Styra{species}: Styra are a species in the cynocephali family that’s animal features most closely resemble that of a goat. Unlike “true” cynocephali species however, Styra do not have a fully animalistic head. Instead their animal features are more widely distributed around their body, appearing as a goat-like lower half, horns, facial hair, square pupils, and fingernails replaced with a hoof-like material. Both male and female cynocephali have horns and facial hair, although females of the species tend to have less of both. It is not uncommon for more cosmopolitan female Styra to shave regularly. Although Styra show no affinity towards a particular skill, they are highly intelligent, often choosing challenging vocations for themselves.

  The growl was deep and low but had enough subsonic oomph to rattle Joe’s rib cage. All four people in the room whipped around to look at the stairwell to the second floor as Goober La Goom, hackles raised in full attack mode, descended the stairs like the first few stones of an avalanche. At least Joe thought it was Goober. The gnollhound, which had previously stood shoulder to knee with a person, had doubled in size. His shoulder now on the same level as Joe's hip. Joe tipped his head back to inspect the gnollhound.

  Goober La Goom

  Species: gnollhound

  Profession: exterminator

  PL: 2

  What the hell happened to him? Joe thought. The grip around his neck loosened somewhat, as the hands owner had their attention elsewhere. Joe pushed off from the table and aimed a swing at his captors head. The lanoli ducked almost on instinct and had Joe by the neck again before he could get out of the way. With a snort the man slammed Joe back against the counter.

  Gerald waved dismissively at Goober, completely ignoring Joe’s attempt to break free. “Einhardt, deal with that thing.” The orc bodyguard, presumably Einhardt, drew a long thin dagger and approached Goober.

  “Here puppy puppy, come to Uncle Einhardt.” He made ‘come here’ gestures with the hand not holding the dagger as he slowly approached the gnollhound. Goober for his part, didn’t move from his position at the base of the stairs, apparently unimpressed with the approaching threat. Einhardt got within striking range before it all went wrong for him.

  A second later Joe had to play what had just happened over again in the theater of his mind. Einhardt had come in with a side jab, apparently intending to drive the long-bladed dagger through Goobers thick neck folds. Instead Goober had flattened his ears and took an unhurried step backwards, letting the blade pass bare millimeters from his snout. When the blade had gone by, Goober had lunged forward and clamped his jaws down on the orc’s forearm. Before Einhardt had a chance to scream, Goober wrenched sideways causing the man to trip and fall head first into the stairwell banister with enough force to snap his head back. He wasn't dead though, corpses don't swear as much as Einhardt was, but he was definitely out of the fight in that one exchange.

  “Oh for fuck sake it's just a dog.” Gerald growled, drawing a richly decorated sword. Joe tried to rise again, and got about as far as he had the last two times. All Joe could do was watch as Gerald stepped forward and lashed out at the gnollhound. The sword sang through the space Goober had occupied seconds before, but by then the beast was already in motion. Having sidestepped to the left of Gerald, Goober lunged at the man’s off hand. He too missed his mark as Gerald twisted out of the path of Goobers snapping jaws.

  However Geralds sword wasn’t in position to strike back. He stepped backwards, hoping to gain some distance, only to have Goober twist and lunge again. This time Goobers teeth found the front of Gerald’s expensive looking tunic and sank in. With his teeth caught on something, Goober tried the same maneuver he’d used on Einhardt. Wrenching sideways, Goober fought to overbalance Gerald and send him to the ground. Unfortunately the garment had been made for looks rather than durability and it tore open to reveal the toned muscles of Geralds chest.

