Zig dug around a tree stump. He uncovered as many roots as he could. He wove a rope around the stump, securing it in place. He gathered his strength and heaved.

  "Hnnnnnnnnnng."

  The stump didn't budge. Zig got an axe and started hacking some of the outer roots apart, freeing the stump a bit more. It was difficult, the axe was hitting root and dirt in equal measure. Eventually the tree was detached from a few more roots. Zig went back to the rope, and pulled with all his strength.

  "Hrreeeeeeeeeg."

  The stump sat there, unmoving, mocking Zig with its passivity. Zig narrowed his eyes at the smug piece of wood.

  "What did you say to me?"

  The stump sat there, not responding. Zig picked up a nearby stone and threw it at his foe. There was a huge thump. The earth shook and the tree stump cracked. Bits of wood went flying, but the stump as a whole stayed put. The flexible nature of the wood, cushioned in dirt, let it take the impact.

  "This isn't over." Zig said with as much spite and dignity as he could muster.

  He walked off to find a smaller, weaker stump.

  It took three more stumps before Zig was able to rip a sapling triumphantly from the ground.

  "Aha! Ahahaha! Muahahaha."

  Zig had never felt so victorious. He shook the limp sapling stump in his hands, staring at the beast he'd conquered. He gazed across the forest, at the trail of stumps Gutters had created from Red Mine all the way to Liston. There was murder in his eyes. It was well beyond personal. Zig looked around for an equally frail looking sapling stump he could wrestle into submission.

  "I have Legendary Endurance you pieces of wood. I can do this all day."

  Gretta hefted a huge iron pickaxe in both hands. It was closer to a hammer than a pickaxe. Gretta heaved the giant spike toward the wall, swinging with all the power Advanced Strength gave her. The tool smacked into the wall, digging in. Gretta pulled it out and another spray of loose rock tumbled to the ground. Gretta looked down at the pile, nodded to herself, and started loading a cart. It had thick, stubby wheels, and when it was loaded, Gretta half-wheeled, half-dragged the thing out into the sunlight. There she could clearly see, and by the combination of light and her Prospecting skill, she scooped the most valuable bits into one pile, shifting the scrap into another, much larger pile.

  It was all they could do, for now. The path to Liston was through several hours' walk through a thick forest. Even with Gutters cutting down all the trees, the path was now a series of stumps. Impassable for a wagon. That meant no carting ore to town, and no carting smelting tools out here. Zig was trying to figure out the stump problem. In the mean time, Gretta put her giant hammer back into the empty cart, and wheeled it back into the mine.

  As she was half-way through bashing the wall into a second pile of rock, a bunch of stone gave way at once. Out of the wall a stone elemental started to break its way free. Nasty things, if given half a chance to attack. Gretta didn't give it that chance.

  She was brought up in the mines.

  She swung her hammer, nailing the elemental in its chest. It got stuck in the wall, stunned long enough for another swing to smack it in the chest a second time. The rock man tried to weakly flail its arms, but it's torso was crumbling, and it was still half stuck in the wall. The third blow collapsed the elemental entirely, and its rubble fell down to join the pile at Gretta's feet. Gretta nodded in approval. Rock elementals often had bits of valuable material embedded in them.

  Gretta started whistling as she continued mining into the rock.

  "Jints! My guy! How are you doing?"

  "Quite splendidly, mister Zig. I've brought a few potions with me. And a letter for 'The Alchemist'."

  "Oh, what kind of potions? Really sucks that I can't take them, you know?"

  "I'm sure the legendary champion of the Red Daggers will survive."

  "Was that a joke, Jints? From you?"

  "I do have my moments, mister Zig."

  The steward handed Zig a rolled up scroll, sealed with a bit of red wax, stamped with an interesting seal.

  "Who's seal is this?"

  "That would be the alchemists guild of Liston, mister Zig."

  "Huh, didn't know they had a guild..."

  Zig unfurled the scroll, and tried to decipher the words written down. He was learning more and more, but it was a slow process.

  "What's this word here, Jints?"

  The steward came up behind Zig and read over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

  "That's the word for 'surrender', sir. It seems like they apologize for their actions, are pleading for mercy, and request to know what kind of reparations you might require of them."

  "Eh?"

  "That's what the letter says, mister Zig."

  "But who—I don't even know these guys! Is this about the trading at the docks? I won the trading game or something? I haven't even been there the last few days!"

  "It does seem a bit odd, mister Zig. Nevertheless, they await your response."

  "Can I just... not respond? Used to work all the time with phone calls back home."

  "That, in itself, is indeed a valid response."

  Zig narrowed his eyes at Jints.

  "Are you trying to make me all political?"

  "Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

  "Hmph. Well as you can see, I'm very busy with the war on stumps. If the weird alchemists insist on giving me some kind of prize, just let them figure out what it should be. I'm staying here until this war is over." Zig grumbled as he turned back to his stumps. There were little holes dotting the path to Liston, where Zig found stumps small enough to pull out. Zig wasn't letting them go. The bigger ones were silently mocking him, but Zig would have the last laugh. After all, he was legendary.

