Old Man Surret shuffled along a dusty road with dry air, little landscape, and no traffic, out in the middle of nowhere. The aging yet unbent figure drove a stick into the ground every other step. Not a gentleman's cane, just an unpolished thing he'd picked up somewhere along the way. His gaze focused ahead with an unusual eagerness. His journey was nearly done, and he looked forward to it. His clothes were old, plain, and - no coincidence - dusty just like the road.
Just three more things ahead, he knew, and he'd be home. That was how these things went - in threes.
The first one was, naturally, a temptress. Not some curvy, smirking goddess, no. She was a woman with kind eyes and a smile. Dark-haired, tan, and wearing jeans and a pale blouse. Someone to talk to, match wits with over a board game, or otherwise relax and pass the time with. She sat on a chair, a glass of lemonade in hand, looking up with interest.
Surret just shook his head, with an apologetic smile on his face. Something in his expression told her she'd get no farther. Nodding at him, she reclined and allowed him to pass on in silence. The traveler continued without a backward glance, knowing she'd only be gone.
The second was a tormentor, a demonic thing. The roar made that obvious. The choking clouds of smoke and shaking ground were another signs of its nature. The enemy's form became clear as it tore across a distant rise. The man's eyes widened in surprise at the form it took. Thick black smoke parted, exposing a dark red pickup, covered with scratches, dents, and dirty handprints. The windshield was spanged in front of passenger and driver seats from impacts, the glass thankfully too dirty to see through.
Surret watched the thing charge at him over the road. The roar had grown outragiously loud, an angry noise full of pain and the need to share it. The old man walked briskly off and away from the road, moving more quickly, then finally sprinting toward a dry creek bed. The tormentor gushed smoke around itself as it closed in on Surret, slowing down as it approached. Sooty air fountained out of twin smokestacks, obscuring both of them. Then, from within the choking haze, a screech of tortured metal sounded out, continuing for minutes as the cloud finally retreated. The old man emerged, and walked slowly back to the road. Neither the truck nor the stick to be seen ever again.
He trudged forward, alert for his last challenge. In the distance, an intersection became visible. His pace slowed as trepidation set in. Sure enough, loitering at the intersection, a figure in a duster watched his approach.
"Please draw a weapon," Surret muttered to himself, as if in prayer. "C'mon, a sword, a gun, a wand, a silver fan ..."
The figure looked up as the mumbling man drew near. The traveler tensed as his next adversary pulled up a satchel, which he then set on a small table that the stranger seemingly pulled out of thin air.
"Hello, noble pilgrim," the loiterer spoke. His tone was formal, and surprisingly pleasant.
"Dammit!" Surret groused. "A bargainer."
---
"Ah, not your first time?" the stranger asked.
Surret just glared.
"Best I lay down the rules, just in case you're a lucky beginner," the bargainer continued. "We must strike three trades, before you might continue. All of our arrangements will be something you want, but the cost may be something you find dear."
"For starters, would you agree to an exchange of names, with a stipulation: these are not to be used to bind either of us, nor written or spoken again in any way that he who is named would not reasonably approve of."
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After a moment's consideration, the old man nodded. "Done. Uther Nemo Surret. Just call me Surret."
The bargainer blinked. "That really is your name. My own is -" the stranger then made a ululating scream, and looked expectantly.
Surret stared. "That sounded like a screech owl with a bad case of hiccups. Is there something I can call you that a human voice could do justice?"
Smiling, the being replied, "There certainly is, but such was not part of our pact."
The old man sighed, "Very well, would you find it acceptable for me to call you, say, Mephistoph-?"
"Let's not muddy the waters."
"Oh, so that's the name of an actual devil?"
"It's an alias I've heard a few others already use. Repeatedly. It's tacky."
Surret considered a moment, before finally saying, "Well, if we're reaching a Faustian bargain, why don't I call you Faustian?"
The bargainer nodded politely. "I find that acceptable. Now, our second trade. Would you agree to tell me something interesting about yourself in trade for being brought up on some current events of your world?"
Once again, the old man mulled it over, then finally nodded.
---
"I travel worlds," Surret began.
"Clearly," Faustian replied, looking at their surroundings.
"There's more to it than that," the man continued. "I've been traveling since I turned ten. Different worlds, too. Sometimes, I'd walk into the closet or lean into a mirror, sometimes when dreaming, a couple times, it even happened during near death experiences."
"Okay, that actually is somewhat impres-"
"Lost in a rainstorm, lost in a blizzard, chasing a puppy into a cave, magic ring, magic necklace, magic frog ..."
"I see."
"That one time when the entire Rennaissance Festival went with me. Well, you get the idea. They're always magical realms, but the magic's always different, and sometimes a bit subtle. And every time, I've somehow managed to come back, although it's taken weeks, sometimes months. This last time, years. A lot of them."
Faustian peered at his client with something that might be mistaken for sympathy. When Surret didn't continue, he said, "So, as a veteran walker between worlds, you must be aware that time usually passes in a fairly consistent way. There's some oddity here and there, but a year here is usually a year there. Sometimes six months or two years, but that's about as extreme as it gets."
"Surret, in the time that you spent battling the toadstool fae and establishing the Regency, fourteen years have passed for your family."
The old man's face grew inscrutable.
"That's almost six months for each year you spent there. It's about the best you can hope for. I suspect you had some help getting it that good."
"The Rot Elves promised me fair travels in trade for the return of their crown."
"Ah- Well, you can probably guess what has happened. Your son is off in college, and your daughter is about to turn sixteen. Susan wasn't able to get you declared dead, but you are legally a deadbeat dad, and Tom, her husband, just celebrated ten years together with her."
Poker face on, Surret slowly nodded in understanding.
Faustian watched him closely for a few minutes, then said "Final bargain, then you can be on your way!"
---
"You've spent quite some time away from your family, Uther. The kids are grown, your wife has moved on. Anything you owned either belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Schalks, or has long since been sold."
"I still have to go back. Also, it's Surret."
"Whatever for, Surret? There's nothing in that world for you but pain. Your friends and family have moved on. There are no comforts for you there, and there is no magic."
The old man drew in his breath. "They need to know. Even if I'm not part of their world anymore, they need to know I didn't just leave, that it wasn't my idea. That I endured and made my way, and that they were worth it. Also, anyone who has seen a little boy and girl playing with a puppy can tell you there is magic."
Faustian glanced at his customer and paused a moment, then continued, "That magic is gone for you, Mr. Surret. Dame died years ago, and your kids - they're not little anymore. I can help with this, I suppose. Chrissi is still a minor - how about I make you an offer to legally take possession of her?"
Surret started to reply, caught himself, then looked at the stranger with fury showing on his face. "Did you just try to get me to agree to have you Linda Blair my little girl?"
The bargainer immediately lost his composure, panic showing on his face. "I, uh, that didn't. Why don't you make a counter-offer?"
"Fine. Here's your deal. Stay the Hell away from my family and my world. Keep any beings in any way under your direction away from my family and my world. Send me on my way with no bad intentions on your part, and I won't call upon the pacts I've already made to make you a very miserable devil at the crossroads."
Faustian considered it, then nodded. "Fair enough. Done!"
Surret looked momentarily surprised, then vanished, mid-yell.
---
You may call me Faustian. I'm a Spirit of the Deal. This is my story.