  “You absolute bastard!” Gerald snarled, practically foaming at the mouth, “do you know how much this shirt cost? I’ll take it out of your miserable hide!” He stepped back into range with Goober, raining down a series of quick jabs at his attacker. Despite his best efforts, Goober simply couldn’t dodge them all. A deep gash opened up, spilling blood from his cheek to his shoulder. Goober staggered, favoring his right front leg and completely unable to doge out of the way as Gerald brought his sword up over his head. Before he could bring it down on the limping gnollhound, a new voice barked out from the door.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Everyone, with the exception of Einhart who was still collecting himself on the ground, and Goober who couldn’t see over the counter, snapped their heads around to look at the newcomer. Despite being only a hair's breadth above five feet, doctor Minerva Hornsforward could fill a room with her sheer presence.

  Minerva Hornsforward

  Species: styra

  Profession: medical doctor

  PL:12

  The good doctor stomped across the shop floor, and while her hooves didn't actually kick up sparks as she went, the thump thump of their passing gave the impression that they really wanted to. “I came here to see if our good chemist had finished with my order for the clinic and I found a couple of wet behind the ears bullies throwing their weight around like they actually were worth the clothes they squatted in.”

  She was a good foot and a half shorter than her mate, with the delicate set of horns and thin wispy goatee more common to the females of her race, but Minerva Hornsforward carried herself through life like she expected even the gods to move aside. When she reached the half gate at the counter she didn't even slow down, hitting it so hard it smacked loudly against the wall.

  “Put that down this instant young man,” she commanded Gerald, whose sword arm was still raised, ready to strike. Before he could respond she whirled on the hebridean style lanoli pinning Joe to his chemist table, somehow managing to look down on him while looking up at him. “And you! I don't personally know you, but unless you want your ass sewn to your forehead you will let our chemist go. Do I make myself clear?”

  Behind Dr.Hornsforward Joe could see a look of barely contained fury skitter across Gerald's face. His sword arm twitched like he wanted to strike out at the much smaller styra woman. She must have caught the movement though, as she whirled around and pinned him with a look that had him wilting like a weed under a blowtorch.

  “Don’t think I didn’t see that. I delivered you into this world Gerald Bacarti, and by all the gods in the heavens I will be the one that removes you from it if you do not sheath that damn sword right now young man”. The hilt hit the scabbard with a ringing clang at about the same instance as the pressure on Joe's neck was removed. Dr.Hornsforward pointed one horn tipped finger towards the door. “Scrape up your companion and get the hell out of here. I will deal with the three of you later, but for now out.” The authority in the diminutive woman's voice was so strong that even Joe's legs twitched like they wanted to bid a hasty escape. For the three miscreants she was actually aiming for, they practically evaporated. The door hadn't even shut before they were long gone.

  No sooner had the door clicked into place than the doctor's demeanor did a full one hundred and eighty degrees. “Are you alright Joe? Oh you poor dear.” She rushed over to Goober, who’d used her as a distraction to limp back to the stairs. She stopped him as he got to the first step and began looking over the wound on his shoulder. “Oh baby, hold still for Mama and we’ll get you all patched up.” She turned to Joe, “get me a grade 2 healing potion and some clean clothes.”

  Joe hurried off to comply, the grade 2 potions were kept in the locked display cabinet at the counter, so retrieving one wasn’t hard. He dropped it off with Dr.Hornsforward as he rushed into the bathroom to grab a clean towel. When he returned, Dr.Hornsforward was already stitching Goober up with a medical kit she apparently had secreted somewhere on her person. The gnollhound stood stock still, only moving enough to shoot Joe a pained look as the doctor worked. When she had the wound properly closed up, Dr.Hornsforward took a small brush out of her kit and dipped it into the potion bottle. From there she dabbed the wet brush over the wound, guiding the potion into the cut and sealing it as she worked. When she was done only the stitches showed where the wound had been moments before.

  “There, now hold still baby while mama gets these stitches out and you’ll be as good as new.” She ruffled Goobers ears and he chuffed into her face, causing the woman to gag for a moment. “Joseph Alderbright, you need to brush this things teeth now and again.” Dr.Hornsforward coughed before getting to work with a fine pair of scissors to remove the stitches. With the impromptu surgery out of the way she stood and put her hands on her hips, her own square pupils drilling into Joe’s. “Now what prompted that little exchange?”

