The town of Milik bordered the Ulmund Kingdom. Its signature clock tower beamed with hometown pride in the slight off-center of the city. It did once proudly beam in the town’s center but the construction of a new auction house expanded the town eastward. Now, it looked more like a very well beautiful pimple on the town’s face.

  Milik was known for its proximity to the Fierce Forest. It was a starting point for so many intruders, known locally as heroes, and thus despite its’ rurality was a place where strange folk who looked out of the ordinary might pass a little bit easier. Davilo walked forward, resting his pitchfork on his shoulder with a waltzing matilda of snacks and sandwiches that his minions had packed for his fellowship. Bringing up the party’s rear was Stormbristle, who could not get too close to Davilo without shrinking significantly from Davilo’s natural heat. In between Davilo and Stormbristle were the two agents foot-picked by Storm for this mission. There was Lala, the changeling, gray, with high cheekbones and a burned hook along her right cheek that had long since scarred. She could shift to any human or demi-human of similar size. She walked along merrily as the final party member, Tamas, played a jaunty tune on his lute. Tamas was a satyr. He was stout with a belly that kept him from seeing the floor standing up. His ability to alter moods with his music made him ideal for a run-in with humans. Tamas had also been to Milik before, and had left with a pernicious itch in his crotch. Tamas’ song was about where or not he should call the woman who gave him the itch.

  “What’s the plan, my lord?” Lala asked Davilo.

  “I can not tell you, Lala. I have half a mind to burn each building one by one until the great cowards rush out. Then we shall know what building Sal is in and will be able to help him.”

  “Oh,” Lala said, “I was thinking something a bit more subtle.”

  “Maybe we can hold a concert?” Tamas asked, “You get in free if you bring a salamander?”

  “There’s less fire in that plan, I suppose.” Lala said.

  “Not if I’m there.” Said Davilo.

  “Right.” Stormbristle said, shouting from afar, “Can everyone hear me from back here? Is this good?”

  “Sorry. We can sort of hear you,” Lala said in her apologetic way, as if she was somehow culpable of Stormbristle and Davilo’s incompatibility.

  “Yesss,” Tamas said, “I can hear you, pig. Can you hear this tune from back there?”

  Tamas strummed his lute. The notes danced on the air and waltzed into Stormbristle’s ear, enchanting him like a lovely perfume. Not unlike a perfume, it was quite annoying when unsolicited.

  “Yes. I think we shouldn’t burn down every house as this is, first and foremost, a stealth mission, might I remind you. And we will have to be very careful. Kip said that what the humans mentioned salamanders as a delicacy.”

  “BASTARDS!” Davilo shouted, then looked around for a good tree, independent of other trees. He pointed his pitchfork and said, “Shamai! Fire ball!” A ball of fire escaped his pitchfork and set the tree aflame.

  “Oh lord,” Stormbristle yelled, “Please no more fire blasts, Floor Lord! We don’t want to scare anyone away when looking for information! Let’s try every butcher shop. Should we split up or…?”

  “Yes,” Davilo said, “Let’s split up.

  “Yes,” Tamas said, “Let’s split up. Me and the girl, and… you all can do whatever you want. Savvy?”

  “I dislike that plan,” Davilo said, “But I am a guest in this so I accept.”

  “I’m fine with whatever we all decide,” Said Lala.

  “What are all of you saying?” Stormbristle shouted, “Did we agree to split up?”

  “Yes, we did!” Lala shouted at Stormbristle.

  “And we agreed on the teams?”

  “Yes!”

  “Who’d I get?”

  “Davilo!”

  “... Oh.” Stormbristle said.

  “You’re with me, cloud!” Davilo yelled.

  “I really think it’d be best…” Started Stormbristle.

  “I don’t agree but these two seem to think so! Now come on, do not keep a Floor Lord waiting!”

  Stormbristle grumbled but floated along. Lala changed her look. Orange hair and peach skin. Freckles as well. Tamas wore robes that hid his feet and a head scarf to hide his horns. Stormbristle could not hide who he was, instead, he was reduced further as he got closer to Davilo. Davilo chose not to change his appearance. Opting to keep the red suit and pitchforks. He also did nothing to hide the horns.

  Lala and Tamas went to the butcher nearest to them while Davilo and Stormbristle approached the butcher on the far side of town. Stormbristle had lost enough water from Davilo’s heat that he could no longer float. His stubby legs forced him to waddle after Davilo as the devil stormed into the shop. With Stormbristle calling behind him.

  “Wait!” Stormbristle called.

  Davilo walked up to the butcher, a thick man with big mutton chops, “You there!”

