The smell! Signs and flyers. The wrong person for the job. Fabrizio’s failure. More work. Some hope.

Sal couldn’t take the stench. He’d smelled pillaged villages that smelled better, and that included piles of heroic warriors who’d soiled themselves after getting a Gorbin spear through their vitals.

The Gorbin.

Sal felt the real guilt of his crimes, and it threatened to submerge in a mire of despair. He’d ordered the villages burned. He’d sent the Gorbin in, thinking they were mindless minions, literally monsters created by Alikor.

Because that was who created them. Alikor, the Bad Dad, didn’t think creating sentient beings was all that hard, and so he stole Grandmother Maker’s Deux Coin, and he brought forth the Gorbin, though he didn’t get the skin right. That made them very sensitive to sunlight among other things. By the time his mother retrieved her coin, the damage had been done.

Stealing stuff from your own parents? Alikor was just the worst.

Sal knew that at some point, he’d go to Undersun City, and try and get some help with his Diagraff. But confronting the Gorbin, given his new knowledge, wasn’t going to be easy.

For the time being, he had other problems.

He retreated out through the front doors, spun, and spoke to Shivaun, still standing in the doorway. “Do you smell the stench, spirit? Perhaps that is why you appear so sour. Perhaps not. Verily, upon my life, I swear that the odor is appalling!”

The banshee, unamused, pointed at the door. Icy words appeared there. Verily, I can smell it. Why do you think I am so upset? One of the ghosts here has decided that he does not want our establishment to open.

“So it is a he? Any idea of his history?”

She shook her head.

If only Sal had his old Diagraff! He could’ve cast his Phantom Philter, become a ghost himself, and then searched for the offending specter. He couldn’t open with such a stink! He couldn’t. At the same time, the wheels were in motion. He wasn’t about to put off opening the diner again. He had his oath to consider. On top of that, he was spending money left and right, without any income. Maybe he should’ve sold the Riverglitter grimoire or the Killword scroll. Nay, it was far too late for that.

Even if he’d accepted the Killword scroll, he wouldn’t have sold it. It was evil magic, and he didn’t want to be responsible for it. Should he have taken it and destroyed it? That might’ve been the best option. Too bad he couldn’t travel back in time.

“What can we do?” Sal asked finally.

A word appeared on the door. Ask our Ponti friend for help.

“Our Ponti friend?” Sal felt a welcome smile curve his lips. “I’m glad you like Fabrizio. I like him as well. That is a good idea. Or do we ask the Pontra Genetrix? We are in her ward after all. And yet, I am not certain we can trust her.”

Where’s Betty?

The ghost shrugged.

For now, they needed a more practical solution. “I shall get a Gimm fan. Might as well spend more money as if my coffers shall never be depleted. For now, open every window, and pray.”

Pray? To which god?

“Vendita. We need her winds to come and blow the smell away. She blesses the heroes, and opening a new business is a heroic act. It takes far more courage than I ever would have thought.”

As Shivaun went to throw open the shutters and wedge the back door open, Sal braved the smell and got more money. He then hurried back to the North Wall, and there, he acquired a fan and hurried back.

Setting up the fan on the counter that separated the kitchen from the main room, the magical device did a fair job of clearing the air, though the stink remained.

That night, Fabrizio had made plans to visit a family after the Mind & Body Tables closed, and so he couldn’t return with him. Sal spent a stinky night in his room, with the fan in the window, to bring in fresh air. Betty had returned, and she was as confused as he was. At the same time, she made a good point.

Before she went to sleep in her bowl bed on the windowsill, she yawned and then said in a cheerful voice, “Listen, chief. Planning on opening a diner is one thing, but actually doing it is a whole different kind of cookie. We were bound to get some attention, some good, some bad. This is, uh, on the bad, smelly side. Do you get undertones of rotten fish? Or is that just from the harbor?”

It wasn’t. It was from the stinky ghost that was causing them trouble.

“So you are not angry with me?” Sal asked.

Betty shook her head. “Not at all. Just has some Gwynar stuff to take care of. Sorry I’ve been gone so much. It’s just me, TCB.”

“TCB?”

“Taking care of business. Good night, buddy.”

“Good night, my friend.”

That night, Sal slept fitfully. He kept smelling bodies burning, which made him consider his many sins, and he had a vision of confronting Kenny outside of Hearthhome, after the battle, which was now called a slaughter. That was the truth. It had been a slaughter. Most of the time, Sal had been careful not to hurt civilians. Ruling over resentful folk was much harder than trying to get taxes from normal people who just wanted to go about their lives.

