“Did you really slay a dragon?”

Dorian suppressed a wince at the child’s blunt question and briefly stopped stirring the sugary concoction of milk, sugar and eggs. With an inaudible sigh, the shopkeeper resumed his motions, scraping the long, thin spoon around the sides of the metal cup.

“Yes, but that was twenty years ago.” He removed the spoon and stuck it in a dirty dishes pail underneath the marble countertop. “It’s how I acquired the necessary capital to open my own practice.”

The young girl — Sora Harken, daughter of Remus Harken, Dorian’s friend and leader of the crafter’s guild — tilted her head, and her younger brother spun around on his tool to face her.

“See! I told you!” He paused, scratching his head and glancing up at Dorian as the shopkeeper reached into an overhead cabinet for two glasses. “And what’s capital?”

Glancing back, Dorian was about to respond when Sora cut him off. “He means money.” She shrugged. “And I just didn’t think a shopkeep would have such an exciting background.”

Ignoring the careless and likely unintended jab, Dorian set the two tall, conical glasses down on the counter and poured the sugary mixture into one and then the other — taking particular care to make sure that they were perfectly level with each other.

The two children leaned forward in anticipation. Grinning, Dorian activated [Elemental Summoning] and [Alchemical Manipulation].

Swirling his hands above the two glasses, the shopkeeper produced a miniature flurry of snowflakes, letting the icy crystals rain down while simultaneously rapidly freezing the drinks into a thick, smooth, and creamy desert.

The snowflakes were entirely unnecessary, but kids liked that sort of ritualistic flourish.

Dipping back down under the marble countertop, Dorian grabbed a spatula and dipped it into a prepared bowl of whipped cream. Standing back upright, he lovingly lathered it onto the top of each cup.

For the final touch, he used a pair of miniature tongs to pluck a syrupy red berry from a small jar — and carefully, cautiously, expertly deposited it on the top of the first drink. After repeating the process with the second, he slid the two glasses forward — each accompanied by a shiny silver spoon.

“Enjoy,” he deadpanned.

The young boy — Tamson — dug in immediately, though his motions were steady and deliberate. His sister Sora, however, fumbled around in her pocket to produce three coins — two nickels and a dime — and slid them across the counter as far as she could reach.

Thanking her, Dorian picked them up and deposited them at the enchanted cash register at the end of the counter. The clicks and chimes of the mechanical device rang throughout the brightly lit shop.

Closing the register, Dorian pulled out a thin, black leather ledger. Retrieving a silver fountain pen from one of the pockets of his royal blue coat, he flipped the ledger open to the latest filled page. With no other customers, it was a perfect opportunity to work on updating his records.

Just as he finished scanning the last column and prepared to mark down a new entry, the entrance to the shop rang with a cheery chime, signaling the entrance of a new customer.

The newcomer was a portly, middle aged woman garbed in fine — though not ostentatious — clothing and an assortment of delicate jewelry. She eyed the low, tightly organized metal shelves of the triangular shop room with an air of superiority and skepticism.

Her heels clacked menacingly on the cleanly swept stone floor as she approached the serving counter. Setting down his pen and looking up from his ledger, Dorian gave her a tight smile as he stood up straight.

“May I help you?” He greeted her cordially.

She stopped and glared. “I bought a vial of polish from this shop a week ago. Today, all of my silverware — fine silverware, mind you — has completely corroded.”

Dorian’s smile slipped. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he began. “Did you make sure to follow the directions and dilute it with ten parts water?”

A look of surprise and understanding flashed across her face for just an instant before she forced it to turn stone cold. Dorian repressed a sigh — evidently, she hadn’t followed the instructions.

“That’s no matter,” she continued, “I want full reparations for both the price of the polish and the damage to my silverware.”

Frowning, Dorian swept one hand back through his icy white hair. “I’m sorry, but unfortunately we do not offer refunds for effective products, and additionally we do not cover damages from misuse.”

