At the very edge of the kingdom of Veloria lay a vast mountain range beyond which sat an endless desert called the Veil of Sands. There was no reason for anyone to go there unless they were desperate for a tan.
Before one could dream of conquering the towering peaks to find the desert beyond, the Weird Woods first presented itself as an insurmountable challenge. With treacherously twisted foliage and perpetually perturbed wildlife, the murky forest had successfully dissuaded even the highest levels of the Adventurer’s Guild who grudgingly proclaimed it a complete waste of time.
It was widely understood that the only thing you might bring back from the Woods was a rather aggressive strain of rabies.
Perched precariously on the fringe of that dark and disturbing wilderness was the little village of Heartwood Hollow.
A few rows of townhouses were built around a central heart of glass-fronted shops. As their carriage clattered through the narrow cobblestone veins of the village, Worm noticed the village also had a small café to go with its quaint-looking inn.
The brief and comforting scent of coffee almost woke a smile in his face if it weren’t for the fact the last stack of his Constitution Buffs had expired a few hours before.
Other than motion sickness, all that kept him from feeling charmed by the warm little village was the fact that it was mysteriously missing from every map and guidebook he’d found along the way.
Usually, he thought, there was a reason for that and it was never a good one.
The carriage lurched to a sudden stop and he snatched the door’s handle to stop himself from plunging head-first into Mrs Gunstone’s lap.
The other passengers let him tumble out into the street first where he sucked a quick lungful of crisp clean air before vomiting onto the cobblestones.
“Hmm,” a deep voice rumbled from nearby. “I didn’t think our village was that bad.”
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A giant of a man with solid meaty fists patted him on the back as he heaved the last of his stomach contents out.
“That’s it, lad. Get it all out. We’ll get you over to Gertie’s for a hot cup of cocoa after this and you’ll feel a lot better.”
“Ooh!” Daisy clapped her hands. “Hot cocoa? Does it come with little marshmallows?”
“Of course it does, lass. Wouldn’t be hot cocoa without it, would it?”
“No,” Daisy said. “It really wouldn’t. I love hot cocoa. Don’t you, Petal?”
Petal grunted. “Don’t be stupid. What do you think I am? I like mead. Beer. Ale.”
“You were drinking wine earlier,” Worm squeezed out between heaving breaths. “Red wine.”
The Mercenary flushed. “It came with the meal,” she growled. “I didn’t choose it. And I certainly didn’t care what vintage it was!”
Worm staggered up to the nearest wall and planted his hand against it to steady himself. Nodding at the big man, he exhaled heavily. “Thank you. Sorry about the floor.”
“That’s alright. You’ll get the bill in the morning.” He chuckled as he said it, but Worm believed him anyway. Little towns were usually very good at giving out fines. “My name’s Finnian Fleurwood, by the way. Please, call me Finn.”
“Norbert.” He glanced sourly at Daisy. “But she’ll have you calling me Worm so you might as well start off that way.”
“Worm?”
“I’m a Necromancer.”
“Oh?” The big man looked surprised. “Haven’t met a Necromancer before. Rare class, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Wiping his mouth, Worm started to pull himself together. He looked up at the giant man, noting the massive biceps and thick beard. His strength stats must be through the roof, Worm thought. “Are you the local Blacksmith?”
“Who? Me?” Finn let loose a big laugh. “Heavens, no. No, I’m a Florist.”
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Gertie’s Ground Beans Café sat on the corner near the carriage station.
The lower level had the café, and the upper level was her apartment.
As they stepped inside, they were welcomed by a warm cheerful little stove burning brightly in the corner. The aroma of freshly ground coffee and sweet pastries left Daisy swooning.
The interior was somewhat rustic with the exposed brick walls adorned with little framed water colour paintings and shelves lined with well-thumbed books.
Behind the counter, Gertie Goldleaf worked a coffee machine of the finest gnomish design. Copper and brass gears whirled enchantingly, and intricate runes glowed gently along slender steam pipes.
Worm nodded as he recognised some of the enchanted runes immediately and was impressed by their meticulous engraving. It showed a level of care and attention he hadn’t expected this far from the capital.
Mismatched armchairs and small wooden tables scattered throughout. Most tables were already taken and the bubble of cheerful chatter combined with the sound of hissing steam.
“Take a seat,” the woman called. Her golden eyes glinted merrily and her pointed ears betrayed her elven ancestry. “I’ll be right with you.”
