More free samples. The nice bird lady. The mean dog men. An unexpected visitor. A banshee’s hate. A sad dragon.

That Monday, by noon, it was sweltering outside, and the two tables were in direct sunlight. No one with a lick of sense would want to sit out there. Inside the café, it was delightfully cold, which made it doubly good to step out of the heat and into the café.

Betty had taken off, saying she was going to find a hotter, less stinky place to take a nap.

Sal hated having an empty restaurant, so a little before one, he took cups of their lemonease—both the sweet kind and the salted lined up on a tray in two rows—out to Tower Road.

There, Theo was holding the sign and talking to people. Sparky had found a place to sleep on a windowsill in a bit of shade, though as a dragon, he shouldn’t mind the heat.

Theo wiped some sweat from his brow. He must’ve been cooking in that armor.

Sal lifted his tray. “Please, Theo, quench your thirst with one of my offerings. There, on the rim, is the difference. The pink is salt, the yellow sugar.” He’d only filled his glasses about a quarter full.

Theo swept up a salty lemonease and knocked it back. “Oh my goat, it’s not completely salty! There’s a sweet there as well. Might I try it, sir?”

Sal nodded.

Theo tossed down one of the yellow-rimmed glasses. “Oh, wow, sweet and tart! So good!”

An Eagalis woman with preened feather and vermillion eyes tossed back her hood. “A sweet lemonease? That would do the trick. How much?”

“I can provide you a taste for gratis,” Sal replied, offering her one from the tray. “However, I have a new café on Champion Plaza, free of ghosts, where you might purchase a larger size.”

A message flashed. He knew for a fact his place was still haunted, and he’d been caught in a lie. He’d lost another percentage point. Worse yet was the icy stab of pain in his heart.

His Current Karmic Gauge was at 82%.

Sal talked through the pain. “And if you want refuge from the heat, my café is very cold, better than any shade in the city.”

He might just have to put that on a sign. It was the truth.

“Ghosts?” the Eagalis woman twittered. “Is that why your café is so cold? I thought you said it was ghost-free.”

Sal so wanted to lie. He couldn’t. However, he needed an answer. “Champion Plaza has many, many mysteries. The chill of my café is one of them. I do not understand it myself.”

That was true enough. If he did fully understand what was happening with his diner, he would’ve gotten rid of the stench undermining his efforts.

The Eagalis poured the salty lemonease into her beak, and then used her long black tongue to lick that last of the pink salt off the rim. “I would like more. Where is your café?”

“I will lead you there.” He handed Theo the tray. The kid had been a gift from the gods. He was willing to work in the heat, and he was so friendly, and a smile so bright, most of the customers had come that morning due to his enthusiasm.

Sal sat the Eagalis woman at a table near the window and brought her a glass of lemonease along with a bowl of oranges.

Things were going well until the group of Canus warriors came charging through the doors, a little after 2:45, just fifteen minutes before closing.

Sal recognized them as The Good Boys, the successful Climbers that had won both the Copper and the Silver Keys.

They burst in, with Rex Torso leading the way. Sal had learned their names from the newspaper articles about them. At this point, they were appearing in the Tower Today a great deal, given their success.

Rex had white fur with a black splotch around one eye. Both a buckler and a mace was clipped to his belt below a solid gold hauberk covering his upper body. His torso. As in Rex Torso. It must’ve been a homonym.

Sal didn’t care. If he could get a favorable review from the number one team currently climbing the tower, it would set him up for success. Opening day? The Good Boys? This was such an amazing turn of events.

“Welcome!” Sal called out. “Come in and find solace from the heat. Our café is comfortably chill, and we have cold drinks, and fruit, if you like, and we are still serving food, breakfast, all day long. It is a wonder.”

Rex and his other dog-headed team took three steps in, sniffed, and then started laughing.

A few put their hands to their noses.

Rex was far more forward. “What’s that smell? Oh, by the Grandmother, something died here. No way we are staying. This place still has to be cursed, man.”

“Yeah,” another of the dog men barked. “Cursed with stink!”

Rex left with his team trailing after him, laughing and saying that they were never coming back and the place was doomed. Completely doomed.

Sal closed his eyes. The Eagalis woman might’ve just been too polite to mention the smell, or her nose wasn’t as sharp. The Canus were known to have very good noses.

Shivaun stood in the kitchen’s entryway, leaning against the door jam, her arms crossed.

Sal felt himself fuming. Success had been theirs for the taking, but the cursed stink might’ve just destroyed them.