The woman took a step back and clutched one hand to her chest. “Misuse?” She stammered. “I beg your pardon! I’d like to speak with your manager, please.”

The way she emphasized the last word nearly made Dorian roll his eyes. “I’m afraid that I am, in fact, the owner,” he drawled. “Now if you have further complaints, I would advise you to submit them in written form.”

Glaring, the woman upped her chin. “I will.” And with that, she whirled around and strutted out of the door — or at least she tried. It took her a moment to realize that she had to push.

The young boy, Tamson, looked up from his nearly finished drink, elbowing his sister. “Did you hear that lady? Boy, was she mad.”

Ignoring her younger brother, Sora finished her own last spoonful and pushed the dirty glass forward. Picking it up, Dorian deposited it in in a dirty dishes tray.

“Have you heard about the new worldwalkers?”

Dorian froze.

“Apparently they found them earlier this morning,” Sora continued. “I overheard my dad talking about it.”

Resisting the urge to grimace, the shopkeeper stood up and gave the young lady a pained smile. “Well, I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say about it next time I see him,” he managed.

In the shopkeeper’s humble opinion, arrivals from other worlds — as rare as they were — were universally a nuisance at best. And everyone else had the gall to revere them as gilded heroes. To make matters worse, it sounded like there was more than one.

As the two children slid off of their stools and headed for the door, excitedly chattering to each other about the new arrivals, Dorian returned to his ledger. Perhaps he would be granted a moment of peace and quiet.

The door chimed just as he was about to mark down the next entry.

Looking up, he observed two young blonde men entering the shop together — by their nearly identical appearance, he presumed that they were brothers. Both men stood tall, each quickly scanning the interior of the shop with a clear air of ease and confidence.

Catching sight of the shopkeeper, the closer man tapped his companion, and the pair strode up to the counter together. Dorian stood up straight, clasped his hands behind his back, and smiled.

“May I help you?”

The man on the left scratched his head. “Uh, yeah, we’re looking for some plastic explosives — maybe half a pound?”

Dorian blinked. He usually didn’t get customers like this here in his primary location — these were the sorts of customers he would expect to find in the nearby dungeon town of Hockenfiel.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Well,” he began, “we don’t carry that kind of hazardous material here, and I’ll need to see a license — but if you’d like, I can give you a receipt that you can bring to our depot down in Hockenfiel.”

The two men glanced at each other, and the one on the right shrugged. “Alright. We’ll do that.” He paused. “What sizes do they come in?”

Dorian shrugged while gesturing vaguely with his hands. “Part of the charm of plastics is that we can just cut them to whatever size you need — and you can do the same thing, customizing them to your application.”

The men nodded in unison. “Alright, I guess we’ll go ahead and take half a pound to be on the safe side?” His companion nodded. “How much would that be?”

Dorian told him, and after discussing between themselves just out of earshot, the men returned. One of them deposited his coinage on the counter, sliding it forward. “So we get a receipt here, and then we just take it to your Hockenfiel location, right?”

“That’s correct,” Dorian confirmed. “All you have to do is give them the receipt, along with identification — speaking of which, I still need to see a license.”

The two men shared a look. “Are you sure that’s necessary?”

Narrowing his eyes, Dorian tapped drummed his fingers on the marble countertop. “Yes. No sale without license and identification.”

One of the men muttered, and the other tapped his foot. “We’d be willing to pay additional fees…”

Dorian failed to resist the impulse to scoff and roll his eyes. What kind of person did they take him for? Even if he weren’t strongly against bribery on principle — the potential liability to his business would be worth far more than whatever the two young men could cough up.

Shaking his head, he tapped the counter again. “No sale without license and identification.”

The man on the right clenched his fist and jaw, nodding to himself before looking up. “Alright then, have it your way.” Turning to his companion, he grabbed him by the arm and walked towards the door. “Let’s go.”

Upon reaching the door, he turned around and jabbed a finger in the shopkeeper’s direction. “Fuck you man!”

