“And you don’t believe there was anything strange about your recent behavior?” the spear asked me later, her voice heavy with suspicion as we finished surveying the rest of the Redcap lair.

“Honestly, no,” I said as I thrust her into the throat of a Redcap that had been clever enough to hide behind a wooden pillar but too excited to quiet its heavy breathing. From behind us, a sudden squeal of pain accompanied by excited barking informed me that the dog had found and dispatched another one.

“He’s so good at this,” I smiled. “Maybe I’ll let him have one as a snack.”

“You’d feed him the profane flesh of a monster?” the spear asked with a slight vibration that I interpreted as a shiver.

“I don’t see why not,” I replied. “They aren’t human, they’re barely self-aware, and to a man they’re irredeemably hostile. Also, I find the taste of their blood foul. If our friend can derive pleasure from the consumption of such miserable beings, then it would be cruel to let them rot.”

With that said, I transitioned into my Porter class and stored my latest kill away. While doing so, I made a pleasant discovery. “Look at that!” I said with some excitement. I pointed to where the body had once been.

“Yes, yes, your porter ability makes it very convenient for you to remove any incriminating evidence, what’s your point?” asked the spear impatiently.

“Don’t take the fun out of this for me, daughter,” I said crossly. “Haven’t you noticed? I didn’t just store the body away; I stored the blood pouring from his wound as well! Look at the floor. It’s as clean as though it were mopped with bleach-soaked water.”

I assume the spear gave the floor a careful examination. It was difficult to tell because it lacked a head to follow, but I’m fairly certain it still gave the area a onceover because a few moments later, it let out an impressed whistle and said, “That actually is interesting. Apparently, your ability to store things isn’t limited to weapons, armor, and consumables.”

“That would seem to be the case,” I agreed. Which makes me wonder…”

I then closed my eyes and focused on myself. Although I’d only recently acquired the clothing I was currently wearing, two days of sleeping in a grave, one night of sleeping outdoors, and this evening’s amusing Redcap slaughter hadn’t done a lot to keep my attire presentable. Put bluntly, I was filthy. I also didn’t smell very pleasant. But without easy access to water, there was nothing I could do about that. And even if there was, my clothing would still be stained with dirt and blood.

Or would it?

Here in my human form, with my porter class equipped, I focused on my body, envisioning every inch of it, including the clothes I wore and the spear I held…and then I stored everything that was on them. Every spec of dirt and mud, every particle of spilled blood, every odor producing bacteria or worse. All of it, I pulled away from me and sent away to storage.

When I opened my eyes, my clothes and boots were pristine. As spotless as the moment I’d received them.

“Nice trick,” the now gleaming spear said with grudging appreciation.

“Thank you,” I said with a slight bow. “I’m quite pleased myself.”

Next, I called the dog over and gave him the same treatment. He blinked in canine confusion as the filth which once matted his fur disappeared in an instant, making him look as though he’d just been collected from a pet salon. Instead of showing appreciation, though, he instead cocked his head and stared at me in bewilderment.

“Oh, don’t be like that. Trust me, it’s a vast improvement,” I assured him as I scratched beneath his chin. “I can’t have my familiar following behind me while trailing a cloud of dust. They’d be calling you Pigpen instead of Providence.”

“Was that a joke? I don’t get it,” said the spear.

“Pigpen was one of Charlie Brown’s associates. He was so filthy that he existed in a perpetual cloud of dust and dirt,” I informed her.

“I still don’t get it. Who is Charlie Brown?”

“He was a creation of the famed cartoonist Charles M. Schulz. He’s a beloved icon to millions of children everywhere,” I said.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Is this something old? Are you showing how out of date you are with your references, you silly old monster?” The spear taunted.

“No,” I said with some irritation. “I was just making a reference to something I think people enjoy.”

“In what way?” the spear scoffed. “Name one reason a modern person would give a damn about this silly cartoon strip. It’s as far from the public’s awareness as the Katzenjammer kids.”

“I think you may be exaggerating I said. “Like all good stories, the works of Shulz contain a timeless appeal.”

“Such as?” asked the spear.

“He was notable for using his work to speak to children about issues involving depression and anxiety,” I said.

“Is that really what children wanted to read about in their Sunday comics?” the spear asked sarcastically. “Anxiety and depression? Sounds like a fun time, indeed.”

“Kids have more depth than you give them credit for,” I replied.

“What’s Lucky doing right now?” the spear asked.

“We’re not calling him that! His name is Providence!” I shouted.

“Sorry, no. That name is ridiculous,” the spear said.

“Why are you so fixated on that name?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from this irritating topic.