  Joe gave a shrug and gestured at the stairs to his apartment. “They tried to sell me a faulty magic ring, and didn't appreciate me calling them out on it. My dog took exception and it escalated from there. Thanks for stepping in by the way, would you like something to drink? I think I need a cup of tea after that.”

  Dr.Hornsforward scowled, ”that is a boy who needed stronger discipline. Yes please if you have yara I would prefer that, no cream or sugar.” She called as Joe mounted the stairs. He’d had to gently nudge a spacy Goober out of the way. With nothing of interest happening, the gnollhound had apparently switched his brain off and stood blocking the stairs like the world's smelliest speed bump.

  Joe got the kettle on to boil just as Dr.Hornsforward made it to the top of the stairs. She ran an appraising eye over Joe's apartment, but if she found fault with it she kept it to herself.

  “I'll have to talk with that boy's father,” she said as she took a seat at Joe's dining room table. “He's been getting entirely too full of himself recently.”

  “If you think it'll do any good,” Joe remarked absently as he fished the tin canister of ground yara out from a top cupboard. Yara was this world's analog for coffee. It was the root of a weed plant similar in appearance to a dandelion but with bright pink puffy flowers. The whole plant was saturated in caffeine, which the plant used as an insecticide. The leaves and stems however, were covered in a sticky sap meant to repel larger grazing animals and made the top part of the plant inedible. Said tops were often just composted to enrich the soil, while the roots were dried, roasted and ground. When done it looked and acted exactly like instant coffee. Once he’d found it, he searched his cupboards for the sugar cookies he’d made the night before.

  “It had better, his father is a prominent member of the merchant's guild. His son going around roughing up shopkeepers would be a definite stain on his reputation.” Dr.Hornsforward said, eyeing the plate of cookies Joe’d set down in front of her. “None for me please.”

  “Aw, why not?” Joe had already moved back to the stove and was pouring them yara. “I made them myself.”

  “Well, maybe one then.” Two were in fact gone by the time Joe got back to the table. He didn’t comment though, instead just sitting down to business with the good doctor. She’d ordered a crate of a blood substitute called “chemist blood”. Joe's been intrigued by the stuff. Instead of collecting blood from willing donors and using it as needed, a patient was given a nutrient rich blood substitute that was mixed with a mild painkiller. It saved having to figure out blood types and could be manufactured to fill demand.

  The idea that a world with magic healing potions still needed surgery had initially baffled Joe, but Dr.Hornsforward was a passionate person and relished the chance to talk about her field of study. Potions, no matter how strong, needed to be guided or else bones would set wrong and flesh would pucker and heal into a mass of scar tissue. They had a good twenty minutes of uninterrupted conversation before the shop door opened to admit Joe’s next customer.

  A familiar, boisterous voice called out. “Hello! Anyone here? Paying customers here to buy?” There was the sound of claws on glass, followed by a deep woof that could only have come from Goober 2.0. “What the hell is that?” The voice ratcheted up an octave, and got Joe to jump to his feet.

  “Goober, down!” He yelled. From his high vantage point Joe could look down into the shop floor and see the tableau below. Micah Vandenberg lay sprawled out on the ground where he was just now starting to pick himself up. His stoic companion, Jill Gelentine, stood over him. Her statuesque lime colored features betraying not a whiff of what her inner thoughts were.

  “I'll be right down.” Joe said fighting the temptation to laugh. He turned to Dr.Hornsforward, who'd already finished her cup or yara.

  “Go help them, I'll wait.” She said, eyeing the last two cookies on the plate by her empty cup. Joe gave her a quick smile and descended the stairs. Contrary to his orders, Goober still stood with his front paws up on the counter. He turned his head to look at Joe as he came down the stairs. Joe met his bored stare with a glare.

  “Didn’t I tell you to get down?” Joe inflected as much authority as he could into his voice, which was wasted on the gnollhound.

