“So let me get this all straight.”
From his position leaning against one of the metal basement shelves, Dorian nodded once for Tyler to continue. His apprentice — and now fellow cult member, though he was yet to be officially initiated — had listened patiently as the shopkeeper had recounted the major events leading up to the last night’s events over the past several hours. Now that he was finished, it seemed the young man had some questions.
“Where do I start…”
Tyler shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “So you were present for the largest incursion in the known world in the last five hundred years…” he paused. “I mean shit, that’s pretty crazy by itself. But then you decided to help one of the demons slaughtering people?”
Sighing himself, Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose. “I had a good feeling about Lucy. And as I already explained, she was the one who helped first. At least half of the challenge of getting her out of the city was avoiding other demons.”
That had been a harrowing night. He was supposed to be on vacation — after almost ten years, he had finally committed to an overseas voyage to the capital of the island empire of Olea. Then, on just his second afternoon in the city, the demons arrived without any warning — along with an avatar of Kraost — god of the inferno — himself.
He and Lucy did as much as they could to help as they fled along with hundreds of thousands of other civilians, while simultaneously trying to avoid her discovery. Her glamor wasn’t very strong back then, and it was difficult for her to fight effectively without revealing her infernal nature.
But Tyler didn’t sound convinced. “Right,” he said skeptically, “I would be more inclined to believe that if you hadn’t just. Killed me?”
Dorian winced, and Tyler continued.
“And then later, you broke into the divine sanctum of one of our kingdom’s oldest temples…” he paused dramatically, “— to bring back not just any lich, no. You brought back Dread Fucking Tyraleus? You know, the guy who enslaved half the colonies and required the active intervention of the empire to defeat?”
Dorian sucked in his teeth. “Well yes, when you put it that way, it does sound bad.” Tyler snorted. “And yet, Tyraleus is now under my control. Do you think his tomb would remain undiscovered forever?” The shopkeeper shook his head. “No, someone would have uncovered him eventually, and I assure you that the world is safer in my hands than almost anyone other’s.”
“Actually, sometimes I wonder about that.”
Whipping his head to the side, Dorian glared at the old necromancer. His gaze was so deadly, it was a surprise that the lich didn’t die a third time. “I’m afraid I have no need for your input at this time.”
The lich king shrugged and fell silent, and the shopkeeper returned his attention to his undead apprentice, who had begun to pace. “And now, now you want to build an artificial dungeon core? I mean what the hell, I would say there was no way and that was absolutely crazy, but after everything else…”
Dorian nodded slowly. “I believe it’s possible — it has to be, because really, all dungeon cores are artificial.” He stood up straight and shrugged. “If the gods can do it, why can’t I?”
At Tyler’s incredulous look, he continued. “All of the gods were mortal too, once. Sure, there are significant challenges, and many aspects we don’t understand — but we simply don’t understand them yet.”
Clutching his head in his hands, Tyler groaned. “Great. So now, not only do we have a megalomaniac cultist, a demon in disguise, and an ancient lich — now they get to weaponize some sort of synthetic dungeon core construct!”
He stopped pacing and turned to face the shopkeeper. “So, is this the part in the monologue where you explain how your project will assist you in total world domination?”
Frowning, Dorian glanced back to Tyraleus. “Was I monologuing?”
Shrugging, the lich leaned back against the table where the bandit corpse was still strapped down. “No, not really — though I do admit I myself have been guilty of worse, so my opinion might be skewed.”
Satisfied, the alchemist returned his attention to his apprentice. “And no, my goal isn’t world domination or anything silly like that.” Pausing, he himself began to pace. “What do you know about Dungeon cores?”
Tyler furrowed his brow. “About the core’s themselves? Uh, not much? I do know that they supposedly have a point of infinite mana density.”
Dorian nodded. “That’s correct. The actual amount of mana is finite, of course, but it somehow compacts to a singular point. And as you know, extreme mana conditions often have additional effects on reality.”
Tyler nodded. He was a good enchanter, after all.
“The core warps reality so intensely around it, that it actually extends beyond our reality — and that is how dungeons form attachments to particular domains.” Dorian grinned. “And as you now know, I myself have a connection to the Abyss — a connection which should allow me to use a dungeon core to unleash the Abyss into our own reality.”
Tyler’s eyes widened.
“And from there, I can begin to unravel the god’s stranglehold on the system. So no. Not world domination.”
“Holy shit,” the young man muttered, “and you think that’s better?”
“I —” Dorian began to argue back, but immediately decided against it. It was clear that Tyler wasn’t ready to accept things fully. Straightening his coat, he strode over to the corpse on the work table. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe it’s long past time I extract some information from our dear fellow here.”
