Late night ruminations. Betty’s perspective. Kaixo’s coolness. Powerful magic items. Help from the church. A cool afternoon.

Sal had taken a chair and set it against the wall, to the right of his diner, and was surveying the wreckage when Betty came bounding up to him. She scurried up to his palm and he lifted her and sat her on his knee.

“Hey, chief,” the mouse said. “You don’t look so happy.”

Sal then told her all about what had happened with the Killword scroll and the retrieval of the short sword.

“What did Shivaun have to say about any of that?” the little mouse asked.

“I have not spoken to her. Nor have I shown her the sword. I have been here, pondering this latest disaster—fixing the fountain might very well have destroyed our dreams of a profitable diner.” He sighed. “Remind me to never take another oath as long as I live.”

Betty gave him a thumbs up with her little pink claw. “Will do. Though that’s not helping you at this point. Not sure what’s gonna help you, to be honest. Did the governor pull a fast one?”

Sal shook his head. “Ziggy has never shown me anything other than support. No. I would have guessed the Butter King, since my encounter with his men might have drawn his ire. But the work here started as soon as I left. Otto Ovum wishes my continued success, as does the Pork Poet, for they have economic interests in supplying me my foodstuffs. Which leaves only one culprit.”

“Fabrizio!” Betty said with a snap of her claws. “He was only pretending to be our friend.”

“No,” Sal said. “However, I believe our villain is a member of the Church. Zizi Adamu, the Pontrafax Genetrix, might have found a way to shut us down.”

“Maybe, champ, but only if we let her.” Betty shook her head. “I’m far more worried about your state of mind, buddy. You don’t seem like yourself. “

Sal gently petted his mouse friend’s soft brown head. “I found this game challenging, and I was grateful for the second life I was given. However, this evening, when I found that the actions of others might hurt me, I must admit, I lost hope. At first, it seemed unfair, and then, I realized that there is a certain justice at play here. I am responsible for my actions, but I am also responsible for what I put out into the world. Remember, I had questions about the sword and the Killword scroll. Those questions have been answered.”

“Yeah, sure, champ, but still. You ain’t smiling about it.”

“I am not. For I do not know where I stand with the Butter King. Nor do I have any knowledge of how to combat the Pontra’s ploy to drive me out of business. What if I fail, Betty?”

The mouse only laughed. “You can’t fail. Way I see it, you’ll get your café off the ground, one way or another. If you run out of money, we’ll figure out something. Thanks to the governor, you own the building. And so far, I think you have two of the five families on your side. There’s a lot to be grateful for. Nobody said this would be easy.”

Sal knew that was true. Yet, at the same time, he thought that opening a restaurant should be easier than running an evil empire.

Sparky came soaring down and landed on the scorched umbrella. He breathed fire and lit up the plaza for a second.

With an uttered “eep!”, Betty ran up Sal’s arm and leapt into his pocket.

Theovanni and Kaixo came strolling up. Both looked beyond exhausted.

Kaixo had lost more weight, and she looked more gaunt than ever.

She couldn’t make eye contact, but instead, glanced around. “Wow. Construction. Bet it’s to fix the fountain. You can take me to court if it isn’t.”

Theo was far less reserved. “Oh my goat! What’s going on? There’s all this stuff in front of the place. And oh dang, they broke an umbrella. And that chair is all bent. This is terrible.”

Sal sighed. “I believe it is the Pontrafax Genetrix that is trying to put me out of business.”

Theo’s eyes widened. “What’s going to happen on Monday?”

“We shall open,” Sal said. “After we clear a path from Tower Road to the shop. We can move the rocks across the way. It will be a great deal of work, but we can manage. And we will take down the yellow ribbon. I believe the governor is on our side.”

Kaixo laughter was bitter. “Yeah, but you’re going up against the Church. Fabrizio is the only church guy I ever liked. The rest can be found guilty and hanged by the neck until dead. If you ask me. But you didn’t ask me.” She gave him a nod. “I’m gonna go, but first, Sal, thanks for taking the kid in.”

