Today’s Earth date: September 30? 1991

How long has it been since I’ve had an actual hamburger? And a milkshake. I’d kill 100 goblins for a chocolate peanut butter milkshake.

Horcus might be beat to hell, but he had enough mana to kill a deer. It turns out that none of us have been deer hunting before, so we didn’t know what to do next. We carved off some meat from a back leg, cooked it over a fire, and are hoping for the best.

I don’t like the idea of starving to death, but I think I dislike the idea of shitting myself to death from food poisoning even more.

-The Journal of Laszlo the Paladin

***

The Teagaisg University Library had a respectable collection of materials on the many eras of the dwarves and their contributions across those millennia. Their guides to the dwarvish language and its various dialects were not as extensive as the Royal Library, but Wayne believed he had successfully translated the tablet.

But it had to be wrong.

After rechecking his work two more times, he asked Fergus to do the same.

When Fergus confirmed Wayne’s translation was accurate, his face took on the same wrinkled confusion.

According to their references, the stone tablet Wayne found in the dungeon chest read: “Contents undecided.”

“Thoughts on what that means?” Wayne asked.

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Fergus said, his eyes fixed on the tablet as he pondered. “And your thoughts?”

“I have an explanation for this, but it makes even less sense overall.”

Wayne relayed his thoughts on how video games in his world structured dungeon crawls and the major “beats” they typically included, like a boss fight at the very bottom with a dramatic plot-driving conclusion and a juicy reward.

Fergus crossed his arms as if that helped him think even harder. “I agree that the sequence matches, but that seems more like coincidence to me. Why would the first dwarves, however many thousands of years ago, build an experience that matched entertainment in your world?”

“That’s what I mean by the rest not making sense. A note like this is something a storyteller in my world would use as a placeholder, like a reminder to fill that bit in later.”

“And they never did.”

“Exactly. And the whole dungeon was kind of empty, right? Like there was stuff, but I didn’t see anything that looked like it once belonged to a singular person. No art or notes or keepsakes. The furniture was the same throughout. The same quarters. The same labs. Over and over and over.”

“Perhaps it had been plundered already?”

“Someone plundered everything without waking a single gargoyle?”

Though he didn’t reply, Fergus nodded that Wayne raised a good point but kept his eyes locked on the tablet, as if willing it to reveal its secrets.

“I went through the references in Storage before you got back,” Wayne said. “None of the Heroes mentioned leaving the dungeon with treasure. They fought gargoyles, but they found nothing worth taking. Any other crawl? At least one mention of what they took in all cases.”

“My memory of those stories matches your research. How perplexing. Did you share this with Miss Kryss?”

Wayne shook his head. “Wanted to translate it first. Between the Hero signatures and the complete map, I think she’ll agree we held up our end.”

“I can wrap that up if you’d like,” Fergus offered.

Wayne didn’t understand.

“The deal with Miss Kryss. I can take care of the rest so you don’t have to see her.”

“I’m not fifteen, Fergus. I’ll be fine.”

“That makes this a touch awkward then… I have one of Emelia’s books and was hoping you’d drop it off for me.”

“I thought the wine trip went well.”

“Very well, had a fantastic time,” Fergus said. “She was quite angry with me when I explained how you and I intended to leave Teagaisg eventually. We had different expectations for the relationship, it turns out.”

“At what point did you share that information with her?”

“The carriage ride back to town.”

“Fergus.”

The old scholar shrugged sheepishly. “Got enamored with the moment as it were.”

Wayne looked at his friend with incredulity. “Or you knew it might be a problem and held it back.”

“In my defense, she never mentioned our future together until that point in our tryst. I never meant to deceive. I believed we were on equal footing, really did.”

Sighing, Wayne said he’d deliver the book if Fergus gave him directions.

***

“My lady sends her regrets,” said a small pudgy fellow with wireframe glasses at The Museum of Wonders and Oddities. “She had another appointment but has authorized me to complete this transaction.”

“Appointment, huh?” Wayne responded.

“Indeed.”

The man led Wayne to a small back office and motioned for him to sit. Wayne unrolled the dungeon maps first, two floors for each page, and waited for the man to complete his assessment.

He looked up over his glasses. “These are very detailed. Very precise.”

“I did my best.”

“And this is the complete map?”

Wayne said that it was. He mapped every floor, opening every door and going down each hallway.