The next day, he picked up the copy of the Tower Today on his doorstep and then made himself a couple of eggs. Shivaun had baked their first batch of breads, miniature loaves of flaky white bread and some hearty rye bread, Fabrizio’s recipe, which Sal knew was good. Both kinds of breads turned out far better than he would’ve thought. Slathered with rich butter, they were better than the eggs he’d cooked for himself.

While the stove fire was hot, Shivaun kept the kitchen a comfortable room temperature.

Reading the newspaper while eating was very comforting. Sipping coffee, the first cup he’d had since resurrecting, completed the experience.

The headlines were all about the Good Boys, the Canus climbers he’d seen before. They’d won their way through the second level of the Tower, and had the Silver Key now. There was a helpful paragraph on the various levels of the Godspear—Copper, Silver, Gold, Platinum, Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald, Diamond, White Diamond, Black Diamond, Double Black Diamond and beyond that were the elemental levels of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. Then the Soul levels started, but only a handful of Climbers in the last thousand years had made it that far. At the very top? The Deux Coin Spire far, far above.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Sal read through the paper and then left his diner to pick up his flyers and signs. He then spent some time nailing one up at the intersection of Holyboat Road and Wellwater Lane. He also put one up near the front of Fishstink Street, on the southeast road that led from the harbor to Champion Plaza. Instead of hanging the last sign up on Tower Road, he nailed it to a board. He then gave the board to Kaixo.

She frowned at him, while they stood on the empty Champion Street, which connected with Tower Road. “You’re serious about this? I’m going to hold this dumb sign up and talk to people. I don’t like people. Have I made that clear?”

“Have you eaten?” Sal asked her.

She shook her head. “Too busy reading the Riverglitter grimoire. The hunger focuses me. Instead of feeling it, I read. It all works out.”

She closed her eyes. She was as pale as Shivaun.

Sal fished his morning peach out of his pocket. “Here. Eat this.”

Kaixo made a face. “Eat your pocket peach? No thank you.”

“There is no dairy. And they are still very good. The quality will decline in the coming weeks as the weather changes.”

“Better hope it doesn’t change too much. A comfortably cold place to eat is one of your selling points.” She pointed at the sign.

<<<>>>

GRAND OPENING!

THE CHAMPION CAFÉ!

THE BEST ORANGE JUICE AND LEMONEASE IN TOWER CITY!

TAKE A BREAK FROM THE HEAT IN OUR MAGICALLY COLD CAFÉ.

ENJOY THE BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS!

SPECIAL DEALS NOW AVAILABLE! OUTSIDE SEATING! ENJOY THE QUIET OF CHAMPION PLAZA!

<<<>>>

Sal read the sign for the hundredth time, looking for spelling mistakes. He was glad he didn’t find any, while at the same time, he thought his sign was too wordy. Too late for that now.

One of the benefits of Dark Lording was embracing the imperfect. Nothing was perfect when you were trying to conquer the world. The sign was fine. However, Kaixo’s sour attitude probably wouldn’t entice customers. He wished Fabrizio was less busy. The Ponti’s cheery outlook would work so much better.

“Just eat the peach. And try to take on a more positive appearance. Let your visage shine with enthusiasm!”

Kaixo frowned. “Is that a fancy way to tell me to smile? Good luck with that, buster. This is so embarrassing. If you hadn’t given me the best book ever, I wouldn’t even be here. But fine.” She took the peach, sniffed it, and then took a bite. She sighed, closing her eyes. “Oh, that’s some good fruit right there. Hits the spot. You were right.”

Sal smiled. “I enjoy hearing that. I’ll spend the day passing out flyers. We shall meet up back at the café. The workman should deliver the two tables, the four chairs, and the umbrellas this afternoon.”

Kaixo devoured the peach until only the pit was left. She tossed it to him. “I notice your fancy sign doesn’t talk about how your place stinks.”

“Verily, I cannot argue that unfortunate fact. We are working to improve the situation. Fabrizio promised to come by tonight.”

“Isn’t he afraid of ghosts?”

“Let us not discuss that. He endeavors to improve.”

Sal left her as she held the sign limply. She was not the right person for the job, but again, in the real world, you worked with what the gods gave you.

Sal then walked down Tower Road and started handing out flyers, trying to adjust his words, so he sounded more like a modern local and not an ancient, far too educated Dark Lord.

Most people took the paper, not reading it, while others balled it up and tossed it into the gutter a second after they walked away. That was depressing. A few people read over the flyer while they stood there, which felt humiliating in a way that Sal wasn’t prepared for. In another life, he would’ve ordered these commoners to come to his café on pain of death.