  “Is he yours?” Micah asked. Slowly he reached out as if to pet Goober. When his hand got halfway to the gnollhound, Jill caught it and gently pushed Micah's hand back to his side.

  “Nominally yes,” Joe responded, glaring at Goober who seemed to take a sudden interest in sniffing the counter. Behind him Joe could hear Dr.Hornsforward descend the stairs, the sharp tap tap of her hose being hard to miss.

  “That is the biggest gnollhound I've ever seen.” Jill’s flat tone and motionless face gave no indication of whether she was in awe of the creature or merely stating a fact.

  “Yeah I don't know why that is,” Joe finally gave up on subtlety and gave Goober a shove which dislodged the mooch.

  “Have you been leveling it?” Dr. Hornsforward asked. Leveling? Is that what PL stands for “Power Level”? It’d make sense. Joe thought to himself. While he wasn’t sure what she meant, he at least knew how to answer her question.

  “No, I've got no idea how to do that.”

  “Generally,” Jill interjected, “monster type creatures are battled against each other, or used as companions during dungeon raids.”

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  “Dungeons,” Joe could feel the penny dropping in his brain. “Like, magic dungeons. Like magically appearing dungeons.”

  “Yes, mana condenses in an area and creates a small pocket of reality commonly referred to as a ‘dungeon’.” Jill turned to look at Joe. There was no accusation in her tone or face, when she asked her next question. “You haven't been delving a dungeon have you Mr.Alderbright? Doing so would be highly illegal since you are not a member of the adventurers guild.”

  Joe shook his head and gestured for them to follow him. “No, but I think you need to see something.”

  <><><>

  Micah ran a rough hand over the threshold to the door under the stairs. “Yeah, it's a dungeon all right.”

  Joe cocked an eyebrow at him. They hadn’t believed him, even after he’d shown them the doorway. Micah’s sudden turn around from a quick examination of the threshold seemed unlikely. “You can tell that just by feel?” he asked, not quite believing that the Minotaur wasn't playing it up a bit.

  “It's my minor,” Micah explained. He pulled a piece of chalk from one of his belt pouches and began sketching a magic diagram along the floor just inside the door. “I'd like to become a delver after graduation. That's a specialized adventurer who is part of the team that maps out new dungeons and determines their lifespan.”

  Joe wanted to ask what that meant but held back for fear of saying something that should be common knowledge. I'll just go look it up later, he thought to himself. Joe let Micah get back to what he was doing without pestering him with additional questions. After the diagram was completed Micah stowed the chalk back in his pouch and started to reach for a different one. His finger stopped as they touched the toggle and he looked up at Joe. “You wouldn't have five bronze to power the spell would you, Mr. Alderbright?”

  “Hell of a spell for five bronze,” Joe grumbled, but he dug out the required coinage anyway. The dungeon entrance was in his shop after all, and it made sense for him to pay for whatever the spell was. Micah took the coins and pressed them into the activation rune. The coins disappeared in a flash of light before the whole diagram began to glow a deep purple. A new rune appeared in the air at about eye level pulsing with the same purplish light. Joe could feel his language powers trying to interpret it, but the rune represented so many things that his power couldn’t latch onto any one meaning for long enough to be clear. Eventually it actually gave up, leaving Joe with a mild headache.

  “Oh that’s not good.” Micah said, both eyebrows going up in surprise.

  “What? What’s not good?” Joe couldn’t stop himself from asking. The rune had him spooked and hearing an expert, even one in training say something like that was not at all comforting.

  Micah gestured at the floating rune as it faded away. “That’s the aura signature rune for the dungeon under your shop. It’s the first step in determining the type and difficulty of your dungeon. They normally align with the ambient magic. You’ll see a lot of earth aura dungeons, or their variant; plant types around here because of how close to the mountains we are. There’s also water, fire, air and a host of different mixes.” He stopped and looked at Joe, who nodded to show he was keeping up. Micah gestured back to the now spent magic diagram. “And then there’s fucking aberrant dungeons.”

