The reactions of the patrons at the inn were tamer than in Rosedale. Still, all heads turned as soon as we entered and they saw me. These were the same looks and long stares I got as we made our way through town.

As a fellow innkeeper, Frank bartered two rooms for us. The idea that everyone would get their own room was a luxury for the rich, and we weren’t. In this place, people had a different idea about modesty and private space. I needed sleep as I hadn’t slept the previous night, and it was taking a toll on me. I was also hungry, but first, I needed to take care of the wounds before they could get infected.

“The regular alchemy shop is already closed,” Darya said. “So, we’ll visit an old friend, he can mend your wounds. It’ll be cheaper too.”

Out of the inn and through the stable, Darya and I walked back the same way we arrived -- through the slums. The houses didn’t have hanging lanterns at every corner like in Rosedale. Despite the multitude of stars shining bright and a faint glimmer of the moon, the streets went dark as the night set in. Shadows moved in the alleyways, rats scurried about.

A short walk later, we turned down a narrow street and stopped at one of the houses. Darya pounded on a door, and a minute later, an anxious eye peeked out from the side of a curtain before quickly vanishing. Shortly, I could hear the bolts sliding open, and then the door creaked open cautiously.

“Darya?” a tired voice asked.

“Yeah, open up,” Darya replied, turning to me. “Boris is my uncle.”

The last latch was freed and the door opened wide. Inside stood a man with a scraggly beard and a gaunt frame hinting at a life marked by hardships. His shoddy attire was hanging loosely on his shoulders, and the fabric was threadbare and faded, bearing many stains. Despite his weary appearance, there was a quiet dignity to him, showing a stubborn resilience. Even standing one step higher, he had to crane his neck to look up at me.

“A-And who is this friend of yours?” Boris asked nervously, glanced down both sides of the street before moving aside so we could enter.

His small, simple house was all barebones. By the fireplace, a teenager lowered his book to watch us with an anxious look on his face. Darya introduced me and told Boris about our lethal encounter outside of Kittrell that left seven raiders dead. The story brought a smile to his face.

“But it didn’t come easy, you see,” Darya said. “He got hurt and will need some of your expertise.”

“Ahh, let me take a look at that.” Boris had me sit closer to the fireplace so he could examine my wounds. The teenager across from me remained motionless with an unblinking stare of wide eyes and mouth open as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“You’re in luck,” Boris said. “This isn’t so bad, and I have some healing potions that I couldn’t sell, not for the prices mandated by Cort, the governor,” he said with a voice shifting to fear and anger when he said the governor’s name. “He’s got everyone under his heel in this town.”

Boris lit a candle, rummaged in a box full of bottles and tinctures. He brought one out, shook it a tad, examining the color against the candlelight.

“This should do,” he said.

He started with the wound on my forearm, and poured on the reddish liquid with great care so as not to waste a single drop. Like a hydrogen peroxide on a cut, it foamed and fizzed, emitting a soft hiss. Despite the stinging pain, something about how it went to work made me feel reassured about the healing process.

I watched as the HP numbers climbed in my status screen, but much slower than I thought it would be. Perhaps I was accustomed to all the instant healing potions in the video games I played back home, and thought it would be similar here.

“Things have gone bad since I saw you last time,” Boris lamented to Darya. “And now I’m in deep, deep trouble.”

“What sort?” Darya asked with a concerned voice.

He sighed heavily. “The only sort around here. Debt.”

Boris went on to explain the situation he was in. He was an alchemist by profession, and he used to own a store in town, but was driven out of work. The governor of the town had a tight fist on everything that went on in town. He had the thieves guild, the merchants guild, and all the guards in his pocket. Using the merchants guild he’d set the prices on all the goods, except those that were made by his enslaved craftsmen. To get them enslaved, he used all manner of underhanded tactics to put them in great debt. After that, it was either the cold dungeon, or slavery. It was hardly a choice. Rumor was that if anyone tried to leave, the raiders would rob them if they were lucky, kill them if not.

“How bad is it?” Darya asked. “How much do you owe, and to whom?”

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“A lot, and to the worst ones around. But specifically to Aiden, a scoundrel in the thieves-”

“Aiden? Aiden of the Rocky Hills?”

“Oh, so you heard of him?”

Darya bolted to her feet, speaking loud. “Heard? I-I .. so he’s here? Here in Kittrell?”

“He didn’t go far, did he?” I grinned at Darya. “What do you say we go and have a little chat with him later? From what I’m hearing, I'd be happy to spare one midnight for the likes of him.”

On top of being grateful to Boris for the healing, I had my own reasons to go after Aiden. Whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not, but something had changed after I killed the raiders. I didn’t feel quite the same anymore. I had an itch to scratch and was thirsting for something more, something lively.