The man nodded and flipped through the maps again, one by one. “Excellent. Thank you for being so thorough. What else do we have?”

Laying it flat between them, Wayne unwrapped the cabinet door he’d been lugging around for days now. The man audibly gasped and leaned close to inspect it.

“My lady will be happy with this trade.”

The man handed Wayne the framed Page of Power and then a small list. “Your art and your information, as agreed.”

Two or three of the names were familiar from the list they acquired from Lord Blackwell, but Wayne expected overlap. These people seemed to run in the same circles, after all, and he hadn’t shared any of the first list with Kryss. He rechecked the framed page and reread the list, doublechecking but not sure what for exactly.

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“Please pass along my gratitude to Kryss,” he said, standing.

The man said he would with a bow of his head. “Before you depart, would you perchance be interested in more trades of this nature?”

Ooo.

“Yes.”

“My lady offers an open invitation for you to bring any Hero memorabilia to her if you wish to sell or trade. She has another dig beyond Cuan in need of assistance as well.”

The man handed Wayne a sealed letter. “If you present this at the Swiftwood Trading Company office in Cuan, they will help you plan the expedition and compensate you for your services.”

“Tell me more about the compensation.”

“I don’t have the same amount of information as my colleagues in Cuan, but I can tell that if you found these terms to be fair, you will find the future terms to be the same.”

Wayne chuckled. “I definitely undercharged.”

“I am not familiar with your pay, but that may be something to mention in Cuan, between you and me and this cabinet door.”

Hearing the man make a joke was strange after the seriousness of the rest of their conversation. He also didn’t smile or make any other indication that it was a joke.

Wayne thanked him for the job offer and departed, a new Page of Power under his arm.

***

“Was it weird talking to her again?” Fergus asked as Wayne sat to join him for lunch. They were down a quaint side street with a few tables and chairs outside for customers.

“She didn’t come.”

“Ah, that raises a fun philosophical question. Was it rude of her not to come or was it polite?”

“Fun?” Wayne asked.

“For me moreso, I suppose.”

“It’s okay. I was relieved. Emelia rolled her eyes, by the way, but that was it.”

Fergus thanked him.

Wayne told his friend about the rest of the trade.

“I’ve always wanted to see Cuan,” Fergus mused. “The seafood is supposed to be spectacular.”

“Are we leaving too quickly?”

“Do you want to stay?”

Wayne said he wouldn’t mind a change of scenery.

“Me too,” Fergus said. “So it’s decided. I’ll get the carriage booked and an extra case or two for Storage. Do we need anything else?”

“We’ve not used Cold Storage much. What could we flip for a profit when we get to Cuan?”

Without hesitation, Fergus said beef. They had cows on the other side of the mountains too, but everyone knew the Teagaisg meat was tastier because the grass was better. Wayne had never heard that, but Fergus insisted it was common knowledge.

“I should probably come with you,” Fergus added. “You’re like a baby little deer going into the bear cage. The beef market is unkind to neophytes.”

“Done a lot of beef trading in your time?”

“I am a learned man, but before we launch our scheme, you have a new treasure, yes?”

Wayne happily disassembled the frame, grateful to find that this Page of Power was water-damage-free, but as Kryss plainly disclosed, the back was in rough shape. It had splashes of blue ink and several scratches, like someone tried to write with a pen that was out of ink, and kept pressing harder anyway.

The only item visible on the backside of the page was Professional Write & Professional File, which the catalog described as:

This timesaving, professional word processing package with its easy-to-use database just got even better. For a limited time, you’ll receive Professional File free with your purchase.

He would have to wait for level 8 to try unlocking Professional Write and Quicken. He didn’t have high hopes, but he was also curious to see what might come of adding them with Christmas List.

***

Fergus negotiated a purchase of 3,500 pounds of beef, and that filled the Cold Storage space a little bit more than halfway. Wayne added ice as he packed using Sword of Water. He couldn’t simply generate the ice, however, so he had to aim at a hill, dust the dirt off, and then pack the block into the unit. Wayne wasn’t sure how reliable Cold Storage was, but it would be a freezer for quite some time.

3,500 pounds sounded like a lot, but they only needed to buy eight cows to reach that number. The ranchers threw in a ninth cow for free because they liked Fergus so much.

If this worked, Fergus estimated they could double their money, maybe better. The meat was that desirable, he insisted, and it was both rare and expensive to acquire in Cuan.

