The shopkeeper frowned. This was the major flaw with his decision to kill the bandits — he would now have to explain himself, and he hadn’t had much time to come up with an excuse. The branch leader was still staring at him — he would have to say something.

“I managed to overhear them discussing their plans to attack,” he lied, “so I decided to take the initiative from them.”

It was a terrible lie, and Dorian regretted it as soon as he finished speaking. Why would any bandit reveal themselves, search the carriages, and then attack?

Warden’s expression remained coldly neutral. “I see.” He paused and continued staring without blinking. The shopkeeper tried his very best to remain seemingly at ease. Finally, the branch leader spoke. “I see.” Turning to the side, he called out to Marian and Gareth. “Still doing alright over there?”

It was Katie herself who called back. “It was only a flesh wound!”

Sighing in relief, Dorian ran a hand through his hair. It seemed she wasn’t just physically fine, but she wasn’t too bothered either — or at least, she was calm enough to fake it. “It’s a shame we couldn’t take one alive,” the branch leader muttered. “It would have been nice to interrogate one of them.”

Nodding slowly, Dorian glanced around at the various bandit corpses again — he had an idea. Just because they were dead doesn’t mean they couldn’t answer questions. He had a necromancer, after all.

“What should we do with the bodies?” He asked Warden.

“I’d rather not leave them out in the open… do you have some sort of tarp?”

The shopkeeper suppressed a grin. This was exactly what he wanted. “Certainly,” he replied. “And we should have just enough space.” He looked around for his companion. “Hey Stephen!” He called out, “Would you mind helping me and Mister Young package up these bodies?”

As the young dark haired man ran up to them, the branch leader touched a hand to his chin in thought. “You two can go get the tarps ready. I’ll go talk to our other passengers. Let them know that this sort of thing isn’t a normal occurrence.”

Stephen caught up, and the pair hurried back to the supply carriage. As they pulled out several sacks and waterproof tarps, the Lich whispered loudly. “What’s going on out there?”

“Stay quite for now,” Dorian hissed back, “we’ll fill you in as soon as we can.”

Once they had finished unpacking the materials, Stephen sighed. “You know I’m not cut out for manual labor.”

The shopkeeper scoffed. “Too bad.” He slung several sacks over his shoulder. “Let’s get moving before they foul up too much.”

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

The dungeon town of Hockenfiel was much like the larger, coastal city of Verdanport. Instead of the ocean, the town was built next to a river, which ran on the opposite side from where the road entered. The architecture of the buildings was nearly identical — ecclesiastically carved smooth gray stone and steep, green copper roofs — but the scale was smaller. Few buildings even near the center rose above two stories.

The wheels of the carriage clacked sharply across bumpy cobbled streets — which were significantly wider than those of the older parts of Verdanport. Hockenfiel was newer and had more space to work with for now.

“So, what do you think?” He asked, glancing back at Stephen. His young fiduciary was looking around with mild curiosity.

“It’s a lot like Verdanport — just smaller. And more violent.”

Dorian chuckled. It wasn’t an inaccurate assessment. While the two regions shared many similarities, Verdanport was a place of industry and trade. It’s resource was the ocean and the lands around it — as well as it’s long standing infrastructure and capital.

Hockenfiel’s resource was the dungeon.

As the shopkeeper was turning his head back to focus on the road ahead, he stopped and glared at a passing adventurer. The haggard man was covered from head to toe in dripping viscera and gore. The ground below him sizzled where drops of pale yellow ichor dripped down.

He was also dragging an enormous, severed, skeletal spine behind him.

The shopkeeper shook his head in distaste as they passed in opposite directions. While dungeon delving was often dirty work, and it was quite common to bring back materials for reasons ranging from selling to crafting to trophy making, it was simply unbecoming to wander the main streets like that.

Had the newer generations no sense of propriety?

Turning down a side street, the convoy headed towards Dorian’s shop and depot. Warden had decided that they would use it as one of their primary meeting locations, along with the local adventurer’s guild. They were going there first to get settled in without being immediately mobbed at the guild.

There was one other person who would meet them there — the mayor.

As they neared the shop, Dorian observed the festive holiday decoration. Colorful streamers criss crossed the streets above, banners waved besides storefronts, and most doorways had an assortment of gourds in a dazzling array of sizes, shapes, and patterns.

The fall equinox was the shopkeeper’s favorite major celebration.

Finally, they reached the central town square. The rectangular stone space was two blocks wide in one direction and one block wide in the other. In the center, a large fountain splashed and gurgled, and on each end of the square there was a domed stone pavilion.

