Oollie resists, wiggling in his embrace. Even tries to bite the nasty man. But the nasty man turns him around and hugs him so that Oollie’s head is now pressed against the dirty coat on the man’s shoulder.

Yuck.

“Take it easy, little fella. Don’t mean you no harm,” he says as he hugs him even harder as if he is ready to inflict plenty of harm.

I’m lost, holding my breath, just expecting the second till he breaks Oollie’s neck and till his body goes all limb.

“Relax,” I tell Oollie, “Don’t fight him. He’ll strangle you before he lets you go free. That much is clear. Relax, he won’t let you go. Let him come up here and then we’ll deal with him” I say again, watching him carrying Oollie up with an energetic, fast stride up the goat trail.

I meet them as soon as they cross the Dungeon edge with a whoosh of air, and the man has to raise his hand to protect his face, falling back a step and a half before I stop the wind blowing out of the cave.

“I don’t mean no harm,” he says right away, and as much as I look over him, I can’t see any weapons on him.

“Don’t mean no harm at all. I’m just an old man. Just trying to talk,” he says in a voice that is almost quivering there in the end.

Who is he playing? He is not that old, and I can attest to that as he puts his hand down so I can finally see his face clearly.

Probably forty-some years old, with only small traces of graying hair. Clean shaved and lean face. Eyes that shine with intelligence. But not benevolent. This is not just a goofy old dude who lost his way in the forest, no matter how feeble and old he wants to sound. It's all an act. I can see it clearly. I might be a dumbass, but not a brain-less dumbass.

“I apologize if I have caused your denizen any discomfort. I was just trying to help.”

“Well, in the future, don’t. What do you want?”

“I’m seeking to enter. Seeking your permission, oh, you wise, the wisest of all dungeons.”

He is looking very shady. Long and well-polished boots don’t help either. And neither does a coy smile on his lips. Either here looking to sell me snake oil or a hair rejuvenation jell.

“Are you selling snake oil?” I ask him, and he jumps. I guess he did not expect to be asked anything.

“Oh, no. I am not selling anything.”

“So, then what do you want?”

“Oh, I’m old, and it is well known that just to rest old bones against your majestic rock can be healing, your majesty, the Saint Ferna herself reborn again to bless us with her kindness and wisdom, how can anyone not admire you?”

“You’re... so full of shit. What do you want?”

I say it but secretly start to wonder, could it possibly be that I am special?

Oh, come on! Look at him! He said I was a rejuvenation of Saint Ferna, no less. How could he be lying??

“But I have nothing to offer. I'm just a-”

“You are wrong. You have a lot to offer.”

“What? What do you mean?” he says, stuttering, suddenly not sure.

“Come inside and rest on my majestic rock. I’m sure it will make you feel better.”

Suddenly he is even less sure of himself. He looks down the path he came from, sighs and shakes his head, then enters. I guess his bones must be hurting him bad.

“You are not dressed like the rest,” I tell him as he decides to stay where there is still light coming through

“No, I come from far away. From a small town you would not know.”

“What is it called a town I would not know.”

“It’s just a small place where two… taverns, one church.”

“Tell me. The name?”

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“It's called Trix's Vineyard.”

“And you did not come here to steal… anything??”

“No, of course not, I am but a…”

“But a sleek thief. I can see it. That’s why you have all them pockets. What’s in them pockets?’ I say, trying to sound just like Sméagol.

I am just messing with him, but the guy gets nervous.

“What is your name?” I ask sternly. “You think you will get out of here alive if you lie to me?”

“I, I… did not mean to upset you. My mother called me Ferly. Other people called me a different name. But that is what she called me. And I… I am just seeking a cure…. You see, not for me. For my daughter. She is sick. And I heard you have a cure, that you can create a cure for anything.”

Maybe the kids have talked. And this guy listened. Maybe. “Who told you I have a cure?”

“Well… it’s well-known information that the dungeons…”

“Who told you?”

“I visited the family, not far from here. Their children. They raved about you. Said how good you were, saved them from the wolves.

“And you need this for your daughter?”

“Yes. She is so sick…”

“Well, bring her here. Let me look at her, and then we’ll talk.”

“I’m afraid, your Majesty, but… She is… so weak, she can’t even get out of bed.”

“Huh. How convenient for you.”

