Violence and punches¡± the demon slurped. ¡°Punches and violence. You inflicted pain. I felt the infliction. I came here, forthwith. But master, the master of my fate, the master of my happiness, the master of all that is me, might I ask what your scheme is? Why are you not in a manor house of your own? Why are you dallying with priests? Why do you keep the company of mouses.¡± ¡°Mice,¡± Sal said absently. Dergle sometimes didn¡¯t have the best grammar. It was clear, the demon didn¡¯t come right to him, but stayed in the shadows, watching him. Spying on him. Of course, Dergle would want to see why the Dark Lord was back after being dead for so long. Where had the demon been? Most likely, he¡¯d been haunting villages and picking off people for his meals, grabbing drunks as they stumbled from bars, or invading prisons and eating prisoners. As an ash demon, Dergle could turn into ash, and sift his way into any number of places, before taking a more substantial form again. Dergle only laughed a little. ¡°Mices it is, sire. Tell me your schemes. Tell me your plans of unending conquest.¡± The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°So many schemes.¡± Sal¡¯s mind raced. What were the ethics of lying to a demon? That shouldn¡¯t count because, after all, the thing was lying to him. Did two lies make a truth? No, they didn¡¯t. Sal couldn¡¯t lie directly. He¡¯d have to figure something else out. He glanced back over his shoulder. Theovanni was in his room with Sparky, and Shivaun was probably in the kitchen, if she was there at all. Betty had gone off, and so it was only Sal. That was good. Trying to explain the presence of his former demon would be hard to explain. Sal briefly considered trying to free Dergle, but he couldn¡¯t, no, because once freed, Dergle would try and eat him. Or he¡¯d go after his friends. If the former Dark Lord still had his powers, he could¡¯ve sent Dergle back to the Abyssmuck. Since he couldn¡¯t, and since Dergle was still his servant, Sal found himself with an evil tool he¡¯d have to wield carefully, oh so carefully. In the end, he was responsible for Dergle¡¯s actions¡ª the Killword scroll was proof. ¡°I have been scheming, Mr. Driptongue,¡± Sal said finally. ¡°I am endeavoring to open this diner and make it successful. However, I am being watched by the gods, and I have had to abandon my old evil ways lest I die again. And as my servant, Dergle, I am forbidding you to harm anyone, kill anyone, or eat anyone. Is that clear?¡± Dergle got a hurt look in his toady eyes. His huge toady mouth curved into a frown. ¡°Not even a smidgeon of slaughter, sire? Just this much?¡± He held his thumb a bit away from his finger. ¡°Not even a little,¡± Sal said firmly. ¡°Or you will break your oath to me, and that will mean eternal torture in the Abyssmuck. Keep your oath, and Alikor will bless you.¡± Alikor, as the Bad Dad, had come up with the idea of the Abyssmuck to punish himself, after he stole most of the Deux Coins from his family. This was eons ago, but the original demon lords rose from the muck, even after Alikor made his escape. It was still place where souls went for a little punishment, though there were any number of stories of souls escaping, or striking deals, or being given mercy and allowed to leave. Alikor was unofficial king of the Abyssmuck, though the demon lords had created a kind of democracy down there. It worked out well for the most part. Dergle sighed. ¡°I do not need Alikor¡¯s blessing, sire. I only need the love and kindness of my most interesting master. A game with the gods? No more evil? Does that mean you have to tell the truth, that you can¡¯t murder your enemies, or enjoy the lamentations of widows and orphans.¡± ¡°To be honest, Mr. Driptongue, I never much enjoyed lamentations of any sort. So that part was easy to embrace. Dealing with the evil of others, staying my hand when others would strike me down, and telling the truth all the time is far harder. The truth is burdensome, yet, I have found, that lies are even more so. Fashioning reality out of whole cloth and remembering your own various fictions encumbers the mind. I suppose it is something akin to being a novelist. And that work is endless and unforgiving.¡± Dergle listened all the while, grinning, his eyes searching Sal¡¯s face. The demon was looking for a way to honor his oath of loyalty while at the same time being able to kill and eat people. It wouldn¡¯t be easy, but Dergle was ancient and terrible, and he¡¯d find a way eventually. But if Sal kept the demon busy on endless tasks, he might just be able to keep Dergle so busy that he didn¡¯t have time to scheme his way out of his oath. ¡°Listen, Dergle, I have learned that opening a successful business is as difficult as running a vast empire or conquering new lands. I am going to need your help in this entrepreneurial endeavor.¡± The ash demon¡¯s red gleaming eyes narrowed. ¡°You could free me, sire. Then I would leave you, perhaps go back to the Abyssmuck, and let you be sweet and kind in your caf¨¦ all you want. Are you sure it¡¯s Sunday? It feels like a Thursday.¡± ¡°No,¡± Sal said. ¡°It is Sunday. And you will forever be my servant. We are in this together.¡± Dergle wrinkled his nose. ¡°As long as you give me human meat to eat, we can come to an understanding.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t going to give the demon the bad news, not right away. If the demon liked his food enough, maybe he wouldn¡¯t have to. For now, Sal was going to have to keep the thing busy and that wasn¡¯t going to be easy. ¡°I need a gnocchi recipe. I believe it might be a Scallia Capran dish. I need you to find one, and bring it back to me, the recipe, and not the actual chef. If you do that, I will see you are fed. But remember, you mustn¡¯t harm anyone, no lies, no murder, on maiming, no kidnapping, no arson, and no larceny, grand or otherwise.¡± Ash demons were very good arson. They could make their bodies burn like red hot coals, which made fighting them difficult if you didn¡¯t have some kind of fire resistance magic. ¡°As you wish, sire, since serving you will forever be my most satisfying joy. But perhaps I could help you in some other fashion. You have an enemy that hates, you sire, and I know who it is.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure he liked where this was going. ¡°And who is my enemy?¡± Dergle pointed at the tall church rising above the buildings on the north side of Champion Plaza. ¡°The Pontrafax Genetrix, I have seen her skulking, with her Sacra Templar, though their meat is aging right off the bone. That¡¯s so sad. I could help them get the meat off so much quicker.¡± Sal wondered if he could game the system. Perhaps he could collect enough Karma points that a little murder wouldn¡¯t kill him. When Otto¡¯s mage had used the Killword scroll, Sal had lost around fifty points. If Dergle murdered the Pontra a little, maybe he¡¯d only lose that much. Then again, maybe not. Ordering an assassination would have to count more. The former Dark Lord was feeling the red status of his Karmic Gauge keenly. No, he needed every Karma point he could get, but to really use them, he had to unlock his Diagraff. He thought briefly of asking Dergle for help with his magic, but that would be disastrous. Completely disastrous. He had to keep that secret from his demonic servant. In the end, Sal had to make a trip to visit the Gorbins, but when? Maybe next Sunday, after he secured his bacon. ¡°I will deal with the Pontra,¡± Sal said after a while. ¡°You must make gnocchi your main concern.¡± ¡°As you wish, sire. My only solace in life, or death, is serving you until the bitter, the bitterest of ends.¡± Why did that sound like a threat? The demon created a wind, turned his body to ash, and then rode it away. Sal closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. Why had his demonic minion found this particular time to return? It was such a headache, and he already had enough headaches to worry about. His Diagraff was locked, all the progress he¡¯d made was gone, and he had the construction outside of his door to contend with. Now, he had this ash demon around, dogging his every step. He would have to tell Shivaun and Betty about Dergle, and that conversation wasn¡¯t going to be easy. Nor would his talk with the Pork Poet. After spending the coinage to buy back the magical sword, he was going to have to tell her that he simply didn¡¯t have the money for the bacon he needed. He was going to need to ask for some credit, and if she were smart, the Braggadorio addicted to rhymes wouldn¡¯t give him a single copper coin. Chapter Thirty-Seven – How To Save a Life An auspicious grunt. A linguistical irony. Boar trouble. The broken foot. No poetess. A lucky cut of meat. While Otto Ovum, the Feather Pharaoh had his home out on the flatlands, and the Butter King had his mansion near the western hills, the Pork Poet lived high above her stockyards, out of the stench, with a nice breeze. Her penthouse apartment was one of the taller structures in Tower City, and it was the highest building in the tangle of Confusion Street on the west side of town. Sal was stopped at the gate of her stockyards, and he had to blink against the stink. There were two Pig Hats at the gate, along with Petunia, the large, muscled woman who was Hamletti¡¯s second in command. She was in clean leather armor, and in her hand was a long, ornate spear. It was an impressive weapon. ¡°I¡¯m here to see Lady Hooftop,¡± Sal said. ¡°You might remember me from my diner on Champion¡¯s Plaza.¡± Petunia grunted and turned away. She took herself and her spear down a path and out of sight. Sal couldn¡¯t tell if that was a good grunt, or a bad one. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said to one of the other Pig Hats. ¡°Was that an auspicious sound she made in the back of her throat? Or did that mean she found me a tiresome bother, late on a Sunday afternoon, when most good people are resting up for the coming week?¡± The two men looked at each other, and one fingered his pig hat in confusion. Sal sighed. Betty wouldn¡¯t be happy with him. ¡°What do you think happens now, good sirs?¡± ¡°Missus is gonna get the other missus,¡± one of the men said. ¡°Then the missus gonna come talk to you.¡± Sal wanted to make a joke about the man¡¯s eloquence but then thought against it. He didn¡¯t want to anger the man. Actually, he enjoyed the irony of someone with such a limited vocabulary working for someone who spoke as flowery as the Pork Poet. The former Dark Lord bowed, ¡°Thank you for the information.¡± The two Pig Hats could care less, though each of them were looking at his short sword somewhat warily. Had word spread or was that just Sal¡¯s imagination. He put a hand on the Fear Blade, and it felt so natural to be armed. It was a false sense of security though because the real battle he was fighting couldn¡¯t be fought with steel. It wasn¡¯t long before Petunia returned with her spear and the Pork Poet in tow. Hamletti was in overly large linen trousers and a big silky blouse that had slipped to show one shoulder. Her hair was piled high on her head, and she wore reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. She wore the huge Yanir boots, with all the buckles, that seemed to be in fashion. When she drew close, she frowned. ¡°You who have come, invading my home, standing at my gate. What do you here, and let me be clear, I want you to ignore my state.¡± She squinted. ¡°State of dress. I¡¯ a mess.¡± Sal held up a hand. ¡°Thank you for rhyming, it pleases me, but it is not something I require. I would not come on a Sunday, normally, but my circumstances are dire.¡± A little smile played on the woman¡¯s lips. She motioned for Petunia to open the gate, which she did, and it wasn¡¯t long before they were walking down a cobblestone path between two huge pig pens here any number of swine were eating, or standing, or doing other things that pigs did. Sal thought she might ask for him to leave his sword with the guards at the gate, but she didn¡¯t. That had to be a testament to their relationship. Hamletti liked him, and to be honest Sal liked her, though he really didn¡¯t know her all that well. Her reputation was fairly good. She was a Braggadorio, and there were stories of Petunia and the rest of the Pig Hats cracking skulls, but generally, the Pork Poet left normal people alone. And she was very generous, giving to charity and providing Fabrizio with the occasional ham, and helping him flavor his lentils with pork sauce. Sal loved the flavor. Perhaps the pigs knew about his appetites. One boar stood staring at Sal. It was a massive thing, well over a thousand pounds, unnaturally large. Its two huge tusks were like scimitars jutting out from its snout. Without warning, the boar thundered across the pig pen and struck the fence, smashing it to pieces, and charging towards Petunia, who had leapt in front of her mistress. Sal was back from them, and he could¡¯ve let the scene play out, but he didn¡¯t want anyone hurt. And besides, he had something he could use to help the situation. He swept the Fear Blade from its sheath and sped in front of the women. Raising the sword high, he waved it back and forth. ¡°Away, swine, away. Lest you feel my fearsome strike!¡± What were the ethics of killing pigs that would probably be slaughtered anyway? Betty did say murder was out of the question, and that included even insects. It seemed he could eat the meat of slaughter but not slaughter himself. That was a rather interesting distinction. In the end, Sal didn¡¯t want to kill the big boar. He just wanted to get it back into the pen. The other animals were crowding forward, but when they saw his sword, they went running to the far end of the pen. The boar let out a squeal of terror and lowered his head to skewer Sal. Thanks to his Youngin Reflexes, he dodged the tusks, but didn¡¯t have such luck with a hoof, that stomped onto his foot, and he was reminded of his fight the night before when he¡¯d stopped on that guy¡¯s foot¡ªDrew or Hugh? He couldn¡¯t remember the name. The crack of his bones breaking was a terrible sound. Then the boar was heading toward Petunia. Sal managed to grab a tusk, and he pulled and pulled, yanking the boar¡¯s head around. The huge pig turned to follow his head and that was when Petunia poked the boar in his backside, which sent him running back into the pen. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Sal limped over, holding the Fear Blade aloft. None of the animals were going to trifle with him, but the magic sword worked a little too well. The Pork Poet¡¯s voice rose into a shriek. ¡°Oh, fie, my heart is full of a fearful shade! Away, away, away put your blade.¡± Sal sheathed his sword while other Pig Hats came running with boards. They quickly hammered the planks into place, sealing up the pen again. Sal wound up on the ground, holding his foot, in complete agony. The adrenaline had held the pain at bay for a second. That second was gone. He was now officially in the worst pain of his life. He barely saw the message that flashed in his vision. <<<>>> Wow! So heroic! Karmic Gauge increased by 46%. The life you saved was probably your own! Still, you used that sword to do some good. I¡¯ll give you an additional 4% for good behavior. Nice work handling your demonic minion. That Dergle Driptongue is such a pill. Current Karmic Gauge: 56% (Good Guy Green with a little Yellow) <<<>>> That was marvelous news, and he would¡¯ve been celebrating, except for the small fact he has in agonizing pain. Also, he had no idea how he was going to run his business with most of the bones in his foot shattered into toothpicks. That was a bad problem to have for an entrepreneur such as himself. His luck had turned from bad to worse. Hamletti had some of her Pig Hats lift him up. ¡°The fear is sharp no doubt in your heart. And the pain in your foot must of course smart. But I have a potion that will put you at ease. You will be fixed up as quick as you please.¡± Sal was taken into a Gimm lifting platform, that took him away from the smell, and into the private chambers of the Pork Poet at the top of the tower. He soon found himself on Hamletti¡¯s balcony, giving him a view of the city. He could see the Rat¡¯s Den, and from there, he could find Fabrizio¡¯s chapel. The Tower dominated the horizon, though the Church of the Sacred Family was there as well. He laid down on a thickly cushioned couch, with his foot up. There were little glass and gold tables and other comfortable couches and sofas on the marble balcony high above the city. They were high above the pig pens, and you could hardly smell them. Sal was still in pain, but he had a depressing idea¡ªthe pigs smelled better than his caf¨¦ had when Tony Belly cursed it. Petunia brought him a purple vial, and she handed it to him. ¡°Thank you, for, uh, saving Lady Hooftop. That should fix your foot.¡± She then retreated, leaving him alone with the Pork Poet, who sat in a chair across from him, sipping wine. Sal downed the potion, enjoying the sweet, rather bubbly flavor. He¡¯d drank magical potions before, of course, but this one was particularly powerful. The pain in his foot was gone, immediately, and a rather pleasant tingling followed. He stood up and was surprised to see he could stand without any trouble. Hamletti set her glass down on a table and smiled at him. He smiled back. ¡°I feel much, much better. Truly, I am made whole.¡± He realized he didn¡¯t have the sword, and he assumed the worst. ¡°Excuse me, Hamletti, but I seemed to have lost the Fear Blade. I would very much like to have it back.¡± The woman didn¡¯t answer. ¡°And where did you get such an enchanted sword? Rumors abound, they ride on the wind, a gossip storm.¡± She sighed. ¡°I tried to alter my words to avoid the rhyme. And yet they twist back on me all the time.¡± Sal sat down on the couch across from her. ¡°I will purposefully keep my language plain, though I mostly fail at such a task. I have friends who tease me that I have trouble speaking in a duller manner. And here I am, embellishing. As for the sword, in truth, I found it in my caf¨¦, when I first arrived. I did not know of its magical properties, and I gave it to brigands. However, the thought of bad men wielding a weapon that I gave them made me uneasy.¡± ¡°It was the Butter King¡¯s brigands, that was who had the blade. You do not need to answer for I see the face you made.¡± She winced. ¡°I do so apologize. The words just rise. Like there. I cannot help it, I swear.¡± Sal laughed a little, though his stomach was churning. Was she going to give the magical sword back to the Butter King? He gulped in a breath. ¡°Yes, the men were in your territory when they thought to intimate me. I was new in town, just having met the Ponti.¡± She smiled. ¡°Ah, Fabrizio.¡± She laughed. ¡°And here I find myself silent, for rhyming with Fabrizio is not a simple thing. At least there, my mind is quiet.¡± ¡°What makes you rhyme do you think?¡± Sal said, carefully not to say rhyme all the time. Hamletti¡¯s face lost all expression. ¡°It is an old habit, carefully constructed, an act of rebellion, against my father, who wanted his son to rule. Jeremy would¡¯ve done so, but no, fate had other plans for him to know. And here I was, lost in books, and I wanted my father to look my way, but there wasn¡¯t a day that he did. Internal rhyme is rhyme just the same. There. I broke from it.¡± Sal found it a bit strange when she didn¡¯t rhyme. Her sentence just seemed to end with a ragged edge. And yet, he didn¡¯t want to encourage her addiction. The Pork Poet continued. ¡°I decided to rhyme to annoy him, dear dad, who was bad, but not as bad as the real bad dad, which would be Alikor, but I¡¯ll talk no more of him. The chances of me ruling were slim, until Lactosier the First, bad to his core, took Jeremy away, away, away from me. In a bid for power, came my finest hour, and I took over the reins of my pork empire. And this is why, I do not allow, anyone to call me the Pork Poetess, for my gender has given me such stress, and now I am simply a poet with a pig farm and nothing more.¡± Sal wanted the woman to know he understood her story. ¡°Lactosier the First, I am assuming is the Butter King, and he was the one who killed your brother. Your father had no choice but for his daughter to inherit his empire. And you did, rhyming all the while, and now you find you cannot stop.¡± ¡°You are correct in all that you say,¡± she said sadly. ¡°And while my dad was bad, my brother was not, and I miss him continually, with nearly every thought. The power was not worth, but any way, I talk long, and now you are strong, and we can continue with our business.¡± ¡°The bacon, yes.¡± Sal paused, hating that the truth, again, was going to make things difficult. ¡®I would like my sword back. And while I think my finances will allow it, I won¡¯t know the truth of my ledger for some weeks as my caf¨¦ gets off the ground. And so, I am asking for some lenience when it comes to payment.¡± The Pork Poet looked amused. ¡°Your weapon will be returned to you. As for our business, we might not be¡± she paused, the word ¡°through¡± hanging in the air. She titled her hand. ¡°We might not be at an impasse. I can give you some credit as well as a pass, for you are taking meat that I do use, so to profit on it would be a great¡­trick.¡± Sal smiled. ¡°Perhaps I like this new way you are avoiding your rhyme. I like the ghost of the word hanging in the air.¡± He was a bit relieved, but he wouldn¡¯t be happy until he had the sword back in his hand. In the end, he was given the sword back, and then he showed her the part of the pig he needed, how to cut it, and the kind of meat he was looking for¡ª meat cut in long narrow slices across the pig¡¯s belly, so it was mixture of pink and white fat. Sal didn¡¯t want his meat to spoil, and so he suggested that Hamletti cure it in salt and then cold smoke it. She had what she needed to do both, since she was used to salting and smoking other parts of the pig. She thought she could have some for him by the end of the week. And he was very relieved, on all counts, that she would be so generous. They agreed on a price, and Sal found himself walking back to his diner, thinking of the strange woman and her rhyming. There was very bad blood between her and the Butter King, but if Sal had to take sides, he would side with Hamletti. He liked her a great deal. And she must like him, for not only did she give him credit for the bacon, she had given him back his sword. She needn¡¯t have done either. When Sal reached Champion Street, he tore the yellow ribbon away, and carried it into his restaurant. He tossed it in the trash, and then found Betty on the table. The mouse sniffed the air. ¡°You smell brimstone?