  Out of the corner of his eye Joe saw Dr. Hornsforward wince. “Oh no, I always hated aberrant dungeons.” She caught Joe’s raised eyebrow and elaborated. “Aberrant dungeons don’t follow any set pattern. One moment you can be in what looks like an ancient tomb, then in the next you’re stepping into a spent laval tube with an incongruous poison dart trap set up in it.” She gave a shudder, “and don’t even get me started on the creatures. I’ll take a blaze bear over a spawn of the night sky anyday.”

  “‘Spawn of the night sky’?” Joe asked in the same tone someone would ask how much their car repair cost.

  Dr. Hornsforward gave a wry chuckle. “Oh they look like rifts into the night sky, but when you get close it shoots a bunch of barbed tentacles at you. I’ve watched one reduce a hill treader to bone in a matter of seconds. That was not a fun day.” She shook her head in an attempt to dislodge the unpleasant memory.

  “What was a hill treader doing in a dungeon?” Micah asked.

  Dr. Hornsforward gave a shrug. “Why is anything in an aberrant dungeon?”

  Micha grunted an acknowledgement and turned back to the doorway. “We really need to report this to the adventurers guild. An unsecured dungeon is dangerous, especially one in the heart of a town.” He looked at Joe. “Why didn’t you let us know as soon as you found this?”

  “Didn’t realize it was a dungeon.” Joe said simply. “After I wedged the door, I honestly forgot about the thing.”

  “It was good that you at least barred the entrance.” Jill spoke up in her stoic monotone. “If the portal had been left unlocked, then the monsters within may have started wandering out.”

  Joe shuddered when he thought about that. The idea of some horrible mass of tentacles, or ambulatory patch of space climbing the stairs to his apartment and jumping him in his sleep wormed its way through his head. He almost missed Micah’s next comment.

  “Shame they’re likely going to seal it. Having such a grab bag of a dungeon this close to town would be a huge resource for the guild.”

  Jill cocked her head to the side. “Why do you think the guild would seal this dungeon?”

  Her companion gave a shrug and a wave at Joe. “I doubt Mr. Alderbright would want to live on top of a dungeon.” He answered. “It’s not exactly the safest thing in the world, and if the guild doesn’t seal it, they’re going to want to have people going in and out of it all the time.”

  “People who’d be buying potions on the way down and back.” Dr. Hornsforward inserted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not to mention the reagents that you can find in an aberrant dungeon.” She looked over at Joe and gave him a quick nod. “Not that you asked, but if I were you, I’d go over to Swiftly’s and drag Paul back here so he can help you put together an offer package to present to the guild. If you don’t, they’ll likely try to claim sole dominion and take the whole shop.” Joe did not like the sound of that, so after he’d gotten Dr. Hornsforward her shipment, and dealt with the pair of student adventurers he went to bother Paul.

  <><><>

  Paul was just as disbelieving of Joe as the others had been. In the end it took Joe threatening to go collect Dr. Hornsforward to vouch for him before Pual would come take a look. To be fair, once Paul was on board he was quick to shutter his shop for the day and return with Joe. After Joe showed him the door he insisted on going a little ways in. Joe did not accompany him, having no weapon of his own and no fighting ability. Joe actually worried about the elderly hob going in unarmed and alone, but that lasted only until he watched Paul kick a charybdis star so hard it exploded on impact with the wall. With that little bit of excitement out of the way, Paul decided he needed an early dinner and the beer Joe owed him.

  Since Merrie Carrie’s couldn’t serve alcohol, Joe was finally introduced to a new restaurant in his surrogate home. The oddly named “Two Brother’s Stable” was run by a pair of hill giant brothers. One held the charter for the restaurant, and the other held one for a horse renting business that was run out the back of the building. Despite the clear healthcode violation, the two businesses did a good amount of trade, and kept the pair busy most days.

