Leland blinked his swollen eyes as he watched the sun collide with the horizon. With a light cough, he slowly leaned forward, sending his stiff wooden chair into motion. They pivoted together, all six of their legs coming to rest upon the tavern’s dusty floor. A sigh escaped his lips as he gulped down the rest of his drink.

He blinked again, this time the wetness of his eyes causing the scenery to blur. He blinked again and again, finding the thick bellows of smoke too much.

“I hate this place,” he muttered as he watched another patron inhale lit ash through a thick pipe.

The patron wasn’t unique in this fashion nor was he in the minority. In fact, Leland, Jude, and Glenny were the odd men out. The name of the tavern, The Uninspired Smoke, was evident in the haze of cheap alcohol, tobacco, and whatever other local weed was prevalent.

Glenny nodded in agreement, but not because of reddened sticky eyes. No, the rogue was more annoyed by the fact that he wasn’t affected by the smoke. Besides having his vision slightly obscured like he was just getting out a steamy shower, the smoke lacked the punch his companions seemed to be wallowing in.

“It is rather bland,” Glenny said, his mind going toward the awkward bard in the corner. With a name such as Uninspired Smoke, he honestly wasn’t expecting much. But the bard was something else entirely. “Jude’s a better musician.”

Jude didn’t know if he should be hurt or flattered. His friend’s rather constant sarcasm about his harmonica playing had hit a boiling point over the months since Frostford and Leland’s duel against a Harbinger and Lord image. Jude honestly wasn’t sure if it was his fault though, he did play that one tune about midnight love over and over again.

In his eyes the song was great. It made him stretch his fingers and forced him to focus on his blowing-strength. It was technical and smooth, a perfect practice melody for some of the harder stuff. But when Jude thought about it, the song was supposed to have vocal accompaniment, something that was just impossible as a solo harmonicist. The lack thereof left the song lame for a listener.

“We can always go somewhere else,” Jude recommended, his hands busy cutting into a tough steak that tasted heavily of burnt garlic and indiscriminate smoke.

Leland sighed, “Yeah maybe a townsfolk would let us sleep in their barn.”

“It’s not that bad. The bard’s not that big of a deal. Not worth sleeping in a barn, in my opinion,” Glenny added with a shrug.

The other two stared at him. “What?” he asked.

“The bard is not the problem,” Jude said, smacking his lips before yelling, “it’s the smoke!”

A round of cheers rounded the tavern, the patrons all raising their pipes.

“The smoke’s not that bad,” Glenny replied.

Coughing a bit, Leland said, “Yes it is. My eyes feel like they are in a desert made of itchy cotton.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I don’t have that problem… maybe I adapted to it?”

Jude frowned at that. “When? Last thing you adapted to was the Light Architect’s corrup— Oh.”

“Smoke does feel like corruption,” Leland complained. “At least, it does to my eyes and lungs. So congrats, Glenny, you are now impervious to smoke!”

Another round of cheers went around the establishment.

Jude cocked his eyebrow. “Smoke!” he suddenly yelped.

They cheered again.

“Smoke!”

Everyone cheered!

“Smoke!”

They did it again, albeit a bit more subdued.

“Smo—”

A hand caught Jude’s mouth. “Dude, shut up,” Glenny sneered. “We need to figure this out. Am I really impervious to smoke? That’s considered corruption?”

Leland pushed himself away from their table. “I don’t know and we really won’t know until we find out what the Light Architect’s corruption is. Because yellow liquid and gray smoke are not the same thing.”

“Right… Where are you going?”

“To bed early. Or at least, into my bed early. I have a contract in mind.”

“Good luck!” Jude said, now biting into a baked potato with sheep’s butter.

Glenny gave a nod. “Maybe you could ask a Lord for me?”

Leland pondered the request. “Maybe. But I get the feeling that sort of information will cost me. If the price is too high, mind if I wait until the next time I talk to my Lord? I’m sure she’ll know.”

Agreeing, Glenny downed the rest of his drink and stood. Jude sighed, doing the same but also picking his potato up like a loaf of bread and continuing to chomp down.