Theovanni threw back his head. “I hate it when you call me the kid. I’m a fully grown adult.”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that.” Kaixo slapped him on the back, then turned, and left them.

Sal wanted to talk to her, but it wasn’t the right time. He was worried about her. If she was in the clutches of Naptha addiction, it just might wipe away her sanity and leave her an empty shell. He’d seen it happen before.

The former Dark Lord and Theo left the plaza and went back inside. Shivaun still didn’t appear, not until the next morning, when she shrieked them all awake at the break of dawn.

Sal had the short sword next to his bed. He grabbed the blade and leapt to his feet. “Shivaun, I have questions for you! A great many questions!”

She didn’t appear, which wasn’t all that surprising since she didn’t like to go into his room.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Sal raced through his diner, down the stairs, until he found the ghost in the kitchen, doing a bit of cleaning.

“Shivaun, this sword, it casts a fear spell. What other weapons are magical? Or did someone in your party have magical armor? I know you had an assassin named Silas who had poison needles. And there was Tam, another sorcerer. I’m assuming Wulfgar was some kind of warrior, as was Erryn. Who owned this sword?”

Shivaun wiped down an already spotlessly clean counter. It was clear that she didn’t want a day off. Truth be told, neither did Sal, but that day, he had some important work to do. Hopefully, it would allow him to keep going, even when there were so many things against him.

“Please, Shivaun, I need to know. I nearly lost my life retrieving this blade.”

The banshee rolled her eyes. Word snapped onto the wall next to the oven, so many, the room dropped twenty degrees. I believe you are being overly dramatic. That was Silas’s sword. He mainly used it to frighten enemies away so he wouldn’t have to fight them. Wulfgar had his ax, which was supernaturally sharp. He had a leather hauberk that was magical as well. Cambria had her spears and magical chainmail. Erryn had magical heavy armor along with a very powerful shield, that cast defensive magic. Her mace did cold damage. Tam had a magic wand that threw lightning, called the Skycrack Wand, though he wasn’t very good with it. Like I said, he mostly had defensive spells. He did have mercury boots and an umbra cloak. Oh, and he had two magic rings, one that gave him mana, and another that provided him with magical shielding.

As she went through the list, Sal’s first thought was to hire the brigands he’d bested the night before, equip them to the gills, and then send them after the Pontra Genetrix. That would plunge his Karmic Gauge to zero and probably get him killed in the process.

No, he could use all those magic items for something good in the end.

But he did have some questions. A good number of them. “Wait. Why did all of their gear seem so dusty and pedestrian? Also, they had no treasure, none of them did. I put the rings in a bowl downstairs because they didn’t seem magical.”

Shivaun shrugged and pointed to the wall. Tam had magic to destroy all the treasure upon his death. He was a petty, vengeful sort. In his mind, if he could not spend the coinage, no one should be able to. In our madness, we did not consider his spell, though simple coinage had lost its luster to us. All we wanted was the Deux Coin.

Sal thought of how he reacted to the Fear Blade, how it had driven him to risk death during the fight, even as his Benefactor warned him, over and over, that he was doing was rash.

More words appeared. Tam also cast the spell to hide our weapons and armor and magic items, so they appeared as plain as possible.

“That is powerful magic indeed,” Sal mused.

You are not wrong. He wanted us to have the element of surprise in case we were attacked. Also, if we carried pedestrian items, there was little chance anyone would steal from us. Tam might not have been effective in combat, and yet, he did have his uses.

Sal found himself mystified. When he’d been a Dark Lord before, he might’ve been able to detect such a spell, but he was such a commoner now. Well, a commoner who could still fight really well.

“And what were your magic items?” he asked.

Shivaun shrugged. I sold any I had, or I incorporated them directly into my Diagraff. Through sorcery, I bound the magic items to my soul, so I couldn’t lose them. Perhaps that is why I became a banshee. Or why I can touch physical objects in an effort to help you fulfill your oath to get your diner open.

Sal realized just how powerful Shivaun’s team had been. No wonder they’d almost reached the top. “What was the name of your team?”