Finn led the way to a small table for four.
“The hot cocoa here is delicious, but you need to try the caramel latte next time you’re in,” he advised. “Gertie makes the caramel liqueur herself. It’s a local specialty.”
“It smells divine,” Daisy said, reeling deliriously.
Petal slouched in her chair with an uncomfortable scowl on her face. “I bet the inn smells better.”
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“I don’t know,” Finn admitted, blowing on his hot cocoa. “I just always liked picking flowers. I can walk for hours just to get the best daffodils. So, selecting Florist as my Class seemed the natural thing to do. My old dad was happy for it, of course. He’d always been afraid I’d become an Adventurer like my brother.”
Daisy nibbled on a blueberry muffin. “I have a cousin who was a Florist until he was Level Twelve. Then he became an Apothecary.”
“Not a bad choice if you’re in the city,” Finn allowed. “I thought about it myself. But, in the end, I just really love what I do. Everything from the picking to the arranging. And, of course, there’s nothing like a fresh bouquet to bring a smile to even the sourest of faces.”
“I hate flowers,” Petal murmured. “I have allergies.”
Finn let that pass. “What about you, Worm? What brings you all the way out here?”
The Necromancer chewed thoughtfully on a marshmallow, enjoying the soft texture and sticky sweetness. “I joined the Dungeon Master Guild,” he said. “I’ve been assigned a Dungeon somewhere out here.”
“Oh! Well, that’d be the little one out by the old Darkthrone ruins.”
“Ruins? You wouldn’t be referring to an old wizard tower, by chance?”
“Yes! That’s the place. It used to be a fine old tower, they say. Built by Dudley Darkthrone before the Cattle Wars, I think. Not much left of it now, of course. Could mistake it for a few pile of old rocks if you didn’t know what it was.”
“Of course,” Worm grumbled, his frown deepening.
“You should talk to the Mayor, too,” Finn said. “There’s a petition up for what to name the place. So far, the leading entry is Dungeon McDungeon. Some of the kids nominated it. Mayor might like it if you come in and added the weight of your Dungeon Master title to get something more sensible.”
“Dungeon McDungeon?” Daisy giggled. “I like that. It sounds cute.”
“Dungeons aren’t cute,” Petal growled, poking one of the marshmallows with a finger. “Not even a little.”
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Petal’s gaze was fixed firmly on the plush little thing.
It taunted her. Teased her with its lightly dusted surface.
Its plumpness promised decadence and ecstasy.
Glancing around, she saw no one was looking. No one would see if she picked it up and plopped it into her mouth.
She could be quick. She had the Agility for it.
No one would know.
Worm was asking about the road to the ruins. He wasn’t looking happy with what Finn was saying.
Daisy was absorbed by her muffin which was bursting with blueberries.
Petal gnawed at her bottom lip. She’d refused the muffin. Refused the allure of sweet berries surrounded by moist muffin dough. The smell of them had caused the Undead Servant to swoon before the counter, but Petal had resisted.
Gertie’s goblin espresso machine whistled shrilly. Nothing too loud, but just enough that everyone turned slightly to see what had made the noise and-
The marshmallow filled her mouth with pillowy sweetness. Its soft creamy centre erupted across her tongue. Her eyes closed as her whole body shivered with delight.
When she opened them, everyone was staring at her.
She frowned. “What?”
“You, umm, made a sound,” Worm said, his cheeks red.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Daisy grinned broadly. “It sounded like-”
“Like you were really enjoying the marshmallow,” Finn finished for her. “Which isn’t a surprise. Gertie makes them herself. They’re the best around. She won an award for them last year at the Toddington Fair.”
Petal snorted. “Don’t make me laugh. Me? Like marshmallows? Bah. The only food I like is meat cooked rare and off the bone. And beer. Lots of beer. Can we go to the inn now?”
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It’d be a half-day walk to the ruin, Finn told them. The Dungeon was only a short walk further along the path.
Worm looked out at the bronze of the early evening sky and sighed. “I guess we’ll leave it until tomorrow. Is the inn expensive?”
“Oh, you don’t want to stay there,” Finn said. “That’s for tourists. Jez charges two gold a night more than he should. Local farmers usually kip at Doris’. I’ll take you by on my way out if you like.”
Daisy clapped her hands. “That’s real nice of you, Mister Finn! Master really appreciates it.”
“Yeah,” Worm nodded, thinking of his diminishing funds. “I do.”