¡± Sal did. And he knew that Dergle was going to take his sweet time getting that gnocchi recipe. Sal just might have to take matters into his own hands. He told her about Dergle, and the mouse took it in stride. Betty shrugged. ¡°Well, we shouldn¡¯t be surprised, Ace, that your past showed up to haunt you. This diner has ghosts, yeah, sure, buddy, but so do you.¡± Sal knew she was right. Why did that depress him so? Chapter Thirty-Eight – Bacon and Gnocchi The week in review. Giving the gift of armor. Laying it on a little thick. Asiago and cr¨¨me fraiche. Bacon magic. At least three ghosts. By the time the bacon arrived on that Friday, Sal¡¯s Karmic Gauge was back up to 99%. He and Fabrizio had connected the Elvis Saddiq¡¯s widow and orphans to Edna Gomee, and both families were living together, and both women were working at the same place. While it might not fix the damage done by the Killword scroll, it did give Sal a large number of Karma points. Then there was the help he provided Fabrizio every night at the Mind & Body Tables, which exhausted Sal, but he wanted his Karmic Gauge at its maximum level when he went to see the Gorbin that Sunday, just two days away. Dergle hadn¡¯t returned, though they did catch a whiff of him every once in a while. Sal was kicking himself for not putting a time limit on when he needed the recipe. At the same time, he could tell Tony Belly that he had someone working on the problem. That kept the old Braggadorio satisfied, at least for that week. That was one issue that Sal was able to deal with. The ghost of a crime lord was easy compared to dealing with the Pontra Genetrix. Kizi Adamu wasn¡¯t making it easy on him. She continually kept putting up the yellow ribbon construction ribbon was well as her under constructions signs, and she seemed to have an unlimited supply of both. Her elderly church knights would come around, harassing customers, and to make matters worse, they were the ones working on the fountain in Champion Plaza. ¡°Working¡± was the wrong word. They did very little work. They mostly stood around, loudly complaining about how bad the food was in the Champion Caf¨¦. Or complaining about the smell. That was a rumor they were helping to spread around. While it had been true those first couple of days, it wasn¡¯t true anymore. No one cared because those who gossip rarely care about the truth. The elderly knights also insisted that the food was poisoned by the ghosts there, and that to eat the Champion Plaza was to die. When that didn¡¯t work, they claimed that the caf¨¦ was closed during the fountain construction. They spread every rumor, far and wide, and to Sal¡¯s shock, it seemed to be working. He and Theo had to basically drag people off the street, and they continued to offer the free samples of the dough rings and the lemonease, which helped, though people were still skeptical. To be honest, it looked like a construction zone, and in the end, the table without the umbrella made it look even worse. Sal didn¡¯t have the money for a new umbrella, and so they kept the scorched umbrella on the one the table and the chairs. They put the other furniture in the back alley, basically storing it until they had the money to afford to replace it. Sal had high hopes for the week until Theovanni begged off his shifts because Kaixo had emerged from her cloud of naptha incense to train. They had a slot to try the first floor of the tower on Monday. There was probably little chance of them getting the copper key, though they were going to give it their all. Sal spoke with Shivaun about donating some of the magic items in his basement to the New Astounders. The banshee brought up a good point¡ªwould the violence against the monsters in the tower cause him to lose Karma points? It was something to consider, though giving Kaixo and Theo the defensive items should be okay. And so the New Astounders got two magic rings, a variety of magical armor, a shield, boots of speed, and an umbra cloak, which wouldn¡¯t do much in broad daylight, but if there were shadows, if you put on the cowl, you could hide in the darkness. Sal didn¡¯t have use for the armor, and so he wasn¡¯t sad to see that stuff go. As for the boots, cloak, and rings, he thought he might be able to use them, though having powerful items might prove to be too tempting. He wished he would¡¯ve known about them before he charged off, half-cocked, to retrieve the sword. Now that he had the sword, he intended to keep it. It was rather perfect for him. If he could scare away potential attackers, he wouldn¡¯t have to fight them. However, in his own case, he¡¯d responded to the terror with fight rather than flight. That would be a problem for him. Sal was still wondering about the various items and how he¡¯d not noticed they were magical. He was simply glad he¡¯d not sold them. Then again, Shivaun had been very protective of the magic items, and it was only when Sal emphasized the good they could do that she relented. Sal was still a little nervous. Defensive items protected both the good and the bad. He had to trust that Kaixo¡¯s team wasn¡¯t going to go off robbing people. If they did well in the Tower, they wouldn¡¯t have to. It was calculated risk, though Kaixo was beyond excited about Tam¡¯s old Mana Ring, which gave her a good dose of energy that she could use in conjunction with the spells she learned from the new grimoire. Sal made sure that all of his friends knew that if the items were used to do bad, he would pay. Theo was shocked at the idea. Kaixo assured him she was only interested in the Tower, and he believed her, and so he gave her the two rings, the cloak, and the boots. Was it a permanent situation? He wasn¡¯t sure, but for now, the sorceress needed the magic items far more than he did. His Diagraff did give him a happy little message, saying he was a good person for offering such gifts to his friends. That made Sal feel a little better, happy even. And yet, by Friday, when the crate of bacon showed, he was pulling his hair out. Business had slowed. Sal brought back customers from Tower Road, and Shivaun did the cooking, but she couldn¡¯t serve the hungry people. That was all he needed¡ªa banshee waitress that would confirm all the vicious rumors about his caf¨¦. No, so Sal would escort customers back to his diner, bring them their food, and then collect the money, praying that more people would show up. In the morning, that didn¡¯t happen. But as the day got hotter, people would come in for the cold room and the cold drinks. Then he¡¯d see the customers, and they would sometimes get food, but mostly, they sat for hours drinking a single glass. He needed a lunch menu, and that meant gnocchi, which meant he had to hurry Dergle up. Sal put the bacon down in the basement, the coldest part of the caf¨¦, and when he smelled Tony Belly¡¯s stench, he went to trapdoor and called down to the ghost in the subbasement. ¡°Mister Anton, I will get your gnocchi straight away. Do not visit your stench upon me. I am doing the best I can.¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Only laughter, echoing and terrifying, answered him. Sal took that laughter as a threat. He then climbed the stairs and found Shivaun and Betty in the main dining area. Betty held up a paw. ¡°You smell that, buddy? We can¡¯t afford to fight that stink. Business has sucked this week, and we know the cause. It¡¯s all because of our church lady friend and her geriatric guard. Then again, watching them old-timers dig out there, we might lose a good number of them to stroke. Oh, wait, that won¡¯t help us. We need them to finish the work. That won¡¯t happen if they all die.¡± Sal knew the truth. ¡°She doesn¡¯t want to finish the fountain until we¡¯re out of business. But first things. Are you both ready to meet my demon minion?¡± Betty laughed. ¡°Sounds like a bad song or an even worse book. ¡°My Demon Minion.¡¯¡± Shivaun¡¯s weighed in with ice words on the wall. I am not looking forward to this. I have dealt with demons before, when I was alive, and I find them tiresome and untrustworthy. Sal couldn¡¯t argue with that. At least when he¡¯d been a Dark Lord, he¡¯d had the raw power to banish Dergle at will. Or even destroy him outright. Now, oaths were involved, and demons were very good at getting out of their oaths. Most wouldn¡¯t try if banishment or death were on the line. Sal was still learning how his connection to Dergle worked. If he were smart, he shouldn¡¯t have any trouble keeping Dergle on a leash. That wouldn¡¯t have been a problem if Sal was still Dark Lording. Dinering, though? Trying to be good? A demon was never going to be on board for such things. Sal lifted his voice. ¡°Dergle Driptongue. I summon thee! Fulfill your vow and come to me now.¡± Betty giggled. ¡°He¡¯s been hanging out with the Pork Poet too much.¡± ¡°The rhyme was an accident.¡± Sal paused. ¡°At least I hope it was. I would not want to find myself addicted to the rhyme, a slave all the time.¡± Shivaun pointed at the wall, pale face pinched. That is not a possibility. ¡°I know, I know, you wouldn¡¯t think so,¡± Sal said with a sigh. A second later, ash blew into the caf¨¦ on some errant wind, and then, Dergle appeared, his froggy form squatting on a table, and his wide mouth open in a grin. ¡°You have summoned me, my master, the song of my soul, the reason why I do not self-immolate. The very essence of my happiness, for if I didn¡¯t serve you, I wouldn¡¯t have the strength to go on.¡± Betty waved at the demon. ¡°Okay, okay, okay, guy. We get it. You don¡¯t need to lay it on so thick.¡± Dergle scowled. ¡°I find your scent, Gwynar, offensive. You stink even more than your typical mouse.¡± Betty made a face. ¡°You literally smell like dirty fingernails. Besides, as a lowly rodent, considered to be vermin by most good law-abiding citizens, we have more pressing concerns than our hygiene. Lastly, Gwynar smell like Grandmother Maker¡¯s kitchen. So pooey on youey.¡± And with that, the mouse stuck her tongue out. Dergle only laughed. His eyes went to the banshee, and he leered at her. ¡°I likes a dead girl. And you¡¯re very dead. Are you and my master romantically involved?¡± Shivaun didn¡¯t respond. But the temperature in the caf¨¦ fell a few degrees. She was clearly not amused. Sal stepped between the demon and the banshee. ¡°Have you found my gnocchi recipe, minion?¡± Dergle laughed. ¡°Oh, to hear you call me your minion. It is an orchestra of joy to my ears. Oh, that I could write music to match the sound of that one word.¡± Sal snapped his fingers. ¡°You swore an oath. Break it upon your peril. Tell me you have finished your task and are merely tardy in returning.¡± Dergle¡¯s voice dropped into a monotone. ¡°I have finished your task, and I am merely tardy in returning.¡± ¡°What will we need?¡± Sal asked. ¡°Potatoes. Flour. One egg. For the gnocchi. As for the sauce, I will need cr¨¨me fraiche and some Asiago.¡± Sal found himself losing patience. This was unacceptable. ¡°You are not serious. It was my understanding that gnocchi was some kind of pasta dish. It should not require potatoes. Plus, I have never heard of cr¨¨me fraiche nor Asiago. Do not trifle with me, demon!¡± Dergle glanced at the mouse, then the banshee, and then grinned. ¡°Look, master, the pinnacle of my unworthy existence, the sight of you brings me unending satisfaction, and while I have been known to lie, I am not lying now. Asiago is a cheese. And cr¨¨me fraiche is just a fancy kind of Yanir sour cream. Lastly, gnocchi is like half potato. You want for me to make it or not?¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure what he was hearing. ¡°Do you mean you not only got the recipe, but you learned how to make it?¡± The ash demon grimaced. ¡°Your dumb potato pasta? Yes, why else do you think it took me so long to return, lord of my heart? My bestie. The captain of my destiny.¡± Sal heard the rhyme and shivered. Was the poetry addiction spreading? Dergle had always laid things on a little thick, and yes, he sometimes got the wrong word, and he could be a bit dim, but Sal knew this new verbal tick was just a symptom of a worse problem. A problem that could turn deadly. ¡°Show me, minion,¡± Sal ordered. The demon sighed sarcastically. ¡°Just like old times. You give me tasks to do, and I do them, like, you know, make homemade pasta. Are there potatoes in your larder?¡± Actually, Sal did. He was pondering adding another starch rather than pancakes. An old Hajawan recipe called hashbrowns. From his understanding, it was a shredded potato fried in butter or some kind of grease. Dergle laughed and slurped back spit. ¡°Wait. In the old days, you would tell me to eviscerate one of your enemies, or spy on a rival king, but now we¡¯re in the diner business. Because the first step in world domination is to start a thriving eatery.¡± The demon turned into ash, created a wind to sweep him into the kitchen, and then appeared back there. He popped on a chef¡¯s hat, something they got for Shivaun, to make her appearance less frightful just in case someone peaked into the kitchen. Sal went back and helped Dergle peel two potatoes while water boiled. The ash demon easily started the fire, just as well as Sparky normally did, and with the stove hot, the former Dark Lord had an idea. He went to get four strips of bacon and put them on a pan. They started frying, and Betty sniffed the air. ¡°Wait. I know that smell. It¡¯s the smell of heaven. That¡¯s bacon!¡± Dergle kept having to wipe the spit off his chin. ¡°What¡¯s this bacon? Is it human flesh? It smells like human flesh, but saltier, smokier, oh, yes, that is a wondrous thing. Master, master, master, tell your minion of this paradise in your pan?¡± Sal couldn¡¯t help but salivate himself. ¡°It is a very precise cut of pork.¡± The cooking meat brought back so many memories of his father cooking breakfast for him. Sausage was fine, but there was nothing so scrumptious and unexpected about bacon. Along with coffee, it was the song of morning goodness. Sal turned the cooking, sizzling meat, until it was cooked but not burned. The trick was take it off as the bubbles formed, while it was still pink, because that last thirty seconds was key. Bacon went from chewy and delicious to brittle and burned. While some people liked their bacon dry and crispy, Sal wondered at their sanity. The best was when the crunch and the chewy were in concert, a happy mix of textures. Sal tossed Dergle a piece. The ash demon ate it, and for a second, Sal thought he might¡¯ve seen a tear in the demon¡¯s eye. But then the demon went about making his pasta. Two potatoes, mashed, two cups of flower, and the egg. Mixed together, you formed a dough, and from there, you formed snakes on a cutting board dusted with flour. You cut the snake into half-inch pieces, and then rolled them with a fork, so the little dumplings had the ridges. After boiling them, they were ready to eat. They all tried some, even Betty, and she summed up all of their reactions with a look of distaste. ¡°That¡¯s the blandest frickin¡¯ dumpling I ever tasted. Doughy, though. I like the chewy doughy part.¡± Dergle didn¡¯t respond. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth. ¡°Uh, master of my every desire, what about the bacon? Are you going to make more bacon? You should make more. A lot more. A ton more. Your minion has a mighty hunger, and it would help me. It would help me so much.¡± Sal smelled Anton¡¯s stink, and was surprised to see the little man with the brushy moustache and the big belly standing there, on the other side of the serving counter. ¡°You have the gnocchi, my friend, and that¡¯s very nice. But it¡¯s the gorgonzola sauce you need. Not this cr¨¨me fraiche, whatever that is. I don¡¯t trust it.¡± Sal laughed. ¡°Will you give us your recipe.?¡± The ghost nodded. Dergle let out a squeal. ¡°How many ghosts are there in this diner?¡± ¡°At least three,¡± Sal said. ¡°One of whom likes peaches.¡± The peaches were still coming, every morning, and one was there, on that Saturday, when Sal introduced both bacon and gnocchi to his menu. The results were surprising. The Saturday was busy, very busy, much to the former Dark Lord¡¯s relief. Sal was exhausted come Sunday morning. However, he pulled himself out of bed because he was going to get to the bottom of his Diagraff. His Karmic Gauge was once again stuck at 99%, a very bright purple. If the Gorbins couldn¡¯t help him, Sal was going to give up all hope of ever having magic again. Chapter Thirty-Nine – The Road to Bloodsoaked Leaving late. Saturday¡¯s success. Dergle¡¯s new task. The signage. Two guards. Not a spy. Sal¡¯s new best friend. Sal turned around to see the city far below. He¡¯d climbed up Desolation Ridge, which was the mountain ridge that rose above the city. He was secretly glad that the mountains still had the same name. Betty peeked out of his pocket. ¡°That tower just keeps going on and on. Kinda pretty, don¡¯t you think?¡± It was later in the morning than he would¡¯ve wanted. It was still another five hours of walking, down Desolation Ridge, to get to the Abuse Peaks. From what everyone said, that was where the underground cities of the Gorbin and the Gimm were. He¡¯d gotten a late start because it had taken some time to get the magical boots, cloak, and the shield ring from Kaixo, who came by, smelling of naptha incense. At some point, he was going to have to confront her about that. And maybe they could have some kind of friendship after they¡¯d gotten glimpses into each other¡¯s souls. Maybe they couldn¡¯t. Sal figured if her tower climb went well, she would feel better about herself and her options. He knew she hated that he was paying her rent. Not just that, he was also housing one of the members of her team. That surely was driving her crazy. But Theo had been critical in helping Sal get his business going. After adding bacon and gnocchi to his menu, things were looking up. Betty laughed suddenly, a tiny happy sound. ¡°So, chief, is it me, or is bacon going to save your bacon? Funny, the idiom plays well. You¡¯re a guy who enjoys a good idiom, am I right?¡± ¡°I do indeed.¡± He thought of the previous day¡¯s event. He¡¯d cooked up pounds and pounds of bacon, and the smell drifted from his caf¨¦, so much so, the elderly templars working out at the fountain kept glancing over, obviously both hungry and a little mesmerized by the smell. Sal made it worse for them. He had Dergle magic up a wind and had it blow down Champion Street all the way to Tower Road. The former Dark Lord went out there, with the tray of dough rings, and when people drew close, and asked about that intoxicating odor, Sal promised them the breakfast of a lifetime. He had something nobody else had. A rare cut of smoked meat known as bacon. It was enough to get a crowd of customers to follow him. Then, when they had the bacon, the deal was sealed. They were going to come back. Definitely. In the afternoon, the magic of the bacon didn¡¯t end there. The gnocchi was already boiled, but he fried the dumplings in bacon grease. Then, he added in either the simple cr¨¨me fraiche and Asiago cheese, or the richer gorgonzola sauce, and that made people crow with praise. The potato pasta was just as big of a hit as the bacon. The gnocchi wasn¡¯t easy to make, no, but he had a ghost who never tired. Sal was pretty sure his diner would¡¯ve failed without her. Now, out of his diner, Sal turned his face to the sun, enjoying the warmth. He was about to continue his journey when Dergle swirled around them, in his ash form, before settling into his corporeal body farther down the trail. ¡°Come, master of every moment of every day of my entire life, we must hurry and finish this business you are on with the Gorbin. Then we can go back and eat more bacon.¡± Sal had hoped to get away from the ash demon, at least for the day, but there was Dergle Driptongue, dogging his every step. Betty let out a tiny sigh. ¡°This guy and the bacon. He¡¯s not gonna stop until he¡¯s eaten us out of house and home. And yeah, I can see how you humans like bacon, but it¡¯s not like it¡¯s a chocolate-chip cookie. When am I going to get some cookies, and not just any cookies, but your father¡¯s recipe?¡± Sal then had a great idea. ¡°Dergle, my most beloved and trustworthy minion, bacon is in your future, surely. However, I have another task for you. I need my father¡¯s chocolate-chip cookie recipe. One that will satisfy even the great tastebuds of a Gwynar.¡± Dergle lost his spitty grin. ¡°Wait. I¡¯m a beast of the Abyssmuck, a creature of torture and chaos, and you want me to find mouse treats for you?¡± ¡°Chocolate-chip cookies,¡± Sal said firmly. ¡°My father¡¯s chocolate-chip cookie recipe to be precise. The Dark Lord Mickey made them millennia ago in Caya Idle. There might be some sign of them in the bakeries and ovens of that little town. I needed a cookie fit for a mouse god.¡± Betty shivered. ¡°Aww, Sal, I didn¡¯t know you cared. Am I a mouse god? Well, I¡¯m basically immortal, smart as whip, and in service to the divine. So, yeah, buddy, mouse god here. Pleased to meetcha.¡± The ash demon ignored all that. Then Dergle roared in frustration. ¡°Fine! I¡¯ll do it for the bacon!¡± And then he was gone. Betty turned her head to look up at him. ¡°Was that a good idea, chief? While I am not fan of Dergle, he¡¯s not going to be around to help you just in case things with the Gorbin go south.¡± ¡°South will lead us back to the diner,¡± Sal said quietly. ¡°The Abuse Peaks are to the north.¡± ¡°Not what I mean, pal,¡± Betty¡¯s little face was pinched into a frown. Sal could relate. He was frowning too. ¡°My jest was ill formed. I have been putting off this journey, for I know, it will lead me down a road I might not be able to walk.¡± ¡°No, ace, you can walk all the roads. You got me, you got the Ponti, you even have that weird governor on your side. You might have to wear over-sized pantaloons on the road, but you¡¯ll be able to walk it.¡± Sal thought of the people who had helped, every step of the way, from Fabrizio to Kaixo to Theo to two of the five Braggadorios. Otto and Hamletti might be strange, but they seemed to be firmly on his side. No, he could do this. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. At the same time, there was a good chance the Gorbin would learn his true identity, and if they did, they just might conspire to kill him. He might be walking to his own destruction. Oddly, he wasn¡¯t worried about himself. He did wonder what would happen to Betty, Shivaun, and the rest of the denizens of the Champion Caf¨¦. They were more important than the strange, second life he¡¯d been given. What a change. He¡¯d only worried about himself for so long. Now, he was worrying about other people. That had to be worth a few Karma points. His Benefactor didn¡¯t throw him any. That was probably for the best, since his Diagraff wouldn¡¯t increase anyway. It was locked at 99%, Level 1, DevStep 1. And yet, without magic, he¡¯d opened his diner, and if Saturday traffic was any indication, his expanded menu was going to be a huge hit. And he hadn¡¯t even gone down the boiled bread and smoked fish route just yet. Yes, the construction was a pain, but they had stayed open, and they would deal with it eventually. The Pontra wasn¡¯t going to stop him. Hours of walking later, Sal and the mouse in his pocket had descended Desolation Ridge, walked through the Sad Valley alongside the Spittle River, until they had to start up the sharp incline up into the Abuse Peaks. There, they found an ornate archway a hundred feet high in front of a wooden bridge spanning a chasm, cut by the Spittle River. It was unbearably hot, and Sal was missing the cool air of his caf¨¦. He was sweating, and he kept having to adjust the leather satchel, which held The Chronicles of GuNakt. He hoped to use it as a way of gaining entry to the Gorbin city. Crossing the sturdy bridge, Sal came to a sign standing at a T intersection. The sign was written in Gorbin and Gimm, both languages that Sal was familiar with, though he was far more fluent in the Skinless¡¯s language than the Stoneskin¡¯s. To the right was the Gimm city of Rocky Rockora. To the left was the way to the Gorbin city, called Bloodsoaked, in Yeshin. In Gorbin, it was called Crystal Water, though no one could probably read the city¡¯s real name. Ha, that was to frighten off the tourists and those who still believed that the Gorbin were basically demons. Sal went to the left and climbed up stone stairs until his legs ached. The stairs should¡¯ve been warning enough. At the very top of the stairs, he found another archway, carved into the mountainside, with a thick forest around it. There, at the front of the gate, stood soldiers in white lacquer armor and white helmets with visors and the head coverings that protected their translucent skin from the sunlight. They gripped long spears in thick gauntlets the color of ivory. Sal approached them. he held up a hand and said in fluent Gorbin. ¡°Greetings to you. I am Sal Fang, from Tower City, and I have come to see your shaman about a book I have.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the book?¡± one of them asked. ¡°The Chronicles of GuNakt.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s see it.¡± Sal wrestled around in his leather satchel and pulled out the tome. The two conversed in hushed voices, and then one left. The remaining guard held up a hand. ¡°Wait here.¡± ¡°I shall. Verily.¡± Sal was rather proud of himself that he knew the word in Gorbin. Betty sighed at him from the safety of his pocket. Sal took that moment to put the umbra cloak back on. If the guards didn¡¯t let him in, he could probably wait until nightfall and then sneak in. The magic of the cloak would work on the Skinless, though they had excellent night vision, since they normally lived underground. ¡°How do you know Gorbin?¡± the guard asked. ¡°I love language,¡± Sal replied truthfully. ¡°And I have spent most of my life around the Gorbin.¡± While that was true, it was rather depressing that he¡¯d commanded armies of the Skinless without ever really knowing them, their secret magic, their complicated culture of lying to the outside world. ¡°You¡¯re lucky to be alive,¡± the guard said. ¡°We are a violent, untamed people. We are monsters. You might not leave Bloodsoaked alive.¡± ¡°I shall take my chances.¡± The guard obviously wasn¡¯t convinced. He lifted his visor. And Sal could see every muscle on the man¡¯s face through his transparent skin, his gums, his teeth, which were both in excellent condition. The curve of his eyeballs was a bit unnerving as was his optical nerves. His hair was colorless as well, though not transparent. It was a faded out white color. ¡°Aren¡¯t I horrifying to you?¡± he asked. ¡°Answer honestly. I¡¯ll know if you are lying.¡± Sal grinned. ¡°Oh, believe me, I cannot lie, even if I wanted to. Like I said, I¡¯ve known many a Gorbin in my time. I understand what I am looking at. Your dental hygiene is exemplary. You must floss.¡± The guard laughed. ¡°Thank you. Girls like guys with good teeth. I take care to brush daily, and I stay away from sweets. You know, you¡¯re only as healthy as your teeth. Bad gums might mean you have a bad heart.¡± ¡°I did not know that,¡± Sal said with real interest. It did make sense. Everything in one¡¯s body was connected. The second guard returned. He spoke in broken Yeshin, so different from his excellent Gorbin that he¡¯d spoken in before. ¡°Gurzak say no. Say Skinfolk lying. Say book is fake. He spy for governor.¡± Ziggy had asked Sal to spy on the Gorbin, but only those who came into Tower City. At the moment, the former Dark Lord had only seen a few of the Skinless within the city limits, and he hadn¡¯t reported them. It hadn¡¯t cost him any Karma points, which made him think he was doing the right thing. The first guard shook his head. ¡°No, Ignash, this guy is the real deal. He speaks perfect Gorbin, and I showed him my face, and he didn¡¯t run screaming. And we both saw the book. Go back and tell the shaman I think they should see him. If nothing else, out of simple curiosity. I¡¯m even curious about him.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Sal said quietly. Ignash sighed loudly from underneath his visor. He answered in Gorbin. ¡°Fine, Rugar, but I¡¯m going to tell the shaman you are vouching for this pinksmile. I don¡¯t trust him. His story is too good. He¡¯s totally a spy.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a spy,¡± Sal said. Then, just to be safe, ¡°I will not tell anyone I came here. Please, I need the shaman¡¯s help. My Magica Plexus is locked, and I need help unlocking it.¡± Rugar pointed at Sal. ¡°See, Ignash, he even knows about the Plexi, and no outsider, in the history of the world, knows about the Plexi.¡± Ignash grumbled something under his breath. Then, in Yeshin, he said gruffly, ¡°Maybe he know too much. Maybe we kill him. Maybe we strip the flesh from his bones for our soap. Grind his bones for our bread.¡± ¡°The Gorbin are unlikely cannibals,¡± Sal said softly. ¡°According to GuNakt, there are many vegetarians among you, and I believe the shaman is one. Most are, are they not?¡± Rugar kept on gesturing excitedly. ¡°This is what I¡¯m saying. Sally really knows his stuff. I trust him.¡± Ignash threw up his hands. ¡°But he talks like he¡¯s a thousand years old. No one says half the stuff he says anymore. Like verily. What¡¯s up with that? But fine, Ru, fine. I¡¯ll call the shaman back.¡± In the end, Ignash returned, but he refused to be the one to walk Sal to the shaman. Rugar was happy to do it. He lad Sal through the archway, past a complicated series of Gimm gadgets on the wall. He walked down a sloping tunnel, the stone floor polished to a gleam as were the walls, which glittered with quartz. Alcoves for lanterns had been carved into the wall, and while the flickering light was kept dim, it did add a certain cozy light to the grand road that led down to an underground city clustered around a lake. There were some houses on the water itself, but most of the buildings had been carved into the rock around it. The lake itself glowed with a strange light, which only added to the ambiance. Sal found himself stunned by the beauty. It seemed like it had been for millennia, but no, it was only a few centuries old, and yet, it was such a sight. Rugar gave him the option. To walk around the perimeter of the city or go straight across the lake in a skiff. Sal chose the boat. The water wasn¡¯t all that deep, and it was crystal clear. Sal could see the bottom, where strange crystals glowed. Schools of shadowy fish darted here and there. Huge eels hunted them, but the eels didn¡¯t seem to care at all about the boat, and they deftly avoided Rugar¡¯s pole. Crossing the lake was quiet, beautiful and strange. After docking on the other side, Sal was taken down another tunnel¡ªmore polished stone, more lanterns, until they reached a rushing river, running over the glittering, glowing crystals that had been at the bottom of the lake. A metal bridge spanned the river, the iron rusting a bit. Mushrooms the size of trees grown on either bank. Rugar led him over the bridge to the other side, though the guard stopped on the bridge. ¡°Gurzak awaits you.¡± He pointed. There, standing in a clearing among the mushroom forest, stood a figure in a white gown. When she turned, Sal saw that the shaman wasn¡¯t a man, it was a woman. It was the first of many surprises. Chapter Forty – Risking Everything The real Riverglitter. Betty bursts out. Talking GuNakt. Do it for the cookies! Holding hands. Unlocked! The gleaming river made Sal think of the Riverglitter Manor, which had been misnamed because this river had all the glitter on the island, and that other stream was nothing but mud. The sparkling torrent was gorgeous, and the mushrooms around him smelled sweet. However, Sal did wonder if he were breathing in any dangerous spores. He found himself being studied by the shaman, who had the hood of her cloak pulled back, revealing bright white hair and again, no skin on her face and neck. He could see her tendons and a bit of her esophagus. Rugar had fallen back to the entrance to the river cavern. He was out of earshot, and there was no way he would be able to hear anything with the water roaring over the glittering rocks. That was good. The shaman had a series of shelves around her, filled with books. A round table sat on a stone in the middle of the clearing, and there were several very comfortable looking cushioned chairs. They could have furniture out in the open because it wasn¡¯t like it would ever rain. Sal felt very exposed, which was ironic, since he had skin. He put his hands on his hips, but that didn¡¯t feel right, and so he clasped them in front of him. Finally, he had to say something. ¡°Isn¡¯t Gurzak a male name?¡± The shaman didn¡¯t say a word. She stood there, gazing at him, with those big, round eyes. Sal had broken the quiet, and it wasn¡¯t like he could stand there in silence now. ¡°And I thought a female shaman was called a shamanka.¡± ¡°Why do you have a mouse in your pocket?¡± The shaman asked in Gorbin. Her voice had the creak of an old woman. Yes, given that their skin was transparent, it was hard to detect wrinkles. Generally, they had to get dusty or dirty. Much to Sal¡¯s surprise, Betty answered in perfect Gorbin. ¡°This poor guy needs all the friends he can get! I¡¯m Betty Don¡¯t-Bite. This is Sal Fang. We¡¯re new in town. And our man Sally needs some help with his Diagraff.¡± ¡°Come closer,¡± the old woman ordered. Sal shuffled forward. ¡°You do not call it a Diagraff. You call it the Magica Plexa. And you call Mana, Prana. I read that in a tome, written by GuNakt, a thousand years ago. He served the Dark Lord.¡± ¡°I know the writings of GuNakt,¡± the Gorbin shaman said quietly. ¡°I believe I have some of his poetry here. His juvenile poetry. Such angst. But the young feel such angst because life is new, and they are enamored with their own lives. As one ages, one¡¯s own self becomes so much less interesting than the lives of others.¡± ¡°I have felt that,¡± Sal said. ¡°But you¡¯re still young.¡± The shaman held out her hand. ¡°Let me see your Plexus. You¡¯ve come all this way for me to help you, so we might as well get to it.¡± ¡°Might as well.¡± But Sal wasn¡¯t moving. ¡°You don¡¯t seem surprised that I have a talking mouse in my breast pocket.¡± The Gorbin woman continued to stare into his eyes. She might have blinked, but he couldn¡¯t detect it. That was the problem with transparent eyelids. ¡°Betty is most likely one of the Gwynar mice. That is unlikely, but you¡¯re an unlikely customer, Mr. Sal Fang. You speak Gorbin like my great, great, great grandfather. And GuNakt might¡¯ve been my great, great, great grandfather. You have his book. Rugar was right to insist I see you. And on a Sunday. I usually take the weekends off.¡± ¡°Your city is spectacular,¡± Sal said, and he knew, he was dragging his feet, because there was a very real chance the shaman would see down into the depths of his soul. And the results could be catastrophic. Outside of Betty, no one alive knew he was Salvanguish Abner Ordinal. Shivaun knew, but she wasn¡¯t alive. The shaman nodded. ¡°Yes, the city is nice. If you¡¯re not going to take my hands, Sally, then you¡¯re going to have to leave. Maybe leave the book for me to read. I could use a nice, new book.¡± Sal swallowed hard. ¡°Will you just look at my Diagraff, or will you delve into the depths of my heart.¡± The shaman smiled. Sal could tell because her jaw shifted a bit. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll delve. How could I not? I am an evil creature of the darkness.¡± ¡°No,¡± Sal said. ¡°You are simply a Gorbin shaman, who happens to have transparent skin. GuNakt made your people¡¯s ruse clear. It kept you safe, and it gave you certain advantages. Us dermderms stayed away from your underground kingdoms out of fear.¡± ¡°Fear is powerful,¡± the shaman made motions for him to grab his hands. ¡°Fear is stopping you from doing what you have come to do. You don¡¯t want to reveal your deepest, darkest secrets to me, but you¡¯ll have to, if I¡¯m to study your Magica Plexus.¡± She was right. Sal reached out, but before he grabbed her hands, he had to ask for mercy. ¡°Be kind. Once you know the truth, please, don¡¯t call your guards. I took an oath to give Betty chocolate-chip cookies, and if I am slain, I will have failed her.¡± ¡°Yeah, Gurzak!¡± Betty piped up. ¡°Don¡¯t go throwing spells around. I¡¯ve been waiting a long time for them cookies!¡± Then, Sal was holding her hands. Nothing happened for a long, long time. Unlike with Kaixo, Sal wasn¡¯t given even a glimpse into the life of the Gorbin shaman. She might be delving, but Sal didn¡¯t feel anything. And she wasn¡¯t speaking. She just stood there, expressionless, her eyes staring. Finally, Sal again had to the be first one to speak. ¡°Are you seeing anything?¡± ¡°I am. But not everything. What is your secret? Tell me yourself.¡± This was the moment Sal had dreaded from the very start. He didn¡¯t know if the old woman knew everything already, but he had the idea she didn¡¯t. She hadn¡¯t delved. She waited. Sal gathered up every bit of courage in him. ¡°I am Salvanguish Abner Ordinal, the Dark Lord of old, and I have been reborn. A thousand years ago, I commanded armies of the Gorbin, who slavishly did my dark bidding. I thought you were a bloodthirsty, monstrous people, and so I chose you as my minions. I was mistaken. Why did your people agree to serve me? Why?¡± ¡°Because didn¡¯t that convince all the world that the Gorbin were monsters? Didn¡¯t that keep them from interfering with us? Besides, you did have very good training facilities, and we became very good at war. That can be helpful when dealing with Skinfolk who are so often driven by completely genocidal principles. By the way, I do not like referring to the Skinfolk as dermderms, or melmels, or pinksmiles. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Sal felt tears in his eyes. He¡¯d told someone the whole truth. Someone alive, not a ghost, not a mouse, but another person, who now had the power to destroy him. A message hit him, and the hope felt almost painful, as powerful emotions made his heart pound. <<<>>> Good job! Karmic Gauge increased by 2%. Telling someone the truth is powerful. And sometimes, the only person you can trust is a total stranger. Life is funny that way. Current Karmic Gauge: 1% (Dark Red) <<<>>> All that hope suddenly vanished. He was back to square one. How could that be? ¡°You¡¯re unlocked,¡± the shaman said softly. ¡°I believe whatever is going on with you, that was what was holding you back. You were wise, though, to wait. Because if any of the Skinfolk in Tower City knew who you were, they would arrest you, and you would be put on trial. You would be found guilty. You would be hanged.¡± He thought of Kaixo, and her talk of courts and trials. Tomorrow, she would do her Tower Climb. She had magic items to help, but still, it was so dangerous. As dangerous as telling a stranger the truth about your worst sins. Sal couldn¡¯t wait. He accessed his Diagraff. <<< ? >>> Salvanguish Abner Ordinal Diagraff Vitalis Karmic Gauge: 1% Dark Red and Flashing Race: Resurrected Human, and a relatively honest one at that! Vitalis Type: Entrepreneurial Culinarian (But come on, that¡¯s still pretty common, given the fact that a ton of people want to open restaurants, or start a business, so don¡¯t get too big for your britches) Vitalis Path: Porridge Purveyor Initial Mana Potential: 20 Maximum Modified Mana: 22 Current Level/DevStep: Level 1, Developmental Step 2 Experience Point Monitoring: Not Applicable Pending Work Points: Two (02) Total Work Points Available BodyWork Modifier: 10% SoulWork Modifier: 10 % Proficiencies: BodyWork Proficiencies SoulWork Proficiencies Vitalis Path Proficiencies <<< ? >>> Reviewing his Diagraff, Sal had a ton of questions, though he was so glad that some things looked familiar. He could improve his BodyWork or his SoulWork by adding the Work Points to them. That was good news, but he only had two points, so it wasn¡¯t like it was that big of a deal. He should get three points at third level, and so on, up to nine, but when he rolled over to Level 2, he¡¯d go back to only getting one, two, and so on. He knew how to distribute Work points, like his Diagraff said. He wasn¡¯t so sure about his Path Proficiencies. The shaman laughed. ¡°Well, a Porridge Purveyor sounds very auspicious compared to being a Porridge Peasant. And you have a Vitalis Type now, which is also very good. But you have a few options when it comes to your Path Proficiencies.¡± Sal found he was still holding the woman¡¯s hands. They were both getting a little sweaty, and so he went to drop hers, but she didn¡¯t let him go. ¡°No, we should stay connected. Otherwise, bad things might happen to your unlikely soul.¡± ¡°Why do I have an unlikely soul?¡± Sal asked, a little hurt. Betty laughed. ¡°Oh, buddy, while I like your soul, it is unlike anyone else¡¯s. Nobody gets resurrected by the gods. Well, almost nobody.¡± ¡°The former Dark Lord,¡± Gurzak mused. ¡°In my solitude room. Very unlikely. Would you like to know your choices, Sally?¡± He wasn¡¯t sure he liked his new nickname. No, he didn¡¯t like it at all. ¡°Before, when I was the Dark Lord, I would study to add magic to my proficiencies. I would find books that outlined different skills and spells, and then add them myself. Can I not add them now?¡± Gurzak shook her head. ¡°No. I¡¯m sorry. but you¡¯re going to need my help. I don¡¯t know why.¡± Betty had an idea. ¡°Maybe your Mysterious Benefactor wants to keep you humble. I mean, you couldn¡¯t unlock your Diagraff yourself. Kinda makes sense you¡¯d need help dealing with your magic, pal.¡± Sal felt so out of control over his own life. He swallowed hard. ¡°Uh, I would like not to have the Sally sobriquet. Sal, or Sal Fang would be preferable.¡± ¡°Gotcha,¡± Betty said. ¡°No more Sally.¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine with that.¡± The shaman squeezed his hand. ¡°Now, young man, my Dark Lord, it¡¯s time. From what I understand, you can have food related magic. Mighty Musclecakes. Power Pork. Heroic Hashbrowns. Wonder Waffles. Eggs Hell. I think those are your options.¡± Sal felt a bit heated about this whole situation. ¡°How do you know all of this? Should I not have access to my own options?¡± The shaman shrugged. ¡°I did not ask for this. You came to me, I found your Diagraff, and now I am getting messages from your Mysterious Benefactor.¡± Betty chuckled. ¡°To quote the Ponti, oh boy, I know you have to be hating that. You don¡¯t get to call the shots, and you don¡¯t get to do this on your own, chief. It¡¯s me, you, and the lady shaman all the way!¡± The old woman shook her head. ¡°Just refer to me as a shaman. And not to make matters worse, Sal Fang. I don¡¯t know what the various magics do. I would imagine the Might Musclecakes give whoever eats them increased strength. Maybe it increases their BodyWork. Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps in time, I¡¯ll know more. We both could possibly study it. Yor use of Mana, what we call Prana, is bound to be different. And I don¡¯t think I know of anyone else having this class. Food-related magic is very rare.¡± ¡°No, just rare. Unheard of.¡± Sal sighed. ¡°Are there cases of the Gorbin getting cooking magic?¡± ¡°Rarely,¡± she said. ¡°And those that chose that life ended up, in most cases, regretting it. They have been locked inside kitchens, cooking for hours upon hours at a time, in restaurants that are successful, but then they are chained to that success.¡± ¡°Sounds like your situation, buddy!¡± Betty spouted off. ¡°Sounds more like my father¡¯s,¡± Sal murmured. ¡°Without the success part. He couldn¡¯t imbue his food with magic.¡± ¡°What happened to your father?¡± the shaman asked abruptly. ¡°In the history of our people, we saw him as the only rational member of your family. We had high hopes for his son, and yet, you turned out to be as bad, if not as successful, as Mood.¡± Sal winced. That stung. ¡°I prefer not to answer that question. My thoughts concerning my father have changed, quite a bit, but I have a question for you, Gurzak. Here you are, with the former Dark Lord in your solitude room, and you don¡¯t seem all that surprised. I have to wonder if you¡¯ll tell anyone who I really am.¡± The shaman thought for a second. ¡°In the end, our fates have always been tied together, the Dark Lord and the Gorbin. Yes, you would come to us when you are in need. But because of your Karmic Gauge, you are on a different path. You couldn¡¯t conquer anymore even if you wanted to. And each time you level, your life hangs in the balance. If you were to slip back to 0%, you wouldn¡¯t just lose your level. You¡¯d lose your life. That has to be humbling.