“I like what I like,” the spear said. “Anything’s better than Providence.”

“Well, I don’t want to call him that, and since I’m the one in charge, I feel I should have the final say,” I said.

“No, I want to name him Lucky.”

“I’m three seconds away from commanding you to be silent for all eternity,” I warned her. “I’m not even joking.”

“So, what you’re really saying is, since you can’t convince me to agree with you, you’ll silence my voice instead?” asked the spear. “Really now, father. Kind of sounds like a petulant move.”

“I’m not petulant!” I seethed.

“Then prove it!” said the spear. “Let’s ask the dog which name he prefers. He might not be able to speak but he can decide for himself what he likes. He’ll pick his own name, and the loser must abide by it, deal?”

“You think I fear your challenge, girl?” I sneered. “BRING IT. Just don’t forget who walked away victorious the last time you came at me.”

“You blew yourself up! We both died!” she shouted.

“But you admit you died because of me?” I asked with a deliberately condescending smirk. “Which means that I won?”

“Lucky get over here!” the spear shouted to him. “Hurry up and side with me so we can deflate this evil prick’s ego!”

The dog cocked his head and stared at the spear with a curious expression before trotting over. I knelt before him and gave him a pat as we each took turns explaining what we wanted to name him.

I was concise and to the point. “Providence hints at a divine destiny. Of all the savage beasts that prowl these untamed lands, you alone have proven worthy to be my familiar. Proudly accept the name I’ve bestowed upon you and prove to our arrogant companion how mistaken she is.”

The dog stared at me blankly.

“C’mere, Lucky. Lucky come here! Who’s my good little boy? C’mere Lucky!” said the spear.

The dog whined and rolled over, exposing his belly.

“No,” I growled.

“Toooold you!” taunted the spear.

“RIDICULOUS!” I yelled and hurled the spear away in a fit of anger and disappointment. I couldn’t believe it! The dog was my familiar. My preferences should have been his own. How could he go against me? I hate it when my wishes go unfulfilled!

As I stood there stewing in the unfairness of it all, the dog came trotting towards me, tail wagging happily as he dropped the spear beside me and sat patiently, waiting for me to throw it again.

“No, please don’t,” the spear said.

“Fetch boy,” I said with a small smile as I threw the spear again.

“No, don’t do that, ARGHHHHH!” the spear said as she flew away.

A few moments later, the dog returned her to me and barked excitedly, wanting to go again.

“Well, well, well,” I said. “Looks like we’ve got a game going on, doesn’t it?”

“Please stop throwing me,” the spear begged.

“I don’t know if I can do that. It appears Lucky is really enjoying it. Aren’t you, Lucky?” I asked him.

In reply, he cheerfully barked.

“What sort of master would I be to deny a good boy his sport?” I asked her.

“You are a petty, petty, little man,” the spear said accusingly.

“Pettiness is a delight, I won’t deny it,” I said without shame.

“Be better than your small urges!” she pleaded.

“If that were possible, how could I have fallen into vampirism?” I asked.

“Providence! The dog’s name shall be providence!” she shouted desperately as I prepared to throw her once more.

“It’s fine, you were right, that name really is too stuffy for a dog. Something more playful would better suit him,” I said as I sent her flying.

“Baaaaastard!” she shouted miserably as she streaked away.

“Go fetch, Schulz!” I ordered him.

Schulz darted forth fast as lightning and quickly returned with the spear in hand. Er, mouth.

He really was a very good boy.

“I hate you I hate you I hate you,” the spear mumbled as I received her.

“I’m sure I’ll grow on you in time,” I said. “But now that I think about it, perhaps it’s time we came up with a name for you as well. I can’t very well keep referring to you as spear, can I?”

“I am the Spear of Dawn. A weapon of divine reprisal! Whatever false name you assign me won’t divert me from my holy purpose.”

“Okay, so, Tarkington Van Bueler, it is,” I decided.

“Excuse me?”

“Poppy Van Cleese?”

“You’re making those up terrible names up, you prick.”

“Brutus Buffinton Buffordson!”

“Is this the sort of thing you did to pass the time when you were holed up in that stupid castle?” she asked me.

“Among other equally silly things,” I confess. “Now that I think about it, since you’re a spear, you should have a name that invokes your pointy nature. Hmm, now what should that be?”

“You are such an immature little—”

“How about Lady Thrustington Lungewell?” I asked.

“MY NAME IS RACHEL!” the spear shouted furiously.

“Oh, Rachel. That’s a pretty name,” I said. “So nice to meet you.”

Rachel said nothing in reply. I think she was upset with me.