Fontea jumped away, startled. The second her feet hit the ground, she drew her sword. “Aster!”

The mob below her roared in anger. One or two of the more excitable villagers lurched forward, gripping their pitchforks tight. Anger shone in their eyes, mixed with a certain kind of madness.

Aster stood there, Stella clasped in his arms. He slowly took in the mob, eyes settling on each of the villagers in turn. Most of them glared back at him, but a few flinched back, eyes darting away, unable to meet his eyes.

Stella grabbed onto his shirt. Leaning up, she whispered, “Humans!”

“What’s gotten everyone all worked up? Was the teahouse that bad?” Aster joked, rubbing Stella’s back comfortingly. He nodded at the shopkeep, burly Bessa, who pressed her lips together but didn’t look away. “Where’s the town council? Is this a sanctioned activity?”

“Who needs those old fogeys? I’m gonna protect my kids!” one of the men snarled.

“Protect your kids from what?” Aster asked.

“From you!” the man shouted back, and the crowd shouted in agreement, hefting whatever implements they’d brought along.

Aster shook his head. “I’m one man. All I’ve done is work to fix your dungeon. Am I so dangerous?”

“We know what you’re really doing in there! Raising an army of monsters to come sweep through our village and eat our children!” one of the women shouted.

Stella flinched away. She hid her face.

“Am I? Would I bring my daughter along, if that was the case?” Aster asked, looking down at the crowd. Someone began to shout, but before they could speak, Aster cleared his throat. He stepped forward. “Think. What have I done since I’ve arrived? I’ve visited your tavern. Patronized your shops. I’ve worked with the town council and the elders to improve the state of your dungeon. I’m here to help, not to hurt.”

Even if I was here to raise an army of monsters… why on earth would I start here, in a small, weak dungeon on the verge of collapse? If I was doing that, I might as well start in Slasher Caverns, full of deadly-dangerous genocidal monsters, not with Stella and her five-or-so somewhat intimidating midbosses.

“Sure you are, liar!” someone shouted.

Aster turned to Fontea. “Fontea, what lies have you told these people? You know how weak this dungeon is. You know it poses no real threat to anyone. Why agitate the town?”

Fontea jabbed her finger at him. “No real threat? Weak? You’ve captured most of my party! Killed some of them! You—”

Milo stepped out of the darkness, clutching his staff nervously. “Fontea, what are you talking about? You know I volunteered to help in the dungeon of my own will. I wasn’t captured.”

The town paused. Some of the townsfolk turned to one another and began to murmur amongst themselves, no longer so sure of their goal.

“They brainwashed you! Brainwashed!” Fontea shouted. She pointed at Milo. “You betrayer! Turning your back on our party! Going along with the people who killed Alice and turned her into a monster!”

A gasp ran through the crowd. “Turned her into a monster?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Alice? She was a strange girl, but sweet. Why…?”

“They can turn people into monsters? Aren’t we all at threat?”

Milo spread his hands. “What proof do you have? Fontea, I understand that you’re grieving, but dungeons are dangerous. All adventurers know that we take our lives in our own hands when we enter a dungeon. Alice… Alice was no different. I miss her, too. I feel her loss every day. But… claiming she was turned into a monster? You’re being delusional.”

The mob settled again. Brows furrowed, and the murmuring grew louder.

Fontea spluttered. “Delusional? You’re the one who’s delusional! You—”

Internally, Aster gave Milo a double thumbs up. I almost forgot this kid was a member of the nobility! When it comes to battles of words and wit, the nobles can’t be beat. A third son unfit for ascending to the title is still more than capable of backing a backwater-peasant-turned-adventurer into a corner with his words! Plus, saying those words in the robes of a priest of the Most High God… even if Fontea is a born-and-raised member of this town and Milo’s an out-of-towner, having those robes and all the trust and authority that comes with being a member of the clergy counts for something!

Jaro stepped up beside Fontea. He gently put a hand on her shoulder. “Fontea, we were getting a little too worked up. Why don’t we talk it over with Aster and the others? I’m sure we can figure out what’s really going on. I don’t think anyone’s raising an army, after all.”

Fontea slapped his hand away. “You… why won’t you believe me? You saw! You know—you know what we saw! That golem! Alice…”

A few of the rearmost members of the mob started to drift away. The others milled about aimlessly, arguing amongst themselves.

Fontea stepped forward. “Don’t listen to them! They’re lying. We need to destroy the dungeon! Now!”

The crowd mumbled to one another. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen anyone turned into a monster.”

“The dungeon brings in a lot of money.”

“And a lot of out-of-town assholes!”

“With money, though.”

“Before the dungeon, the town was dying out. Without the dungeon… are we going to survive? Logging isn’t as lucrative as it once was…”

“It’s a bit evil, but it’s a necessary evil.”

Frustrated, Fontea snarled, “No! Don’t listen!”

Jaro sighed. He nodded at Fontea. “Come on. Let’s go back. We’ve done enough.”

Fontea rounded on him. “Done enough? Done enough! You always think we’ve done enough! Aren’t you a—”

Silas staggered out of the cave, panting. He looked around. “Whoa. What’s everyone doing here?”

Fontea turned. “Silas! You—they said you were—”

“Locked up,” Jaro finished for her.

“Ah, yeah. Well, they let me out,” Silas said, scratching the back of his head. He nodded at the townsfolk and gave a little wave.

“Let… you out? As easy as that?” Fontea asked, staggered.

“A lot happened,” Aster explained, shrugging.

Silas laughed. He shook his head. “You can say that again.”

From out of the crowd, Bessa stepped forward. “Silas is fine. Milo is fine. Alice died in the dungeon, regrettable but not unheard of for an adventurer. Fontea, you can’t kick up this much of a fuss over the loss of one party member. Dungeons involve risk. Everyone knows this.”

“It’s not—just—they’re hiding it!” Fontea said, flustered. She pointed at Aster. “He killed her. Aster killed Alice!”

Bessa crossed her arms and sighed. “It was in the dungeon, Fontea. Anything can happen. Are you sure it was him that killed her? It wasn’t a monster, or a bad situation?”

“You weren’t even there,” Milo said, shaking his head.

“I was barely there,” Silas grumbled under his breath, crossing his arms.

“Fontea, I understand that you’re frustrated with me, but please. There’s no need for all this agitation,” Aster said, swapping Stella from his right hip to his left.

Fontea staggered back. She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. “You can’t… you can’t…”

A black shadow darted out of the cave. Alice leaped onto Silas and bowled him over. She chittered and leaned in, peering at the back of his head.

“Alice, what are you doing?” Silas asked, frustrated. He climbed to his knees and looked at Alice. “I’m not going to leave you. I’m coming right back.”

Alice hesitated, then hummed, retreating a step.

Aster pressed a hand to his forehead. Oh, no…

Fontea’s eyes widened. “Alice! You called her Alice! That’s Alice!”

“Eh…? Yeah. She’s Alice,” Silas said, nodding.

“Alice turned into a monster?” Bessa asked. She took a step back.

“Silas—” Aster started.

Silas rubbed his forehead. “It’s a long story, but yes.”

“They can turn us into monsters! They can!” Fontea said, jabbing her finger at Silas.

“But that’s not—that’s—” Silas said, glancing at Aster and Milo.

Milo sighed at him. Aster shook his head.

Opposite them, the mob revved up again. Torches flashed and pitchforks were hefted. Fontea shouted, her words barely audible amidst the sudden resurgence.

“Did I miss something?” Silas asked, lost.