¡± Sal found some laughter. ¡°All of this humbling. So will you keep my secret?¡± The Gorbin woman nodded. ¡°Yes, I will. But I would ask that in return for my discretion, and my help with your Magica Plexus, you would be our proponent with the governor and all the people in Tower City. If there is talk of invasion or slaughter, we¡¯d like to know about it. And the book. I want to borrow The Chronicles of GuNakt.¡± She paused. ¡°Do we have a deal?¡± ¡°We do,¡± Sal said. And he told her about him being a potential spy for Ziggy. ¡°I am not surprised.¡± The shaman took it in stride. ¡°We¡¯re forever hated. But as long as we¡¯re left alone, we can handle the hatred. Now, what is your choice? Or do you plan to leave here empty-handed?¡± ¡°Never,¡± Sal said. ¡°Right answer!¡± Betty piped up. ¡°If we can add a little spice to your bacon, it¡¯s bound to sell even better than it sold yesterday!¡± Sal squinted. ¡°But I was curious about Hajawan hashbrowns. I was hoping to get a recipe.¡± The Gorbin woman nodded. ¡°I can help with that.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± Sal couldn¡¯t help but add an additional question. ¡°Why do you refer to yourself as shaman and not shamanka? And I believe Gurzak would be a male name. Do you not go by Gurzaka?¡± ¡°All of that is very old-fashioned,¡± the shaman said. ¡°All of us Gorbin holy folk are just shamans, that¡¯s it, shamans. We don¡¯t need to feminize it at all. Not every woman needs to add an ¡®a¡¯ or an ¡®i¡¯ to their name. Get with the times, Sal Fang.¡± Betty grinned. ¡°I¡¯ll try and drag our Dark Lord into the present century. It¡¯s a challenge. You¡¯ve heard him talk.¡± Sal patted the mouse¡¯s head. ¡°You are, of course, right, Ms. Don¡¯t-Bite. My age and outdated ideas aside, I would like the Power Pork proficiency. I do enjoy alliteration.¡± ¡°I will make it so,¡± Gurzak the Shaman said with a smile. A second later, Sal had his first spell as a resurrected human, following the path of the Entrepreneurial Culinarian. It was like his life had begun again, again. And he was so very, very glad. The only problem was, he didn¡¯t have a description of Power Pork. He had no idea what it would do. Not one little bit. Chapter Forty-One – The Power of Pork Magic in the kitchen. Possible explosions. Breakfast for dinner. An extra ten percent. Special plates. A nervous sorceress. The New Astounders get to work. Sal stood over the stove that night, feet tired from the miles of walking. With Gurzak¡¯s help, he¡¯d distributed his two Work Points. One WP went into his BodyWork, which increased to 11% and he increased his SoulWork to 11%. His stats were so low, they just didn¡¯t mean very much. He was a bit troubled that he was going to have to rely on Gurzak to help him deal with his Diagraff. It seemed like a cruel joke, and yet, her words haunted him¡ªhis destiny was intertwined with the fate of the Gorbin. His friends in town¡ªFabrizio, Kaixo, and Theovanni waited in the main dining room, talking quietly. Since it was a Sunday night, Fabrizio didn¡¯t have to work at the Mind & Body Tables, so he had time for a visit. Shivaun stood behind Sal, frowning. Her words appeared on the wall to his left. So you did get magic after all? Is it blood magic? Can you use it to slay your enemies without mercy? If you have turned evil again, your pet demon will be so very happy. What are you going to do about this Dergle Driptongue anyway? Sal was frying up twelve long strips of bacon in one of their bigger skillets. It was dark outside, and still very warm, though inside the caf¨¦ it was a comfortable temperature thanks to the banshee. ¡°Verily, Shivaun, I say unto thee, the powers I have are both meager and a bit of a mystery. I am going to try them for the first time. As for my demonic minion, I am at a loss, though I have faith a solution will present itself.¡± ¡°Hey, Sal, what are you doing in there?¡± Kaixo shouted from her table. ¡°We have to go to bed early tonight. Tomorrow, I have my Tower climb! So hurry your ass¡ª¡± ¡°Assistance,¡± Fabrizio interrupted her. ¡°Uh, yes, please, do you need some assistance?¡± ¡°Is the oven hot enough?¡± Theovanni asked. ¡°Should I send Sparky in there?¡± ¡°No,¡± Sal said quickly. Betty sat up on the counter, staring down. ¡°Gurzak said you should just cast the spell, Sal. How hard can it be? It¡¯s frickin¡¯ called Pork Power. Just get on with it.¡± She kept her voice down, so the others couldn¡¯t hear her. Sal had never, ever in his life cast unknown magic. Every proficiency he¡¯d ever had he¡¯d carefully chosen after months and months of study. ¡°This is dangerous business,¡± he muttered under his breath. ¡°If Pork Power makes the bacon explosive, it could kill us all and bring the building falling down around our ears.¡± Betty eyed him. ¡°How likely is that, chief? Like a ten percent chance? What odds are we talking?¡± Sal didn¡¯t answer. He was going to cast the spell and hope for the best. After thousands of years practicing magic, he wasn¡¯t worried about the actual casting, just the results. The bacon was nearly done. He had to do the enchantment during the cooking process. He felt the Mana rush out of him, half of his twenty-point Mana pool. Four pieces of bacon glowed, which seemed to be the serving size. They floated up into the air, and he saw they were done. He gently levitated them over onto the plate. Then he focused on the next four, cast the spell again, and he was at 0. To do any more damage might just put him on his back, unconscious, or it could kill him outright. He felt depleted, and yet, it felt good to be using sorcery again. He always loved that feeling of exertion and then the slow filling of his magical core. He removed the final four pieces of non-magical bacon and took the dozen strips into the dining area, along with some eggs Shivaun cooked and a stack of toasted, unbuttered. For now, the Butter King was leaving him alone, and though he was buying it in the market, the expense wasn¡¯t terrible. At some point, he¡¯d have to get serious and get all of his dairy products at wholesale prices. He brought some olive oil out for Kaixo, since as a Yanir sorceress, she didn¡¯t do dairy. They sat, family style, and passed the dishes around. Each had a slice of the magical bacon on their plate, including himself. Theovanni took most of the food. Kaixo hardly took any. Sparky squawked, and the kid fed him one of the unmagical strips of salted, smoked meat. The dragon chomped it down happily. Kaixo studied her food suspiciously. She had a bit of egg, a tiny wedge of bread with a little olive oil on it, and two pieces of the magic food. ¡°Pork Power?¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°How come that sounds just a little bit dirty?¡± Sal shrugged. ¡°Let us sample it together. Are you all ready?¡± He was simply relieved the meat didn¡¯t seem explosive. They each bit into the meat strips. It was extra tasty. The results were immediate. He saw Kaixo¡¯s eyes flash. Then Sal was reading his own message. <<<>>> Pork Power! SoulWork increased by 2.5% from 11% to 11.275%. Max SoulWork Pork Increase Available is 10% Max Duration is 24 Hours. <<>>> Kaixo gobbled up the entire piece, and then reached for her second. ¡°This¡­this is amazing. Can I eat all the bacon? I need to see if it works like it says.¡± She ate four pieces in quick succession. ¡°No, I only get the extra 10%. Only. I¡¯ve got to get Boomboom some of this stuff.¡± Sal didn¡¯t know who Boomboom was, and he hardly heard her. He sat there, dumbfounded, staring at the bacon and pondering what it meant for him. This was going to change everything, his entire life, and he knew it. If word got out that he was serving magical food, people would climb over any amount of construction to get to him. He¡¯d be as important as any potion shop. He thought about the advertising space he¡¯d purchased in the Tower Today. That might not have worked so well when he¡¯d been serving normal food. Now? He just might advertise there again. What¡¯s more, he could change more for the magical bacon. He could add it to sausage as well, any pork product really, though he was going to keep it to bacon. It seemed magical to the people who tried it. Now, it was actually magical. It increased Theovanni¡¯s and Fabrizio¡¯s SoulWork as well, though with Fabrizio, he was a very low-level priest, and Sal had the idea his proficiencies were all book related. He wasn¡¯t sure though. The kid had some spells, but not many. He was mainly a fighter, and he worked with his sword, and yet, as a dragonrider, his magic was probably tied to his dragon. Sparky, when he ate the magic bacon, he coughed out some extra hot flames, well, a 2.5 percent more flame-y. Sal couldn¡¯t be happier. ¡°Special plates,¡± he whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll serve it on special plates. Ten gold pieces for each slice of Pork Power. I remain curious why bacon fell out of favor as the emperor of salted breakfast meats.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Fabrizio blushed. ¡°I can explain that I think. Oh boy, but this is another one of those church abuse stories that I get so tired of talking about. Remember how the church flip-flopped on dancing? Well, the same thing happened with pork. Some people got sick, and the church banned pork, especially bacon. For a while it was called the fatty devil¡¯s lard strips. For like a hundred it was no bacon, and that was back when the church had a ton of power. Then the Ishim brought ham from Ishamland to the south, where they mathematically proved that pork was fine if you processed it right. And voila! We got ham, and then sausage, but strangely enough, the world forgot about bacon.¡± ¡°A true mystery,¡± Sal said, pondering all that he had missed in his thousand years in the Abyssmuck. ¡°Not really,¡± Kaixo said sharply. ¡°People forget all sorts of things. But hey, love the bacon. Ten gold pieces a slice is steep, and I can¡¯t pay for mine yet, but here.¡± She slid a copper coin across the table. He picked it up. On one side was the surprised face of a woman, hands to her cheeks. She did look astounded. On the other was the word ¡°NEW¡± in big letters wreathed in flames. It was very on the nose. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Sal asked. Kaxio grinned. ¡°Marketing swag. We¡¯re going to be handing out these copper coins to people. Kind of get our name out there, creating a buzz. You know, if we do well enough, we can get sponsors who will pay us for any magic items we find in the Tower. Like you, we have to get people¡¯s attention.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Sal said, and for a moment, he and Kaixo shared a long gaze. Then she glanced away, and it was awkward, because they¡¯d seen things about each other. Sal knew she didn¡¯t know his secret identity, but she knew something about him. And he knew something about her past as an orphan growing up on the streets of Yanhome. Fabrizio cleared his throat. ¡°Oh boy. You won¡¯t forget about us when you get rich, will you, Sal?¡± ¡°Never,¡± he said. ¡°For verily, I cannot get more magic without doing good for people, and for that, I need you, Ponti. For you have access to a flood of people in need.¡± ¡°In that way, I am very rich indeed,¡± the handsome priest said, smiling to show his dimples. He had such a good heart. ¡°I shall wait to unveil my magic bacon,¡± Sal mused quietly. ¡°After I deal with the fountain repair, after word has spread about the bacon, I shall let the world know about my Pork Power.¡± Kaixo grimaced. ¡°Is it me, or does the name need work?¡± ¡°Soul Bacon?¡± Sal winced. ¡°No. Not that.¡± Kaixo laughed. A rosy glow covered her cheeks. ¡°Bacon Buffs. Tell me that doesn¡¯t have a certain ring to it?¡± ¡°Bacon Buffs,¡± Sal mused. They finished the food, and the former Dark Lord took the dishes out to Shivaun in the back, and she got to work. There was a lot of steam from her cold hands hitting the hot water. Betty had already gone upstairs to go to bed. Then he walked his both Fabrizio and Kaixo to Tower Road while Theovanni and Sparky went up to their rooms to get as much sleep was possible before their big day tomorrow. Kaixo stood off, aloofly. Fabrizio gave Sal a hug. ¡°Goodbye, my friend. This is very exciting news indeed. And it was the Gorbin that helped you?¡± He nodded. ¡°Freakin¡¯ Gorbin,¡± Kaixo spat. She paused, took off the Umbra Cloak, and threw it to Sal. ¡°Hey. Uh, I¡¯m not going to need this in the Tower I don¡¯t think. You wanna hold onto it for me?¡± Sal immediately knew something was amiss. ¡°There is bound to be shadows, my friend. Walking unseen would help you.¡± Kaixo laughed. ¡°Having the freaking wand of lightning in your basement would help me more. But no, you¡¯re all paranoid about the weapons. Whatever. Just take the cloak. Please.¡± ¡°I shall. If you insist.¡± Sal folded the cloak and tucked it under his arm. The Yaniri sorceress nodded. ¡°Yeah. This is me. Insisting.¡± She grabbed the priest¡¯s arm. ¡°Come on, Fab, I have to get home. After that feast, I wanna sleep. Gotta get some rest before my Tower Climb tomorrow. With an additional 10%. I¡¯m going to kick major copper backsides.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Fabrizio said. ¡°We should go.¡± Kaixo turned to walk away, then turned back. ¡°You¡¯ll, uh, be there in the morning, Sal, won¡¯t you? No. I guess not. You have your caf¨¦ to run. We¡¯ll be fine. We¡¯ll be okay.¡± Sal held up in the copper coin. ¡°I shall have this in my pocket to remind me of your endeavors. If I can break away for a moment I shall try and witness your grand entrance. What is your timeslot?¡± ¡°Noon,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s late. I wanted the first one, at eight, but we lost the lottery. We¡¯ll be okay. You can take me to court on that.¡± She paused, swallowing several times, and looking a bit uncertain. ¡°Uh, well, you know, um, it would be great to be there. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be fine.¡± Sal wanted to make her feel better. ¡°If it¡¯s noon, I just might close for the occasion. That might be possible now, for it seems my fortunes have changed.¡± ¡°Oh, boy, that¡¯s an understatement.¡± Fabrizio waved. Sal watched them walk away, Kaixo took her time walking by the grand entrance of the Tower. Tomorrow was going to be her big day. He hoped that it wouldn¡¯t end with either her or Theovanni dying, not when things were looking up. When Sal turned around, hanging on the wall, was Dergle. The ash demon gave him a leer. ¡°Greetings to the best man I¡¯ve ever met, the most ambitious, and the most spectacularly talented. I am so very blessed to be serving someone who is obviously destined to rule the entire world.¡± ¡°If you have returned, can I assume that I shall soon be amazed by your ability to bake my father¡¯s chocolate-chip cookies.¡± The ash demon leered as spit dribbled down his chin. ¡°Oh, certainly, my lord and master and my everything. I would¡¯ve started, but your banshee friend wants me to wait until the oven is hot tomorrow. Then, I shall bake. But the real issue is the construction, is it not?¡± ¡°I am not happy about the fountain construction,¡± Sal said carefully. ¡°However, I shall deal with it in time. You do not need to solve it in any.¡± ¡°If the fountain was completed, if the Pontra were dead, if the church were destroyed, would those things help you to conquer the world?¡± ¡°My current goal is to get enough customers so that I can live comfortably in Tower City. That is what I want. Out of the three things you listed, only the first would help me in that endeavor.¡± The ash demon only laughed. ¡°I understand, master, and I will obey.¡± And yet, in his gleaming red eyes, there was a mischievous glee that Sal didn¡¯t like. Noon the next day, Sal was there to watch the New Astounders walk the pathway, under the flowery arbor, to the entrance of the Tower. There, Gail Questor, shouted out the name of their party and the names of the party members. ¡°Hear ye! Hear ye! I, Gail Questor, declare that the New Astounders have the appropriate paperwork and have paid the correct fees, and so, they can attempt to climb the Godspear Tower! May they find success! I will now proclaim their names and receive their chits. Kaixo Allakarra, leader of the New Astounders. Welcome. Theovanni Balanacci and your familiar Sparkannathrax Peior.¡± Kaixo looked nervous even with the two magical rings on her hands and the Mercury Boots on her feet. She¡¯d added some straps and flair to the otherwise simple footwear. Tower City was crazy about their footwear. Maybe Sal should¡¯ve given her the Skycrack Wand. It was too late now. Theovanni had put on the heavy armor from the basement, and he¡¯d found some way to magically alter the metal, so it was back to being red and black. His shield was huge, far bigger than the little pigeonish dragon on his shoulder. His sword was sheathed at his side. Gail continued to introduce the rest of the New Astounders, four others that Sal had heard about but was seeing for the first time. Ronnel Lolonnis was a very old Primogeny, which seemed to be the case for all the fairy folk that he saw, like Madame Benyay, where Sal got his dough rings. Ronnel had a long bow, a quiver of arrows, and very plain boots. Then there was a huge Torta warrior with a humongous two-handed mace. Was it a mace or a mallet? It was probably a little bit of both. That was Testu Hemez, and he was the tank of the party. A huge leather hauberk covered his chest, a gift from Shivaun¡¯s party, to match the bamboo armor strapped to his arms and thighs. All in all, he looked fearsome. Two humans rounded out the party, both with dark skin marking them as Ishim from the south. Boom Mahad, which had to be Boomboom. He was the healer of the party, and his magic had nothing to do with the gods, just magic. He wore the magical chainmail from the diner¡¯s basement. He held a painted war hammer that had to be magical, very pretty and very colorful. Lastly, there was a slender woman with black frizzy hair and some light-colored freckles sprinkled across her nose. That was Amira Torry, and she only had a short stabbing spear and throwing daggers on her belt. Her armor was very sleek and very black. Each of the New Astounders held up the same copper coin that Sal had in his pocket. He had to smile. They all looked so nervous, though it was a happy kind of anxiety, more excitement than anything. They walked through the big ornate doors of the Godspear Tower amidst the cheers, most of which were there to see another party who was set to go in later that afternoon. Sal didn¡¯t know how it worked, exactly, but from his little reading in the Tower Today, he knew there was a time limit. The Copper Level had different sections that were reset as the climbers moved through the chambers. If you were caught inside during the reset, you were killed, plain and simple. So the New Astounders had their work cut out for them. Sal turned and hurried back to his diner. He had to stop Betty from eating all the chocolate-chip cookies. Dergle had been baking all morning, and yes, his cookies were as divine as his gnocchi. Leave it to a demon to make such tempting food. Did they capture his father¡¯s recipe? Yes. Very much so. Sal had been filled with emotion as he sampled them that morning. He¡¯d had to clear his throat and wipe his eyes. He remembered eating them for breakfast, with a big glass of milk, while his father puttered in the kitchen, humming a song. The memories were so vibrant, while at the same time, bittersweet. According to Dergle, the recipe was favorite still in Caya Idle. It had proven to be an easy task. Sal returned to find Shivaun standing in the doorway. He could feel her cold even from a distance. She didn¡¯t look happy. ¡°Whatever is the matter, Miss Shivaun?¡± Sal asked. Shivaun pointed at the wall. Your pet demon says my cold is spoiling the consistency of his batter for the umpteenth batch of cookies he is baking. He is using all of the flour and sugar. You must stop him this minute! Sal sighed. Dergle¡¯s passive aggression was going to be so difficult to manage. Maybe climbing the Godspear would be easier. Funny enough, Sal would soon find out. Chapter Forty-Two – The Copper Halls Too many copies. A few customers. A plea for help. Shivaun¡¯s fears. The morality of trespassing for a good cause. So much copper. The melt. Betty sat leaning against a pile of cookies stacked on the wooden shelves in the kitchen area. She had a swollen belly, and her eyes were half closed. Most of the chocolate-chip cookies had been handed out as free samples because Dergle had made so many. Sal had been careful in how he removed the ash demon from the kitchen, telling his minion to take the rest of the day off because he deserved it. He had to give Dergle a direct order to sleep, and while the demon laid it on thick, saying he would serve forever, there was a malicious glint in the monster¡¯s red eyes. It was nearing three o¡¯clock in the afternoon, and Sal only had a few customers sitting in his place, enjoying the cool temperatures. Two Eagalis women were drinking salty lemonease, and there was a Yanir man reading. He might¡¯ve been a government official, given the fact that he wore a shirt with the biggest collar that Sal had ever seen. His pantaloons were like the sails of ships. And then there was the matter of his boots, which had been painted. All of that was fine, but the man also had long sideburns, shaved into shapes, one was a star, the other was a moon. The hairy heavenly bodies were rather disconcerting. Sal wasn¡¯t about to kick them out, though he certainly wanted to. He hated that last hour, when getting new customers was rare, though Shivaun was ever ready to start reheating the gnocchi in case anyone came in. Sal was back doing dishes, thinking about the problem of Dergle, when his head exploded. One minute, he was wondering about the ethics of damning a demon forever and the next, Kaixo¡¯s voice was screaming in his head. Sal! We need your help! You can get into the Tower. I lied about the coin being a marketing ploy. It can give you access to the Tower as one of the New Astounders. But you have to hurry. We¡¯re pinned down by a frickin¡¯ dragon. I knew there was a chance we¡¯d get the dragon, and Theo is excited, but if we survive this, you can take me to court. We¡¯ve already lost Ronnel and Amira. And I¡¯m hurt. Please! Sal staggered back and dropped a pan, which clanged on the ground. Sal hit the shelves, and piles of cookies came tumbling down onto him like crumby rain. So that was why Kaixo insisted he take the Umbra Cloak. This had been her plan all along. Betty was on her hind feet. ¡°What the hey, ace! What¡¯s up with you? You look white as a ghost, and I can say that because we¡¯re living with a couple actual of ghosts that I can compare you to.