Chapter 54: Lost and Found Family

“You can come out, now,” Bonny said softly. She carried a simple oil lamp that barely lit the kitchen. “We won’t hurt you. I promise.” She set a bowl of fresh milk down before the stove and stepped back. “See? We brought you an offering.”

“No no no. Can’t be seen. Can’t be seen,” the domovoy answered with a muffled voice from behind the stove. The poor creature seemed to have calmed down after his nap, but was clearly still anxious. It deserved a warm welcome.

“What if I dismissed the other Minions?” I suggested. “It would be just me and Bonny.”

There was no reply.

Fancy that. Turns out the critter could be quiet when it wanted to!

I searched my memory banks on old fairy tales and mythological folklore. The only way I knew how to deal with one of the fae was… to not. Sound advice, but not what I needed in this situation.

As night fell I made sure that nobody was wearing their shoes indoors. I preemptively Gardencrafted Jimbo-no another peg-leg. I also made him a wooden prosthetic foot, just in case. He was strangely vocal about preferring the peg-leg, but agreed to wear the prosthetic foot for this occasion.

After a long moment, I noticed movement in the shadows.

I motioned my other Minions to go downstairs. As the undead went they carried Tiptap, Mischief, and the newly dubbed “Noodle” with them. Jellybee had been outvoted and the name had received nearly unanimous votes.

“Is that better?” Bonny asked. “Even the cats are gone.”

Still no reply from the domovoy, but I noticed that it was perched upon the precipice of leaving its comfort zone.

“What if we closed our eyes? I can’t avoid seeing you entirely–since us Grannies have eyes everywhere–but I can avoid looking at you directly with these peepers,” I said. “It would make me very happy to officially meet the Minion that I summoned, if that’s alright?”

There was a huff. Which I took as an agreement to the terms.

We closed our eyes. Bonny turned around. And the domovoy slowly emerged from behind the wood-burning stove and into the candle light.

True to my word, I kept my avatar’s eyes closed. But I couldn’t resist looking with my Dungeon sight.

The domovoy was… how to put it? Uncanny. It was distinctly human–appearing eerily similar to an old, bald homeless man after months without bathing–yet the creature was also distinctly not human.

The biggest giveaway was the creature’s height–a little under two feet tall when standing fully upright–which was still too big to fit behind the stove. That, and the eyes. Wild and wide-open orange orbs, cat-like with narrow vertical pupils. The thing’s eyes searched frantically back and forth beneath thick, bushy eyebrows. From the right angle in the firelight it’s eyes took on a reflective sheen, like a deer in a headlight.

It had a long beard that dangled down to knobby knees and a thick, unkempt mustache. A layer of thick hair covered every limb and it had disproportionately skinny fingers with overgrown nails.

Frankly, this ‘domovoy’ creeped me out. If it had been a Snow White dwarf, it would have earned the name ‘Hairy.' It looked like a dwarf yeti addicted to cocaine. Or the result of Tim Burton attempting to crossbreed a garden gnome with an aye-aye lemur.

“Hello there, domovoy sir,” I said. “A pleasure to meet you.”

The abnormally furry humanoid stared at me, unblinking. It wrung its stick-like fingers together and scratched at hairy knuckles.

"Remember. Don't give it a name," Bonny reminded me. “It’s just a Minion. No names.”

"Got it,” I said.

It continued to stare at me and breathed heavily, even at rest.

I was struck by a sense of familiarity. Had I met this creature before?

No, but I knew this face. But from where?

Then it clicked.

We were related. Distantly. Somehow.

In another life, Gertrude had tried to get me interested in genealogy. I didn’t care much for it. I had never felt the need to dive into ancestral records like some sort of archeology birdy thriving off family gossip. Mine wasn't anything special. What was there to say about it? My ancestors got all stirred up in London’s melting pot, took a one way ticket boat ride over the pond, and then poured their Johnny apple seeds all over the new world. To me it didn’t matter which ovens baked up which apples from which family trees. None of those old fogeys stuck around. So why care about my background?

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

That said, as a teenager I did occasionally take a gander into those dusty old tomes, purely for the entertainment value. When you’re young and immature–before all those unsavory genetics catch up to you–it’s more fun to have a laugh at your forefathers.

Especially when you find a black and white photo of a distant Slavic relative. One with funny mustache.