Each one had an enchanted copper dais in the center — the entrance and exit to the dungeon below.

Dorian pointed them out to Stephen, and the young man watched in fascination as a trio of adventurer’s stepped up to the first pavilion and vanished a moment later.

The convoy pulled to a stop next to a wide, two story building in the very center of one of the longer sides of the square — the depot. The shopkeeper had won a very expensive build several years prior for the full ownership of the prime location.

It had already paid for itself.

After stepping down from the carriage, Dorian hooked the two horses to the nearby black metal post. Stephen stepped down to join him, this time taking his satchel of work papers with him. As the pair caught up with the others, Dorian happened to catch sight of two blonde young men carrying a hazardous explosives container between them.

He did a double take, having recognized them instantly. It was only two days prior that they had cursed him and stormed out of his shop, after all.

The group of nine assembled just outside of the open double doorway. The shopkeeper gestured towards the interior of the shop. “Please, after me.”

The other’s filed inside in single file, and once Stephen was inside, Dorian took up the rear.

The interior of the shop was reminiscent of the shop in Verdanport, but it was also markedly different. Most of the merchandise was primarily geared towards adventurer’s — and most of the rest was geared towards supplying other people who supplied adventurer’s. Hockenfiel was truly a dungeon town through and through.

The left side of the first floor of the shop contained primarily alchemical products, while the right side complemented it with enchanted items. The front desk was a circular affair that occupied the very center.

Several customers glanced their way. Dorian paid them no mind, instead striding up to the beautiful red haired woman managing the desk — Lucy Reila, his most capable manager, his fellow abyssal cultist, and a succubus in hiding.

She smiled upon seeing him. “Well well well, if it isn’t the esteemed Lord Skeil,” she greeted him, pressing a hand to her chest in mock flattery. “I do recall now that we were expecting you.”

“Yes yes yes,” the shopkeeper responded tiredly. “I’ll introduce the others in a moment,” he continued as the rest of the group came up behind him, “but first, I need to inquire about two young men whom I just observed leaving this shop with what I suspect might be… half a pound of plastic explosive?”

The demoness frowned. “Yes, I just packaged that for them. How did you know the amount though? Is there a problem?”

Rapping his knuckles on the wood of the counter, Dorian grimaced and nodded. “Yes, there is. They tried to buy a receipt from me the two days ago, while refusing to produce a valid license.” He shook his head. “They even went so far as to attempt bribery.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Lucy’s expression darkened. “Shit. What do we do?”

“First, I want to know who sold it to them. I need to know the full truth, so if it was you, you won’t be in trouble.”

Nodding seriously, she handed over the sales ledger. “They provided a receipt, signed off by Miss Stella Spears. The protocol with receipts, as I understand it, is that customers only need to provide valid identification and not licenses, so that’s what I did.”

Checking the ledger, the shopkeeper nodded slowly. The entry was clearly marked down. “I’ll talk to miss Spears,” he said. “In the meantime, I’ll have you blacklist them from all of our locations.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I may or may not need to report the incident as well. We’ll see.”

“Anyway.” Dorian beckoned the rest of the group to come forward and join him. “Introductions.”

Leaning forward with her hands on the desk, the demoness studied the newcomers. “Mister Young, Lady Zarya.” Marian and Warden nodded politely. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” She eyed the spellsword. “…Gareth.”

“Mister Appelwood.” Stephen gave a small wave. “And which one of you is Tyler?” She asked, flicking her eyes between Kyle, James, and Tyler himself.

“Me, Ma’am,” the apprentice enchanter introduced himself, stepping forward. “And sorry if I turn out to be wrong, but you’re Miss Lucy, right?”

She grinned. “That I am.” She then turned her attention to the three worldwalkers. “And who might you three be?”

Stepping forward while puffing up his chest, Kyle was about to introduce himself — so Dorian cut him off. “These three,” he explained, “Are our three newest worldwalkers.” Gesturing to each of them in turn, he introduced them one by one. “Miss Katie McFly Goldenborn.” She smiled and gave a little wave. She seemed to have recovered completely from the incident several hours earlier, to the shopkeeper’s surprise.

“Mister James Smith Motionborn.” The young man bowed slightly. “And Kyle.”

Kyle tilted his head in confusion. “Anyway,” the shopkeeper continued, “Although Mister Tyler already confirmed her identity, I’d like to introduce Miss Lucy Reila.”

