Eugene stirred from his sleep, blinking blearily at the ceiling of the Winking Basilisk. The rough wooden beams above him creaked softly with the morning breeze, carrying the distant sounds of the city waking up—merchants setting up their stalls, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone, and the faint hum of distant conversation. He groaned and rolled onto his side, hoping to squeeze in a few more minutes of rest.

"Darlin’," Cozimia’s warm, syrupy voice floated gently into his mind, like honey dripping into his thoughts. "It’s been seven days. Don’t you think it’s time we had a little chat?"

Eugene’s eyes snapped open. He sat up with a start, nearly hitting his head on the low wooden beam above him. He fumbled for the lantern, which lay tucked safely under his coat beside him. "Cozimia," he muttered, rubbing his face. "Morning. Or... whatever time it is in there."

"Time’s a funny thing inside my lantern, sugar," Cozimia’s voice responded, with a touch of amusement. "But out here? I’ve been mighty patient, giving you space to think things through. Seven days, Eugene. Seven long days of me sittin’ quiet while you wander around this dusty city without so much as a ‘Hey, Cozimia, what do you think?’”

Eugene sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah... sorry about that. I’ve been a little, uh, distracted.”

"Uh-huh," she said, and Eugene could hear the pout in her voice. "I get it. You’re a busy man, lots of walking, lots of thinking. But if we’re gonna keep this little arrangement of ours going, I’m gonna need to be a part of your daily routine, hon. I’m not just a pretty lamp to carry around, you know. I’m here for you."

Eugene glanced at the lantern, tracing his fingers over the intricate designs and the warm red gemstones embedded in its copper frame. "I get it, Cozimia. Really. I’m just still... wrapping my head around all this."

There was a pause, and then her voice softened. "I know, sugar. And I don’t mean to rush you. It’s just... I’ve waited a long, long time for someone willing to take me on. Someone who might actually listen. And it’s been hard sittin’ quiet when I could’ve been mighty useful a time or two on this little journey of yours."

Eugene raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you mean you could have helped us? Like, before I walked a thousand miles and slept in weird inns?”

Cozimia gave a soft, lilting laugh. "Oh, darlin’, I could’ve done a whole lot more than that. You never thought to ask, though."

Eugene groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “Great. So, what can you actually do?”

Cozimia’s voice took on a playful edge. "Well now, that depends entirely on you, sugar. My lantern, my dear little home, can be... well, whatever you need it to be."

Eugene sat up again, intrigued. "Like... what? What’s inside?"

"Whatever you like," Cozimia purred. "Want an inn? You got it. A place to rest your head, warm beds, a nice fire to sit by. Feeling lonely? Well, it can be a brothel, if that’s your flavor."

Eugene coughed awkwardly. "Uh—"

"And if you're feeling a little more adventurous," she continued, ignoring him, "I can even turn it into a pixie fighting arena. You wouldn't believe the kinda gold those little buggers pull in."

Eugene blinked. "That... I’m not sure I even want to know."

Cozimia chuckled. "Point is, Eugene, it’s up to you. You and your feathered friend can step inside whenever you please. It’s plush, it’s comfortable, and best of all—safe. No pickpockets, no sword-swinging drunkards, just peace and quiet."

Eugene considered that. “Okay... that actually sounds really useful. But if we’re both inside, what happens to the lantern? If someone picks it up and chucks it in the river, we’re kinda screwed.”

Cozimia hummed thoughtfully. "That’s a fair point. But sugar, think about it—one of you can walk while the other rests inside. You could keep moving all day and night without stopping. Just take turns, switch off whenever you need to. And trust me, inside the lantern? You’ll get the best sleep of your life."

Eugene raised an eyebrow. "There's no food in there, is there?"

"Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, darlin’," Cozimia teased. "I’m a Jennie, not a miracle worker. You’ll have to handle the grub yourself."

Eugene rubbed his temples. “Alright. So... you’re saying I’ve been walking for six days straight, wasting money on inns, when I could have been chilling inside a magic lamp?”

Cozimia giggled. "You said it, not me."

Eugene groaned. "This is ridiculous."

Qlaark, who had been sleeping on the floor next to the bed, stirred and stretched his wings. "Talking to your lantern again?"

"Yeah," Eugene muttered. "Apparently, we’ve been doing this whole traveling thing wrong."

Qlaark sat up and blinked. "Wrong? How?"

Eugene tossed the lantern onto the bed. "Turns out it’s basically a portable house. We can both go inside whenever we want."

Qlaark stared at the lantern. "A portable house?"

"A portable house," Eugene repeated.

Cozimia chimed in. "Oh, and don’t forget—whoever carries the lantern can let people in or keep them out. So if you ever need some alone time, you just say the word."

Qlaark's eyes widened, his beak clicking thoughtfully. "You mean I could preach inside the lantern? Control who comes in, have a cozy place to speak the word of Ranvar?"