His companion glanced back. “Yeah, fuck you!”

Dorian sighed and shook his head. At least they hadn’t turned violent. Fortunately, the former adventurer had nothing to fear for himself — certainly not from those two — but damages to his merchandise would be unacceptable — not to mention the bureaucratic headache that would surely follow.

Taking a seat at the single worn stool on his side of the counter, Dorian returned once more to his ledger. He sincerely hoped that he would have at least just a few minutes to work in peace — while the shopkeeper obviously didn’t mind having customers, he did mind when they were rude and didn’t buy anything.

One or the other condition was excusable, but not both.

“Mister Skeil!”

Dorian glanced to the side upon hearing his apprentice Tyler’s shout. The shaggy haired young man appeared to have burst into the shop from the passageway leading to the backrooms, and he was gasping for breath.

“Sorry to interrupt, but uh…”

Dorian motioned for him to continue.

“One of our experiments sort of caught fire…”

----------------------------------------

Dorian flipped his ledger closed and stood up to stretch. It had been a long day, and he was glad to finally close up his shop.

He didn’t usually work retail himself — at this particular location, he had a young woman named Stella to manage the store for him. Unfortunately, she had taken the day off — with advanced notice, however, so he couldn’t hold it against her.

Fortunately, the fire hadn’t caused much damage — only a bit of broken glassware — but unfortunately, the shopkeeper would have to record the event for insurance and legal purposes.

If he had been overseeing the experiment himself, the incident likely wouldn’t have happened. As it was, he had the two apprentices clean up the mess.

Having finished stretching, Dorian returned the ledger to his private office. The small, brightly lit room was located in the corner of the second floor of the three story building. Dim evening light filtered in through the tall windows, and cool artificial light from enchanted quartz lamps provided the necessary illumination to read and write by.

He slipped the ledger into one of the desk drawers and flicked the enchanted lock closed.

Next, he retrieved a bouquet of black flowers from a wooden cabinet, before turning off the lights, closing the door, and descending the metal staircase to the first floor. The shop was dimly lit, the windows shuttered and the lights off. Just as he crossed the threshold from the private backrooms, a chime resounded throughout the entire building.

Someone was ringing at the front door.

Frowning, Dorian activated the shop room lights and opened the door.

He was greeted by Remus Harken — master weaponsmith and head of the Verdanport branch of the crafter’s guild — as well as a slightly chubby, blonde young woman.

“Sorry for disturbing you at this hour,” Remus began, running a hand through his slicked back black hair. The slender, middle aged man stood with perfectly square posture.

Dorian dismissed his concern with a casual wave of his hand. “Come in,” he said, standing back and gesturing for the pair to enter. Closing the door behind them, he then moved to stand behind the serving counter — call it force of habit.

“So what can I do for you two?”

Remus gestured at the young woman accompanying him, who was herself looking around the interior of the shop with undisguised curiosity. “This is Miss Katie McFly Goldenborn.” He paused. “On behalf of the guild, I need you to take her on as an apprentice in alchemy.”

Dorian frowned. So the young woman had a gold affinity? It made sense that the guild would work with her to gain an alchemy apprenticeship, then, but he had thought he had made it clear that he wasn’t taking on any new apprentices at the moment.

“I thought I made it clear with the guild that I wasn’t taking on any new apprentices at this time.”

Remus nodded. “You did.” He rubbed his forehead. “However, Miss McFly is one of our nation’s newest worldwalkers — from a previously unknown world called ‘Earth.’ Maybe you haven’t heard the news yet.”

Sucking in a breath between his teeth, the shopkeeper leaned back and flexed his fingers. He instantly understood that there was no choice but to accept — the protocols about worldwalkers were quite clear.

If Remus thought that Dorian was the best choice — which he could admit to himself, he likely was — then it was the branch leader’s prerogative to make the decision.