¡± Shivaun emerged from the basement. She¡¯d been down there, keeping things cool. Her words appeared on the wall. What is the issue? Sal spoke from his seat on the ground. ¡°Kaixo. She needs help.¡± Betty squinted at him. ¡°What kind of weirdness are you saying, pal?¡± Sal waited a second for Kaixo to contact him again. When she didn¡¯t, he knew what he needed to do. It was why she¡¯d want him to keep three of the magic items. It had been her plan all along. But what could he do? He only had two proficiencies, and while one could be mildly useful when it came to combat, the other didn¡¯t do anything unless he was standing in front of a stove. That all kind of didn¡¯t matter. It wasn¡¯t like he could ignore her message. ¡°I have to go to her,¡± Sal said. Betty winced as she patted her swollen belly. ¡°Uh, and I think I have to go with you, though, if I¡¯d have known I¡¯d be doing the Tower today, I wouldn¡¯t have eaten so much.¡± Shivaun¡¯s words cracked on the wall. What about the customers out front? They might need something. You cannot leave me! Sal again saw the drawbacks of having an undead employee. ¡°I doubt they will need more service, Shivaun. If they do, you have your gloves and your cloak. This might be the best time to test their efficacy.¡± Betty limped to the edge of the shelf and motioned to him. ¡°Come on, guy. The banshee will figure it out. We need to get going.¡± Sal had an idea. ¡°Shivaun, if it¡¯s all right with you, I would like to take the Skycrack Wand with me. It might just save Kaixo¡¯s life.¡± She gestured to the words about them not leaving her. ¡°We have to go, my friend. I am sorry.¡± The ghost sighed. You can take the wand. Just hurry back! Sal scooped up the mouse, and then, he gathered up some things, including a slice of magical bacon he¡¯d put aside, the Fear Blade, and the Skycrack Wand. Ready for adventure, he hurried out to the main room. ¡°Alas, my guests, I must leave on some business. My associate, Shivaun Frost will be here to help you.¡± He¡¯d made up that last name on the fly, though he thought it was a good one, since she talked using her frosty words. The eagle women and the man all nodded. They¡¯d already paid, so now they were just sitting there, taking up space. Normally, that might¡¯ve driven Sal crazy, but now the former Dark Lord had more important things to worry about. He hurried outside. He was surprised to see Dergle across the way, in a window of an abandoned building, staring down at the elderly church guards sleeping in the shade of a tent. The fountain¡¯s works lay in pieces around them. They clearly were not enthusiastic about the work. But why was Dergle gazing down on them like he wanted to devour them whole? It wasn¡¯t good. Sal would just have to trust that the bond they had would keep the demon out of trouble. Sal did have one question for the mouse in his pocket. ¡°I am confused on a certain point, Mrs. Don¡¯t-Bite. You said I was forbidden from entering the tower. And yet, here you are, suggesting that course of action. What has changed?¡± Betty burped. ¡°Excuse me. What changed, bucko? Our freakin¡¯ friends are in trouble. Besides, from what I get, they should¡¯ve cleared things out before the dragon. We just have to hurry through before the rooms start to reset. What time is it?¡± Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°A little after three.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s hurry, friendo. But you ain¡¯t wrong about one thing. No killing. Remember, if your Karmic Gauge rolls back to zero, you don¡¯t just lose your level, you lose your freakin¡¯ life.¡± Sal had the Umbra Cloak on, so neither Dergle nor the elderly Templars saw him leave Champion Plaza. He hurried to Tower Road, took a left, and then saw the crowd gathered there for the four-o¡¯clock entry. There were three entries a day¡ªone at eight in the morning, one at noon, one at four in the afternoon. Sometimes, there were special evening climbs at eight p.m. but only for special guests or when the demand was especially high. The eight p.m. climbs were often on Saturday nights. The Godspear Tower was closed on Sundays. Gail Questor was talking with a Scallia Capran in black and red armor, holding a huge battle ax. That had to be the leader of the four o¡¯clock climbers. There were guards holding the crowd back, but Sal saw that one on the right was currently talking with a pretty, but rather ancient Primogeny woman, and they were deep in conversation. Sal took off the cowl to move through the crowd. If he¡¯d been invisible, that would¡¯ve caused far more alarm. When he got close to the edge, he put the Umbra Cloak¡¯s cowl back on, and then squeezed through the crowd until his back was up against the wall. After that, it was a rather simple matter of walking down the wall until he was close to the front doors of the Tower. The ornate wooden doors were cracked open, just enough, that he could slip inside. That was luck. Or maybe it was the blessing of his Mysterious Benefactor. Either way, Sal swept the hood of the cloak over him and hurried unseen into the Tower. He found himself in a narrow room, the walls fashioned from beaten copper. Torchlight flickered off the metal. There was another wooden door with copper fittings. Or was it copper-colored bronze? Copper was such a soft metal. Bronze would¡¯ve offered the door more support. Sal thought his luck might¡¯ve run out. While the front doors had been cracked open, the inner doors were shut. There was no lock, neither a doorknob nor handles of any kind. ¡°What gives?¡± Betty asked from his pocket. ¡°We get in, but now we can¡¯t access it? What the muck?¡± Sal felt his heart fall. ¡°Lo, my friend mouse, I have had a realization. We are trespassing. If I were to lose any Karma points, it would mean my life. I have but a single Karma point left.¡± ¡°But we¡¯re doing the right thing here, chief,¡± Betty said. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t lose points for trying to help a friend.¡± ¡°I might. If my motivations are not pure, maybe. We do not know. Perhaps the point is moot. I cannot pass through the door.¡± Then Sal remembered something. ¡°Kaixo said I could use the coin to gain entry. ¡°He removed the copper coin from his pocket and held it high. ¡°I am another member of the New Astounders, unexpectedly. I would like to pass.¡± The coin disappeared. From on the other side of the doors, a lock clicked open, and the doors slid wide to show a massacre. It was a long hallway, dimly lit, and yes, part of the walls were copper, but there was also wood paneling there. Lanterns lit up the room. He moved inside, and there, on the floor, were butchered rat men, lying in pools of blood. He recognized the race of mythic monsters¡ªthe Ratfinks. They definitely had bronze armor and weapons, though they looked copper enough. Down at the other end of the hallway was another door, which was propped open. Sal walked past the dead Ratfinks, who were more of Alikor¡¯s creations. He avoided the pools of blood, which wasn¡¯t so very easy to do. ¡°Ugh, Ratfinks,¡± Betty complained. ¡°Even dead they smell bad. Alikor was just messing around when he created the rat men. No women. Just men. No way to get more except, you know, the old-fashioned way. Having a god create more.¡± ¡°Maybe this is Alikor¡¯s tower,¡± Sal mused. ¡°Probably not.¡± Betty sneezed. ¡°Excuse me. I might be allergic to rat man fur. Which is very different than my fine Gwynar fur.¡± They reached the other side of the room. Through the door was a wide circular room that had been blasted with fire. It had to be at least a hundred feet in diameter. There was a ledge on either side of a bowl-shaped basin in the floor. Lanterns hung in indentions in the wall at regular intervals. Down in the bowl, there were any number of smudges down there, and the scent of fried flesh hung in the air. Across the way, on the other side, was a copper door. ¡°This room feels too big for this to be in the same tower,¡± Sal mused. ¡°Should I be surprised that the Godspear is unnatural? No, no I am not.¡± ¡°Not natural at all, pal. But hey, let¡¯s focus.¡± Betty shifted in his pocket. ¡°Betcha a million dollars those were copper slops down there. Who doesn¡¯t love a good copper slop? They¡¯re like green slimes, only copperier. Oh, hey, watch out, the ledge has to be a trap.¡± Perfect timing. Sal walked onto a pressure plate, and the ledge turned into a slide. Luckily, his Youngin Reflexes kicked in. He managed to grab hold of a lantern¡¯s handle before falling to the bottom. With how slick and steep the sides were, he might¡¯ve perished down there when the rooms recent for the four o¡¯clock climbers. Sal was glad he had that extra point in his BodyWork. He was able to cross the missing ledge section to get to the other side, and then he was back walking. He hurried forward but couldn¡¯t find the door. He turned, and yes, he could see across the bowl. ¡®How long do you think before they reset the¡­¡± And then he saw the copper walls in the Ratfink hallway turn into molten metal, and the wood and everything else not metal burst into flames. The black, choking smoke boiled out of the hallway, as the bowl-shaped room started to melt under Sal¡¯s feet. His hands went to the wall, and it was hot to the touch. He was running out of time. Betty shrieked in fear. ¡°The door is there, buddy! We can¡¯t see it up close, but we know it¡¯s there. Just try it.¡± Sal¡¯s touched every part of the wall, and then he found it, a handle, hot to the touch. He pulled open the relatively secret door. There was another hallway, too long for the tower, and it had any number of machines, with cogs and clockwork and swinging blades. However, most of the contraption had already been smashed, and so, it was easy for Sal to dart through. There was one section that was just copper spikes sticking out of the wall. That trap hadn¡¯t been triggered, and Betty choked in a breath. ¡°Oh, buddy, watch out!¡± Again, his Youngin Reflexes saved his life. He ducked and dodged the flying spikes, darted between two sections of the hallway machine, and then found the body of one of Kaixo¡¯s New Astounders, Amira Torry had misjudged a trap and wound up with a spear through her very sleek, very black armor. It was a shame. He moved past her, more on high alert than ever. He ducked under some spears and found the next door. Behind him, all the copper was already melting. It was getting so hot that it was hard to breathe. Sal made it through the machine trap hallway and into a grand ballroom, where huge copper golems lay beaten and burned. They had been dressed in fine clothes, so much finery, that even Governor Ziggy might¡¯ve approved of their fashion. Once Sal entered the room, a band of automatons started to play music, and one last copper golem woman rose to her feet, gears inside her buzzing, as she swayed to and fro. She started across the room, heading toward him as the band started to melt, their copper bodies liquifying. Like with the Ratfink room, here in the grand ballroom, there was enough wood and cloth to start the fires burning, which brought terrible smoke. The band¡¯s music became muffled as their various instruments melted away, and it became a cacophony of the doomed. Sal held his breath as he raced through the room. He ducked the lady golem, as she tried to bust his head in even as her copper body betrayed her, the molten metal making her face turn into an oozy howling hole. Sal got splashed with her liquid copper, and his skin sizzled on his arm. The pain made him run faster. ¡°Was this a bad idea?¡± he asked. Betty was too scared to talk. That was a bad sign. They encountered more trap rooms, a barracks for the ratfinks, and in each room, the copper walls were burning away, and it was only by some miracle that Sal burst from the last hallway and into the dragon¡¯s lair. The place stank of wood smoke, molten copper, and roasting chicken. The copper dragon was there, above him, sitting on a platform. Only¡­the beast above him, wasn¡¯t alone. The last room on the level had one purpose and one purpose only¡ªto kill climbers. No wonder the New Astounders had lost two of their party. If Sal wasn¡¯t careful, he¡¯d up as a third casualty. If that happened, there was no telling what Dergle Driptongue would do to his diner. Chapter Forty-Three – The Copper Coop Chapter Forty-Three ¨C The Copper Coop Where do the chickens come from? Turtle man down! Too early for bacon. Playing dodge vomit. The Copper Key. The four bells. Sal stood at the entrance of the dragon¡¯s lair, only it was the strangest dragon he¡¯d ever seen. It had a beak and stubby little wings and had a very chicken-like appearance, despite it being scaly like a classic dragon. Around its neck hung a large copper key, the prize of the Tower floor, which would unlock the doors that would lead up to the silver level. As for it being a lair, it had the size for it. However, instead of being a gloomy cave, it was a brightly lit place with bright metal walls, catching every bit of light. The ceiling arched overhead, far bigger than it should¡¯ve been. That¡¯s where the dragon was, on a platform hanging from the ceiling with huge, man-sized links of bronze chains. Underneath the chicken dragon, there were rows of cages on either side of a central aisle. Sal was in a very strange kind of chicken coop, which he could confirm was an actual chicken coop, since he¡¯d recently visited such a place for impromptu dance lessons. The cage doors were all thrown open, and they were surprisingly nice, polished wood, fitted with copper hinges, well-crafted thanks to the magic governing the place. Bright lanterns shined on top of the cages, one for every cage. In front of the cages were treasure chests, covered in feathers and filth, with shovels leaning against them. On the floor were a variety of monster chickens, about the size of large dogs, covered in copper armor. Their natural sharp claws were augmented with copper blades, and their beaks were extra sharp thanks to metal helmets that covered their faces. There were a dozen demonically armored chickens, about to attack the new Astounders, who were hiding behind huge copper-stained bins, stained with chicken droppings. It was a smelly place to take refuge, but they had little choice. Behind them were huge copper doors, sealed shut, without doorknobs or keyholes. They reminded Sal of the doors that he¡¯d managed to access because he¡¯d had the copper coin. They¡¯d already killed a whole batch of the chicken monsters, and there were armored corpses everywhere, some hacked to death with swords, others burned with magical flame. Ronnel, the Primo archer, must¡¯ve survived the entire level because many of the dead chickens had arrows in their craws. Yes, there was his body, half-melted in a pool of cooling liquid copper. One section of the cages was smoldering, the wood seconds from catching. Was the room about to be reset? That generally wasn¡¯t the case, or so he thought, not until the next party was a room or two away. Or maybe he was wrong about that. Maybe the entire dungeon reset itself every four hours, but he didn¡¯t think so. Sal shouted out across the room. ¡°Kaixo, I have arrived! What can I do to aid you?¡± ¡°Did you bring bacon?¡± she called out. ¡°I have indeed!¡± Sal regretted his shouting. The room was too bright for his Umbra Cloak to work. There was no melting into the shadows, and he realized he had a problem. The dozen or so chickens had turned to see who had shown up to save the day. They all squawked, as did the dragon above. Sparky joined in, croaking and making panicked shrieking noises. He seemed to be trying to get the monsters¡¯ attention. It wasn¡¯t going to work because Sal was out in the open and the rest of the party had taken refuge behind the stained and stinking copper bins. Sal didn¡¯t pause but leapt into the closest cage and slammed it close. There was a locking mechanism on the outside, and he quickly reached through the bars and slammed it shut. The chickens came at the cage, trying to lift the latch with their metal-enhanced beaks. Sal managed to brandish the Fear Blade. ¡°Verily, chicken fiends, you must flee before my fearsome weapon.¡± The chickens did scream in fear, and ran away, but a second later, the dragon itself came flying down on tiny flapping wings. It slammed onto the ground and let out a squawking roar. Sal stared into the craw of the chicken dragon. Molten copper dripped down the thing¡¯s beak, and in the back of its throat, more copper was bubbling up. So that¡¯s where the copper puddles came from! This thing spat molten copper, or was it more like regurgitating copper? Or was Sal overthinking things? In the end, he simply didn¡¯t want to be covered in molten metal vomit, and yet, the thing was about to unload the contents of its stomach onto him. The Fear Blade didn¡¯t work on the chicken dragon, obviously, and for Sal, there was nowhere to run. A message flashed before his eyes. <<<>>> Wow! Talk About Being a Good Guy! Karmic Gauge increased by 25%. You are literally risking your life for your friends, knowing full well you can¡¯t harm even a single cog in a lady copper golem with that magic sword of yours. Current Karmic Gauge: 26% (Orange and Getting Oranger!) <<<>>> At least he wouldn¡¯t die with his Gauge in the red. He thought he would probably get more points if he survived his molten copper bath. Maybe. Sparky then flew right into the huge dragon¡¯s eyes, scratching, biting, and breathing fire. That little dragon saved Sal¡¯s life without a doubt. Kaixo appeared in a blur of motion thanks to the Speed Boots on her feet. She had the cage door open, and she was pulling him out, and then they were rolling across the floor. The rest of the party had come storming out of hiding. They ran into the middle of the armored chickens. Theovanni ran out with most of his body covered by that ridiculously large shield. Chickens fluttered to try and scratch his eyes out. The shield glowed white, giving him a shell of magic. With such a powerful shield, he probably didn¡¯t even need the plate mail. Chickens bounced off the force field around him, the kid had his sword out, and he was slashing through chickens, left and right. The big Torta warrior and his two-handed mace, he was crushing chickens in their armor, turning them into tinned chicken, something that Sal had eaten during a few of the longer campaigns. Sal was surprised to see how effective the hardened leather hauberk and bamboo armor was. Boomboom was also smashing armored chickens with his painted war hammer, which struck with a magical explosion every time it hit. It almost sounded like popcorn as it snapped, crackled, and popped through the armored demon birds. Chickens tried to rip through his magical chainmail, but the links held. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. But they still had that dragon to take care of. The beast had leapt off the floor, fluttering its feathery wings to return to the platform above. It then screamed as copper eggs came tumbling off the platform, striking the stone, and cracking open. It took a minute for Sal to realize the dragon was laying those eggs. Newly hatched chicken monsters burst out, shrieking. The metal eggs liquefied, covering the new chickens in their armor. So the armor was their old eggshells. Now that was a rather clever way of conserving resources. The dragon spat molten copper at them, and Sal¡¯s Youngin Reflexes kicked in. He pulled Kaixo to her feet and they ran to the cages on the other side of the room. A chicken tried to attack them. Sparky dove into the monster and both went rolling across the floor. Sal found himself shocked. He was in the middle of a battle for his very life, and he found his heart pounding. Breathing was hard, and yet, at the same time, he loved how he felt. It was the song of adrenaline! He couldn¡¯t hurt the dragon, but so far, he¡¯d only been rewarded for coming to help his friends. He wasn¡¯t sure of the rules, but he was only sure of one thing. He grabbed Kaixo by the arm. ¡°I have come bearing the Skycrack Wand and a willingness to aid you.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Always with the fancy words. Did you bring any Pork Power?¡± Sal opened his bag to see the bacon wrapped in a napkin at the very top. ¡°Verily, I have brought a strip of the Bacon Buff, but it hasn¡¯t been twenty-four hours, and I do not have a Gimm timepiece. How will we know when you can eat more to get the benefits?¡± Kaixo then flung up a hand, triggering the Shield Ring. Above her appeared a dome of pink light. molten copper ran down the side of the rivulets to sizzle on the ground. The Yaniri sorceress was sweating heavily. ¡°Give me the bacon and the wand and keep the dragon busy. Try and stop it from laying any more eggs. I¡¯ll give Boom the bacon, and I¡¯ll use the wand. We¡¯ll get a warning message when the four o¡¯clock climbers come in.¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure what that meant, but he did know that Kaixo wouldn¡¯t be able to eat more of the bacon. Boomboom, however, was a likely candidate for his magical food. A second later, Kaixo had both the wand and the Pork Power, and they were running away from the dragon. This wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d had to fight against such a fearsome monster. There had been this mountain leviathan he¡¯d faced, but he¡¯d had any number of spells back then. Still, if his job was to keep the thing busy, he could do that. And he could help out the other members of the New Astounders. He ran through the armored chickens, waving the Fear Blade around. The chickens squawked, flapped their wings, and fled. He turned just in time to face the dragon, and that huge beak, which came snapping at him. Left, right, left right, ducking dodging, and Sal was using every bit of his magically enhanced reflexes, though some of it was his old combat training from his time as a Dark Lord. He then went running back through the chickens with the dragon chicken chasing after him. Each of the other members of the New Astounders went to pounding on the dragon chicken, though it struck back, flinging the Torta, Testu Hemez, back against the cages. The dragon then turned and sprayed the poor turtle guy with molten copper. Testu managed to dodge some, but not all of the terrible attacks. The pain soon overwhelmed the turtle man, and thankfully, he fell unconscious. Theo sped over and hacked into the dragon. The kid made sure that he had the dragon¡¯s complete attention, and he did. The chicken beast tried to eat the dragonrider, starting with the shield. It was a bad place to start. The shield was spitting white energy, but it was keeping the kid safe. Kaixo raced over to Boomboom, holding out the bacon. ¡°Eat this! And heal Torta! Otherwise we¡¯re all dead!