“We shall have to close,” Sal sighed. “Verily, we cannot open until we suss out the source of the smell.”

A woman’s voice cut through the air. “I’m sorry. You won’t be opening at all. Ever again.”

Shivaun had vanished like September’s morning mist. She hadn’t said those words? Who had?

Sal turned.

A woman stood in the doorway, flanked by armed soldiers in chainmail shirts. Elderly soldiers. Not one was under seventy. A few might have been approaching ninety. They didn’t have halberds, swords, or axes. Instead, they gripped ornate cudgels, carved, decorated with beads, that formed words on the wood. They were very aged members of the Sacra Templar, holy knights of the church and protectors, and they would’ve been at some point.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The woman herself was older, in her sixties, and thick around the middle. She wore heavy robes, despite the summer heat, but what gave her identity away was the thick golden amulet on her chest. It was a spear thrust through a tree, a symbol of Madra, the warrior mother. She had blonde hair going gray, and the round face of a grandmother.

This was the Pontrafax Genetrix. And she didn’t look happy.

Sal suddenly wondered if her elderly guard might come and start breaking things. They looked like they wanted to. Both the men and the women glanced around at his café with hate in their eyes.

But most of the loathing came from the Pontra herself.

“I am Sal Fang.” He took a few steps toward them, to show he wasn’t afraid. “And you are the Pontrafax Genetrix, Kizi Adamu. I’ve been meaning to come and say hello to you.”

That wasn’t exactly true, though Sal had been curious to see what kind of woman she was. Regardless, he didn’t lose any Karma points.

The Pontra’s grin was feral. “Oh, I know who you are. We have a mutual friend, a certain Pontifex who runs the Yeshu Chapel on Confusion Street. Fabrizio Pasha thinks highly of you.”

“I think highly of him.” Sal paused. She’d said something about him not opening at all, but he didn’t want to confront her right away. “Please, you and your guard can sit. I was just about to close, but I can keep my doors open for such guests. Perhaps I can tempt you with our very delicious lemonease, either sweet or salty.”

The Pontra shook her head, and frowned, dramatically. “Oh, Mr. Fang, I’m sorry, but we can’t stay. Not with the smell. I think it’s the gods telling you that they do not want you open. Why else would you have been having such trouble?” Then she smiled, as if she herself was the source of the stink.

Sal could tell that she often smiled to hide the barbs in her words. Dark Lording, you met a great many people who knew about power, and how to wield it. At times, you had to crush them under heel or find your throat cut. At other times, you enlisted those kinds of people, and if you could motivate them, they would become vital to your empire.

Sal smiled back. “Verily, the smell is unfortunate. I plan on going through our café again, to see if I can find the source. I do need the blessings of the gods. Maybe you could put in a good word for me.”

The Pontra laughed. “Oh, yes, I will pray for you, Sal Fang. However, I cannot pray for your restaurant. This whole plaza is cursed, and has been so for centuries, since old Tony Belly died, or that’s my understanding. Some places are just beyond help. I’m afraid, your diner is one of those places, doomed, cursed, forbidden. You could try opening a place on Destiny Square. You’d get much more foot traffic.” Her lips were grinning, and her eyes twinkled. She seemed to like giving people bad news.

Sal noticed her use of those two words, foot traffic, and remembered the religious shops near the church on Tower Road. That street had become the main artery from the harbor to the governor’s mansion and Destiny Square. If Champion Plaza re-opened, it would pull crowds from there, and so those religious shops would do less business.

He laughed. “Well, Pontra, I don’t have a deed for a place on Destiny Square. I have a deed for this place, and yes, I would assume Tony Belly has something to do with the cursed nature. And there are many specters about. One tried to kill me, until I managed to come to an understanding. I am hopeful I can turn Champion Plaza around and make it every bit as vibrant as Destiny Square. Starting with the fountain. Would you know how to get it repaired, so that I might hear the happy water splashing down?”

The Pontra’s smile only widened, though her eyes changed—less sparkly and more threatening doom. “I have my well at my church, which is a very reliable source of water. I know nothing about fountains and such. You do realize that I could’ve used the power of the gods to clear this plaza decades ago. I chose not to.”

“I do understand that,” Sal said. And then decided to rely on honesty. “I wondered why you have not done so. You are clearly a favorite of the Sacra Famiglia.”