“You guys don’t have to come with me. I can sleep by myself.”

“Are you serious? Last time we left you alone to eat, you almost died. Remember? Two cuts to the gut, dozens of broken bones, and a malevolent Lord trying to kill you?” Glenny rolled his eyes.

Leland lowered his head a bit, trying to hide his smile. “Thanks guys.”

A few minutes later, the boys were in their private connecting smoke-free rooms. Glenny and Jude had out a deck of cards, a handful of copper coins, and a few colored stones. The game was as simple as it was dangerous. Better hand wins, unless a player wanted to gamble on a stone pull. There was enough strategy involved to keep them occupied for an hour or two. But that was enough, they’d had a long day traveling and only needed a little while for their stomachs to ease after dinner.

“Alright guys,” Leland said after giving his tobacco smelling pillow a final fluff. “See you in the morning.”

“Night.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Taking a deep breath, Leland pulled his grimoire out of his hand tattoo noting the summoning circle surrounding the bird had, yet again, not moved or changed. Idly he wondered when the new ink would allow itself to be used and just what it would summon. Luckily, his previous worries had dissipated after his conversation with his parents a few months ago.

He had wondered if the summoning tattoo would require souls or something equivalently foul like hearts of the innocent or something. But his parents, and the subsequent meeting with the Lord of Curses, had soothed his concerns. He felt closer to his parents, and in a way, his Lord. He felt he could trust them all, just like they trusted him.

But Leland didn’t have the time to retrospectively think about that. He had a contract to forge. Mana and lifeforce flowed, consuming his vocal cords in a stint of power that reached the boundless heavens.

“Lord of the Eternal, I humbly wish to create a contract with you.”

The call took, sending Leland spiraling through an endless white void. He traveled for some timeless time, the sense of motion nothing if not lacking, but eventually arrived. Or at least he thought he did.

The white void was the Lord of the Eternal’s domain, unless the Lord decided to meet Leland at the door, so to speak. Either way, the mortal and deity stood in each other’s presence.

The only way Leland could describe the Lord was… unique. With a formless body made of infinite lines of thread, the Lord existed everywhere and anywhere. It was colorless, odorless, even size-less. Impossibly small but larger than the world, it shifted and moved with infinitesimal changes, swapping from lines of thread to streaks of starry wind to boxy, awkward, dimensional shapes.

Leland tried to kneel, but floating in a void made that difficult. He could, however, bend at the waist in a bow.

“Thank you, Lord of the Eternal, for accepting my meeting. I am Leland Silver, a mortal.”

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The Lord did not speak but for some reason an odd feeling of amusement entered the realm.

Leland continued, “I come today to ask you to form a contract with me. I have nothing to trade and can only gain, so you have me at a deficit.”

The shape of the deity changed again, this time into an aurora of pastel pinks and oranges. “What is it you wish to contract, Son of the Calamity? It is not often I am called upon.”

Smiling at the display of color, Leland recentered and said, “As you are surely aware, the Toy Maker and I had a small skirmish resulting in a battle with one of his Harbingers…”

Going on to explain a bit more, Leland mentioned how his magic served a great defense in the battle, but his stamina and weak body almost gave out on him. He was no warrior, he was supposed to be fighting behind the frontlines from a distance. And while he phrased the tale in a bit of a pandering way, Leland never lied.

He was groundless in front of the powerful sea that was the Lord of the Eternal, and he best remember that.

“I did hear ramblings of a recently dead Lord…” the infinite color said, shifting into a radiant man.

The man appeared walking, his naked feet glowing with every step against the white void. He stroked a beard of orange light particles, like a horde of fireflies contained in a prison of hair. The Lord then locked eyes with Leland, showing off two deep and liquid irises.

To Leland, the Lord was something out of a dream. Out of the dream. In a way, the Lord of the Eternal was everything and anything. Dreams were a part of his domain, as well as thought and emotions.

The Lord was one of the most powerful beings in existence if the rumors and ancient stories were to be believed.