  To Joe the place looked like any other small town, hole-in-the-wall style bar. Apparently, bars are universal Joe thought as they stepped into the dimly lit restaurant. The place was made of a darkly stained wood, with sets of chipped tables and chairs roughly spaced at equal intervals. The floor was scratched, showing the passage of feet and all the times the tables were rearranged for larger groups. Two tables in a corner had people playing some sort of puck based game that reminded Joe of pool, but Joe didn’t want to leave Paul's side and go check it out.

  Behind the bar stood one of the two hill giant brothers. Up until that moment Joe had thought lanoli were tall. They were nothing compared to the massive hill giants. In form hill giants looked like slightly overweight humans, although their legs had a more elephantine cast to them with no real discernible feet. They seemed to favor less in the way of clothing, sporting a simple pair of homespun shorts under an apron big enough to be used as a sail for a small ship. The counter came up to the bartender's thigh, with his head just barely scraping under the ceiling joists above him. Any time he needed to serve a customer, the hill giant had to crouch down to be at eye level with them.

  Despite the fact the space had clearly been designed for smaller creatures, the giant managed fairly well for himself, seeming perfectly at home handling wooden mugs that were little more than thimbles in his massive hands. He nodded to Joe and Paul as they came in and gestured towards an empty table near his bar. “Come have a seat” he boomed, his deep voice riding over the top of all the other murmured conversations. “Becky will be with you shortly, if you got a drink order I can take it now.”

  “Just two beers Paule” Paul said, giving the large man a friendly wave.

  “Paul?” Joe couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. “The barman’s name is Paul?”

  Paul gave a chuckle and a nod. “Yes, but he spells it with a silent ‘e’ at the end. It helps to avoid confusion.”

  They sat and were soon served drinks by Paule via the simple expedience of reaching over everyone with their mugs pinched between his fingers. It was an absolutely surreal experience for Joe, who thought he’d seen it all up until crossing the threshold of Two Brother’s Stable.

  The beer was a thick, dark ale that had a pleasant but disconcerting nutty flavor to it that was mixed with a chocolate aftertaste. Joe knew it would have to be an “every once in a while” sort of treat as it was easy to drink and likely packed with calories. Paul seemed in no hurry to get down to business, so they spent a pleasant ten minutes catching up on each other's lives. Paul’s had been blissfully free of interest, but he showed a considerable amount of consternation when Joe told him about his encounter with Gerald.

  “That boy needs a good thrashing.” Paul growled, before taking another deep drink. “I know his father. He’s not a bad sort, but definitely didn’t give his son the attention he needed. He let him be raised by a procession of paid for nannies who were too afraid of being fired to discipline the boy properly.”

  Joe nodded and sipped at his own drink. He’d run into more than a few of those in his years at the bank. Although none of them ever grabbed me by the throat, that was a new unpleasant experience.

  “His father will not be pleased to hear he was strong-arming merchants. He’s making moves to be the guild’s regional director and that wont play nicely into his bid.” Paul tipped his glass at Joe. “Don’t be surprised if Gerald senior makes an offer of settlement once he does become aware of the situation. He’ll probably try and low ball you. Just remember you don’t have to agree to anything if you don’t want to. I’m your guild rep, not him.”

  Joe sipped at his beer, thoughts spinning around in his head which was already well lubricated by the strong drink. He made a mental note to order water with his meal. As if summoned by his thoughts, a moz goblin waitress appeared at his elbow.

  Her fur tufted tail bobbed over her head at a little over eye level with Joe as she stood on tiptoes to slide the menus onto the table. Like their hobish cousines, moz goblins seemed to universally disdain footwear, leaving their dainty claw tipped paws exposed to the elements. Beyond that, the moz waitress was dressed in a light yellow utilitarian dress with a white apron tied over the top. Her green hair, a distinctly darker shade than her skin, was held back by a thick ribbon of a matching color to her dress.

