Even though Crime Lord Lanni sat on a piano stool, he loomed over Luka. “A deal? What kind of deal?” His voice was raspy and low, like a metal grinder tearing through steel.

  The World Walker swallowed, resolving himself. Briefly, very briefly, he looked over the man. A big, white fur coat sat draped over his shoulders, gold rings were locked onto his fingers and shiny jeweled chains hung around his neck. His hair was slicked back with grease, and his smooth shaven face was riddled with small scars.

  He smiled like a cat, a golden tooth reflecting Luka’s dark expression.

  “The gnome gang, Gnomeeee is no longer welcome at my park. Non-gang affiliated gnomes are, however. And I want Gnomeeee to know and understand that.”

  Lanni’s smile turned into a smirk, then a scoff, and finally a downright frown. “You think I was born yesterday, eh?” He spread his wide hand onto the piano keys, blasting the room with shrill notes. “Well, I wasn’t.”

  Luka grimaced and asked, “What?”

  “You’re talking about murder and I—”

  “I am not!” His yell echoed through the tavern, drawing eyes from all the guests inside.

  The Crime Lord crossed his arms. He quirked an eyebrow and stared at Luka, studying his every minuscule movement. The twitch of his hand, how his left eye blinked slightly before his right, how his legs remained firm, despite his instinct telling him to run.

  “If you didn’t want me, a gang leader, wiping out a rival gang, what did you want, Mr. World Walker?”

  The question made Luka hesitate. He thought back, realizing just how his request sounded. He forced himself not to react outwardly. Internally he berated himself.

  Should I even continue this conversation? he wondered. I’ve already messed it up—

  That was when he saw her. Sitting amongst the tavern patrons was the dead ghostly woman from Earth. She sat there staring, judging, watching. As silent as ever, as terrifying as the day he killed her. Luka tore his eyes from the hallucination, finding the Crime Lord.

  He bit down his trepidation and said, “I want Gnomeeee out of the park, yes. There will be no intimidation, threats, harm, killing, or anything of the sort.”

  Lanni chuckled. He leaned back against the piano keys, uncaring of the produced sound. “You want me to bribe the gang to leave you alone.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.”

  “That will cost you.”

  Now it was Luka’s turn to cross his arms. “Name a price.”

  A haunted laugh slowly rolled through the man’s chest and throat. He laughed and laughed, his underlings sitting around the piano doing the same. Then he stopped, suddenly. He locked eyes with Luka, his shining tooth on full display.

  “I’ve heard you’re rather… adept at alchemy.”

  A chill rushed through Luka’s spine. He wasn’t good at alchemy. Hell, he had never even brewed a potion. But—and it was a big but—he did hold a divine artifact ring that gave him exact recipes to anything he dared ask it.

  So no, he wasn’t not “adept” at alchemy. He was far more than that.

  And unfortunately, very few people knew that. Very, very few. Which could mean one of a few different things. Either someone was spilling secrets, Lanni could see the future, or he had an artifact himself…an artifact that may, perhaps, help him maintain his crime empire.

  Luka mulled over the three options for a long moment—and gambled.

  He whispered quietly enough the underlings could not hear, “Did your artifact tell you that?”

  There was a shift. A tiny, minuscule one.

  But Luka wasn’t the only person who could study someone. He saw Lanni’s expression change. A smile to a smile—yet not a smile. There was anger behind his eyes, tortuous anger. It may be Lanni’s most guarded secret, but a secret wasn’t a secret when more than one person knew.

  And there was the gamble. Did Lanni kill him for finding out? Would a Crime Lord kill a World Walker over a secret?

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Don’t answer that,” Luka said smoothly. “We both know you’ll have to do something if you do.”

  With that, suddenly Luka was the one looming.

  He continued, “So, before this relationship becomes unsalvageable, let’s make a deal. You bribe Gnomeeee to leave the park alone, and I’ll brew three potions for you.”

  “Five,” the man instantly barked.

  Luka did not need time to think about it. “Five, but I get to veto a potion if I don’t like the effects. Like say a… potion of immense pain. I will not make that.”

  Lanni held firm for a moment before all the anger drained from him. His haunted smile turned into a, relatively, friendly smirk. “And here I thought you were only brewing five of the same potion. If I can ask for five unique potions, well, well, well, things just got a lot more interesting.”

  Luka grimaced. He should have thought of that. He could have gotten out of this better off.