He glanced back to Tyler. “Do you want to stay for this? If you’d like to leave the room, you’re quite welcome to, but I’ll also allow you to stay.”
Meeting his gaze, the young man remained silent for a moment before finally speaking softly. “I’d like to stay.”
“Right then.” Dorian beckoned for Tyraleus to join him at the table, and the lich obliged. “Would you please wake up our new friend?”
The necromancer simply snapped his fingers, and the bandit’s glassy eyes flicked open. Dorian couldn’t help but roll his own eyes. He knew that the snap was completely unnecessary for activating the skill — the lich king was simply being dramatic.
“Right.” Clasping his hands together, he appraised the undead bandit clinically. “Yes, you died, and now you are undead. You can thank my friend here for that.” Tyraleus dipped his skull slightly. “You will answer all of our questions fully and to the best of your ability.” He paused. “As you are now bound to a lich, and by extension, bound to me, I possess complete control over you. I wish not to need to use it.”
The man continued to stare unblinkingly. It was rather unnerving, and the shopkeeper couldn’t help but look away, shifting his gaze around the room — landing on Tyler, who had frozen completely still, a haunted expression on his face.
Dorian quickly returned his attention to the defeated bandit. “First, explain why you and your comrades attacked us.”
The man’s voice was thin and reedy, and wavered with an imperfectly concealed nervousness. “We were instructed to search any procession of three carriages on the road between Verdanport and Hockenfiel for a particular lockbox.” The bandit licked his dried out lips. “It was supposed to be a small, blue and gold, and sealed with an enchanted lock.”
Dorian furrowed his brow. “What was in it?”
The man licked his lips again. “I don’t know. Our leader only told us to find the box.”
“Who was your leader?”
“I… don’t know.” The bandit averted his gaze before making eye contact again. “He always wore an enchanted mask — a silver bird mask — and always had us meet at different locations.”
Frowning, Dorian tapped his foot several times.
“Was he an Abyssal cultist as well?”
“I… believe so?”
Sighing, the shopkeeper stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. “Is there anything else you can tell me that you think might be relevant?”
The undead bandit remained silent for a moment. “Our next meeting spot was right outside of Blossomfell. I think… I think we were going to organize some kind of raid there. When, or for what, I don’t know.”
Dorian brought a hand to his chin in thought. Blossomfell — that was the same town where the Bureau of Investigation was also planning a raid.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Just what was so special about Blossomfell?
----------------------------------------
Lucy returned just as Dorian finished opening up the shop for another day of business. The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon, painting the streets of the down in warm early morning colors and dimly illuminating the spacious shop room.
“Long night?”
Leaning over the service counter, the shopkeeper took a moment to answer as the demoness strode through the open double doorway. Finally, he looked up and brushed a lock of snow white hair out of his eyes.
“You could say so, yes. Fortunately, we were able to accomplish almost everything we needed to.” He paused and straightened up as she reached the counter. “I’ll tell you more about it later. For now, we have a little more business to attend to.”
Lucy quirked an eyebrow, and the shopkeeper gestured towards the open doors. “We still need to do something about the uh…”
“The bodies?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded to herself. “Do you want me to take care of it, or…?”
Sighing, Dorian wiped his brow. “If you would be so kind.”
She nodded again, and was about to turn away when he spoke again. “You can have the rest of the day off afterwards — I’ll handle the shop.”
Frowning, the demoness stopped and tilted her head. “Are you sure? No offense, but you don’t look too great.”
Chuckling dryly, Dorian waved her off. “I’ll be fine. I dread the day that merely a single night of lost sleep is enough to incapacitate me.”
Lucy stared at him silently for an awkwardly long moment. “Right…” She turned away again and sauntered back out of the shop. “But do send for me if you need anything,” she called back over her shoulder.
Once she was out of sight, the shopkeeper collapsed onto the counter, cradling his head in his hands.
It had been more than just a long night, and the recent events were just the beginning. Now, he faced a fate worse than undeath — retail.
Groaning, he stood up, fixed his posture, straightened his coat, and plastered a friendly smile on his exhausted face. It was time to face the customers.
The early risers began filtering in soon — a crowd primarily composed of two distinct groups — delivery workers and the elderly. One after the other — and sometimes all at once — they bombarded him with questions, requests, orders, and worst of all — small talk.
“Have you seen how much they’re charging for the ornamental gourds this year?”
“Say, is that coat from Halsey & Co?”