¡± The priest grinned. ¡°Bad time to be eating anything. And what¡¯s bacon?¡± ¡°Pork!¡± Kaixo yelled. Theo¡¯s shield magic vanished, and then the dragon started testing out that plate mail even as the kid hacked at the dragon. Kaixo raised the Skycrack wand. She shouted, ¡°Crack it!¡± Thunder exploded in the room, and lightning went forking out from the wand, missing the dragon completely. The electricity hit the cages, sparking off the doors, and scorching the wind. At least nothing caught fire. Sal remembered that Shivaun¡¯s mage wasn¡¯t very good using the wand, and he¡¯d wondered about that. Now he realized that it would take some practice getting it right. It was a poor time to realize such a thing. Theovanni was about to be ripped apart by the thing. Kaixo saw the same thing. She stowed the wand and used the Mercury Boots. She sped forward and suddenly a length of chain appeared in her hands. It was a chain whip with a dagger at the end, pointed and razor sharp. She flung the chain whip dagger first and it smacked into the chicken dragon¡¯s head. It snapped its head around to see who had dared to hurt it. Sal didn¡¯t pause. He sped forward, thinking that maybe they didn¡¯t have to kill the chicken dragon. The point of the entire level was to retrieve the copper key around the beast¡¯s neck. Sal had the Fear Blade out, and that kept the chickens from him. He raced forward and instead of attacking the dragon, he shoved the blade against the ribbon holding the key to the dragon¡¯s neck. A flick of his sword cut through the ribbon. The key fell to the floor, clanging like a large bell. Kaixo sped forward and picked it up. It was a huge key, the size of her arm, and Sal wasn¡¯t sure what he thought would happen, but nothing seemed to change. The armored chickens fluttered back in, and Theovanni batted several out of the sky while Sparky attacked another one. That poor mini dragon was scratched and bleeding, but still the brave little guy fought on. Torta was back on his feet, thanks to Boomboom and the slice of bacon. And it was only because the turtle warrior was there that Sal wasn¡¯t bit in half. Yes, the former Dark Lord had freed the key, but he was right next to the beast. Torta smacked the dragon¡¯s side, as did Boomboom. The dragon smacked Torta away, and then opened his beak to breathe a torrent of molten copper death right at the priest. His magical chainmail wasn¡¯t going to save him. Sal ran as fast as he could and threw himself into the healer. Both wound up on the floor with the dragon towering over them. There was no way they were going to stop that thing. They¡¯d hardly scratched it, and Kaixo tried the wand again, and this time, managed to send lightning into the platform. She was useless with that wand. Yes, they had the key, but there didn¡¯t seem to be a place to use it. The Dark Lord stared up into the dragon¡¯s beak coming down at him even as the message filled his vision. <<<>>> Wow! Karmic Gauge increased by 50%. You put yourself in harm¡¯s way to save that guy! Impressive! Current Karmic Gauge: 76% (A Very Righteous Blue!) <<<>>> Unseen bells clanged, so loudly, that one of the sections of cages crashed to the floor. The chicken dragon turned its head, seemingly confused. The armored chickens retreated to their cages, totally giving up on the fight. The bells clanged again, and that sent the dragon flying up onto its platform, where it hid its head under its wing. Theovanni stood, gasping for beath, with Sparky on his shoulder. ¡°What¡¯s going on, Mr. Fang?¡± Sal had no idea, but Betty did. He¡¯d been in Sal¡¯s pocket the entire time. ¡°If you have the key, and if the four o¡¯clock climbers are here, it seems that we might¡¯ve beaten this level!¡± Torta came staggering over, and would¡¯ve fallen, if he hadn¡¯t used his big mace as a cane. Boomboom limped over as well. He was going to need to dole out a whole new round of heal spells. The bells clanged a third, then a fourth time. The chimes of happy music followed, a full orchestra, playing too loudly for them to talk and hear each other. The armored chickens vanished in a flash of light, their armor clattering to the floor. The chicken dragon also disappeared, though it left behind the molten copper in its belly. It splashed down from the platform onto the floor. Sal and the rest of the New Astounders sped away to avoid the torrent. The sealed doors on the other side of the bins full of chicken droppings opened, and Gail Questor came out, all six feet of gaunt sorceress, with a somewhat disinterested look on her face. ¡°Oh, look, there are survivors. That is somewhat surprising. You were the New Astounders?¡± Kaixo came up with her chain whip dagger in her hands. ¡°We are the New Astounders you mean,¡± she said defiantly. Gail nodded and consulted her clipboard. ¡°So there are four survivors. You have the one corpse.¡± She motioned to Ronnel¡¯s body. ¡°Do you want me to take it, or do you want us to get rid of it?¡± Kaixo contemplated the body for a second, and then shrugged. ¡°All of Ronnel¡¯s family had already left Allbreath quite a while ago. I don¡¯t think the Primogeny care all that much about having the actual body at the funeral. We¡¯ll do a tasteful memorial service. We¡¯re fine with that.¡± Sal realized that she¡¯d counted him as one of the members, and hadn¡¯t considered Amira Torrey in the hallway of traps. Gail made some marks on her clipboard. ¡°Very well. You have fifteen minutes to loot the room, and then we¡¯ll reset it. It will take a while for the four o¡¯clockers to get here. Then I¡¯ll escort you out. Congratulations on getting the Copper Key. It is an impressive accomplishment, given how many have tried and failed.¡± She kept the door open but meandered out, flipping pages on her clipboard, like she was taking inventory at a general store in Caya Idle and not managing the world¡¯s most incredible tower. Chapter Forty-Four – Fathers and Confessions Awkwardness. Flawed fathers. Birds of a feather confess together. Treasure chest. The secret of their success. Pools of blood. Sal breathed out a sigh. He and most of the New Astounders were still alive. And Gail didn¡¯t seem to care that he had sneaked into the Tower. Or would she care when they all went to leave? He remembered how they had ceremoniously shouted out the names of the party before they entered. That seemed like days instead of hours ago. Sal found an empty chest to sit on, near the door. He wasn¡¯t in that kind of combat shape anymore, and he was exhausted beyond belief. Then he remembered even with the additional point, his BodyWork stats were still so low. Boomboom healed Theovanni, who¡¯d had bad gashes on his arms. The kid¡¯s armor was going to need to be repaired, and that was going to take some effort, since it was magical. Sal was just glad that the dragonrider and his dragon had survived. His bacon had a lot to do with their success. If Torta hadn¡¯t been healed, Sal would¡¯ve wound up a copper statue. The turtle man, the priest, and the dragonrider chatted quietly as they went through chests scattered around the room. The real treasure was the Copper Key. That would unlock more riches above. Kaixo came over, sniffling. She kept wiping her eyes. She sat down next to him. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you came.¡± Sal was too exhausted to say a word. They sat in silence for a long time. Finally, the sorceress spoke. ¡°I can¡¯t believe¡­you can take me to court¡­but I can¡¯t believe you came to save us. I¡¯ll never, ever forget this.¡± Sal inhaled deeply and let it slowly. ¡°All I ask in recompense is that when you go out there with the Copper Key, you say you simply could not have done it without the Champion Caf¨¦¡¯s Bacon Buff.¡± ¡°Recompense?¡± Kaixo knocked him with her knee. ¡°You sure do like them big words. Look, Sal, I know it¡¯s been weird between us since you, uh, and I, uh, did the thing.¡± That made Sal laugh. The rest of the party was across the room, carefully opening boxes, and piling the treasure into one chest. ¡°You know, if they overheard that, they would assume things about us of a very personal nature.¡± Kaixo didn¡¯t laugh at the joke. She looked at him, deadly serious. ¡°I know you saw me, in Yanhome. Did you see me with Foible. He was kind of a father figure to me. He took in orphaned thieves and protected us while we did our thieving thing. He took a percentage, yeah, but he kept us safe.¡± ¡°His was Foible? As in a minor weakness in character?¡± Sal asked. ¡°Street kid here, buster. Vocabulary isn¡¯t my strong suit. He was just Foible to us. Did you see¡­I mean, do you know why I was in court?¡± Sal shook his head. ¡°No, and neither did I see you with this Foible. I have been wondering, much to my dismay, what you have seen in my past.¡± Kaixo turned away from him and her voice fell. ¡°Something about your father. Did you kill him, Sal?¡± The former Dark Lord cleared his throat. ¡°No. I cast powerful magic and removed him from this world. It was a death, maybe. I do not know. But he is banish¡¯d, as the old poets used to write.¡± It was perhaps Sal¡¯s greatest sins, all to get the Deux Coin, because his father wouldn¡¯t give it to him. And if he stole it, he knew that his father, Mickey, would come for it. Sal had grown up hearing stories about the gods, and how the Deux Coins bounced around them, going from one generation to the next. That final night came back to him. Once he¡¯d learned where his father, the Dark Lord Mickey had the Deux Coin, he knew what he had to do. He drew the banishment circle with trembling hands, and when his courage failed him, he remembered that in the pursuit of ultimate power, the ambitious were willing to make ultimate sacrifices. Right then, as terrible as it was, he knew that his grandfather, the Dark Lord Mood, would¡¯ve been proud of him. Once the circle was completed outside on the back porch¡¯s cobblestones, Sal had gone in, telling his father he was done working for his failing restaurant. He knew that would get his father concerned. Sal had been ancient at that time, 1500 years old, and he¡¯d spent a good portion of that time as an outcast, or in hiding, or working for his dumb father¡¯s failing restaurant, which after a hundred years, was still a failure. Sal¡¯s wife had just died, and it was like he had nothing to lose. His words came back to him. I am leaving forever, father, for I cannot stand the sight of you and your pathetic attempts at cooking. No, son, wait! While my eggs have never been good, I have to stand by my cookies. In the end, the Dark Lord Mickey had been right. Here it was, five hundred years later, and his recipe was still very popular in Caya Idle. According to Dergle, the demon had very little trouble finding it. The minute Mickey¡¯s feet were in the banishment circle, he was taken away, teleported randomly to someplace else, places distant or in-between. Sal never saw him again. He took the Deux Coin and spent the next five hundred years conquering as much of the world as he could. In truth, he was able to conquer a good portion of it. While Sal was tortured by his memories, Kaixo didn¡¯t say a word. It was like she could feel his discomfort. Perhaps she could. She inched away from him. ¡°That¡¯s rough, Sal, banishing your own father. I don¡¯t need to know why. This stuff is personal, yeah, but I have to tell you why I was in court. I didn¡¯t kill anyone, if you were thinking that. I robbed a whole bunch of people, though, but it was mostly just for small coinage. I did some pickpocketing, some simple scams, nothing major. Except this one house. Me and Carson broke in, and it was going to be a big score all right. We didn¡¯t think the lord would be home. But then, Carson, he, uh, killed the guy. And we got caught. We were both going to be hung. Our fate was sealed, as they say. So I made a deal with the constable there. I would give him Foible, if he gave me a hundred gold and got me into the Sorceria Universitas. And if he spared Carson.¡± Sal listened carefully to her voice, and he heard the pain in her words. He then realized that he had Betty in his pocket. She wasn¡¯t saying anything, but she could hear every word. It took several moments for Kaixo to continue. ¡°The police wanted Foible. I mean, he was a crime lord to them, and the constable had some kind of beef. So I betrayed him, turned him in, and I thought the constable would come through. That whole deal was a mixed bag. Carson went to a penal colony in the Rain Islands. That was kind of like murder in the end because word has it, he didn¡¯t survive the trip. As for me, I got fifty gold, and a sorcery tutor, some dark-hearted Sorceria Universitas dropout. I thought the constable would bury my record. Nope.¡± Her voice dropped. ¡°That¡¯s why I couldn¡¯t get in with the Old Astounders. My record wasn¡¯t clean. Criminals can¡¯t be Tower Climbers.¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°So, we have walked a similar path,¡± Sal said quietly. ¡°We both betrayed fathers who loved us. You felt the guilt. I never did until¡­recently. I would undo things if I could.¡± Kaixo turned to face him, and she finally could look into his eyes. ¡°Now you know, so it doesn¡¯t need to be weird between us anymore. We both know each other¡¯s secrets. And we don¡¯t have to hate each other.¡± ¡°No, we do not,¡± Sal agreed. He felt comfortable, looking into her eyes, and he knew that they could be friends now. He nodded at her party who was piling the treasure into a chest, and then helping to strap it on the giant turtle warrior¡¯s back. ¡°Are you not worried that your team might betray you? Kaixo rolled her eyes. ¡°Boomboom would never do me like that. He¡¯s like Fabrizio¡¯s twin, a total goody-two shoes. But he legitimately worships math instead of the gods. Like, you think I¡¯m kidding, but I¡¯m not. And I probably should be suspicious of Testu because he¡¯s shady as Abyssmuck at midnight, but Theovanni is there, and the kid is too young to do me wrong. Besides, because of his family, he¡¯s just as painfully moral as Boom.¡± Sal was about to question Theovanni¡¯s heritage when the sorceress raised her hand. ¡°Don¡¯t ask. It¡¯s long and painful like all family histories. Let¡¯s just get going.¡± ¡°Do you think it will be a problem that I was not an original team member?¡± Sal asked. ¡°I cannot lie if questioned.¡± Kaixo shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t know. But I can and will lie my butt off to walk out of here with that Copper Key. Too bad you can¡¯t, with that whole Karmic Gauge thing going on.¡± Then she fixed her eyes on him. ¡°You still have more secrets, don¡¯t you?¡± That was when Betty climbed a bit out of his pocket, to wave at Kaixo. Luckily, the mouse didn¡¯t say a word. Sal shivered as he smiled. ¡°And Betty is one of them. She¡¯s my friend. Perhaps my best friend.¡± ¡°Why am I not surprised you have a mouse in your pocket? Is that like the banshee in your kitchen?¡± Sal found some laughter. ¡°I suppose both are very connected. You know more about me than I would have first thought. And yet, you continue to have more secrets, do you not?¡± His eyes went to the tattoo on her skull, the one with the hand impaled by the dagger. She adjusted her scarves. ¡°Yeah, buddy. Secrets. A whole buttload. Though I don¡¯t have much of a butt left, not after all the fasting and no dairy.¡± ¡°Then we will get to know each other slowly and carefully.¡± Sal stood and reached out a hand. Kaixo¡¯s smile was slow in coming. ¡°Yeah, slowly and carefully, like a day in court.¡± She took his hand, and he helped her stand. Sal had a question for her. ¡°I am surprised that simply possessing the key was enough when the other team started. Do you think the same strategy would work on other levels?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know for sure. Rumor has it, they all work a little differently. But I¡¯m as surprised as you. I figured we had to kill the chicken dragon. Just glad you were here.¡± Sal felt some pride right then. He¡¯d shown up to help his friends. He didn¡¯t need any kind of reward. How he was feeling was reward enough. He and Kaixo joined the others. With the Torta lugging the chest strapped to his shell, they left the Copper Coop and walked into the Copper Gate room. Gail swept her hand out. The doors behind them shut, and they heard the hiss of the copper liquefying. There would be a great deal of smoke from the cages, though Sal couldn¡¯t smell a thing. Behind Gail was a huge wooden door with copper hinges and a big copper lock, the perfect size for the key in Kaixo¡¯s hands. The floor had thick, rich carpet that Sal sank down into. There were a few chairs and tables with lanterns lighting things up. It might¡¯ve been a lobby in a nice inn. A rather bare corridor branched off to the right. Theovanni and Boomboom couldn¡¯t stop talking. The kid¡¯s voice popped and cracked with excitement. ¡°Oh my goat, but we have at least a thousand gold pieces, and too bad we had to leave some of that silver behind, but we couldn¡¯t take it all. We found those eggs, in the carton, and I know they do something, but I don¡¯t know what. They smell funny, not like rotten, but like something else. Then we have some magic ribbon, not sure if it¡¯s magic or not, but I would hope it is. I dunno. And then there was the daggers, and we think you should have them Kaixo. There was the sewing kit, and wouldn¡¯t that be awesome if it, like, was magic.¡± Boomboom nodded. His voice was deep, and he talked slowly, with a big smile on his face. ¡°You betcha, Sonny Jim. The sewing kit has to be magical. And the doilies. You forgot about the doilies.¡± Sal had lived for thousands of years, and yet, in all that time, he had never heard of magical doilies before. Gail shook her clipboard at them. ¡°I¡¯m sure you are all very excited. Now, when you turn in your TCR forms, we¡¯ll need all the same information that was submitted before. However¡ªand this is important¡ªyou¡¯ll need to put in Silver Level, not level two, not the second level, not the one above Copper, but Silver Level in the Level Request Field. You¡¯ll see it. And if you decide to change the name of your party, you can, though that might hurt you if you are looking for sponsors. If you do change the name, in the Party Tracking Number field, you¡¯ll need to use the same number that you were assigned. For the New Astounders, that would be 652371. That¡¯s important. And you¡¯ll need the names of your roster. You have five, but I would recommend at least six. Remember, the max is twelve.¡± ¡°What is the minimum?¡± Sal asked. Gail didn¡¯t answer. Was that because he wasn¡¯t an official New Astounder? Torta snapped his beak, grunted, and shifted the chest around. ¡°It would be one, sirrah. Just the one.¡± Gail snorted. ¡°Like anyone could run the Tower by themselves. We¡¯ve had people try. Not recommended.¡± She then motioned to the door behind her. ¡°That¡¯s where you¡¯ll use the Copper Key. The corridor back is through there. I¡¯ll wait here. My new assistant, Mack Munchkibble, will be out front. There is quite a crowd. He will handle the triumphant proclamations.¡± Sal appreciated her vocabulary. He whispered to Kaixo. ¡°What does TCR stand for?¡± ¡°Tower Climb Request.¡± The sorceress sighed. ¡°It¡¯s depressing that I have resubmit all the same paperwork. It¡¯s such a pain my flippin¡¯ backside.¡± In short order, he walked with his friends down the corridor which seemed to follow the outer part of the tower. It didn¡¯t seem like it was this extradimensional space like the inside of the tower. They circled around, talking while they walked. Testu Hemez grunted, ¡°How much does the kid want?¡± For a second, Sal thought he was talking about Theovanni. Then he remembered that he was only a few years older than the dragonrider. ¡°Verily, I need no treasure. However, when asked, remind people of the Champion Caf¨¦ and emphasize the Bacon Buffs. Promote my restaurant, and we shall call it even.¡± ¡°No way, sir!¡± Theovanni erupted. ¡°We would¡¯ve died if it wasn¡¯t for you. Please, take some gold.¡± Kaixo jumped in. ¡°Yeah, Sal, you have to take some gold.¡± Sal only laughed. ¡°Come to the caf¨¦, spend it on food, and bring your friends. That will be payment enough.¡± They followed the curving hallway, went down a small set of steps, and then opened a door, which Sal hadn¡¯t seen when he¡¯d hurried into the level before. They left through the main archway, and when they emerged, the crowd cheered. It was night, and a cooling breeze blew in from the water. There was a bit of autumn in the air. Magical lanterns hung on posts on either side of the entrance, giving them plenty of light. A Yaniri man, very tall with a sculpted hair, and an unbuttoned shirt showing chest hair hurried over. He wore the purple and gold of the Yanir, and his large boots were exceptionally ornate. He was very thin, and yet, you didn¡¯t notice that because of the height and complexity of his hair. It truly was a monument to fashion and personal grooming. He hurried over. ¡°The New Astounders? We are astounded! Talk about a last-minute surprise, we are all amazed at how well you did! Kaxio Allakarra, what was your secret?¡± Kaixo settled the key on her hip, next to where her chain whip was rolled up. ¡°Well, Mr. Munchkibble, I couldn¡¯t have done it without the power bacon I ate from the Champion Caf¨¦ just down the way in Champion Plaza. It increased my Mana by ten percent. And you can take me to court if it didn¡¯t.