“Well then, I accept,” Dorian said. “Do you have an idea what the whole process will look like?”

Remus shrugged. “We’ll likely get you started working together as soon as tomorrow. The guild should handle most of the paperwork — other than the actual apprenticing, it shouldn’t be too much headache on your end.”

Setting the flowers down on the counter, Dorian nodded slowly. “That’s good to hear.”

The young woman — Miss McFly — spoke up. “Those are pretty flowers.”

“Thank you,” Dorian replied. “They’re for my sister’s grave.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” Dorian assured her. “I just visit often.”

Remus clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Lord Skeil is a good man,” he stated. “I can’t think of a mentor with his level of expertise, or one as respectable and pious.”

Dorian gave them his best smile. “I try.”

Removing his hand from her shoulder, Remus glanced down at Katie. “Well, you’ve certainly had a long day. What do you say we go back to the guild and set you up with a temporary residence?”

She nodded carefully. “That sounds fine.” Pausing, she glanced back at Dorian. “It’s nice to meet you, Lord Skeil.”

Dorian smiled and left his position behind the counter to open the door for them. The pair thanked him as they departed.

Once they were down the block and out of sight, the shopkeeper ran a hand through his icy white hair. Things had just become much more complicated.

Retrieving his flowers, he stepped out onto the cobbled street and locked the door. He took a moment to enjoy the open evening air — simply standing still as a gentle breeze swept through the darkening streets, tugging at his long blue coat.

After taking a refreshing breath, the shopkeeper set out for the cemetery.

As he walked through the city streets of Verdanport, passing between the tall, ecclesiastically styled buildings with their steep verdigris rooftops, he considered what his newest apprenticeship would mean for him.

He was already apprehensive and uneasy — his past experiences with worldwalkers had not been particularly pleasant. Still, he would give the young woman a chance — it wouldn’t do to treat her with undo prejudice from the very beginning.

Reaching the cemetery, Dorian entered under the spiraling arch of the black iron gate. He made his way between the raised stone sepulchers — some shining and pristine, others stained and weathered with time.

Taking a left, he walked down the branching stone pathways until he reached the tomb of his sister. Her burial place was a large earthen mound, ringed with a short stone wall and capped with a verdigris statue. A stone archway inset into the mound was locked behind a stone gate.

Unlatching it with an enchanted token, Dorian stepped inside. The space was damp, dark, and cool. There was a single enchanted light, but he didn’t activate it.

Instead, he knelt down beside the engraved metal dais in the center of the floor and retrieved a slender metal key from within his coat pocket. Inserting it into a small hole within the dais, he twisted, and the metal circle silently descended before sliding into a recess in the side — revealing a flight of stone stairs.

Dorian descended into the crypt. Once he was several dozen paces below ground, he felt around for a lever and pulled it. The bronze dais moved back to cover the hole, plunging the staircase into nearly complete darkness.

Dorian continued to descend, reaching deeper and deeper into the earth. He soon reached level ground, and the darkness receded slightly — a dim glow radiated from ahead.

He heard voices echoing faintly as well.

Striding forward, the shopkeeper entered a rectangular stone room, lit by the glow of a single lantern. Two black robed figures knelt together on the floor. One was the skeletal remains of what was left of the Dread Lich King Tyraleus.

The other was Stephen.

The young, pale, dark haired man — Stephen — looked up. “Oh hey Dorian. You should really consider getting some robes as well — the whole becoming a Cultist and overthrowing the gods thing doesn’t really feel the same without the robes.” He paused. “Anyway, I was just telling our friend here about the new worldwalkers. You’ve heard about that, yeah?”

The old skeleton — Tyraleus — stirred. A ghastly, ethereal voice buzzed around the small stone room. “How shall we handle these new pests? Shall we lay low and keep our distance?”

Dorian licked his lips. “There might be a slight complication to that plan.”

Stephen looked up. “How so?”

Dorian sighed. “I’ve been chosen to take one on as an apprentice.”