Now, according to his Diagraff Vitalis, he was also a commoner.

Sal did notice one thing, walking up and down Tower Road. There were church shops lining Tower Road, selling all sorts of things, some religious, some secular. For the most part, they did a thriving business even with the Sacra Famiglia religion in decline.

When he was out of flyers, he went to check on Kaixo, who was leaning against the deserted warehouse near the grand entrance of the tower. The sign was pointed toward the wall.

She raised her chin in defiance as he walked up to her. “I’m just taking a break, boss. Believe me, thirty seconds ago, I was signing up a storm, and smiling, always smiling.”

He doubted that. “Has there been any interest?”

The Yaniri sorceress shrugged. “Not a lot. Some people think you’re crazy to open your café in a haunted plaza. You’re only going to get the crazies. And ghost chasers. That might help you. Probably not.”

“It is not something I want to advertise.”

Kaixo returned to work, holding the sign and talking to people. Again, most weren’t interested, and one guy, a man in black and red armor, grilled him on his menu, no pun intended, and asked about dough rings and coffee.

Sal assured him he’d have both, including a lemon glazed donut ring that would change his life. The former Dark Lord had to talk about everything with such enthusiasm, as if his iffy breakfast was as good as retrieving the Deux Coin at the top of the Tower. It was exhausting.

And the self-doubt crept in. Would anyone show up? Or would his diner fail in the most dramatic way possible?

Sal finally called it a day, nailed the sign to the wall on Tower Road, and figured he’d have to get another sign made, so he could have one they could carry around. Then he got a bunch more flyers and treated himself to lentils and rye bread at the Mind & Body Tables.

After cleaning up, which helped his Karmic Gauge creep higher towards purple, he and Fabrizio walked back through the city to Champion Plaza.

Sal stopped short when he saw the graffiti on his sign. Someone had written HAUNTED in huge letters across the front.

And they scratched out all references to CHAMPION and wrote CHUMP instead.

Fabrizo stood with his hands on his hips. “Oh boy, that’s a shame. The Breakfast of Chumps just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“You are not wrong there.” Sal shook his head. “This is impossible. Especially with the smell. And the workers didn’t bring my tables. I shall have to return to North Wall to see what the matter could be. And to get more signs made. Most likely, my other signage has been ruined by this outrageous slander.”

Fabrizio laughed. “I could listen to you talk all day long, every day. But the gods make the path steep to strengthen us. What you are trying to do is hard. It’ll be worth it, though. Mark my words, Sal. You’re going to be stupidly successful.” The Ponti paused. “Breakfast of Champions. It’d be great if your food could give Climbers some buffs. You know, strength, speed, that kind of thing. Eggs that protect you! Magical shells! The works!”

Sal sighed, dying a little. “If only my Diagraff was not locked away, as hidden and protected as any treasure.”

“The real treasure were the friends we made along the way!” Fabrizo said loudly.

A few Tortas chuckled at him as they walked past.

In the end, neither the Ponti, nor Sal, could find the source of the smell. Fabrizo went room to room with his candle, praying to Yeshu, and sweating all the time.

Given his phobia, it was a heroic act, and Sal was grateful for the effort.

He walked Fabrizio back to his chapel.

The Ponti had some good news for him. “Last night, I spent some time with Edna Gomee and her kids. They’re so wonderful. Nothing like children to give you some hope. Edna, though, is in a mess. Her husband left her, left the island for good, and she’s stuck doing laundry for coppers. They lost their room at the Rat’s Den. I’m putting them up in the chapel for now. But they need a place.”

“I can pay,” Sal said. “If you can secure them another place to live.”

“Really?”

“It would be my pleasure, Ponti. In more ways than one.”

Fabrizio knocked him with a friendly elbow. “For your Karmic Gauge. I’d love it if everyone had such a thing. It would make my job so much easier.”

“Life is difficult for all,” Sal said. He thought of Kaixo, growing up an orphan in Yanhome. “We all try to do the best we can, though life has a way of sending us down some bad alleys. Worse yet, we have little understanding of our fate. It is a wonder that there is even a bit of goodness in the world.”

“More than a bit,” Fabrizio replied. “People are good at their heart. I’ve seen it, over and over.”

Sal wasn’t so sure. He’d lived a long time, over two thousand years, and he knew all about the desperate evil some held in their hearts. Good, normal folks were capable of astoundingly vile acts. True, innate evil was rare.

He wanted to put himself in the former category, and yet, he most likely was the latter. True evil, intrinsic by nature. Yes, he’d found himself walking that dark road. He thought of his father, and what he’d done to poor Mickey.

It shamed him. Shamed him to his very core.