Eugene groaned. "Yeah, sure. That’s the takeaway here."

Qlaark picked up the lantern reverently. "Eugene... this is brilliant. We could travel nonstop, sleep in total safety, and I could tell so many people about their second chances!"

Eugene rolled his eyes. "Just don’t turn it into a megachurch, alright?"

“Wait, they can be mega? Now we’re talkin’.”

Cozimia’s voice purred from within. "I like this bird, Eugene. He’s got vision."

Eugene sighed, already mentally adjusting to the idea of a magic lantern lifestyle. "Alright, Cozimia. Looks like you’re part of the team for real now."

Cozimia practically glowed with delight. "I knew you’d come around, sugar."

Eugene leaned back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling again. "This city is gonna drive me insane."

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Qlaark patted him on the shoulder. "At least you'll be insane in comfort."

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After ten long days of walking, the rhythmic spinning of the coin in Eugene’s palm changed.

It began to blink.

At first, Eugene thought it was just another one of the coin's quirks—a reflection of the midday sun glinting off its polished surface. But soon, the gentle glow grew stronger, pulsing with a steady rhythm. With each step forward, the pulses quickened, as if urging him along.

"Hey," Eugene nudged Qlaark, excitement creeping into his voice. "I think... I think we’re close."

Qlaark, who had long since abandoned questioning the coin’s erratic path, peered at it with interest. "Blinking’s new," he said, clicking his beak. "That’s gotta mean something, right?"

"It better," Eugene muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I’m getting real tired of walking."

The streets of the bustling market district unfolded before them, vibrant and chaotic. Vendors shouted from their stalls, selling everything from charmed trinkets to freshly baked pastries. Blacksmiths pounded away at anvils in open-air forges, while alchemists hovered over bubbling cauldrons, their stalls filled with the thick scent of exotic ingredients.

The coin pulsed even faster now, almost insistently.

Eugene slowed his steps. “Alright, this is it,” he said, scanning the nearby stalls and workshops.

Just as he turned, a gruff voice called out from behind a cluttered workbench, cutting through the market noise.

"A Coin of Infinite Finding, huh? Haven’t seen one of those in millennia."

Eugene and Qlaark spun around to find a short, stout man standing behind a stall overflowing with half-assembled contraptions and mechanical oddities. He was squat and round, with a bald head that gleamed under the marketplace awnings. His bushy white beard covered most of his face, but his sharp, calculating eyes peered out from behind a pair of thick, round glasses that were too large for his nose. His apron was oil-stained, and his fingers were covered in soot and ink.

The resemblance to Krungus was uncanny—if Krungus had spent less time brooding in a pocket dimension and more time snacking and tinkering.

Eugene blinked. "Uh... are you Bahumbus?"

The man squinted at them, his gaze locking onto the blinking coin in Eugene’s hand. He leaned forward, eyes wide with something Eugene could only describe as disbelief and... hope?

"Where did you get that?" Bahumbus asked, his voice low but intense. "Is he... back? Have you seen him?"

Eugene exchanged a glance with Qlaark. "Wait, so, you know Krungus?"

Bahumbus's expression darkened. "Oh, I know him," he said sharply. "And unless you’re some fool with a death wish digging up old artifacts, that coin means he’s alive... or at least returned. No one's seen my brother in... well, a long time. Thought he was dead, or worse."

Eugene scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, about that... Turns out he wasn’t exactly dead. More... trapped. In a pocket dimension. For, uh, nine thousand years."

Bahumbus froze. His hand, which had been idly fiddling with a small gear, clenched tightly. "Trapped?... how?" he whispered, staring at Eugene in disbelief. His thick fingers trembled slightly before he quickly shoved them into his apron pockets.

Qlaark chirped up, nodding. "Yep! Buried right under the city. I guess some adventurers found him."

Bahumbus leaned heavily against the workbench, his face a mixture of shock and something else—relief? Frustration? "So he's really back..." he muttered. He rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Damn fool. Always poking his nose into things he shouldn’t." He looked up at Eugene, his eyes hard. "And why exactly did he send you to find me?"

Eugene shrugged. "He said you could help. With... well, everything. The city’s a mess, and there’s some bigger stuff brewing. He figured you’d have answers."

Bahumbus snorted. "Figures. Krungus always thought I was better with ‘practical’ matters." He gestured to his crowded workbench. "I like to stay busy. Helps me avoid, you know, nonsense."

Eugene frowned. "So... you haven’t been looking for him?"

Bahumbus’s eyes darkened again. "I did look. For a long time. But eventually, people stop asking questions they don’t want answers to." He folded his arms. "Last I heard, he vanished. Some folks said he’d left the city, others said he was off chasing some grand scheme. None of us thought he was right under our feet the whole time."