“I heard that they’re starting work on a new drainage outlet — why they never fixed that flooding problem sooner, I’ll never know.”
Such was the degree of idle, mind numbing chatter that the shopkeeper was actually relieved upon noticing the three worldwalkers entering his shop. He would be sure to give both Lucy and Stella a raise.
The tall, polite one — James — was the first to reach the counter. Dorian’s smile was strained but genuine this time — anything to break the tedium of managing the sales counter was welcome in his mind.”
“Good morning,” the young kineticist greeted him. “I see you’re rather busy today.”
Nodding, the shopkeeper clasped his hands behind his back. “Indeed.”
The two men stared at each other for a moment. Dorian was about to ask what he could help the young man with when he retrieved a slip of paper from his pocket.
“I need some medical supplied.” He handed over the list, and the shopkeeper examined it. “Mister Young said that I should open a tab and put the purchase on it.”
Having memorized the list, Dorian handed it back and locked the register. “I’ll be right back,” he informed the trio, “and yes, I can open a tab for you.”
Retreating from the service counter, the shopkeeper descended the steps to the basement and unlocked it. The dimly lit stone space was now scrubbed clean of Tyler’s blood — and it didn’t even smell of cleaning chemicals either.
Alchemy came in useful for situations like this.
After gathering the supplies that James had requested, Dorian returned to the main floor of the shop — making sure to lock the door on his way up. Tyraleus was still hidden down there, and he absolutely did not want a repeat of the previous evening’s incident.
Returning to the service counter, he deposited the assorted items in front of James, who immediately moved to inspect them.
“Now, if you don’t mind my asking,” Dorian said as he marked down the items under a new section for the young worldwalker in his record book, “what exactly are these for? I do hope Marian didn’t send you off for some kind of emergency.”
James shook his head. “No sir, nothing like that. I’m trying to become both a healer and a courier, and Lady Zarya suggested I start by delivering supplies to volunteers at the temple.”
Kyle interjected before the shopkeeper could speak. “Wait, what? Why do you want to be a courier? That makes no sense.”
“Actually, it does,” Dorian said as he put away the record book and slipped his pen back in his coat pocket. “The courier class is quite famous for its combat potential — granting extreme speed, reflexes, concealment abilities — for when they have to go undercover — and at high levels, spacial magic.” Pausing, he nodded at James. “I would say it’s an excellent choice to pair with Mr. Smith’s Kinetic Knight class.”
James nodded, and Kyle fell silent. “Thank you sir,” James said as he scooped up the assorted supplies, before turning to face his fellow worldwalkers. “I’ll meet up with you guys back at the guild later?”
The other two nodded, and the soon-to-be courier headed for the door.
Dorian glanced between Kyle and Katie. Both remained silent, seemingly unsure who should go first. After a brief moment of mutual indecision, Kyle approached the counter.
“Uh, I need a sword enchanted,” he began, simultaneously producing a sheaf of papers of his own. “I don’t actually have it yet, but we just got one commissioned, and Gareth helped me with figuring out some of the specifications.”
Taking the papers in hand, the shopkeeper quickly skimmed through them. The requested design was reasonable, if somewhat over-engineered for a new adventure.
“Do you intend to become a spellsword as well?”
Kyle nodded. “Yes, and also an illusionist. I’m already an elementalist.”
A sensible combination — though Dorian was somewhat surprised that Kyle wanted to become an illusionist, of all things. He didn’t strike the shopkeeper as the type — especially given what he just said to James.
“May I keep these?” He asked, looking up from the papers. Kyle nodded, and Dorian set them down on the counter off to the side of the register. “I’ll open a tab for you as well.” He paused. “Also, since you’re looking to become an illusionist, I’ll let you know that we actually sell a kit to assist with unlocking the class. If you’d like to, you can borrow it free of charge.”
The illusionist class wasn’t especially easy to unlock without either expert assistance or weeks of work — or without a cleverly designed kit with some cheap enchantments, an instruction manual, and a prism.
Kyle shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine on my own, but thanks.”
Shrugging, the shopkeeper retrieved his pen and flipped open the latest record book to record the enchantment commission on a new tab for the young man. “Suit yourself.”
When he finished and looked up, he saw that Kyle had left as well, and Katie had stepped up to the edge of the wooden counter.
Flipping the book closed, the shopkeeper straightened and plastered on another smile. “And how may I help my newest apprentice?”
Instead of answering immediately, she glanced slowly around the shop. Finally returning her attention to the shopkeeper, she fidgeted with her hands.