“But I cannot help,” the Lord eventually said. “I am a more metaphorical aspiration of the term ‘eternal.’ I cannot give you a boon of eternal stamina, like you wish.”

Leland didn’t skip a beat. “I understand and thank you for the direct answer. How about—”

“A deadly spell?” the Lord interrupted, his elastic lips quirking a bit.

“I wouldn’t say no to—”

“Perhaps a way to move across continents with nothing more than a wave of a hand?”

Leland hesitated and the Lord Laughed.

“Listen, young mortal, and listen well. There are some Lords, myself included, whose powers are just not for the likes of human use. Any gift I can give, regardless of contract, will rip you apart from the inside out.”

That sounded… bad. But Leland was nothing if not a critical thinker, at least sometimes. “What about your Legacy? Do your followers not use your power?”

“What followers? What Legacy?”

Now Leland was confused.

The Lord smiled. “Leland Silver, there are some powers left untapped by the mortal plane. I figured you of all people would understand that, with you being in the Lord of Curses’s shadow.”

And Leland did, or at least he thought he did. “I understand. I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“But?”

Leland shuffled his hovering feet. “Could… could you point me in the direction of a Lord that would be willing to trade for what I asked?”

The Lord of the Eternal pondered the question. “There are a few, but their personalities might clash against one such as yourself.” He chuckled to himself. “But such is the way of mage and warrior.”

Just before Leland was cast away, back onto the stationary but ever moving path toward reality, the Lord spoke, “Speak to the Lord of Endurance. She will most likely give you as you ask, if not for a price.”

A moment later, Leland opened his eyes back in the smokey tavern. He twisted to the side, finding Jude and Glenny asleep. After a quick pillow fluffing, his eyes found the ceiling and he spoke.

“Lord of Endurance, I humbly wish to create a contract with you.”

Like before, Leland found himself back in the white void. As the minutes passed in silent travel, he experimented with touching upon his surroundings. He wiggled his toes, stretched out his arms, and felt around with his fingers.

His testing was abruptly cut short by the appearance of a dirt field. Crashing to his knees, the dirt accepted his weight like a sponge with a stone on top. He fell into the ground slightly and bounced back up a bit.

“What?” he muttered to himself as he struggled to keep balance.

“Ho there, traveler!” a voice greeted. “Long way from home, it seems.”

Leland spun, the ground seeming to twist with him. Flailing a little, he quickly found his feet and looked over the Lord. She was tall, like a lone tree in an orchard of bushes. Sweat dripped from her face and neck, disappearing in a bundle of smooth stitched cotton. Only her hands, neck, and face were visible, the rest covered in damp clothing.

“Caught me at a bad time, you did,” she continued. “Just finishing up my morning training.”

Leland almost asked about her “training,” but caught himself. Instead he fell to one knee, bouncing off the dirt and flopping to his hands and knees. He scrambled to rightly stand, embarrassment heavy across his face.

“Greetings Lord of Endurance, I am Leland—”

“Hello Leland, stand won’t you?”

He did as asked.

“You look odd,” she then said. “Like your feet don’t want to work. No, that isn’t right. They want to work, they just can’t keep up with how you want to move.”

She crouched down, locking eyes with the mortal. “Hmm. Take a step forward.”

He did.

“Again.”

He did again.

“Faster.”

He tripped, a small mound of wobbly ground the cause.

“Again. Faster this time.”

This went on for fifteen minutes, each minute the Lord pushing him faster and faster. He was at a full tilt sprint by the last. He fell that time as well, only making it six steps.

“You are a mage,” the Lord said abruptly like the answer was a revolutionary idea. “Weird.”

Huffing, Leland almost snapped at the Lord. He, in his mind, had just gone through a touch of torture. Running for the sake of running was the last thing on his list of things he wished to do with his time. But at the whims of a Lord, he felt he must oblige.

“I am a Legacy of the Curse Lord, a mage, yes.”

She tapped her chin, thinking. “Curse Lord, Curse Lord… where have I heard—” She went stark still. “Oh. The Calamity.”

