By trade, Durbin Entwhistle wasn't a gambler. He called himself a doctor, though charlatan would be a more accurate description. Day to day, he peddled patent medicines, elixirs, and cure-alls on the streets of Lancester. All unlicensed by the Magicians' Guild of course. But like many petty criminals of his ilk, Doctor Entwhistle (as he insisted on being referred to as) was not above any easy source of income.

Which explained how he came to be hustling a nervous courier at a game of cards in one of Lancester's seedier gambling houses. Looking out over his miniature skyline of chips, Durbin asked with a cruel smirk, "Are you going to ante up, or fold my friend?"

His poor mark ran a sweaty hand through stringy black hair. "Just... just give me a moment." Said mark, named Tahd, shot the dealer a pleading glance, hoping for a line of credit, which was denied with a firm headshake.

Behind his cards, Durbin read the schmuck's face. Tahd had nothing left to gamble, but was in too deep to simply give up. Ever the entrepreneur, the good doctor saw an opportunity to take his hustle further.

"I can't help but notice that finely crafted box at your side, friend."

The courier glanced at the side of his seat, where the aforementioned box sat almost forgotten.

"Why don't you put that up?" suggested the doctor.

"I... I can't. That... belongs to someone else."

"Ah, but if you win this next hand it won't matter, will it? You'll keep your property and walk away a richer man."

The honeyed words wormed their way into Tahd's brain. Durbin could almost see him mentally weighing the chances of victory. The sweaty courier, barely able to hold on to his cards, picked up his precious delivery and deliberated. After a moment, he placed it on the table.

"Ante."

Durbin smiled like only a con man that's just suckered someone can.

"Players, show your hands," said the dealer.

Tahd nervously laid down his hand, and announced, "Swords and Shields."

The doctor spread his out with the flat of his hand. "Tetrarch."

Despair crashed down on his mark as the room full of Lancester locals cheered for their hometown boy. Durbin leaned back in his chair and shrugged, accepting handshakes and affectionate slaps from his friends.

"Better luck next time my friend," he said pulling in his winnings, ornate box included.

Tahd stared at the table. He muttered, "I'm dead." His hand shot out and snatched Durbin by the wrist.

"Please, I need that box back. You can keep all my money, but let me take the box. Without it, they'll kill me."

"Come now friend, you lost. Don't embarrass yourself with this," Durbin tried yanking his sleeve away but the courier won't let go, "Pathetic display."

"Please, You don't understand. Someone paid me a lot to deliver that. If they don't get it-"

"Well that's your problem now, isn't it? Claudius!"

The towering casino bouncer came over and pulled Tahd off him. Claudius growled out, "Time to go," and dragged the loser away.

"No! No, please! I'm dead if I don't bring them their box!" The courier's desperate pleas faded, as he was not so kindly escorted out.

Durbin got over the matter quickly. Schmucks reacted like that all the time after getting caught in a hustle. He didn't let it bother him. Putting the box under his arm, he moved to the counter to cash in his winnings. Along the way, the cute dealers and mobster's molls shot him approving glances. He returned each with aplomb.

"Impressive card playing, Dr. Entwhistle," said one of the girls.

"Why thank you, my darling. Can I buy you a drink some time?"

"Promise it will be champagne," she flirted.

"But of course."

Charm is a prerequisite of a good charlatan, and Durbin's fine features helped in that regard. With his wavy, bed-tousled hair, sharp chin, and soft smile, he exuded gentle reassurance. That aura fit his lanky frame like a well-tailored suit. If he were an actual doctor, he would have an excellent bedside manner. As things were, Durbin found flirting and grifting a better use of his handsome face.

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His parents would be ashamed of him.

Bidding farewell to the would-be paramour with his address and a lipstick mark on his cheek, he made for the cash-in window, only to be confronted by the pit boss, Rouis.

"Excellent hustle out there. Poor dope didn't know what hit him."

"Glad I could provide some amusement, my friend. Now if you'll excuse me..."

The larger man stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Uh uh, Doc. You can't cheat in here unless the house gets a cut. Them's the rules."

"Oh come on Rouis, we're both Hollow Knight Hill boys. Give me a break. That schmuck must have had about 2000 Quell on him."

His acquaintance stroked his chin for a moment. "Tell you what. We'll take these," he swiped the bucket of chips out of Durbin's hands, "and you can keep the box."

"Hardly seems fair."

Rouis shrugged. "Hey, rules are rules. Unless you'd like to make something of it." He punched his open palm to emphasize the point.

Durbin pouted, knowing he couldn't argue. Criminals they might be, but even criminals have codes of conduct. Breaking them did no good for anyone, least of all him in this situation. So he sighed and said, "Very well. Perhaps the pawnbroker came make something of this." He patted his newly won treasure under his arm.

"Glad we could come to this understanding," said Rouis with a smile.