Darya smiled mischievously. “Oof, I’d like that very much, but first we’d need to find out where he is.”

Boris furrowed his brows. “You’re not seriously suggesting what I think you’re-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” I reassured him. “It’d be a pleasure.”

“Why not leave, and go to Rosedale?” Darya asked him. “I know we get hit by the Dark Night much harder than you, but that certainly beats slavery, doesn't it? Do it for your son.”

“I told you, he’s got us under watch day and night. If we’re lucky to leave, there's still the raiders outside watching the roads. We wouldn’t make it out alive.”

I shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad. We killed seven on the way here, but they probably got a hideout in the hills somewhere. We’ll be going back to Rosedale in a couple of days, you should go back with us.”

Boris' expression dropped, mirroring the slump of his shoulders. “I-I … I don’t know.”

I could understand his hesitation. He’d likely lose his home and whatever livelihood he was making here. Rosedale wasn’t in great shape either, and especially with the monthly Dark Nights that could end in serious tragedy.

“Well, you better make up your mind soon. We won’t be here long.”

While the concoction continued to hiss and bubble on my forearm, he poured some on my left arm too. With both cuts healing at the same time, the HPs in my status screen climbed faster. I offered to pay for the healing, but he declined, saying he wouldn’t charge a friend of the family.

“Oh? In that case, what else do you have in that box there?” I asked him. “I have a strong suspicion I’ll be needing more healing and whatever other potions that could help.”

He didn’t have much, but I managed to pocket two Dark Sight potions, and he was eager for me to have them. They were just what I needed if I was going to spend a midnight hunting down a certain villain. Before we left, I was happy to see that my wounds had closed up, leaving fresh scars.

Later that night when we returned to the inn, I had a letter awaiting my attention.

***

The cockroach army was on the move. Luther could hear the subtle scratching of their feet as they scurried about in the catacombs under the abbey. With the Supreme Commander out on a critical mission, he was left to man the abbey and stave off any nightly attacks. But he wasn’t alone. Two new recruits had joined the ranks. They weren’t top notch soldiers he was hoping for, but quantity had a certain quality to it.

Luther flicked the ear of one to wake him up. “Be vigilant boys, they’re coming.”

The second one was awake, yet much too busy pulling snot out of his nose than watching their flank. The four had positioned themselves down at the bottom of a flight of moldy steps, a level under the nave. Lermin stood ready behind them, a few steps up. Using the advantage of higher ground he was ready to unleash long range attacks at a moment’s notice.

Before them was no man's land. Dim, damp and utterly terrifying. None have ventured farther than they had right this moment, and few brave souls had returned to tell the tale. Shapes moved in the shadows, down in the corner, up on the ceiling. Water dripped down in a haunting rhythm. Combined, it created an atmosphere so oppressive that it would drive any man to insanity. Luther pondered what manner of creatures lurked and hunted in the darkest reaches of the chamber, ready to pull an unsuspecting victim to be devoured.

He focused his full attention, trying to see through the darkness with a hushed breath. And if in response, from the darkness, an antenna came into view, probing the ground before it. Luther signaled to his men, pointed ahead to the vile creature before them. Everyone froze, staring in its direction. Even the new recruit stopped half-way through picking his nose with fresh snot strung from his nostril to his damp finger.

The whine of a wand as it charged up echoed through the chamber. Luther held his breath, and prayed. Prayed that their foe wouldn’t run off, prayed that Lermin was worth the top bunk bed. A momentary burst of light colored the chamber of stone in white as if a lightning had struck. The blast hit the bug dead on, disorienting it.

“Attack!” Luther commanded, and charged ahead leading the troops to glory with a satisfied smile on his face. The night had not been in vain.

The group pounced upon the bug with a vicious temper. Pummeled it with ladles, and wooden spoons. It thrashed and screeched, but the forces of good were much too overwhelming. Bug guts sprayed out, legs were ripped away. Luther finished it off by slicing its head off with his holy avenger.

“We did it, boys!”

Everyone jumped and cheered in joy. The oppressive atmosphere of the dark chamber seeming to vanish for a time. Luther took a moment to collect himself, and then to stand victoriously over the fallen creature. He had a speech prepared, but instead he froze where he stood. He signaled everyone to attention as he had just heard the sounds of a great calamity rousing from slumber.

A force of nature was coming, and one that could not be bargained with or restrained. Goosebumps covered Luther’s skin, fear gripping even this veteran of a fighter. There could be only one course of action to such a tactical blunder. This victory had come at a terrible price.

“Retreat! Back to bed, and on the double!” Luther commanded.

Amelia had awoken.