“That was a long time ago,” Leland said, pushing himself to his feet.

“I would hope so. No one will tell me about her. The other Lords, I mean. Most are afraid of her wrath, and the others wouldn’t talk to a newborn like me.”

“Newborn?”

“I only ascended to Lordship a few centuries ago. I was an adventurer like you, not too long ago.” She laughed. “Fun times.”

“Ascended?” Leland asked. “Can you tell me—”

“Nope! Secrets and stuff.”

Leland hesitated at that. “Wait. Did you say centuries? Have you ever heard of the Inquisitors Silver?”

“Inquisitors? Those are the Palemarrow pawns, right? Ivory Reach?”

“T-that’s right.”

“I was across the world in the Hookfell Hearth.”

“Never heard of it.”

“And you shouldn’t!” she laughed again. “I made sure to destroy that hole long before I ascended. Horrible place.”

Leland swallowed and took a step back in reevaluation. Despite being forced to do something as remedial as sprinting and being talked to like a random patron at a bar, he was still in front of a Lord.

He chose his next words carefully. “Lord of Endurance, might we… jump to why I called upon you? As much as I would like to ask about your triumphs, my adventuring companions are waiting—”

“Speak no more! Those were my best days. Killing monsters and beheading Witches.”

Swallowing again, Leland said, “I have come to ask you to help me improve my stamina. I recently had a life or death battle with the Toy Maker and his Harbinger. I almost died thanks to my poor… mage-body.”

The Lord nodded along like everything was making sense. “I understand and can help. I have exactly what you need.”

Leland leaned in.

“Here’s what I can do. I will make an endurance exercise list for morning, midday, and nighttime activities. You will then follow the list to the ‘T,’ and surely you will leave that feeble mage body behind.” She paused, as if trying to recall something. “Oh! This is supposed to be a contract, right? That changes things.”

Leland nodded, hope on the horizon.

She tapped her chin again. “Eh, no it doesn’t. I’ll write the lists and in return I only want you to… say, give me a lap around my training field.”

The Lord motioned around, highlighting all of the bouncy dirt.

Leland paled. “I-I thank you for the kind offer… but my contract power requires something more actionable. Is there any way we could discuss an ability or boon that makes it so my endurance never wanes?”

“Mages are always cheats.”

Leland forced himself not to react.

The Lord of Endurance sighed. “The best way to better yourself is discipline and hard work. But I can see that ideology will never work for you. Fine.”

“F-fine?” Leland asked, a bit shocked.

“For the contractual price of two laps around my training field and the promise to at least do the morning section of my list, I will give you a stamina regeneration boon.”

Leland tried to keep his hopes from showing. “What kind of boon?”

“How about something that you as a mage will understand.” She tapped her chin, a sinister idea coming to mind. “The boon will increase your rested stamina reserve by a slight amount for every running step you take while exhausted.”

Leland blinked a few times. “That is… acceptable?”

Honestly he thought it was a great boon. Granted he had to work around how long he could have a contract active, but theoretically his stamina could become infinite. In a way, he would be getting the eternal boon he asked the Lord of the Eternal for…

All he had to do was run and exercise.

Ugh, he thought as he traveled back to the mortal plane via white tunnel. His feet ached, his lungs burned, his head felt dizzy. But he did it. Two, horrid, laps around the Lord of Endurance’s training field. It took hours. Long, slow, torturous hours.

But he did it, and he would never have to do it again.

As his eyes fluttered open and his exhaustion carried over from the divine domain, Leland wheezed for a moment. At least until a magical piece of paper appeared in his hands.

He readied himself for the Lord’s List, reading it over.

Morning endurance training:

* Twenty minute sprints.

* Two mile run.

* Twenty five minute sprints.

Leland wanted to scream when his eyes glazed over the midday and nighttime sections as well. Idly he wondered what breaking a contract would entail for him. That was, until the light of the morning sun entered a nearby window.

Now Leland really did scream.

Morning had dawned.