  Stormbristle attempted to go in but the door closed behind Davilo. Stormbristle, once a proud boar now reduced in stature and power stared up at the doorknob. He could only watch from the window as he saw Davilo attempt to take care of business.

  “Have you seen four pesky freaks walk in here with a salamander that’s not theirs and attempt to sell him to you?”

  “What?” The butcher asked, “I’d seen some people walk in here, yeah. Might fit your description.

  “Might? Or does? I need you to be specific. After all, the me is in the details.”

  “The what?”

  “The me. The devil. The devil is in the details.”

  “Oh, I thought yous said, ‘meat.’ or something. Sorry, I am a butcher after all.”

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  “Apology accepted. Now, be specific. You’ve seen four people? An orc, an elf, a human, and a day dwarf?”

  “I… I seen an orc. A girl. Pretty and strong. Wouldn’t mind getting me a hug with those arms.”

  “We can unpack that later, fool. Tell me, what did she bring in?”

  “It’s like yous says. She brought in a salamander. Still alive. Reckon from the dungeon nearby. Asked me to sell it but the price was way too high.”

  “Any price would be too low for someone as great as Sal.” Davilo pointed his pitchfork right at the butcher.

  Stormbristle cringed from outside. He turned to a couple walking past and said, “Excuse me, could you help me-”

  “Oh my! What a marvelous pig! And it talks!” Said the woman.

  “Oh, uh.. No you misheard me.” Stormbristle said.

  “I want it, Willem.”

  “Well, pig? Are you owned?”

  Meanwhile, inside, Davilo took the pitchfork and turned it to the vase behind him on the table, “That vase? Quite a rarity. Ulmundian in origin, specifically from a province on the other side of the kingdom. A long dead destroyed town called Hasting-Reed. I can tell by the dogs. Hasting-Reeds had an artist specifically known for vasework with dog print. Would be a shame if it suddenly melted.”

  The butcher scratched his head, “I suppose it would. Would you like a closer look at the vase? Me grandmam gave it to me. She’s from Hastings-Reed.”

  “Yes. can I see it up close, actually?”

  The butcher picked up the vase and brought it to Davilo. He took it in his hands. Dark green with crackles of black throughout, and dalmatians chasing after each other.

  “Just don’t drop it,”

  “Shazow! Vase smash!” Davilo said, lifting the vase above his head.

  “Oh no! Don’t!”

  “Tell me what I want to know.”

  “I was answering your questions!!”

  Davilo sighed and handed it back to the man, “Please just tell me where my friend is.”

  “The orc? She couldn’t sell it to me. Told me I was too dense. I told her she might want to check out the alchemist, Patella. Down the street to the left, about a block east of the clocktower.”

  Davilo turned, his cape whipped and followed him outside, where Willem and his beaux were pestering Stormbristle, getting a little too close. “Oh, sir? Is this boar yours? I’d love to buy it.”

  “Pewpew! Clothes burn!” Davilo touched Willem’s coat and a hole of cinder immediately started. The smoke and fire caused Willem to panic, taking off his coat and tossing it on the ground as Stormbristle and Davilo walked away.

  “Thank you.”

  “Thank me not! Off we go to the alchemist.”

  “Can you hold the door open for me this time?”

  The devil muttered in the affirmative as they made it to the alchemist’s shop. It had herbs and plants growing all around the outside, vines crawled up the brick, the weary sign on top showed the ligaments of a skeletal hand holding a bushel of flowers.

  Davilo opened the door and let Stormbristle in. Inside the room was a host of smells that were all at once, ravishing and dizzying. Potted plants, as well as ingredients for potions and potions themselves were locked away in different beakers and glass bottles. All housed liquids of different colors, hues, opacities and viscosities. When Davilo and Stormbristle saw the alchemist behind the counter they couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

  The skeletal woman wore purple robes with black accents, her large brimmed hat bent at the top to the right. She had not a scrape of skin on her. Her skull was there and her mouth was curled into a pleasant smile despite having no lips.

  “Hello there! Uh… Lord Davilo? Is that you?”

  “My work proceeds me, I’m sure,” Said Davilo, “Tis I. The Floor Lord Davilo.”

  “My! Please don’t tell me I’ve done anything that warrants you demolishing my small shop!”

  “Of course not. You are, Patella, are you not?”

  “I am, sire. And… who is your friend, and does he need some water?”

  “Ay, that he does.” Said Davilo. “He, like everybody, shrinks in my presence. In his case, it’s just much more physical.”

  “Help yourself, young stormboar.”

  “Thank you.”