The banshee looked amused. The Midnight Crew. Rather dramatic. And rather fitting, given that I am working now with the Dark Lord himself.

Sal lifted a finger. “Former Dark Lord.” He took a deep breath. “I lost my head last night, Shivaun. I nearly let the darkness reclaim me. Sure, I was attacked first, though I doubt I could argue that case with the Benefactor, but I doubt they would listen.”

A second later, someone knocked on his front door.

Sal left Shivaun and went to the door, and there he found a smiling Fabrizio. The man gestured behind him. “Kaixo came by and told us you might need some help. So after Sunday services, I rounded up some volunteers.”

One big, bearded man smiled. “I didn’t know there was a café in Champion Plaza. Food any good?”

Fabrizio turned. “Ralph, I put up signs. I had us all pray for Sal and his diner. This can’t be news to you.”

Ralph only grinned, slightly embarrassed. “Don’t know what to say, Ponti. I can be dense sometimes.”

“But you are strong, my friend,” the priest replied. “And right now, we need your muscles, not your brains. We have to clear the way.”

Sal drew Fabrizio away from the dozen or so believers he’d brought with him.

Sal grabbed the man’s arm. “I believe it is the Pontra herself, who is working on the fountain in an effort to close my diner down.”

Fabrizio’s face fell. “No, Sal, you got that wrong. Why would she?”

“Because if there were less traffic on Tower Road, the church shops would make less money. I might be wrong, and I hope I am, however, I told you how she came by. She was not happy.”

The Ponti got a determined look on his face. “Well, we’re not getting in the way of her fountain work. We’re just clearing a path to your diner and making it look nice. She can’t have a problem with that.”

“I think she will,” Sal said. “If that is the case, you could get into trouble.”

The priest smiled, his dimples melting Sal’s heart a little. “I might. But Yeshu of the Book is with me, and you’ve helped me out a bunch. It feels good to return the favor. I think we’ll both be blessed in the end.”

And with that, Fabrizio got his followers to start carrying the rocks across the plaza, dumping them in front of one of the empty buildings on the other side. Ghosts appeared in the dark windows to watch them.

Theovanni came down to help, while Sparky breathed fire into the oven, so that Shivaun could bake bread. She also squeezed some fresh lemons to make both kinds of lemonease, to cool the throats of the workers. They would also get some egg and sausage sandwiches on the freshly baked bread.

That darn Ralph would know about the diner now.

The sandwiches turned out to be a big hit.

And when the day heated up, the workers came into cool off in the chill diner.

Sal loved to see the happy people eating his food, and he would’ve stayed longer, but he had to meet with the Pork Poet, to tell her about the magic of bacon. At the same time, he needed to find someone who knew how to make gnocchi. He would’ve asked the Butter King, but Sal had been too busy beating up the Braggadorio’s brigands.

Sal was surprised to see his Karmic Gauge increase with a nice little message.

<<<>>>

You accepted help! Karmic Gauge increased by 3%. You know, when we let others help us, we are giving them the opportunity to be of service. And the world becomes a better place. Good job.

Current Karmic Gauge: 6% (Still Way Too Red!)

<<<>>>

Fabrizio left, along with his followers, and Sal stepped outside to see how great everything looked. The piles of rocks and dirt had all been moved to the other side of the plaza. One of his umbrellas was so wrecked that he’d have to buy a new one, but he managed to fix the chair, and so he had his tables.

They’d open on Monday without an issue.

Sal needed to go talk with the Pork Poet, and it was across town, through the heart of Confusion Street. He took the Fear Blade with him, not that he could use it, but if he did run into trouble, he could use it to scare people away. Just being armed might make people think twice.

He couldn’t afford to get into a real fight, though. His Karmic Gauge was back to 6%. He had to fix that, but he couldn’t use money for that. He was running low on funds.

He was just leaving when he smelled the stench of brimstone cooking on a lake of fire, and fingernails, dirty fingernails, of hands that had never been washed.

It was a very specific scent. And he knew who it belonged to—Dergle Driptongue, his old lieutenant. The demon from the Abyssmuck had come to visit.