This guy is smooth. A smooth operator. His voice trembles and he puts up a good act. But I see his eyes. They do not lie. They calculate, think, and act. There is a brilliant mind hiding behind them, studying me. Maybe analyzing me, looking for my weaknesses.

Whatever it may be, I need him to give me some answers. I mean, having this man in here is obviously the best way for me to find out about the place. I can't even start to make a strategy of how I am going to progress if I do not have information, enough information that is.

“How long have you traveled to come here?” I ask.

“Two days, my good and kind dungeon. I was on a road to Ebony Gray when I met these children, and they told me how-”

“Yeah, okay. So tell me, how many people live in that town of yours?”

“It’s just a small place. A few hundred… people dwell in it. Not more.”

“I see. And goblins. Where do they come from?”

“You have goblins here?”

He acts surprised. “I don’t. But if there are goblins here, where they would have come from?”

“From Ekowin. It’s up north. There is another one of you there, a dungeon, I mean. And I’m afraid that one is not nearly as... divine and righteous as you, your Majesty.”

“Who is Rhilons?”

He pretends again that he did not hear it right.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

A shadow passes over his face, and I know I very much want to hear it now.

“They are servants of the Church of Bright. They believe all dungeons are evil and should be destroyed.”

“I see. And why have they not completely ransacked and destroyed me? I mean, this dungeon here.”

“They thought they did.”

“I see,” I say, but I do not know what to think about that. Do not know and cannot guess what the dungeon looked like before I came here.

So, we talk for an hour. I instruct the Constructor to build a medicine and run to get it while he continues to talk. When I come back, when he sees me carrying the medicine in a glass ampulla, he looks… even more, anxious than before. It does not add up. It’s like, he should be happy. But no. He looks… worried. And I see him getting more and more anxious.

“Can you provide me with medicine? I am sorry. But I cannot stay here much longer.”

It seems he knows how dungeons work, and even though he found a white stone to stand on, he is not feeling safe. Maybe he is one of the Rhilons sect. I don’t know.

Also, this man has scared the hell out of Oollie. Can’t just give him something. Something for nothing. What kind of business would I be running here if that is the case? Besides, I do not like this fella that much. I liked the young sword master a whole lot better, and I ended up freezing him.

But what do I have to lose? It’s just one energy unit. And it may save a human life. That is a risk worth taking.

“I can give you a potion I gave to Verne. I am not sure if it will help your daughter. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, I do.”

“I cannot guarantee it will help her.”

“I understand.”

“So, then… what would you trade for this medicine?”

He pretends not to understand me. Reaches his hand to grab the ampulla. But I pull back.

“Hey, come on. Can’t give it for free. And you know it.”

“But I’m just a poor man. And my wife is desperate.”

“What? You said your daughter was sick.”

“Of course, my wife is so worried about my daughter.”

He is slick. Yet, let it be. Let it be known I am not without heart. But still… I could use so much stuff now.

“I’ll take an apple,” I say

I know Oollie would appreciate an apple. But still… what medicine cost one apple? Where? Certainly not in the good old US of A.

“I’ll take that apple,” And I actually do take the apple.

And as I’m holding it in my hands, I am considering what is the likelihood that it’s poisoned. It's red and looks really firm. I bet it's very juicy. But still… do I want to risk it?

As I’m considering eating it, I cast him a glance. He is not sweating over it. Seems cold as a cucumber. No. He did not come here to poison me. Besides, he knows Oollie is just my denizen. He seems to understand how it works.

I take a bite of the apple and watch his face. It does not change.

"And that… coat of yours.”

Now he goes berserk. “But… I have no other…”

He starts protesting and pleading, making me sick to my stomach.

“Fine. Bring twenty logs and pile them here by the door. And let’s call it even. But just this time.”

He grunts, but, what else is he going to do?

“Yeah, and you can start with those you made Oollie drop, yeah, when you scared the little fella, you know what I’m talking about. Better not do it again. Ever.”

He waves at me as he turns around, already going to bring me the logs I demanded.

“Look at you now, looking all old and frail! You were not so frail and old when you were chasing after Oollie, were you?”

He waves a hand at me without turning around, growling something to himself. Probably calling me all sorts of indecent names.

“Besides, why the hell did you want to hold him in the first place?” I scream after him. “And the next time you feel like petting something furry…? Get a little hamster, man! A bunny rabbit. Or a rat! The way I see it, a rat would suit you just fine.”