The demoness grinned. “Well, I’m quite honored to meet the three of you,” she lied, “but I must ask… what are you doing with this guy?” She asked, playfully gesturing at Dorian.

The shopkeeper rolled his eyes. It seemed his Hockenfiel manager took every conceivable opportunity to tease him.

“This guy was selected to mentor Miss McFly in alchemy,” he explained, at which Lucy’s eyes widened.

“Oh.” She chuckled, and only Dorian would pick up on the hint of nervousness in it. “I see.” She eyed Katie appraisingly. Everyone remained silent for a moment — until a deep, gruff voice like the crunch of wet gravel spoke up from behind.

“Well it looks like we’re all here.”

Everyone except Lucy turned around to face the newcomer — a tall, broad, bearded man dressed in a dark gray suit. The mayor. His pale blue eyes flicked between each member of the group — though they lingered longest on the three worldwalkers and Lucy.

Dorian idly thought that it was funny seeing the Mayor right next to Warden. While the former was a large man by absolute standards, next to the branch leader he appeared downright small.

“Mayor Stabbington,” Warden greeted him as the two men shook hands. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Of course I could make it,” the mayor said as he released the branch leader’s hand, “and please, call me Bach.” He then turned to face the rest of the group. “I suppose you three must be our new heroes,” he stated, looking between Katie, Kyle, and Jamees.

Katie nodded, and James was the first to speak. “Yes sir, that’s right.”

“Excellent.” The mayor clasped his hands behind his back and beamed. “I trust that you will find our town quite accommodating — and please, if you have any concerns, feel free to reach out to me.” He paused. “I see that you’ve met Ms. Reila.” he smiled at the demoness. “Lovely as always.”

“You flatter me too much,” she demurred politely.

“Nonsense,” the mayor continued. “Now — I’d like to treat the you all to an early dinner… I don’t know if any of our esteemed instructors have any suggestions, but —”

Having had enough, Warden interjected. “Sir, there’s something we need to discuss first.”

The mayor paused. “Oh? What is it?”

“Five men stopped us halfway from Verdanport to here,” the branch leader explained. “They demanded to search our carriages, a request which I granted on the grounds that a risk of injury to our new adventurers was unacceptable.”

The mayor frowned, and Warden continued. “At some point while two of them were searching Lord Skeil’s carriage, the situation turned violent. All five died in the ensuing fight.”

Nodding slowly, the mayor spoke calmly, but with a far more serious tone than before. “That is certainly alarming. Do I need to send a cleanup crew to handle their remains?”

“No. We have them in Lord Skeil’s trunk. However…” The branch leader paused, considering his words. “One of the men injured Miss McFly.” The mayor’s eyes widened in alarm, and Katie looked down in embarrassment. “Fortunately, Lady Zarya was more than capable of healing her, and she seems to be doing alright now — though I’ll let her attest to that herself.”

All eyes turned to the young worldwalker, and she fidgeted nervously. “Yes, I’m alright now,” she managed after a moment. “To be honest, it was pretty freaky at the time — but Marian healed me just fine, so it’s no problem.”

The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes. To his ears, her words felt false — it sounded like she was putting on a false cheerfulness to mask her own anxiety, convincing even herself that it was all fine. Dorian subtly shook his head. He still couldn’t really imagine how he — or anyone else — should react to being taken from one world and carelessly deposited into another.

A moment of silence stretched, and the shopkeeper glanced around. Several customers were awkwardly waiting around, politely pretending that they weren’t ready to check out.

Warden finally broke the silence. “There’s also the minor matter that the leader of the bandits used a skill that was completely unfamiliar to all of us. I myself am interested in making note of it for future investigation.”

Well, the skill was unfamiliar to all of them except Dorian and Stephen — and possibly Gareth. Not that any of them could explain it to the others though.

“Oh? What’s this about an unfamiliar skill?”

The shopkeeper froze upon hearing the new voice. No, there was no way he was here. No one other than the mayor was supposed to know their destination, and news shouldn’t have travelled from the shop that quickly. And besides, what were the chances that he was also in Hockenfiel?

The mayor stepped aside, revealing none other than a fourth worldwalker — Kenneth Huntingfold. The clean shaven and handsome man was somewhere in his early forties, and carried himself with an air of utmost confidence.

Dorian curled and uncurled his fingers. If there was a single man alive who embodied every negative trait of the stereotypical worldwalker, it was Kenneth. To add insult to injury, he had the gall to actually be extremely good at what he didecluding being a smug asshole.