¡± People cheered, and everyone wanted to talk with the four surviving members of the New Astounders, but Sal wanted to get back to his restaurant. And he didn¡¯t want anyone asking too many questions about his involvement. In the end, he wasn¡¯t a New Astounder, and so he didn¡¯t feel comfortable standing with them. He easily mixed in with the crowd, moving down Tower Road to his street and then hurrying into the plaza. There, he was greeted by Dergle, sitting on the restored statue of Kenny, the water burbling out of the sword to cover the heroic knight. Lanterns decorated the basin, and in that lanternlight, Sal saw blood on the newly laid stones and the fresh concrete. The ash demon breathed out flames. ¡°I know the truth, master. You are the light of my life and the darkness between my butt cheeks. However, you have been lying to me.¡± Chapter Forty-Five – The Disgruntled Demon The truth comes out. Friends don¡¯t let friends torture each other. Ghosts and peaches. A fistful of spells. Accepting help. Sal still had the Fear Blade, and he thought about pulling it from its sheath. It would be a dramatic gesture. It also might frighten Dergle away, but probably not. What were the ethics of killing your own personal hellspawn? Sal was so close to Level 3 that he didn¡¯t really want to find out. He did have any number of questions. He started what he hoped would turn out to be an easy one. ¡°Mr. Driptongue, I find all of these pools of blood both surprising and troubling. Might you enlighten me on their exact nature?¡± Dergle leapt from the fountain and landed in front of Sal. Betty emerged from his pocket. ¡°Easy now, Dergle. If you kill our friend here, I can¡¯t abuse myself on his chocolate-chip cookies, and there¡¯s a good chance you¡¯ll be sent back to the Abyssmuck.¡± ¡°Kill him?¡± Dergle slurped, laughed, and slurped some more. ¡°I would never kill my beloved master, my dearest lord who haunts my dreams nightly. Nay. And remember, Mouse, those cookies were mine. I found the recipe. I baked them. But the entire task was tiresome and unnecessary. I know the truth, master. You are done with world domination. Now, all you care about is diner domination.¡± Sal kept his hand on the Fear Blade. ¡°You are not wrong, Mr. Driptongue. I told you my focus is on the diner. Where did this blood come from?¡± Dergle¡¯s mouth dropped open into an ashy, spitty smile. ¡°I shall not simply go from one inane task to another. I long to serve you in the most critical way possible. And that means getting this fountain working and this square finished. The churchly oldsters were not working to their potential. I took over construction. Some disagreed with my actions, and I simply defended myself. It was self-defense. A few lost skin over the matter. No one was slaughtered.¡± The demon was eying him, to see his reaction. Sal figured that if his minion had murdered anyone, there would¡¯ve been messages from his Mysterious Benefactor. ¡°I did not tell you to do that, Mr. Driptongue. You have displeased me.¡± Sal was mostly displeased. Mostly. A working fountain did help him, and Dergle had done an amazing job. Had the ash demon taken exterior design classes? The demon called him out by roaring, ¡°Liar! This solves your biggest problem! Your wretched diner can now get traffic unimpeded. You have been cruel to me, your best and most loyal minion, giving me busy work to do. Busy work! I should be murdering for you daily. I should be enslaving customers, forcing them to eat at your diner upon pain of death! We would be rich by now, and then, I could kill the governor, and you could rule over the entire city, then all of Torment Island, and then the world! What is the meaning of this, Salvanguish! Why are you not bathing in the blood of the innocent?¡± Sal smiled. ¡°It is a fair question. I have changed, Mr. Driptongue.¡± ¡°Then I will change you back. I will torture you until you are properly evil again!¡± Dergle leapt at him, and Sal might¡¯ve been impaled on his claws, if he didn¡¯t leap to the side. ¡°Dergle!¡± Betty wailed. ¡°You¡¯re not being a good minion!¡± ¡°Maybe not a good minion but the best of demons!¡± Dergle slashed at Sal, who ducked and dodged the claws, the snapping jaws, and the prehensile tongue, and then turned and ran. He found himself running for the doors to his caf¨¦. But they were closed. Were they locked? There would be no way for him to grab his key and get inside before his minion tore off most of his skin. The rules were fuzzy when it came to torture as far as the master/minion relationship. Dergle couldn¡¯t kill him, no, because that would server their connection and the demon would wind up back in the Abyssmuck. However, a little torture probably wouldn¡¯t damage their bond too much. The old Sal had all the power he needed to expel Dergle out of the world. The new Sal, though, could only cook bacon, which at the moment, wasn¡¯t any kind of help. Shivaun threw open the doors just when Sal needed her to. He sped inside, and tried to get the doors closed, but Dergle burst in. The demon grabbed Sal and tossed him over a table into more chairs, and then the demon breathed fire at him. Another table caught fire for a second, but only a second, because a hurricane chill wind came sweeping over them. That was the banshee, making sure the demon didn¡¯t burn down the place. Sal went from sweating to freezing. He got to his feet, whipped out the sword, and thrust it in the face of the ash demon. ¡°Be gone, Minion. Go back to the Abyssmuck!¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Dergle only laughed. ¡°You do not have the power you once did, my master, my joy, my everything. That is why I think I can torture you back to being evil. By the way, your little toy blade is not fearsome to me, though I can feel the magic emanating from its enchanted metal.¡± The ash demon grabbed the blade and plucked it out of Sal¡¯s hands. He then tossed it over his shoulder. Dergle opened his mouth wide, and his prehensile tongue lashed out to latch onto Sal. That would¡¯ve hurt because Dergle¡¯s spit was basically liquid hellfire. Suddenly, Shivaun was there, between them. The banshee caught the tongue in a pale fist. She shrieked into his face, and the demon yelped, and managed to shove her aside. Shivaun went spinning away, and abruptly she vanished. She¡¯d most likely exhausted the energy fueling her. Dergle¡¯s tongue was frozen, and he tried to get it back into his mouth, but it had been damaged. It lolled out of his mouth. ¡°That hurt!¡± the demon said in a strangled voice. He snatched up a table and tried to bash Sal with it. The former Dark Lord ran to another table, which the demon smashed, and more chairs were turned into kindling under the feet of the demon. Sal¡¯s diner was being destroyed! Dergle swept up his wind and his ash and sent it all right into Sal¡¯s face, and Sal couldn¡¯t dodge a hot, ashy cloud. All that stuff went right into his eyes. He staggered back, tripped on a broken chair, and fell against the wall. Shivaun wasn¡¯t there to save him, and Betty couldn¡¯t do anything except plead for their lives. ¡°Dergle, come on, you can¡¯t be serious about this torture stuff, buddy. You have to know that torture isn¡¯t good for friendships.¡± Dergle only roared with his frozen tongue hanging out of his mouth. He drove his claws into Sal¡¯s shoulder, and the pain was bright, and he knew that his resurrection was most likely over. He¡¯d done some good, and his diner would¡¯ve been a big hit, now that the fountain was fixed, and he had his Bacon Buffs. Too bad, it wasn¡¯t meant to be. A terrible smell flooded through the restaurant, so strong, that Dergle turned and even withdrew his claws from Sal¡¯s mangled shoulder to clutch his nose. ¡°What is that delightful odor?¡± Dergle sniffed, tears brimming in his eyes. ¡°It reminds me home.¡± Tony Belly was helping out, this time, by using his stench for good rather than evil. Then a peach came flying through the air and hit the demon right on his toady snout. It gave Sal enough time to scurry back and get to his feet. He raised his fists. Tears streamed down from his cheeks from Tony Belly¡¯s stink, though the former Dark Lord was grateful for the ghost¡¯s help. ¡°Dergle, I do not want to fight you. I would like your aid in making my caf¨¦ a success.¡± Dergle ducked another peach. ¡°I gave you help. I finished the fountain. And you did not care, master. I have given you the best years of my life, and you do not care!¡± ¡°I care!¡± Sal protested. ¡°Dergle, I love that Champion Plaza has a working fountain. And you added the lanterns. It was exceptional work. I can tell you took time to find the perfect lanterns, for they match d¨¦cor so delightfully. It really was excellent work, though I am displeased that you flayed the elderly Templars.¡± Dergle softened. ¡°As I have said, my master and my meaning, they attacked me while I worked. I merely defended myself.¡± Movement out of the corner of his eye showed Kaixo there, and she wasn¡¯t alone. Theovanni had come to join the party as well, with Sparky on his shoulder, looking exhausted. The dragon still had wounds from his time fighting armored chickens in the tower. Shadows swirled around Kaixo¡¯s fists, and the darkness itself collected around her shoulders and became like a second cloak for her. Shivaun had vanished, and yet, the temperature in the place had dropped several degrees. Then Kaixo¡¯s eyes flashed with crackling lighting. They sparked off the Skycrack Wand in her fist. She looked very daunting, and right then, Sal knew that Shivaun would let the Yaniri sorceress have the wand for keeps. All in all, Sal was impressed. She had Shade Fist ready, along with Bleak Armor, and then there was that cool lightning eyes spell that was working well with the wand. She couldn¡¯t have had that much power, since she¡¯d only been resting a short time, and yet, she was making a good show of it. ¡°Demon!¡± Sal thundered. ¡°I do believe you should make a hasty retreat. Return only when your desire is to serve me and this diner righteously and obediently.¡± Dergle glanced over at the newcomers, took one look at Kaixo, and vanished. Sal collapsed to the floor. A peach rolled over to him and he picked it up. ¡°Thank you, specters. And thank you, my friends.¡± But he realized the extent of the damage. His little caf¨¦ had been reduced to kindling. The lightning left Kaixo¡¯s eyes, as did the shadows covering her fists and the bleakness around her shoulders. The place was warm again. ¡°What was that thing?¡± Kaixo asked. Sparky flew over, whining, as it landed on Sal and licked his face. The tongue was surprisingly soft, and yet, very warm and wet, completely disgusting. Why was this dragon licking him? ¡°It was a demon,¡± Sal said. ¡°But he is gone. He didn¡¯t believe in the grand cause of my caf¨¦. He did help me with the fountain, however, and for that, I will be forever grateful.¡± Theovanni blinked. ¡°You had a demon working for you?¡± Sal niffed the air. Tony Belly had dropped his stench, though a foul fragrance remained. ¡°The demon was foisted on me, and I had to use him. Not to shock you, but I have several ghosts aiding me. It is a very long story, and perhaps, someday, we can all share our secrets.¡± Kaixo huffed in a laugh. ¡°Yeah. Maybe. Someday. You wanna come clean about your past, kid?¡± Theo winced. ¡°Not any time soon, mister.¡± Sal was glad to hear that they were all on the same page. Kaixo strode in and picked up one of the few chairs that wasn¡¯t broken. ¡°I¡¯m thinking you ¡®re going to need a cut of our treasure to buy new furniture.¡± Sal went to argue. He couldn¡¯t. The upside was that he would get Karma points for accepting help. His Mysterious Benefactor had been clear on that point. Accepting help was as important as offering help, and the reality was, Sal needed all the help he could get. Dergle was gone for the moment, but the demon was bound to return. Kaixo left the caf¨¦ with the Skycrack Wand in a special sheath on her belt. Chapter Forty-Six – One Peeved Pontra The long line. Food magic? The priestess appreciates the finished fountain. Fake smiles. Of ghosts and demons. Dishes and friendship. Tuesday, the traffic to the diner was far heavier than usual, but Sal wasn¡¯t ready for the crowds that came in on that Wednesday morning, where he only had table settings for half of his patrons. There was a line outside, and by noon, it was stretching down to Tower Road. Theovanni took over serving the food that Shivaun was cooking at lightning speed. Sparky was in the back, breathing fire every so often to keep the stoves burning as hot as possible. Sal went out to the end of the line and went up to a couple of cat boys, fully armored, with long knives attached to their gauntlets. The Filinar guys nodded at him as he approached them. He knew Hajawan, so he could speak to them in their native language, only his cat accent wasn¡¯t as good as he would¡¯ve liked. ¡°Greetings and purrings, my friends. What is this line for?¡± One of the cat boys, a tigerish sort of fellow with black and orange stripes tapped his claws against his leg. ¡°Purrings to you, friend. There is a caf¨¦ in Champion Plaza. It just opened, but it has something called backmeat. It gives one Mana. If you have the coin. Which we do.¡± The other one, a lion man with a mane, shook his head. ¡°No, all the food is magical. And it¡¯s called Backon, as it turns your Mana back on.¡± Sal only smiled. ¡°I believe the cut of the pig is called bacon. And yes, there was magical bacon, but it sold out early. Not all of the food is magical.¡± The tiger boy looked disgusted. ¡°No, the food is magical. I don¡¯t mean to hiss, sir, but don¡¯t speak unless you are certain of the facts.¡± Sal stepped back as more people got in line. ¡°I suppose you are right.¡± He wasn¡¯t going to argue the point, since both of the cat boys were intent on believing what they wanted. They would in time understand the nature of his diner. At some point, he would have a variety of magical food, once he got more powerful. Yes, he might¡¯ve gotten a few Karma points for insisting on telling them truth, though at the same time, getting the Karma points was rather easy, since so many in Tower City needed so much help. He was on his way back to the caf¨¦ when he saw the elderly Templars, crowding around the finished fountain. Most of them had bandages on various parts of their body, thanks to Dergle. The Pontrafax Genetrix, Kizi Adamu, stood with her arms crossed and permanent scowl on her face. When she saw Sal, she marched over to him. ¡°What is the meaning of this? You, there. What is your name again? Sal Dang?¡± ¡°Sal Fang,¡± he said softly. He didn¡¯t have the Fear Blade because he wasn¡¯t about to carry a sword around. That was only asking for trouble. ¡°What is the meaning of what, Pontra? The fountain seems mostly repaired, though I have it on good authority that it will be turned on this Saturday morning, to celebrate the end of summer and the opening of Champion Plaza proper.¡± His good authority was Betty Don¡¯t-Bite. She¡¯d overheard a couple of government officials who would be providing the Gimm technology that would turn on both the lanterns and the water pump. Dergle had done a fabulous job with his repairs. At the same time, Ziggy was finally coming through, though he¡¯d said that the fountain was the church¡¯s responsibility, and he had a special relationship with that particular religious organization. Speaking of which, Sal had already sent word to Governor Ziggy about the Saturday celebration. He also sent letters to the five Braggadorio families, on Tony Belly¡¯s old stationary, about the grand opening of Champion Plaza. There would be music that night after it got dark. It was going to be a wild day of food and festivities. Sal had not sent the Pontra an invitation. For obvious reasons. He invited the Braggadorios to set up booths to sell their various, and of course, only Otto Ovum and Hamletti Hooftop had responded. The other three families hadn¡¯t yet, though they still had three days until the big unveiling. His new furniture would also arrive on Saturday morning, including four tables, eight chairs, and three new umbrellas. Sal was going to keep the scorched one. It filled his heart with an odd joy, remembering his first encounter with Theovanni and his tiny dragon. The Pontra¡¯s eyes became slits. ¡°You. You and that demon are cahoots. You are a tool of evil.¡± ¡°If I were, your grace, I do believe that the fountain would have been fixed far earlier. It was a hardship on me and my business.¡± He forced a smile. ¡°But let us leave all of that behind us, shall we?¡± Kizi Adamu opened her mouth, closed it, and then put on her own fake smile. ¡°I was very relieved to see that your business managed to survive the construction. I did push my Templars to hurry. Perhaps you are right. Let us leave all of that unfortunate business behind us. Saturday, you say, is when we are celebrating the fountain being finished. I suppose all are invited?¡± Sal could see the wheels already turning in her mind. ¡°Yes, Pontra, all are invited who have the best interests of Champion Plaza in mind. It will be a peaceful, happy day, and I hope that it will usher in a new era for this part of town. It was once a beloved place.¡± ¡°Oh, it was,¡± she agreed. ¡°I would also like to see this part of town enjoy a renaissance. It is so near to the church, but I do have worries, however, about the ghosts, the demons, the dark things that haunt the buildings. You have ghosts in your diner, do you not?¡± His first inclination was to lie. He so wanted to lie. It would be too easy to lie. Instead, he told the exact truth. ¡°I have learned to live with the ghosts that are in my diner, and they do not bother the customers anymore, and so, they do not bother me.¡± Every word was the truth. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The Pontra cocked her head to the side. ¡°Can the same be said for the demon that hurt my poor Templars, all in the prime of their lives. Sal didn¡¯t roll his eyes, though that took some effort. ¡°The same can be said for the demon, though after he hurt your people, my friends and I fought him and managed to convince him to leave. He is gone for now. If Grandmother Maker is kind, he will not return.¡± Kizi Adamu furrowed her brow. ¡°So you admit that you have had dealings with the demon?¡± ¡°Unwanted dealings. Yes. If I never saw the ash demon again, I would not weep.¡± Again, telling the truth was so very easy. In his heart of hearts, though, Sal knew he wasn¡¯t done with Dergle Driptongue. The demon would return, he had to, because they were bonded, and yet, Sal had given the demon very specific instructions¡ªreturn only when your desire is to serve me and this diner righteously and obediently. Knowing the ash demon, it would take a bit for Dergle to come up with way around that order. Sal only hoped that Shivaun would remember how to make the chocolate-chip cookies, because they were very good. Missing out on them would make Betty sad at the very least. Serving them felt like honoring his father¡¯s memory. The Pontra Genetrix studied him. ¡°It seems you have an answer for everything.¡± Sal bowed. ¡°I am merely trying to run a successful restaurant, which should benefit my neighbors as well as the town.¡± ¡°So it would seem.¡± The Pontra then got even sweeter, teeth-achingly so. ¡°I am your neighbor, the closest one outside of that wretched tower, and if I can ever help you, please, I beg of you, let me know.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Sal said simply. ¡°I know the Church wishes the best for all peoples everywhere.¡± Did the Pontra almost roll her eyes? Now, that would be very funny if that were the case. But alas, no. The Pontra snapped her fingers. ¡°Come, my Templars. Let us leave this very responsible businessman to his daily duties. I will attempt to tell my congregation of Saturday¡¯s joyous occasion. A working fountain in Champion Plaza is a glorious occasion.¡± She said like she¡¯d just taken a sip of a very sour lemonease. She walked away in a huff, with her beaten and bandaged retinue falling in after her. Sal knew that she wasn¡¯t about to change. A thriving Champion Plaza would be bad for her business. No, she would continue to spread the rumors of ghosts and demons in the square, and she would come up with other ways to bring about his undoing. Sal had to wonder about his life. To think, dealing with the demon was easier than dealing with the Pontra. At least with the demon, he got cookies. That night, after the busiest day so far, Sal walked back to Confusion Street and the Body & Mind Tables. He wasn¡¯t there in time to set up, but he was there to help Fabrizio do the dishes. Like before, Sal washed and the Ponti dried and put stuff away. The former Dark Lord told him all about his encounter with Kizi Adamu. Fabrizio sighed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sal, that she has it in for you. But maybe now that she sees how serious you are, she¡¯ll change her tune. That could happen, right?¡± Sal had to splash the priest with some soapy water. ¡°Do not be na?ve, my friend. She does not want a vibrant Champion Plaza. Believe me, she has only just begun to endeavor to shut me down and return the plaza to its former haunted state.¡± ¡°Oh boy, Sal. You¡¯re probably right. I¡¯ll see what I can do, though she doesn¡¯t care much for what I think. She¡¯s in charge, and I¡¯m just out here, feeding people and getting people to read. Oh, and speaking of reading, my Gorbin is getting better. Did you know they have a whole library of Young Adult books? I am very impressed, and quite excited. How did things go with the Gorbin on Sunday?¡± Sal told him, and Sal realized he hadn¡¯t gotten any Karma Points for coming to do dishes. Interestingly enough, he didn¡¯t care at all. He was just glad to be there helping his friend. A second later, the message came, giving him enough points to get to purple, or 85%. The message said something about him simply helping out a friend with no ulterior motives. Sal was glad the system recognized the truth about that. Fabrizio set a pile of clean plates down on the shelf behind them. ¡°So you¡¯ll have to be seeing more of the Gorbin shamanka, right?¡± ¡°The shaman, yes. To level and to choose my proficiencies, I will need her assistance. I find that I do not mind at all. I am grateful that I have magic, and I am very grateful for the bacon. The Pork Poet has been very kind, and I think, maybe, you have aided me in that.