  She was of the soft eared variant of her species. The genetic trait causing her long ears to flop like a pair of hound ears. This was exacerbated by the multiple gold earrings attached near the tips that jingled merrily as she walked. She gave them both a friendly smile that was only slightly marred by her sharp predatory teeth.

  “Good afternoon gentlemen. My name is Becky and I’ll be your server for today. I see Paule already got you something to drink. Is there anything else I can get you, or are you ready to order?”

  “A lemonade would be nice.” Paul said, returning Becky’s smile.

  “Oh, I was going to say water, but a lemonade sounds really good.” Joe added as he watched Becky scribble away on a pad of paper. The symbols were different from what Joe called “common”, consisting mostly of joined loops and straight lines. I wonder if that's mozish, or shorthand. He wondered idly as Becky bobbed off to get their spare drinks.

  When she was gone Paul turned back to their conversion, a business-like cast finally entering his features. “But Gerald isn’t what we’re here for,” he stated. “You sir, have the frankly unique situation of having a dungeon spawn right on top of you.”

  “It can’t be that uncommon” Joe responded as he looked through the options available on the menu. Besides bars themselves apparently being ubiquitous throughout the multiverse, it seemed their food was equally as common. Barring a few exotic ingredients, the fair on offer wouldn’t have looked out of place back on Earth. Are the dragon wings actually made out of dragon, or would they just be super spicy chicken wings? Best not to risk it.

  “Rarer than you’d think.” Paul answered, turning as Becky returned and taking the glasses from her with a nod. “In my twenty two years of adventuring, I ran into exactly three instances of dungeons spawning on a farmer's land. Two were catacombs whose entrances appeared in the waste forest along their border and one was a tower that popped up smack in the middle of a cabbage field. I’ve never even heard of one emerging inside a building before.”

  “Are the dragon wings actually dragon?”

  Paul grimaced and shook his head. “Yes, don’t get them. I don’t care what you do to dragon, or what you cover it in it’s some of the gamiest meat I’ve ever had.”

  Joe nodded, deciding to go with what amounted to a fantasy mushroom swiss burger. Fries apparently weren’t a thing in this world. Instead the burger was paired with a portion of dried fruits and nuts. Again, as if summoned by his thoughts, Becky appeared to take their orders. When she was gone they continued.

  “Anyway, since the dungeon is on your land, you do get a certain amount of rights to it.” Paul paused to sip his dwindling beer. “Chiefly among them is the right to contract. So long as you are attempting to work with the adventurers guild, they can’t just claim sole dominion and take it. Which is why we’re here coming up with a contract that’s in your best interests.”

  “What is ‘sole dominion’ anyway? Dr.Hornsforward used that term, but I’m not familiar with it.” Joe’d been meaning to ask the doctor, but it had slipped his mind at the time.

  “It’s a special clause on their charter,” Paul explained. “They have exclusive rights to exploit any dungeons that appear in the queendome, so long as they maintain a reliable force of arms capable of dealing with them. Sole dominion is a process that they’d use if a dungeon is on private land and the landowner refuses to allow them access to the dungeon. It’s meant for public safety, as unmonitored dungeons can let monsters out into the wider world, but the guild’s not above using it to run roughshod over landowners who don’t want adventures messing up their farm and who can’t pay guild rates to seal the dungeon.”

  “Wait, they make the land owner pay to have the dungeon sealed?” Joe asked, not quite believing he heard that right. “What’s to stop them making it so astronomically high that there’s no way the land owner can pay?”

  Paul shrugged, “Nothing, the official guild explanation is that the fee is prorated for lost revenue they could have gotten had they been allowed to exploit the dungeon. In practice it just means that the land owner either lets the guild in and gets something, or the guild comes in and they get nothing.”

  “That’s horrible, I thought the adventurers guild was meant to help people.” Joe was frankly disappointed, the more he learned about this world the more it seemed to be no better than the one he left behind.