“Well, if it isn’t Lord Huntingfold,” the mayor greeted him after a moment. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

The older worldwalker swept his gaze around the shop, before scanning the faces of the assembled group. “I heard that our Kingdom’s newest heroes were arriving today,” he finally said, “so I thought I would join in on the welcome.

The shopkeeper and the branch leader shared a look. How had Kenneth heard about that?”

“How did you hear that?” Warden asked.

“I have my sources,” Kenneth replied, shrugging off the question. “Anyway, as I said — I thought it would be a good idea to introduce myself early on.” He glanced around the group again. “Help show our new heroes how it’s properly done.”

The shopkeeper didn’t even bother to restrain himself from shaking his head. If Kenneth was going to be that up front and open, why shouldn’t he be?

“As it seems that we have already been discovered,” Warden said after an awkwardly long moment, “I suggest that we go ahead and make our presence formally known at the guild.” He turned to the mayor. “Do you have any suggestions for what to do with the bodies?”

Kenneth arched an eyebrow at that.

“I can handle it,” Dorian said. “Unless my presence is needed at the guild, I intend to take care of some business here at my shop.” He paused. “I don’t want to trouble a buys man like the mayor, so I can take care of sending for someone.”

The branch leader and the mayor exchanged a few words while Kenneth idly looked around in obvious boredom. Finally, the two men gave their assent, and the rest of the group filed out of the shop — minus the shopkeeper and Stephen, the latter of which he had asked to stay.

After Lucy finished ringing up the final customers, Dorian pulled her and Stephen aside. “We’re closing early today. Now.”

Lucy nodded. “Sure thing, boss.”

He then turned to Stephen. “You can go get Tyraleus. We have a storage room in the basement — here are the keys.” He handed the enchanted iron keychain to the young man. “Maybe he can help us figure out more of what’s going on.”

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

Four figures stood around the corpse strapped to the heavy lab table. The whole cult had gathered in the dim basement storage room as soon as the shop was properly closed down. Heavy, industrial strength metal racks and shelves lined the rectangular stone space, full of densely packed raw materials, equipment, and merchandise.

The restraints weren’t really necessary — the corpse should be under the Lich’s control, and thus Dorian’s by proxy — but the shopkeeper saw no harm in taking extra precautions.

He tapped his foot and pursed his lips in thought while glancing between his three followers. Stephen looked tired, Tyraleus looked rather dead, and Lucy…

Well, the demoness had completely shed the glamour that normally disguised her true nature. According to her, it was extremely uncomfortable to maintain for such extended periods of time, and even though she had grown used to it over the years, she still dropped it in moments of certain privacy.

While her general build, facial features, and hair remained the same, her now slitted eyes had taken on a bloody, crimson hue, a slender pair of ridged, matte black horns thrust upwards from the sides of her forehead, and a leathery pair of wings and a bladed tail gently swished behind her.

“So,” she began, tapping a clawed finger against her chin, “what now?”

The shopkeeper shrugged. There was no point in delaying any longer. Glancing at the necromancer, he gestured towards the several hours old corpse. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

The lich stepped forward without a word. Waving one hand over the body, he cocked his skull to the side. “His soul is not too terribly degraded, given the length of time that has passed,” he rasped. “Shall I proceed?”

Dorian gave his assent, and the corpse twitched. Lucy and Stephen leaned forward together in interest. “Which of his classes do you want me to choose?” Tyraleus asked. “He has —”

The shopkeeper cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Not yet. We’ll awaken one only if we need to. For now, we’re just gathering information.”

Even at high levels, undead were limited to a single class, contrary to the three that anyone living possessed — with the sole exception of powerful liches. Tyraleus himself was not only a necromancer, but an occultist and arcanist as well.

The now undead bandit sucked in a cold breath, before slowly lifting his head around and looking around with wide, glassy eyes. His gaze settled on the shopkeeper. “Right then,” Dorian began, crossing his arms, “we have some questions for you.”

Something clattered to the ground behind them. Whipping his head around, Dorian froze as he caught sight of Tyler standing at the foot of the stairs.

The young enchanter was frozen in shock as well, and he had dropped his keys. His eyes flicked between each member of the group — first settling on Lucy’s demonic form, skimming across Stephen, lingering on the undead bandit and the skeletal necromancer, and finally landing on the shopkeeper.

He gulped. “I uh…” his voice faltered. “I think I should go…”

He took a step back, and Dorian skewered his chest with an icy spear.