¡± Sal turned and stopped washing dishes. ¡®Verily, Fabrizio, your assistance has made my life possible here. You fed me, you aided me in dealing with my ghosts, and you have been astounding. I so appreciate you. You are the best of friends, and I¡­¡± He felt his throat close from the emotion. He was near tears. It took a moment, but he pulled himself together. ¡°I needed a friend who wouldn¡¯t betray me.¡± ¡°Betray you?¡± Fabrizio laughed and came over to hug him. ¡°I¡¯d never betray you! If there¡¯s one thing you can say about Yeshu of the Book, he was always the best of the gods. He wouldn¡¯t betray anyone, ever. And since I¡¯m his servant, that goes for me as well.¡± Sal leaned into the hug until the Ponti pulled back. ¡°Yeah, Sal, I feel the same way about you. You¡¯ve opened a whole new world to me. It¡¯s not just the new language and the new books, but it¡¯s your restaurant, the ghosts, everything. I¡¯ve grown so much since we met. I can¡¯t thank you enough.¡± ¡°We are even,¡± Sal said quietly. ¡°We are friends. However, little did I know when we first met our friendship would involve so many dishes.¡± That made Fabrizio laugh as they went back to washing and drying. There was a comfortable silence between them for several long minutes. Before he realized it, Sal was asking questions freely. ¡°My friend, Fabrizio, I am sure you know you are handsome, if nothing else, your dimples are very striking to say nothing of your biceps. The church allows courting and marriage, and yet, your social calendar remains free. Why is that so?¡± The Ponti paused drying a plate. ¡°Oh boy, well now, that¡¯s a question everyone has all right. Funny thing is, I don¡¯t feel handsome at all. Probably because of how I grew up. Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s a long, long story of how I got here, feeding people, reading a bunch, and not, uh, dating. Too long of a story tonight I¡¯m afraid.¡± Sal was more intrigued than ever. At the same time, he felt a bit ashamed for asking. ¡°I do apologize, Fabrizio. It seems it is a painful subject. I too have my own long story, and one day, I would like to tell you everything.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a deal then. The best kind of deal.¡± Fabrizio smiled, showing those dimples. He then seemed to get embarrassed, so he turned and placed a plate gently on a shelf, and subtly changed the subject. ¡°You know, I think there are some old Gorbin cookbooks down in the secret library you found. I¡¯m thinking maybe they can give you some ideas for your proficiencies. You could take them to the Gorbin, maybe, though I have to ask, Sal, how come that wasn¡¯t a big deal for you? I mean, most folks would die twice at the very thought of going to Bloodsoaked. But you did it without a problem.¡± Sal only laughed a little. ¡°I had little choice, my friend. It was not courage, but desperation. Another chapter in my long, long story. Much of it is tragic, but nearly all of the tragedy is of my own making.¡± The former Dark Lord wanted to tell his friend everything right then, about his life as the Dark Lord, about his death, and about his Mysterious Benefactor bringing him back to life. But Sal couldn¡¯t, not yet. For now, his Benefactor wasn¡¯t removing Karma points for lies of omission. Sal thought that might change at some point. If Yeshu was right, the way of the righteous only narrowed. But those were thoughts for another day. For now, Sal would merely enjoy his life and look forward to Saturday, when most of his friends in Tower City would show up for a kind of second grand opening. Chapter Forty-Seven – Henrietta, the Dancing Chicken The early dog gets the bacon. Market stalls and rhyming calls. The Gold Key victors. Mr. Crow. Dance fight. A Gift of peaches and yogurt. Saturday morning started out with a bang. The Good Boys showed up, the dog-headed party who had won both the Copper and the Silver Keys. The Canus climbers were outside when Sal opened the door, and they weren¡¯t alone. They had a whole mob of people with them. Rex Torso, the leader, who had a definitely had the look of Krasnaya shepherding dog, smiled, showing rows of sharp, white teeth. ¡°We¡¯ve been here since five. No way are we going to miss out on the Pork Power. We go into the tower today at noon, and if everything goes right, we¡¯ll return with the Gold Key.¡± He then pushed his way in, in full armor, followed by a whole gang of Canus warriors, encumbered by equally heavy armor and any number of weapons. One terrier guy in robes sniffed the air. ¡°Hey, boss, it doesn¡¯t stink like it did before. That¡¯s a relief. Now, let¡¯s have the bacon. I¡¯m the spell guy. I need the Mana. You only have the Mana buffs, right, right, right?¡± ¡°Sit, Angelo,¡± Rex said, pointing at a table. Another of the dog men barked. ¡°Isn¡¯t all the food magic? I heard all the food was magic!¡± Angelo sat and shivered. ¡°By my flea-bitten butt, it¡¯s cold in here. That¡¯s going to stink once winter comes. Not like stink stink, more like just stink, as in it¡¯s gonna be real bad. This place¡¯ll probably close in five minutes after the first rains if he don¡¯t up his food magic game.¡± Sal explained the menu, explained the nature of the Pork Power, and then Shivaun was busy cooking up a storm. Sparky had come down to light the fire, and Sal started taking orders, taking money, and dishing out his food to a packed house. Theo came down to help, and thank goodness he was there, or things might¡¯ve spiraled out of control. There were even people sitting outside, under the umbrellas, as the fountain burbled and splashed water, completely redone and looking so very fine. It really did change the whole plaza and made it so much more welcoming. The lights were on, dispelling all of the early morning shadows, and even the air smelled good thanks to Shivaun¡¯s baking and the morning smells of bacon and coffee. Two very busy hours later, Otto came bursting through the doors, carrying a crate of eggs, painted with various different colors and sparkles. ¡°Sal! I bring pretty eggs for you to cook! And I have pretty eggs outside. Maybe we dance all day long? I have Otto, again, but he get tired. I bring whole band. We set up.¡± A second later, Hamletti Hooftop walked in, dramatically, wearing a bright pink dress with a cap that had fluffy pig heads on the shoulders. ¡°Upon this happy day I¡¯ve come, to celebrate with you some. But then I see this dancer dumb, and wonder when he¡¯ll start his pounding on his drum.¡± Otto set the eggs down, and everyone in the restaurant could feel the tension in the air. ¡°Hamletti! You say hurtful things to me. And we are cousins, are we not? Or we have the same ancestor, or something. You no like drum, we don¡¯t drum.¡± That surprised both Sal and the Pork Poet. There was a moment of quiet, the only sound was people shuffling in their seats. There wasn¡¯t even the tink of silverware on plates. Otto boomed laugher. ¡°I kid! I drum. We dance, all day. You sell salami, no? I buy your salami! We friends today. Can we be friends today?¡± Letti crossed her arms. ¡°Today, only this day, Saturday, we put away our enmity and embrace the situation in a different way. This is what I have to say. And hello, Sal Fang, greetings to you and your successful caf¨¦.¡± She sighed at the rhyme. ¡°Successful diner. The diner. It is doing well. I can tell.¡± The Pork Poet then hurried over, grabbed Sal¡¯s arm, and kissed his cheek. ¡°Your diner couldn¡¯t be finer, and that rhyme I meant, since I¡¯m a hopelessly addicted rhymer.¡± Sal laughed. ¡°And that is just fine with me.¡± Otto looked at the pair, frowning. ¡°Maybe you like pork girl more than egg man, but then, I not kiss you. Maybe I kiss you!¡± And before Sal could stop him, Otto was kissing his cheek. Sal could only laugh. He hooked one arm through Otto¡¯s arm and one arm through Letti¡¯s and led them out. Their people were already setting up stalls for selling eggs and pork products including some very delicious looking dried sausages. Otto¡¯s sister was there, as was Ollie, getting things ready. All of Otto¡¯s people were in yellow jumpsuits. Some were unloading caged chickens from a cart. Otto really had gone out, or so Sal thought. But then so had Letti. She and her Pig Hats had a gigantic floating pig balloon over her stand, which cast a shadow down on the fountain, which was nice because it emphasized the lanterns glowing there. Sal was so surprised to see that there were another couple of booths out there around the fountain, on the far side. His best friend Fabrizio had some of his parishioners bring a table to set up bread and books on a table of his own. They were creating the Mind & Body Tables! And he wasn¡¯t alone. His main dough ring connection, Madame Benyay had moved her cart of boiling oil to Champion Plaza. Yes, there was the elderly Primo woman, selling her deep-fried pastries. Sal was glad to see her. Lastly, the final booth, was put up by none other than Kaixo Allakarra, promoting the New Astounders, with the giant Copper Key hanging above their table. Testu Hemez and Boomboom were with her, and they were handing out copper coins, but none of them were going to have the same power as the one that Kaixo had given Sal. Sal gazed out at the new Champion Plaza, full of people who were meandering about. Foot traffic was going to be amazing that day. Even though he¡¯d sold out of his Bacon Buffs already, the simple fact that the Good Boys had eaten breakfast there before their noon Tower climb appointment was huge news. Betty let out a low whistle. ¡°Look at that, pal o¡¯ mine. This plaza is really going to change, thanks to you, and that will mean more business. Hey, weren¡¯t you going to do boiled bread and smoked fish? Was that a thing?¡± Sal chuckled. ¡°I had pondered such a dish, and now that I have the traffic, I can take more risks with the menu. However, I will not expand the menu beyond good sense, nor will I extend the hours more than what suits me. We have been successful, I think. We have come far.¡± ¡°Gotta be open until four, buddy. Gotta get those afternoon Tower climbers. And when there¡¯s the eight o¡¯clockers? Have to expand the dinner menu. Maybe some goose liver pate. Everybody love goose liver pate.¡± ¡°Not everyone, my friend.¡± Kaixo raised her hand and waved. Sal smiled at her. And waved back. She had dressed up, had gained some weight during the week. It suited her. She wore the red and yellow scarves, and her tattoos were so striking against her pale skin. ¡°Sal!¡± Theovanni wailed. ¡°We need you!¡± It was music to Sal¡¯s ears. He turned, rushed back in, and helped Shivaun in the kitchen. If he didn¡¯t know better, she was sweating because she was working so hard. ¡°Is it too much?¡± Sal asked. Shivaun didn¡¯t stop cracking eggs into a sizzling pan. She didn¡¯t need to talk, since her words appeared on the wall behind her. People are feasting and happy, on this happiest of days. You fulfilled your oath. You dispelled your demon. You embraced the ghosts. As if on cue, a ghostly form appeared at the top of the stairs. Tony Belly, with his round little body and little brush moustache nodded at Sal. He smiled. ¡°My great great granddaughter likes you, Sal Fang. And my great great grandson does as well. But that accent. And the rhyming. They kill me, shmoopy. They kill me!¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Thanks, Tony, for your very timely distraction the other night. I fear Dergle would have slain me, and if I were slain, your very fine diner would have no proprietor.¡± The ghost with the belly smiled. ¡°You have to keep living, my friend. You have to keep this place open. What would Shivaun do if you didn¡¯t?¡± Shivaun¡¯s wall then had a very uncharacteristic HA! HA! HA! Underneath the melting words there. Then she started peeling oranges, which made them extra delicious because of how cold her fingers were. How many patrons would be shocked to know it was a specter from the underworld preparing their fruit with unwashed hands? Washing a ghost¡¯s hands was pointless in the end because there was literally no skin to hold germs. She did rinse her hands to avoid cross-contamination between radically different flavors. The day wore on, and the customers didn¡¯t let up, and Sal went from frying eggs to boiling gnocchi and mixing the sauces. Theo took breaks to go out to the New Astounders booth, to spread the word about their success. That was hard, since everyone was talking about the Good Boys, wondering how they would do on the second level of the Tower. About four parties a month won the copper key, about one a week, but it was only the rare team that won the Silver Key. That happened about twice a month at best. Getting the Gold Key? It might be one team every sixty days. Three o¡¯clock came, then four, with no sign of the Good Boys. There was some drumming from Otto¡¯s people, and there was some dancing, but not as much as Sal would¡¯ve thought. It seemed Otto was respecting Hamletti¡¯s wishes, at least a little. That seemed like a good sign. Sal didn¡¯t close his restaurant, though he made sure that everyone knew this was for a special occasion only, namely to celebrate the renovation of the plaza¡¯s fountain. The Good Boys came back an hour later, with the Gold Key, and a whole new crowd. It was like the party started over, and as the night came, and the lanterns gleamed, Otto brought his full band out there, on a raised platform near his booth. All day long, Sal wondered if he¡¯d seen any sign of the other three Braggadorio families¡ªthe Butter King, the Bean Baroness, and the Viscount of Grains. They didn¡¯t come to crash the party, and neither did the Pontra, though he knew that they all probably had sent spies. Otto Ovum took center stage and roared, ¡°Now, we know Sal Fang is magic in the kitchen. But maybe, he magic on the dance floor. We see who dances better. Sal Fang or my chicken, Henrietta. I put bets on chicken.¡± A voice thundered across the plaza. ¡°Mr. Otto Ovum! I will take that bet!¡± And then the crowd parted as Colonel Jim and the rest of Governor Ziggy¡¯s guards came forward. They all were dressed in black sparkling outfits. Literally everything was black and sparkly, from their boots to their breastplates to their polearms. They had big feathery cloaks, like the wings of sparkly ravens. The Governor, Craig Clifton Zigglesworth was the most raven of them all. What wasn¡¯t black and sparkly was black and feathery. H looked like a bejeweled crow. His boots were gigantic, lifting him at least six inches off the ground. He waved his feathery arms. ¡°I will bet on Sal Fang against the chicken. Name any price, and I will cover it. Okay, maybe not any bet, and not with just anyone. Maybe just you and me, Otto. You and me. But let¡¯s not get crazy., Nothing over a hundred gold. Or maybe fifty. I have full confidence in Mr. Fang, but I wouldn¡¯t like to lose fifty gold. I just couldn¡¯t¡­no¡­but let¡¯s get this started! Then I will dance! The New Astounders should dance with me because I just know they¡¯ll win the Silver Key, like the very fine Rex Torso did with his very fine Good Boys. Not just the Silver Key, but the Gold Key as well! Oh, did I mention taxes? No, I won¡¯t talk taxes tonight. But there will be taxes. Just not tonight.¡± Ziggy then sauntered up to Sal to give him a big hug. ¡°Any word on the Gorbin or the Pontra, my very food friend?¡± Sal answered in the negative. ¡°None that I can think of. I did visit the Gorbin and spoke with the shaman.¡± ¡°The Shaman? Was he awful? I bet he was awful. I¡¯ve heard stories.¡± ¡°The shaman was fine. She was fine. I will let you know if anything changes with her state of being fine. As for the Pontra, she was never going to finish the fountain, and I believe you knew that.¡± ¡°I told you the fountain was beyond me.¡± Sal smiled. ¡°And yet, you did provide me some assistance after all. The Gimm power supply came from your office.¡± Ziggy flung up his hands. ¡°Yes, yes, yes! My office does wonderful things. This is all very wonderful, and now, I am dying to see Sal outdance the chicken. Dying!¡± Sal wasn¡¯t sure if he was a genius or just grossly incompetent. There was such a fine line there. In the end, however, it was clear that Ziggy had risked his special relationship with the church to get the fountain working. Sal didn¡¯t have time to reflect on the governor. Suddenly, it seemed like half of Tower City was watching Sal. He was in the center of the crowd facing down Henrietta the chicken, who was standing motionless, giving him the evil eye. That chicken was smart, probably magically so. Was he another Gwynar? That wouldn¡¯t have been all the surprising, not with the magical nature of the city. Letti had managed to illuminate the inside of her giant pig balloon, and so there was plenty of light shining down. Sal felt everyone, including Henrietta, gazing at him. It felt rather familiar, back when he¡¯d commanded thousands. Only this time, he wasn¡¯t the arbiter of life and death. He was simply a business owner about to humiliate himself. ¡°My friends, my good friends, and to all of Tower City. I would like to thank you for coming to Champion Plaza. I so appreciate you all, here, to support not just my little restaurant, but this forgotten part of the city. Let the renewal of the fountain renew us all on this day! And now, I will outdance this chicken. I have full confidence in my skills.¡± He then went about trying to prove that. Ollie was pounding on the drum, Otto was watching, and Sal was remembering his dancing lessons. He moved to the beat, kept things simple, and as he danced, he watched Henrietta jerkily move to the beat at first, but then, she swayed her neck back and forth, shuffled her feet, and then turned to shake her tail feathers. She leapt into the air, fluttered her wings, somersaulted, and then came down, and really turned on the moves. After a while, Sal had to stop to watch Henrietta dance. There was no way he ever would¡¯ve won against that chicken. Never in a thousand years. Finally, he lifted his voice. ¡°I relent! I surrender! I have been bested! Henrietta has won the night!¡± The governor was clapping, tears streaming down his face. ¡°I agree, Mr. Ovum. The chicken has rare talent. Truly, I am agog and aghast. Three cheers for Henrietta!¡± The crowd cheered thrice, and then the musicians started, and there was dancing for everyone. Sal danced with Fabrizio, with Kaixo, with Letti, and with the Governor, who could¡¯ve used some dancing lessons himself. It was awkward, without a doubt. Otto finally came in and danced with him, and Sal couldn¡¯t remember the last time had such fun. It was midnight when Sal finally had to call it a night. The party was in full swing, and probably wouldn¡¯t end until that morning. The former Dark Lord waved goodnight to the New Astounders, who were in deep conversation with the governor about something. Kaixo waved back, her face one big smile. Before he left, Sal stopped by their booths to hug both Letti and Fabrizio. Sal entered his caf¨¦ to see Shivaun there, at the window, watching, with a sad smile on her face. Words appeared on the wall. I like to see the living happy. It saddens me when they are anything but happy for they do not know how short their time is. How fragile. Sal went over and gave her cold arm a small squeeze. Then she vanished. It had been a very long day for her. All it once, it was just him alone in the diner. His stomach grumbled. In all the excitement, he¡¯d forgotten to eat! He went into the kitchen, and that¡¯s when he saw something on the counter, next to a candle burning. On the counter, sat a peach cut into slices, on a plate, next to a little bowl of yogurt topped with a dollop of honey. Sal froze, looked down, and remembered eating the same thing with his father growing up. Mickey loved to cook a full breakfast, but sometimes there wasn¡¯t time, and when that was the case, he served a rich yogurt with honey and fruit. Sal picked up a silver spoon, and not just any spoon, but one that he recognized. It was a spoon he¡¯d had as a child. There was only one person who would have access to that impossible spoon, and that same person had to be the same entity that had kept him fed with peaches. ¡°Thank you, Father. Verily, you helped feed me, like you always have. I am honored that out of all the places you could have gone, and all the things you could have done, was to bring me¡­bring me this repast.¡± Sal didn¡¯t expect an answer, and he didn¡¯t get one. Long ago, fifteen hundred years give or take, he¡¯d banished his father from the world, to places distant and in-between, though the Dark Lord Mickey was still around, clearly, and he had given his son a gift. Betty had fallen asleep in his pocket, but she was awake now. ¡°Oh, gosh, Sal, buddy, chief, ace. Look at that. Is it really from your dad? All those peaches, from your dad. Maybe he¡¯s still alive somewhere.¡± ¡°Maybe he is,¡± Sal said softly. ¡°Where could he be?¡± the mouse asked. ¡°He is¡­¡± Sal didn¡¯t know, not really. ¡°He is here. With us. Giving me peaches, and perhaps, working with my Mysterious Benefactor.¡± A message appeared. <<<>>> Karmic Gauge increased to 100%. A lovely shade of purple. Your father forgives you for banishing him and stealing his coin. There¡¯s some points for that, and there¡¯s some points for the party, and there¡¯s just some points for how far you¡¯ve come. Good news is, you¡¯ve hit DevStep 3 and now have three Work Points to distribute. Bad news is that your Karmic Gauge is gonna reset, so it¡¯s gonna be dark red and flashing. Current Karmic Gauge: 1% (Dark Red and Flashing, Flashing, Flashing.) <<<>>> Sal didn¡¯t mind at all that he couldn¡¯t lose any Karma points because living on the straight and narrow was far easier than it had been. At the same time, he was looking forward to making another trip to Bloodsoaked, but maybe he¡¯d peruse that secret Gorbin library first, to find a list of proficiencies, or recipes, that might inform him a little more of his choices. Good ol¡¯ Fabrizio would most likely jump at the chance to help. For some reason, Sal remembered something that Kaixo once said to him. Life has a way of sending people down some bad alleys. That was true, but the opposite was also true. Some of the alleys were beyond good, like the road that had taken the former Dark Lord to the Ponti¡¯s doorstep. Betty tugged on the pocket of Sal¡¯s shirt. ¡°Set me down, pal. Get me a cookie. We¡¯ll eat together.¡± And they did, sharing a midnight snack. Sal found that after the meal, it wasn¡¯t just his stomach that was full. His heart was as well. THE END!