The trip between Teagaisg and the port city was too long for raw meats to travel without spoiling, so the best method was buying the cattle alive and walking it across the mountains to be butchered in Cuan. That was not a cheap endeavor.

Fergus was typically right about these things, but Wayne had never bet 3,500 pounds of meat on a Fergus factoid before. Goods Storage might be a make-shift freezer for now, but it wouldn't last forever, and carrying 3,500 pounds of spoiled beef out of Storage would be unpleasant.

To complete his travel preparations, Wayne had the small amount of damage to his armor repaired, had his sword sharpened, and bought maps of the route, the mountains, and Cuan. Thinking about how much he interacted with this world's elite already, he decided to buy new clothes as well so he could fit in better among nobles.

Fergus was in charge of snacks, but Wayne picked up some nuts and dried fruit. He had a feeling his friend would make his selections purely on taste rather than nutrition or practicality.

With one more day to kill before they made the trek over the Breaker Mountains to Cuan–using the tunnel would have been so much easier, but alas–Wayne decided to visit a certain noble one more time.

***

“Oh save the pageantry,” Lord Blackwell said, directing Wayne to a seat in front of his desk. “This is a treat for me. No sense pretending it's not.”

They sat in Blackwell's home library, an extensive but cozy collection of books and scrolls in a room that was larger than whole apartments Wayne had rented back on Earth.

“I'll be leaving for Cuan in the morning, and it occurred to me I might come across items that would be of interest to you, especially as I travel beyond Cuan eventually.”’

Blackwell sat forward, his leather chair creaking as he did. Wayne knew that was a good sign. “I'd heard the Zero Hero was doing errands for Miss Kryss, and that those errands were exceptionally fruitful.”

“I don't think I'd describe it as errands… Anyway, I'd be happy to keep an eye out for types of items or specific items.”

Blackwell nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “For a finder’s fee, I'm sure.”

“I’m not super worried about that part, but yeah, sure. Gold is great. I actually have a new interest, though. I'd like to visit dwarven ruins, the older the better. I want to look for undiscovered ones too.”

Leaning back, Blackwell drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair. “Pretty dangerous places. The known ones are hard to get to and pretty well picked over.”

“That's okay. Still want to see them.”

“Leads on undiscovered ruins are pretty desirable. Those that have them are reluctant to share them.”

“I have no problem being discreet,” Wayne said.

“As you wine and dine the competition?”

Wayne laughed. “And someone told her all about the trade we made, very detailed, my personal involvement included.”

Blackwell humbly acknowledged the point and asked for terms.

In a world of goblins and magic, Wayne was negotiating a business agreement. That was Earth-level lame, but at least he didn’t have a quarterly sales quota to hit. “I’m flexible. For known ruins, fifty-fifty split. I’m more interested in those pages and magic items than memorabilia. If there’s something you want, have it, pay me what you think it’s worth.”

“You’re thorough. And for unknown ruins?”

“I’m mostly interested in researching them. Same item split as before, but bump my rate for my legwork and for clearing the ruins. Bumped by say, thirty percent?”

“Is there more?”

“Yes. Nobody else goes into the ruins until my research is done.”

The nobleman frowned. “My experience with scholars has been that their research moves slowly. Incredibly so.”

After four years in the Royal Library, Wayne knew that Blackwell was right. Some research was slow by nature, but even when it wasn’t, most scholars weren’t in any particular hurry most of the time. A few of the scholars he knew could turn researching a dungeon into a three decade project. Easily.

“Give me thirty days undisturbed,” Wayne offered, “and your word that if I have a reasonable justification for wanting more time than that, I get it. I trust your judgment, and if we end up having that conversation, that’s good news for both of us, I think.”

“And you won’t disclose my intel?”

“You met Fergus. He’ll know everything, and the help we hire is need-to-know for the work itself. Beyond that? We’re just camping as far as anyone else is concerned.”

Blackwell drummed his fingers again, this time a touch faster than before. He looked Wayne in the eye and held the gaze. “I don’t recall any stories where the Heroes are shrewd businessmen. You could spar with my competitors and likely win more than you lost with that mind you have.”

“Like everyone says, I’m not a Hero.”

Blackwell laughed, and Wayne offered one more piece of business: Would Lord Blackwell like to buy a full set of Chosen Fighter armor? Wayne hadn’t found any obvious benefits. It was also too big for him and incredibly uncomfortable. More gold wouldn’t hurt.