“Well… It sounds like we’ll all be neighbours. You’ll find we look after each other in Heartwood.” He sipped his cocoa. “Out here, we need to.”
“Why?” Petal lifted her head, squinting at him with an interested gaze. “Does it get dangerous around here? Are there Bandits?”
“Nothing like that,” he said. “I mean, the Weird Woods spits out an oddity now and then, but I was thinking more of the day-to-day horrors of living. You know. Like, Winter storms, bouts of drought, and Hayfever season.”
“So, no Bandits?”
“Not really.”
“Oh.” The Mercenary looked down at her untouched cocoa and frowned. “Great. No Bandits. That’s just peachy.”
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Doris Daughtry ran a little Bed and Breakfast on the edge of town.
She was a small woman with plump round curves and a permanent smile. Her hands were larger than normal which gave hints at a measure of Dwarf in her family.
Standing in the doorway, she eyed the small group warily. “You only want one room?”
“Yes, please,” Daisy said. “I don’t need a bed, you see.”
“Oh! You’re an Undead Servant!” She looked to Worm with a curious expression. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a Necromancer in town before.”
“It wasn’t exactly my choice to be here,” he muttered. Then sighed. “I’m the new Dungeon Master.”
“But it’s only Level One,” she said.
“I know.”
“There won’t be much for you to do.”
“I know.”
“Well, I suppose you know what you’re doing…”
“I don’t.”
“Hmm.” She looked up at Petal, her eyes taking in the steel armour and heavy sword. Nodding approval, she allowed a slight smile to form. “Your breastplate is lovely, dear. The steel looks to be of fine quality. Is it Dwarven?”
Petal shrugged. “I don’t think so. It was a Mercenary Guild quest reward. It came with a tiara, but I don’t like wearing it.”
“It looks Dwarven. My grandfather was a Dwarf, you know.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He died last year.”
“Was he the local Blacksmith?” Worm asked.
“No.” She paused. “He was a Cheesemaker.”
“Oh.”
Her mouth thinned a little, but she stepped aside to let them in. “He made the finest Brie in the whole region. Won a ribbon for it once at the Toddington Fair when I was a girl. Of course, that was before the Incident…”
Daisy cocked her head. “What incident?”
“Oh, we don’t talk about the Incident, dear.” The plump little woman shivered and closed the door quickly behind them. “Nobody does.”
“Really?”
Doris stared up at the Undead Servant, gaze sharp and piercing. She looked like an owl. “Really. Not ever. And you would do well to remember that…”
“Right, then.” Worm opened his money pouch and winced at the little pile of coins inside. “Umm, how much is it for a bath?”
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Petal arranged her pack at the end of his bed, her bedroll spread out in the middle of the room.
Worm scratched at a few red bites on his hip. Leftovers from another night spent in a stable. “Are you going to sleep like this every night? You can get your own room, you know.”
“How else can I protect you?”
“You’re right,” he said drily. “But the only thing which has attacked me has been fleas, and you haven’t done anything to stop them.”
Petal snorted. “They’re not worth my time.”
“I beg to differ. Have you seen the size of these bites?” He tried to sound serious. “Why are you really here, Petal? You’re a Mercenary, not a Bodyguard. I can’t pay you. We don’t even have a contract.”
“You defeated me.” The Mercenary lay down on her back, carefully positioning her sword. “I have a debt or something.”
“Or something?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes. “Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
“With your eyes closed?”
She didn’t answer.
He fell asleep to the sounds of her snoring and the crisp papery swish as Daisy turned the pages of her book.
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Daisy watched her Master sleep.
Her violet eyes glowed softly in the dark. Since the change, she could see in the dark just as well as she could during the day. She’d told him this, but he still insisted she keep a candle burning while she read.
His face twitched, and she wondered what he was dreaming about.
Maybe he was dreaming about her.
That would be nice, she thought. If she slept, she knew she’d dream of him.
She looked back down at the quaint little tome called Agatha Appleblossom’s Enchanted Herbs of the Weird Woods. A little bookshop in the last town they’d passed through had sold it to her.
Its pages were filled with bright illustrations and helpful notes on how to identify some of the more exotic flora nestled in and around the Weird Woods.
There wasn’t much on how to find or harvest them, though. Most of the notes instead warned the reader to stay away from the Woods and purchase the herbs from a trained professional Adventurer.
Not very helpful, she thought.
But the illustrations were pretty.
She glanced up at her Master again.
And smiled.