Her eyes narrowed for an instant, only an instant, and then she widened them in feigned surprise. “I appreciate you saying such a thing, and for using the old language. That is surprising, given your age. You’re no more than twenty, if you’re a day.”

“A few days older than twenty,” he agreed. “Yet, I have respect for the church.” That hadn’t been the case, not until he’d needed to eat, and the church had fed him, nightly, for nearly a month. Then there was sweet, dear Fabrizio, who wanted to help everyone in the world. If that Ponti had a Karmic Gauge, it would forever be purple.

“As if the young should not respect the sacred family?” The Pontra waved her hand as if clearing the air. “I decided not to lift the curse off Champion Plaza as a symbol, a sign, that pride is a sin, and this city is full of proud Tower Climbers who think they can become gods, if only they can reach the Deux Coin at the top, which really is the bottom, the butt end of the spear. No, they will fail, just as the Dark Lord Salvanguish failed, cut down because of his pride. No one, no mortal, should ever aspire to hold a coin. We are children of the divine, and not the divine themselves.”

Her words were rather pretty. They were also filled with lies. She’d kept Champion Plaza cursed because she didn’t want to lose any foot traffic. And he bet that she had other economic interests in Destiny Square. He’d not be surprised if she were a partial owner of the Shorn Unicorn’s Horn.

Sal stood nodding, showing he was listening carefully. When she finished, he cleared his throat. “I wish I could move my café—” yes, he did, right across from her church on Tower Road, where throngs of people passed every day. “But I cannot. I was blessed with this diner, through a very strange set of circumstances. However, now I have the paperwork, and I have my oath, a solemn oath I swore to open this diner and provide people with food, comfort, and kindness.”

“But the smell, Mr. Fang. The smell. It is the stink of hate. It is the odor of my righteousness.”

Her righteousness did stink, and now he knew why her religion was waning in Tower City. Because of her odor of her avarice and deceit.

“I shall deal with the unfortunate fragrance,” he said quietly. “And to put it bluntly, Pontra, I am going to make this diner a success, with or without your help.” He then fake-smiled at her, like she was fake-smiling at him. “I would very much like your help, however.”

She smiled. “Oh, you’ll have it, sir. If you plan on going against the will of the gods, you will need all the help you can get. Perhaps I was mistaken about this plaza. Maybe I will help you get the fountain repaired. I will be in touch.”

She then lifted her hand, weighed down by a huge ring, a hefty diamond a platinum setting—claw, shoulder, bridge and shank—all of the parts of a ring. As a Dark Lord, you generally studied rings a great deal, for any number of reasons.

Sal was supposed to take her hand, and kiss her ring, but he wasn’t about to do that. He took the hand and shook it, noting her brief grimace.

“Thank you, Pontra. You have my gratitude for coming to visit my humble café. Yes, we must be ever vigilant for pride’s poisons, and we must stay humble, forever humble, and let me show you the way out of the stink, which is very strong indeed!”

He got her moving, and her elderly guard fell behind them, until they were outside in the heat.

The Pontra had her fake smile back on her face. “Goodbye, Mr. Fang. Again, I wish you the best in your endeavors, though I fear the curse is far too strong for either one of us to ever break it.”

“I must keep hope in my heart, Pontra.”

Sal then spun about and went back into his café, slamming the doors behind him.

Shivaun appeared in the doorway and shrieked. Her angry words appeared in thick ice on the wall. That woman is insufferable! Insufferable! She smiles like she is our friend, but she is our enemy! She is our enemy!

Sal threw his arms around himself, shivering. He thought the same thing.

He’d finally opened his café, and yet, it seemed doomed. The smell would drive customers away, and he was pretty sure that the church leader was going to do everything in her power to sabotage him. Perhaps she herself was the source of the stench.

No, she had seemed surprised by it. She had come as a warning.

Next time, she might be more direct. Maybe she’d send her elderly guards to bust his kneecaps. He had his Youngin Reflexes, so he might survive the encounter with his legs intact. However, there were a great many of them, and you could only do so much dodging.

There was a knock on the door, and Sal went to it, and threw open the door.

There stood Theovanni, with his dragon, both looking devastated. It was after three, and so his shift was over, but why were they frowning so? Even the little dragon’s tail drooped.

The sad dragon made Sal sad.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

Theo shook his head sorrowfully. “Uh, sir, well, could we stay here with you? We’d work more for our rent…both me and Sparky would.”

Sal found himself mystified. “Why not return to Kaixo’s room?”

The kid didn’t answer. It was clear, he didn’t want to say more.