  Against the stone wall of her floor, to keep the air moist for the plants was a pond. She scooped some water in a bowl from there and placed it in front of Stormbristle, who lapped at it and slowly, with each wick of his tongue, grew slightly bigger.

  “Patella,” Davilo said, “We are looking for somebody. It is quite serious. I am looking for my dear subject. A salamander. He should have come in here with a party or perhaps just an orc?”

  “Yes! Oh, the poor thing. As he was under the custody of the orc I could not do anything. I would have bought him just to free him but their price was too high! And when they asked if they would be able to sell me pieces of him, I told her that she may absolutely not kill him on the premises or anywhere near. I am so sorry, but he is not here.”

  “Details, my dear. Details! Tell me everything you remember! Nothing too small.”

  “My… Uhm, let’s see. I suppose that I could say that she came alone, but grumbled about the others. How they would find out. She seemed under a great deal of pressure.”

  “Continue! Tell me! What fragrance was she wearing?”

  “I’m not sure that she was wearing a fragrance, although she smelled musky with some hint of cedarwood. Perhaps she had just come from the forest?”

  “Absolutely. She had. Tell me more. Anything you can!”

  “Like I said… she seemed worried. I had to hold firm, she attempted to bully me into accepting the rate. But I didn’t back down. The look that salamander gave me… I wish I could do more. But my very presence here is already an annoyance to some! Sure, they’ll use my ointments for their acne, but the amount of times the guards have been called on me. Honestly! The only other thing I could tell you is that before she left, she told your salamander, ‘Only the ‘option’ left.’ I’m not sure why she phrased it that way. Only the ‘option’ left. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful than that!”

  “Precious details. They are like a dribble of water in the desert. Thank you, Patella. It burns me with rage that I couldn’t protect him.”

  “Lord Davilo, If I may… if you cry, can you place it into this bottle? Devil’s tears make for an excellent ingredient! But a single drop mixed with tiger bones would save every impotent man’s marriage in this town!”

  “My tears are all out, Patella. But I thank you for your forthrightness.”

  Stormbristle spoke up, “Did they tell you where she was going next?”

  “No. But I wonder if you already came from the butchers, the only option left would be the slavers? Not sure if they would.”

  “Bastard slavers,” Davilo said, “They are always so stingy>”

  “That makes less sense,” Stormbristle said, “Salamanders would make terrible slaves. Their body is made of fire and they can cast fire blasts with no mana.”

  “Then I’m sorry. I can offer no more help! Oh!” Patella turned around and went behind her desk. She searched through her drawer until she found a small vile, an ice blue drop inside. She placed it in front of stormbristle, beyond his bowl, “Some fire resistance. On the house. That way you won’t shrink up when you’re around such a fiery devil.”

  “Thank you,” Said Storm. A piece of his cloud tore off his body, floated toward the potion and picked it up, placing it in his little satchel.

  “We appreciate the help, Patella. And if you’d ever like some time away from the small minded, well, the Dark Lord’s empire is always waiting.”

  “That’s right,” Patella remembered, “I had heard something about you working for the Dark Lord. What kind of force could keep Hell’s Fury contained?” Patella said, her smile, “I hope you find your friend!”

  Davilo took a deep bow. Storm gave a happy snort and they both turned around and went off. They walked down the street of the town.

  “The option,” Davilo said, “What could that mean?”

  “I’m not sure. It will be helpful to see what the other two have come up with. Maybe the option was the other butcher in this town.”

  “Do you hear that music?” Davilo asked.

  “I do.”

  “It entices me,” Davilo said, “In a way that no music has done before.”

  “It calls to me too, but we can not get distracted, Lord Davilo, we must reconvene with the others.”

  “I don’t think you understand what I meant. It calls to me by a force greater than a taut string or soothing voice. I think I have found the other two.”

  When Davilo and Stormbristle walked up to the outdoor bar, they turned the corner to see Tamas, the satyr, playing his lute while surrounded by people. The entire bar danced gayly while he was surrounded by four women and even two men. They all stared at him with an expression halfway between lovingly drunk and drunkenly in love. Lala bobbed her head as she stayed seated, in the form she’d taken on before. Tamas was keeping the entire bar entertained with his song as another man, burly with a surly expression, came up to Tamas.

  “Tip jar’s right there, brother,” Tamas said. What Tamas did not know was this man had been courting the first woman and secretly sleeping with the third.

  “Not looking for change,” Said the man, as he reeled his fist back and punched Tamas squarely in the nose.

  “So much for subtlety,” Said Stormrbistle, as they scurried over to help him.

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