“If it’s not too much of a bother right now, I’d like to see if there’s anything I can do to prepare for my next lesson.” She paused and glanced around again. “I don’t really have anything else to do myself right now, but I see that you’re busy…”
Glancing around himself, Dorian saw that while there were several other customers browsing the shelves, none of them appeared to be in need of assistance or ready to check out.
“Well, I do need to tend the shop — but I can at least give you the reading for your next project.” Reaching under the counter, he retrieved her lesson plan from his satchel. “Read chapter two and three, and go ahead and prepare for the third exercise. We can skip the second.”
He handed her the book, and she took it gingerly. “Thank you. Do you mind if I find a place to sit in here?”
“Not at all.”
She beamed. “Great!” She started to turn away before turning back. “Oh. By the way, I meant to ask you at the time, but… if saline solution is such a poor potion base, why did we use it?”
Rapping his fist on the counter, Dorian grinned. “Because it’s easy. Do you know what a good basis for a mana potion is?” She shook her head. “The most basic practical version consists of extremely small, monocrystalline quartz suspended in an aqueous solution — along with additional agents to maintain the suspension, to make it safe to drink, and to control its various properties.”
He paused and tilted his head. “You’ve already studied another world’s alchemy — so tell me, does that sound as easy as what we did with the saltwater?”
Katie shook her head. “Definitely not. I’ll be honest, I have no idea how I would keep quartz — of all things — in suspension.”
Grinning, the master alchemist slipped his hands into his coat pockets. “Your reading will tell you — because that’s exactly what your next project is.”
His apprentice raised an eyebrow, but before she could reply —
“Have either of you seen Gareth?”
Dorian had failed to notice Warden’s approach. The branch leader’s expression was always cold and serious — yet something about his current demeanor spoke of a heightened level of concern.
“Not since I left the guild,” Katie said, and the shopkeeper shook his head.
“Not since yesterday.”
Warden grimaced, and Dorian frowned. “Is something the matter?”
Warden rubbed his chin and sighed. Glancing around the shop, he moved closer to the other two and leaned in. “We just received notice from the head oracle that there’s going to be an incursion at Verdanport sometime in the next two months.”
Katie tilted her head in confusion, and Dorian sucked in a sharp breath. “Which domain?”
“Mathaku.” Shaking his bald head, the branch leader glanced at Katie. “I’ll explain what this means once we find our missing swordsman.” He then returned his attention to the Shopkeeper. “Please stay here for now. If he comes by, grab him, and if not, I’ll send word to you before nightfall.”
Dorian nodded. “Of course.”
As the other two headed for the door, the shopkeeper collapsed over the counter once more. Summoned heroes, malicious cultists, crime bosses, and now the wrath of a goddess.
Groaning, he straightened up and stretched his fingers, curling and uncurling his fists. So the Lady of the Deep was coming to Verdanport.
He’d be sure to give her nothing less than a spectacular welcome.
----------------------------------------
Within his private lounge, Lord Baron glanced between his two guests — and fellow infernal cultists — Mayor Stabbington and Lord Gareth Stiles. The three men stood around a polished mahogany sitting table, each remaining silent.
Flicking his gaze back down to the table, Lord Baron appraised the contents of the now open blue and gold lockbox. It was truly a blessing that old Lord Skeil had somehow provoked the bandits into attacking before they could finish searching his carriage.
“So that’s what it looks like,” Gareth murmured as he studied the glittering artificial dungeon core. “It’s beautiful.”
The Mayor coughed. “Will the incursion disrupt our plans?”
Lord Baron shook his head. “On the contrary, I think that it presents the perfect opportunity. If we begin right at the end of the crisis…”
Gareth grinned. “The opposition will be weakened and fatigued.”
Tapping his foot, the Mayor frowned. “Perhaps.” He eyed Lord Baron suspiciously. “There is another reason you called us here, is there not?”
Nodding, the crime boss flipped the lockbox closed. “Yes. Are either of you aware that Lord Skeil paid me a surprise visit late last evening?”
Gareth shook his head, and the Mayor leaned forward. “Do you think he might be onto us?” He glanced at the swordsman. “Could he suspect you?”
Gareth shook his head again vigorously. “There’s no way. I’ve been sure to be perfectly discreet.”
“Perhaps,” Lord Baron interjected, “But I thought the same of myself, and yet he knew of the scheduled raid in Blossomfell.”
Gareth froze, and the Mayor’s eyes widened in alarm. “Do we need to do something about him?”
Grinning, Lord Baron picked up the lockbox and deposited it in a hidden drawer within a nearby cabinet. “Not necessarily. In fact, it turns out that Lord Skeil himself may not be quite so scrupulous as he seems.”