Less wealthy than he might have wished, Doctor Entwhistle left the basement casino and entered back into the Lancester sun, his case of fraudulent medicine samples at his side. The day had greeted him well, and he had an inkling his luck would continue. He merged into the flowing masses of the city like a salmon swimming upstream.

Not thirty feet from him though, behind the gambling house, a scene of far different fortune was playing out. Rouis' bouncers tossed Tahd out into a filthy alley. Landing with a thump in the grime, he kept up his pleading.

"You don't understand! You don't know who paid me to deliver that box. If they don't get it, they'll kill me!"

"Yeah, and we'll kill if you don't scram! Now shove off loser!" They slammed the door in his face.

Slumped against the wall, the desperate courier pushed himself up and tried to hold back frightened whimpers. He slunk into the throngs of people, looking over his shoulder for anyone who might be following him. Tahd couldn't make the rendezvous now, not without the box. His best bet was to flee Lancester; on a ship, to the country, how didn't matter. Just out of the city and as far away from those hot springs before Theyfound out what happened.

A smear of scarlet slashed through his peripheral vision and he gasped. Someone spotted him. Theyspotted him. In a panic, he ducked into another alley. Before Tahd knew it, he was running. Rats scurried away at his labored breathing, and he stumbled into a trash barrel, crashing to the ground. Scrambling to his feet, he checked behind him. No one had followed him.

The troubled man crept back up to the street. Peeking his head out, he caught a few curious stares, but no attention from those he feared. Relieved, Tahd let out a quick sigh. He mentally plotted out the quickest escape route until a strong set of hands hauled him back into the alley.

A meaty forearm choked him around the throat. The courier glanced up and took in his captor's visage. He was a huge man in a white cloak. A crude plaster mask hid his face.

"Tahd, Tahd, Tahd," came a voice above his head. "What a naughty boy you've been."

The man mountain holding him shifted Tahd toward the speaker. Crawling down the wall like a gecko or spider came a small, slender woman in a red hooded robe. Mummy's wrappings covered her arms and legs, and another crude mask disguised her face. She pounced down, landing in front of him.

He craned away from the new arrival as best he could in the chokehold, screams strangled in his throat. The crimson-clad woman caressed his face.

"Oh Tahd. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to gamble with things that aren't yours?"

Her voice dripped with sharp sweetness, like honey made from wasps.

The arm around Tahd's neck relaxed. The courier sucked in air like a drowning man and spoke.

"I'm sorry, Karna. I shouldn't have-"

She put a finger to his lips.

"Shh, shh. The time for excuses is over, my naughty boy. Now tell Martex and I who has our box."

"I... I don't know. Some Hollow Knight Hill hustler. I can't remember his name."

"Tahd, I think you can do better if you try harder." Her final word hit him like a cannon blast. Karna held up her bandaged hand and it ignited with crackling energy the color of clotted blood. Tahd's eyes widened as she inched her palm closer and closer to his face.

"He was a doctor!" the terrified courier blurted out, "Doctor... Entwhistle! He has your box!"

Martex the giant suddenly released him and Tahd collapsed to the dirty ground. He coughed from the damage to his throat. As he did, Karna knelt and caressed his face again.

"Good boy Tahd. Very good."

"Does..." he looked up into her blank mask, "Does this mean you'll let me live?"

"Well I didn't say that."

The last of the courier's hopes died a quick death. Martex took a step away from him.

"You've still been very naughty, Tahd," said the slender woman, "And naughty boys need to be punished."

"Oh no. Please, Karna. No!"

A torrent of untamed scarlet energy, the sickest spellcasting known to mortal sorcerers, blasted out of her hand and engulfed Tahd's upper body, crackling with a sound like screaming souls. When the raw magic dissipated and the murderess lowered her hand, all that was left of Tahd was an abandoned pair of legs and a wet splash on the wall.

"Come Martex," she told her giant, "Let's discover where this Doctor Entwhistle has taken our box."

The man mountain grunted in agreement. The two murderers fell forward, passing through the solid ground as if it were the skin of a pool, and vanished.

A few moments later, long enough for flies to start gathering on the courier's half-corpse, another visitor arrived in the alleyway. A woman clad in teal. She examined the body, or smear she supposed, and ran a magic detector over it.  The gauge's needle danced into the red, confirming her suspicion.

"Oh Tahd, you poor dope."

Her sympathy was short-lived. She needed to find his missing delivery before Tahd's killers could. The fate of Lancester depended on her doing so. She whistled and a metal beetle, no bigger than a button, crawled out of the dead man's pocket. Luckily the assailants didn't vaporize it along with the rest of him. Enchanted bugs were handy in her line of work, for both spying and recording. The beetle buzzed over and whispered her next lead into her ear.

Only a name, Doctor Entwhistle.