And what do you know? That same great, great uncle was staring right back at me now.

"Zelik?" I asked.

Zelik’s eyes flickered in the light. “You see me, child,” he whispered.

Bonny facepalmed and groaned. "Ethel, what did I just say?"

I shouldn’t know his name. My memory wasn’t that good. But somehow I did. Who remembers the name of a random distant cousin they met at a wedding once, let alone a random Slavic name from a family tree book?

Apparently, me. That’s who. And that’s fishy. This had to be System shenaniganry.

I confirmed this by checking my notification and system tab. Sure enough, this Minion came with a family name. One that I was very grateful to have not inherited.

"I didn't give him a name!” I said defensively. “He already had one!”

“But you just summoned him! How does he already have a name?” Bonny asked.

“Most people tend to have a name after they’re born,” I chided. “He's no different. His name never changed. Though I remember him looking quite different…”

Zelik Molotov absentmindedly scratched his leg.

“How can that… wait wait wait. Ethel, are you saying you knew this creature already?”

“No, I mean, yes? I don’t know-know him. I think he’s one of my great, great uncles?” I took a second glance at the creature. “Add a couple more ‘greats’ for good measure.”

“But that’s….”

“Impossible.” We both said it at the same time.

“Jinx! You owe me a… you know what, never-mind,” I said, deflated. “And yes, I never officially met him. In fact, Zelik Molotov should have died ages ago! I only remember because I saw his photograph once upon a time.”

The domovoy hunched down over the offering bowl and began lapping it up. Milk soon dripped from everywhere.

“No, I mean… You’re a Dungeon! Dungeons don’t have families.”

I gave her a look. Which was impressive considering my avatar’s eyes were still shut. “Oh honey,” I said. “Bless your soul. Did my boys not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m a human from another world?”

“What?” Her eyes flew open. She stared at my avatar in disbelief.

“Oh dear… I thought it was obvious!”

“It wasn’t obvious! Of course I knew you were a bit odd, but Dungeons tend to be a bit on the crazier side to begin with. I figured you were just making up words!”

“I'm not crazy. I'm old and dumb. There's a difference,” I pouted. Then I added, “Though I admit I do make up a lot of words…”

“See what I mean? How was I supposed to know you came from another world?”

“I haven't exactly been secretive about it. But we’re in trouble if my three Stooges figured it out before you did.”

“In my defense! I have had a lot on my plate and I haven't had a good night's sleep in days and I've been a little distracted by you know… basically everything! I just figured you were some sort of eccentric lich.” Bonny paused. “‘Stooges?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you couldn’t pour water out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel.”

“I’m not that stupid!”

Zelik snorted as he continued to lap up milk.

Bonny made the stupid mistake of glancing toward the source of the noise.

Zelik paused.

Their eyes met.

Both sets of eyes widened. The creature took a step back.

“Oh fuck,” she said. Bonny grimaced and covered her mouth. “Shit,” she said, muffled.

Make that two stupid mistakes.

The domovoy disappeared.

“I’m sorry, Zelik!” She said.

He slipped into the shadows behind the wood-burning stove. Where he began repeatedly knocking against the back of it.

“CURSES UPON YOU!” He screamed.

“I think you offended him,” I remarked.

“I’m sorry, Zelik! I didn't mean it! How can I make it up to you?”

“BAD BAD BAD CHILDREN! BEHAVE!”

He continued knocking against the stove.

“I’ll behave! I promise! See? My eyes are closed!”

He let out a feral, prolonged scream.

"I have more milk!" Bonny said. "Would that help?"

“Maybe we should give him space,” I suggested. “I’m sure he’ll get over his tantrum eventually.”

Bonny nodded as she stared at the clanging stove. “He’s only level one, right?” She asked.

“Correct."

"You're positive?"

"Zelik won’t hurt you,” I assured her. “He's harmless. Aren't you, Zelik?"

The stove clanged and shook.

"See? Perfectly harmless. If you’re still worried, I’ll have the boys bring the cats back upstairs, since it seems he’s a bit afraid of them.”

She turned towards me with a concerned expression. "He can’t keep it up all night… right?”

“I doubt it,” I answered. “He’ll calm down soon enough.”

The domovoy did, in fact, keep it up all night. And Bonny underwent another night without any decent sleep.