  That night, in the old town square, seven men made their way to an old tavern near the docks. Separately, of course. They wore black, to match the shadows they walked in. Their hoods were up, and the loose clothing revealed nothing of shape nor form. They were nothing. They were nobody. They were ghosts. Only one of them held something distinct. A woven basket, covered in black cloth, from which the smell of freshly baked scones leaked out into the darkest of alleys.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  They came together in the tavern, sitting far from the entrance, in the shadowiest corner of the room. The hoods came down, and the men started buttering the scones in silence. That was how bad things had become. Eventually Larry spoke up.

  "Thank you, Loon, these scones are excellent. Your wife, I presume?"

  "Actually, no," Loon responded, "these are my own creations. Lua taught me, of course. Her recipe, but the baking is all mine."

  The other members of the alchemists guild forget their somber moods for a second, murmuring congratulations to Loon. The scones really were quite good.

  "Haven't had a scone like this in years," Lufen said encouragingly, "Loon, friend, you are wasted in the alchemy business. Should have been a baker from the beginning."

  "The key is to not stir it too much," Loon said with a little smile, "it's the one recipe you want lumps in. Gives it a better rise." The alchemist tapped his head knowingly.

  "Shall we address the crimpweed in the room?"

  Lars poured a bucket of cold water on the conversation. All the members of the alchemists guild shuffled in their seats, looking down at scones that suddenly didn't taste so good.

  "Did you get a response to our letter, Lars?"

  "I did." Lars sighed. "Sort of. Met the steward, he said, let me remember the exact words... 'The Alchemist cannot think of reparations suitable for the occasion. The guild must figure out what is most appropriate to give to him."

  Sweat broke out on several foreheads.

  "Water me with moonlight, and call me a midnight rose," one of the botanists whispered. "So he wants everything we've got?"

  "So it would seem," Lars replied, "anything less, and he might decide it's not sufficient. I don't think we can fare better than all the assassins he's killed. You know I'm permanently banned from hiring them now? And they said I only got off that lightly because I'm friends with some of them. Other men have been killed for less."

  "How did it end up like this? What went wrong?" Loon muttered over a scone.

  "The last team the assassins sent was a big one. A strike force. They didn't even reach the Alchemist, apparently. Tripped up on a pet monster guarding the area. It killed three of them, two Advanced, one Adept.

  "What kind of monster can do that?"

  Lars' shoulders deflated as he sighed.

  "The real question is what kind of person can tame a monster like that? Only one who is a monster himself. We never even had a chance. We just didn't know it."

  "'Scuse me, lads."

  An arm full of bulging muscles reached into the center of the table and snagged a scone. A second arm reached in, scooped a little pad of butter on a knife, and began to delicately spread it on the scone. The alchemists, surprised, confused, and intimidated, watched as the scone then disappeared into the mouth of the roughest man they'd ever seen. He wore a leather vest that seemed to be hanging on for dear life. Scars criss-crossed their way over the man's face, chest, and arms, all long faded. The man grunted in pleasant surprise.

  "Now that is a fine scone. A baker make this?"

  "See? I told you." Lufen whispered at Loon.

  "Ho, good... good sir," Lars coughed. "We happen to be engaged in private matters."

  "Yes, yes, alchemist business. Let me lay down what I've overheard and put together, and you can tell me any bits I got wrong, yea? You lot got all hot and bothered about this new trader, decided to set a few assassins on him. It backfired terribly, and now you're scared he's gonna come knocking. Am I close?"

  There were some hesitant nods.

  "And I'm guessing in your infinite wisdom you tried to poison a man known as the Alchemist."

  Some blushes. Some more nods.

  "The assassins did send a whole squad, that failed too." Lufen interjected helpfully. The captain cocked his head and smiled a little.

  "Now that's interesting. He's gotten the best of a couple of captains too. Not just a strong stomach, it seems."

  "Are you... a friend of his?" Lars asked carefully. The captain gave a belly laugh at that.

  "I don't have much friends, little alchemist," he replied. "No, this is a wanted man, and I'm just doing a little 'civic duty' as they say."

  "Wanted by who?"

  "By me. He's got gold, he's messing with captains, and rumors are he's got a high class. Any of those three are worth killing in my books."

  "And, sorry, who did you say you were?"

  The captain smiled, and the alchemists could help but think of a shark at the sight.

  "I'm captain Blackhook. You may have heard of me."

  Three of the men gulped, followed by the other four gulping, hoping the captain wouldn't notice their confused pause.

  "And, and what does captain Blackhook want from us?" Lars stammered.

  "You lot have something I don't." Blackhook leaned forward. He loved leaning forward. It made his leather vest creak in the best kind of way. "Information. We haven't seen the Alchemist at the docks for a while, but you tell me a squad of assassins recently went to face him. Tell me," he leaned forward a little more, enjoying how the alchemists unconsciously leaned back at the same time.