Qlaark clicked his beak. "So... does that mean you’re gonna help us?"

Bahumbus sighed, staring down at the coin still blinking in Eugene’s palm. "If that idiot’s back, I guess I don’t have much of a choice. Whatever mess he’s stirred up, it’s bound to be a big one." He motioned for them to follow him. "Come on inside. We’d better talk."

Eugene followed him through the cramped workshop, glancing at the half-finished projects littering every available surface—tiny clockwork birds chirping, mechanical hands twitching, and a pile of mismatched magical wands humming with faint energy.

Once inside, Bahumbus settled into a rickety chair and motioned for Eugene and Qlaark to sit. "Alright," he said, rubbing his temples. "Tell me everything. And I mean everything. I’ve got a feeling this is going to take a while."

Eugene nodded, already feeling the weight of the journey settling into his bones. "Well... it all started when a guy punched me in a Blockbuster and an ancient wizard accidentally summoned me into his world..."

Bahumbus grunted. "Sounds about right."

----------------------------------------

Eugene leaned back in the creaky chair, rubbing his temples after recounting everything—Krungus, the brothel paladins, the giant mushroom tower, Cozimia and her offer of power, and, of course, the looming sense of impending doom that no one could quite put their finger on.

Bahumbus sat in silence for a long moment, his fingers steepled under his chin. The only sound in the workshop was the faint ticking of a dozen half-assembled contraptions, gears turning endlessly in the dim light. His thick white brows furrowed as he processed it all, his lips twitching in what could have been either thoughtfulness or indigestion.

Finally, he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Well,” he said gruffly, “you're up to your ears in it, kid.”

Eugene nodded. “Yeah, I kinda figured that.”

Bahumbus scratched his beard. “Warlocks. Jennies. Krungus running around like a moldy windstorm. And now you’ve got the entire City humming with rumors about half-eaten guards and mysterious newcomers. It’s a lot. And if there’s one thing I know about the City...” His sharp eyes met Eugene’s. “It doesn’t like a lot.”

Qlaark piped up, fluffing his feathers nervously. “So... what does that mean for us?”

Bahumbus waved a hand. “It means you’re gonna need help. Serious help.” He leaned forward, tapping the edge of his workbench. “And lucky for you, I might just be willing to provide it.”

Eugene’s eyes narrowed. “You might?”

The old artificer grinned, his gold tooth flashing under the workshop lights. “Oh, I’ll help you, alright. But on one condition.” He jabbed a thick finger in their direction. “You never, and I mean never, reveal who I am or where to find me. Not to Krungus, not to your paladin friends, not to that chatty lantern of yours.”

Eugene glanced at Qlaark, who nodded enthusiastically. No way that was gonna fly with Krungus, though. “Done,” Eugene lied. “We don’t even want people to know where you are.”

“Good answer.” Bahumbus smirked and cracked his knuckles. “Because if I’m gonna outfit you two, I’m not just slapping together some back-alley gear. I’m the best artificer in this City, and I don’t do half-measures. You’re getting the good stuff.”

Eugene raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘good stuff.’”

Bahumbus leaned in, his grin widening. “Stuff that’ll keep you alive when the City throws everything it’s got at you. Stuff that’ll make your enemies think twice. Stuff that’ll make you look so competent even Krungus will be impressed.” He patted a nearby chest filled with strange tools and glowing trinkets. “You’re in for a treat, boy.”

Eugene couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement despite himself. “Alright. I’m in.”

Qlaark hopped excitedly in place. “Me too! I’ve never had custom gear before. Just second-hand tunics and one time a cursed belt that made me—” He cut himself off with a nervous cough. “Never mind. Let’s not talk about that.”

Bahumbus chuckled and got to his feet, stretching. “You two are lucky. I haven’t had a good project in a while.” He clapped his hands together, and the workshop lights flickered to life in a cascade of bright sparks. “Now... let’s get started.”

Eugene looked around at the countless shelves of trinkets and tools. “So, what do we owe you for all this?”

Bahumbus paused, giving him a considering look. “Payment? Nah, this one’s on me.” He tapped the side of his nose knowingly. “Consider it an investment in the future. Something’s coming, Eugene. I don’t know what, but it doesn’t feel right. You’re in the middle of it, and that means you’re gonna need every advantage you can get.”

Eugene swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. “You think it’s gonna be bad?”

Bahumbus shrugged. “The kind of bad that makes me wanna stay right here in my workshop and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

Qlaark muttered, “That’s... comforting.”

Bahumbus smirked. “Don’t worry, feather boy. You’ll be fine—with the right gear.”

He crossed his arms and gave them a grin that was equal parts mischievous and brilliant. “Trust me, boys. This is gonna be worth it.”

Eugene exchanged a glance with Qlaark, who nodded excitedly.

Eugene exhaled. “Alright, Bahumbus. Let’s see what you’ve got.”