  Paul gave a sad little smile, “it can. While I say to always try and see the best in people; businesses are another matter. The adventurers guild, despite its name, is run like a business, and it’s a big one. Which means you should trust it even less.” He finished off his beer before pulling a pad of paper and a pen from his pocket. “Lucky for you, I’m here to help.”Joe nodded, fully willing to let the hob take the lead. He couldn’t even think of where to start, so any help Paul could give him was appreciated.

  “We’re going to start by asking for the moon and letting them talk us down to just the stars.” Paul said as he began writing. “ Do you plan on trying your hand at delving?”

  “If that’s an option, yeah I’d like to give it a try” Joe said. He tried the lemonade and found it to be a pleasantly soft citrus drink with just a hint of carbonation. It tasted more like a light orange juice to Joe and lacked the sour punch that most lemonades in his home world had.

  Paul scribbled more notes without looking up. “It’s what I would do, but I have more experience delving than you do. We’re going to start by asking for a ten percent cut of all delving profits plus one hundred present of all haul from delvings you personally undertake.” Paul tapped his pen against his short goatee. “And you know what? Let’s throw in a free escort for all delvings you personally undertake. They’re not going to agree to all this, but it’s a place to start.”

  Becky came back with their food at that point, so Paul set aside his notepad to eat. Between bites, Paul explained their negotiation strategy. “You’re going to need to read everything they give you very carefully. If anything is too dense to understand, bring it to me and I’ll look it over.”

  Joe made an acknowledging noise around a mouthful of sandwich. Despite being made of Brox, it tasted exactly like innumerable beef hamburgers Joe had eaten at different bars in the past. Idly he wondered if he could get back to Earth simply by walking through a door in the back of the bar. He was brought back to the moment when Paul finished his mouthful and went on.

  “The order of our compromise is; accepting the ten percent as guild credit instead of cash. You do enough business with them that you really wouldn’t notice the difference. Accepting a lower percentage, not to be less than seven percent if we can help it. Then reducing the number of free escorts, not to be less than one a month. Finally accepting a reduced take on the haul for personal delves, not to be less than eighty five percent.” Paul wrote each down in a numbered column on his pad as he listed them off.

  Joe swallowed and washed the sandwich down with some lemonade. “What are the chances of them accepting our first offer?”

  “Slim to nil.” Paul had gotten himself what looked like battered fish with the same dry fruit and nut mix Joe’d gotten. That’s probably this world's equivalent of ‘fish and chips’ Joe thought to himself. Paul looked up at Joe with a quirked eyebrow. “How good are you at writing up contracts?” He asked.

  Joe winced, “there’s a reason I paid for an intermediary,” he said. It wasn’t technically lying, Joe wouldn’t have been able to do all the paperwork without FAE’s help. He just hadn’t paid for it.

  Paul gave him a wave as he masticated some battered fish. “If you’re willing to pay again, I’ll represent you.” he tapped one of the larger nuts against his chin. “How does half your guild share, either as cash or credit sound to you?”

  “For your help Paul? That sounds just fine.” Joe reached across the table to shake Paul’s hand and got it smacked by the hob’s fork instead.

  “Oh boy Joe,” Paul chuckled, withdrawing his fork “you really do need help. I don’t care if we are friends, you should have counter offered at least something.” He speared another piece of fish with his recently weaponized fork.

  Joe rubbed the spot Paul had bopped. Despite the playful nature of the blow, it had still surprised him. “I didn’t want to offend you,” Joe explained.

  “If someone is offended by a counter offer, they are not a person you want to be doing business with.” Paul eyed Joe’s hand. “Sorry if that stung. I’m old and sometimes forget how much strength I still have in me. Also the merchant’s guild doesn’t recognize handshake contracts, and neither should you. Everything needs to be in writing.”

  After that their conversation drifted on to more mundane topics. Paul told some stories about past adventures and Joe countered with only partially altered stories of his own. He left Two Brother’s Stable in a good mood that lasted until he saw the broken front window to his shop.