  "These assassins. Where did they go?"

  New skill acquired! Strength (Legendary)

  Zig lay on the ground, panting. It was an impressive feat, to be panting with legendary endurance. He'd made it halfway to Liston, ripping out all the stumps small enough to budge. The last one had really been stubborn. Zig had pulled and pulled and pulled, and finally the little sapling came out of the ground.

  It didn't stop there.

  The sapling flew into the air as Zig fell backwards. The little tree stump tumbling as it sailed across the sky, landing who knows where somewhere else in the forest. A grin started to spread across Zig's face even as tears filled his eyes. He laughed. He cried. He started dancing in the forest. He stopped, mid-dance, and turned eyes that were glittering with malice at the forest path. It was filled with much bigger stumps, that until now Zig had been avoiding.

  Zig walked over to a nearby stump, grabbed the trunk and heaved. There was a deep ripping sound underneath him, and the whole thing burst out of the ground. Zig got covered in dirt as it rained down from all the roots now dangling in the air.

  "Ha! HA! Ahahahaha! Eugh—"

  Zig started coughing and spitting dirt out of his mouth. He threw the stump, and it sailed away in the forest, never to be seen again. Zig grinned, a bit of mud dribbling out of his mouth.

  "Oh yes. It's on."

  Zig began grabbing stumps and ripping them out of the earth. He wasn't carefully choosing the right ones now. All stumps were his mortal enemies. Through his efforts to gain strength, he'd truly come to hate tree stumps, more than anything in the world. Some of them still, still were a bit difficult to remove. But Zig was unstoppable. The few that were truly beyond legendary strength, Zig gave a mocking salute before chopping at their roots. With his new strength, this didn't take long at all. The axe ripped through wood and dirt like butter. The only problem was how quickly the metal deformed, exposed to such forces.

  As he began ripping out the bigger stumps, Zig discovered that like dirt and stone, sometimes a wood elemental would be hiding under a tree. That was no problem. When Zig saw it, he simply brought his arms back down, smashing the thing with the tree stump still in his hands.

  He didn't need a second smash.

  "Ho, mister Zig!"

  Zig turned around.

  "Ho, Gutters! How are things?"

  The blue skinned half-trologdyte had a little backpack on his back, and his rapier buckled onto his belt.

  How does he look so damn good with that sword? I wish—

  Zig stopped his train of thought, realizing something amazing had happened.

  "Gutters, I got strength!"

  "You did? That's amazing, Zig. Is that how you've been ripping out all these stumps?"

  "Sure is, but more importantly, I'm not stuck with rocks anymore. Give me your rapier!"

  Gutters took half a step back, a hand going protectively to his sword.

  "Ah, you can't get another rapier? Liston has quite a few at the market—"

  "No can do, Gutters, I've been waiting a long, long time for this. You can buy a new one at the market, how about that?"

  Gutters scowled, but it was a good deal. He handed over his beloved yet dented, bent, and very dull rapier. Zig took it with a smile and drew it.

  "Hiyah!"

  Zig swiped at imaginary foes. Gutters cringed at the wild swings. There was no form, no footwork, no love of the craft. Just brute strength.

  "I'm thinking to join Lady Jane for a while."

  "Hiy—huh?"

  Zig stopped swinging at looked at Gutters again. He was all packed up, ready to leave Red Mine. The boy shuffled his feet.

  "I've learned so much here. I got strength, endurance, chop, first strike, but..."

  Zig cocked his head.

  "You want something only Jane can provide?"

  Gutters nodded.

  "I want to be a noble. I want to show them, show the whole world, that a man with blue skin can be as fancy as anyone. I don't want the next half-troglodyte to be called 'Gutters'."

  "Oh. Do you want to change your name, Gutters? It's no problem, we can call you anything you like."

  "No, I've grown used to it. Plus, I look forward to seeing the noble court trying to interact with a man called 'Gutters'."

  "Ha, it does have a ring to it. Nobleman Gutters. Ok, have a good time. Say hi to Jane for us! Do you have some money? I haven't been trading in a while but I'm sure there's something from the mine you could take?"

  Gutters hefted his backpack. It looked heavy.

  "Gretta already filled it with stuff I'll sell to a blacksmith called Lanie."

  Zig nodded. Gretta would know how to deal with the stuff from the mine. They had huge piles that had been building up ever since they first set up Red Mine. While these stumps remained, there was no way to carry things in bulk. Only as much as Teeth's saddlebags could handle, and that's if Teeth was in the mood to wear a saddle. Zig looked at Gutters and wiped a fake tear from his eye.

  "They grow up so fast."

  "Zig I'm like one year younger than you."

  "I know, but you're shorter than me, and when we met you told me you were twelve. That kind of thing sticks, you know."

  They shook hands, Zig covering Gutters' hand in dirt. Gutters walked on, wiping his hand on a cloth, heading to Liston with a spring in his step.

  Zig watched him go with a smile, then settled back into his devastation of the local stump population.