  ***

  In the shadowy corner of the Whirlpool Tavern, a certain “hairstylist” sat. Luna was the name she gave to her God’s newest mark to gain entry into his home and hearth, but that was far from true. Many things surrounding her were little more than tricks. And the mark fell for them all.

  World Walker Luka—the mark—willingly played the fool, greedily accepting a deal with the divine. Clothes! The fool wanted clothes! That was it! The irony, the humor, the luck!

  Because of simple clothing, a fledgling empire would fall. World Walker Park would cease to exist, lives would turn to dust, hopes and dreams crushed. All for the glory of her God!

  Luna slumped into her chair, angling herself in such a way to see through the gaps between the tables and around the drinking guests. She watched the mark with interest, noting his demeanor and cadence. Even across the room, she heard every word he and the Crime Lord uttered.

  They were making a deal. Another foolish, greedy deal.

  Silently chuckling to herself, Luna watched on, ready to relay today’s finding to her clergy.

  ***

  Luka mentally repeated the potions Crime Lord Lanni wanted, “Potion of the silver tongue, potion of purge toxin, Dimensional Delight, Luck’s Hand, and finally, potion of fertility.”

  The first two were what Luka was expecting: a potion that made one’s words more appeasing, a potion that removed poison from an individual, a potion that gave the drinker a “pocket inventory” for an hour, a potion that increased one’s luck for a single hand of cards. In other words, a potion to talk a way out of something, save a life, smuggle something, and win big.

  They weren’t perfect in Luka’s mind. But he never considered himself a paragon of virtue. Lanni was a Crime Lord, of course his potions were going to help his business. Smuggling and a silver tongue were the best he was going to get— unless Luka overstepped with his veto power and ruined the deal.

  With all of that said, Luka felt the first four potions were decoys—Lanni was truly after the last.

  Activating his ring, Luka read the reagents list:

  Requirements for a Potion of Fertility (high grade):

  5 dried nettle berries

  The juice of a 1 moonbloom

  A pinch of dragon’s ash

  2.5 oz of Etherstarch (for thickening)

  5 oz of a mare’s milk

  “Why do you want that?” Luka asked.

  Lanni held his gaze, a frown on his lips. “That’s not part of the deal.”

  Was this worth investigating? No, not really. But Luka wanted to know. “It is. If you’re planning to get someone pregnant against their will, I will not help you.”

  The Crime Lord scoffed and looked off to the side. He mulled on the statement, gnawing his bottom lip. Scars traced his cheek and down along his chin. The man had seen countless street fights, bare handed brawls, and drunken tavern beatdowns. He lived through them all, hardening along the way.

  And yet, right now, he looked as delicate as a flower.

  “It’s for my wife,” he practically slurred, his words both quiet as a mouse and filled with irritation.

  “And she wants to have kids?” Luka asked.

  “Yes!” Lanni seethed. “More than anything! She just can’t!”

  The World Walker nodded. “Or you can’t.”

  The man went still. Then, slowly, conceded the point. “Or I can’t… and I can do everything.”

  Ah, Luka thought. There it is.

  A man’s folly—a hardened Crime Lord, an unrivaled underground leader, a name that brought fear into the heart of derelict gang hideouts and the royal palace itself! A man so rich, he hid his empire in plain sight. A man who could get everything—and anything—he ever wanted.

  Except a child.

  “We have a deal,” Luka said. “Though, it may take a while. My roots aren’t exactly set when it comes to ingredient procurement.”

  Lanni’s expression snapped back to “crime lord.” His smile returned, and he stood from the piano bench, his arms out wide. “You don’t have a supplier, eh? As it just so happens, I supply many-o magical, mundane, and rare ingredients. Whatever you need, I’ll get… for a price, of course.”

  Luka held off on laughing in the man’s face. There was no way he was ever making another deal with this man. But he couldn’t exactly say that, could he? Instead, he said, “No thanks. My roots haven’t set, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t grown them.”

  The two men studied each other for a moment before Luka asked, “Now, you’re very important guests. Might I show you to the suite we have ready for you and your… entourage?”

  Lanni smirked as if he knew the punchline to a joke no one knew about. “Is it up in that mighty big tree?”

  “Why, as it just so happens, it is!”

  Luka led the men out of the tavern and through the park toward Ressen and the World Tree Inn. Though, as he walked, he couldn’t help but feel as if someone was watching him.