Eusebio Duartez considered himself a man of simple pleasures and warmly-held traditions. Chief among both was his appetite for the theater, which he owed to his mother. Each month, the rotating casts of the Imperial Theater in the heart of Xallem debuted a fresh, original work. Most importantly to Eusebio, when a new show began its month-long run, the prior show became available for remote viewing through a wide variety of scrying devices.

  The crystalline walls inside the Adventure Depot’s testing chambers were one such supported device. Eusebio woke up extra early each month on the thirteenth day and bee-lined to the chambers, bringing with him a themed-meal and bottle of wine.

  He liked his wine, and didn’t see anything wrong with enjoying a few glasses while he took in a show before work, especially since he had spent his own chits to purchase a Detox Bracelet. The silver bangle’s advertised purpose was to quickly clear poisons from dungeon-crawling adventurers – but it had also always proven more than adequate against the effects of wine. He knew from experience that the bracelet would sober him up in a matter of moments even if he slipped up—as he sometimes did—and drank the entire bottle.

  The shop still wouldn’t open for more than three hours. Eusebio had his bottle tucked up under his left arm while he carried a tantalizing platter of charcuterie with the other. Gordon had put this together for him and left it waiting within the walk-in fridge. Despite their near-opposite demeanors, they’d always gotten along something like brothers – with an equal-parts mixture of caring and antagonism.

  He entered the darkened testing chamber and immediately noticed something was off. An essence vial lay empty on the floor. It could only have been left there by Seymour Little. Eusebio had anticipated some birthday-related tomfoolery but he’d need to have a talk with the Riftborn about the importance of leaving nothing proprietary out for customers to get their hands on. Even something as seemingly trivial as this vial could be used against them by their competitors, if they discovered that it wasn’t made of glass but rather—

  “Greetings from Xallem, home of the Throne and his Excellency, Emperor Mallex.” A wide, rectangular section of the crystal-coated wall suddenly lit up and depicted a darkened stage. “This month we are pleased to bring you the Imperial Theater’s final performance of Yule Sherwin’s thrill-packed masterpiece, The Hydra Riders. Based on true events, this epic tale weaves action and inter-species romance to create one of the most provocative tales of recent memory. Some scenes may not be suitable for younger viewers. And with that, we invite you to settle in and enjoy the show.”

  “Shit shit shit,” Eusebio cursed, shuffling with his arms full of food and drink.

  He lightly toe-tapped a nearly-undetectable depression on the side of the room’s central platform and it began to rise up until it was close to waist-high on him and he could set down his mouth-watering cargo. In teensy, tiny letters beside the depression he’d pressed with his toe, was the warning: For Use By Gnomes Only.

  At the base of the platform, a sort of control panel had been revealed when it rose up from the floor. This panel was hidden here in case something went haywire with the chamber's crystal display and the shop needed to call in a gnomish repairman, but Eusebio had found that when raised in this way, the platform actually made an excellent picnic table.

  The show was just about to begin. His food and wine had been placed at the ready upon the platform-turned-snack table. All that remained was for Eusebio to unravel his chair.

  He pulled a tangled wad of black yarn from his pocket, close to the size of his fist, and he threw it down right beside his impromptu picnic table. In the moment before it would have struck the stone floor, strands of yarn fired out in every direction, clinging to the ceiling and walls.

  “Come-on-come-on-come-on,” Eusebio pleaded. On the far wall, the stage was now visible, and the curtain would go up any moment. His Automatic Hammock was a beloved old model but he knew he’d be wise to upgrade to something with a quicker unpacking period, just to avoid stressful situations such as this.

  When it finally unfurled, the result was as if a giant spider had woven its web across the entire room, with support contacts made on every surface except intelligently avoiding the section of the wall where the show was starting, and a velvety, black hammock hung low beside the table for Eusebio to recline upon.

  He started to climb in, just in the nick of time as the curtain went up on his show, and that was the exact moment when the door to the testing chamber flew open. Where the hammock had attached its supports to the door, it suddenly sagged and the torn strands of yarn began to wriggle back toward the larger mass upon which Eusebio sat. The entire thing drooped and he had to hold on for fear of being spilled out. He let out a surprised squawk and then two idiots came staggering inside, giggling.

  “Eusebio?” It was Seymour Little and Penelope Amberwine. “Dude, what are you doing in here? It’s gotta be like three in the morning.”

  “What am I doing here?” he screeched, a tea-kettle boiling with indignation. Just to Little’s left, the show had begun. A man carefully ascended one of the long, scaly necks of a hydra. It looked like the theater had actually opted to involve live hydras in the production, which was completely unheard of. The unexpected spectacle so distracted Eusebio that for a moment he forgot all about Seymour.

  “Oh!” Penny chimed in, “this is The Hydra Riders! I love this one; saw it last Fall with my mother. When they revealed that the one hydra head is actually a wyrm I—”

  “Arrrrrgh!” Eusebio cried. “What is the matter with you? I haven’t seen this yet!”

  Seymour cringed. “Sorry, Boss. We’ll get of your hair in just a sec, as soon as I find—”

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  “This?” Eusebio said, angrily taking the essence vial from his pocket and showing it to the intruders.

  “Oh, yep. That’s it.” Little took Penny by the elbow and started to drag her out of the testing chamber. “Looks like you’ve got it handled, thanks.”

  “Sorry,” she said as she was dragged away. She did seem sincere, at least. Excitement had simply overtaken her.

  “It’s okay.” Eusebio settled back into his hammock as the severed support-strands reattached themselves to new points around the chamber. “Just go. I’ll see you both when the shop opens.”

  Seymour paused. “About that – we haven’t slept at all yet. So, you know, I think there’s a real good chance we’re gonna be late.”

  Eusebio started to protest, but Little swept the door shut before he could get a word out.

  He muttered to his charcuterie, instead. “I think I hate him.”

  “What now? Nobles?” Eusebio groaned. He peered out onto the savannah through one of the windows on the front of the shop. His Detox Bracelet had been effective against the bottle of wine he’d enjoyed alongside breakfast and he was now wishing it hadn’t been.

  In addition to the usual crowd gathering outside—eager customers as well as the workers arriving on Ermin Troudt’s shuttle—a massive tent had been erected on the savannah, off to the side of the shop. The tent’s magical nature couldn’t have been more obvious, emitting a soft orange glow against the still-darkened sky. Green-flamed lamps hung from silver posts on either side of the tent’s entrance. The exact color and nature of the material it was made from couldn’t be easily discerned, seeming to blur when he looked directly at it. Eusebio surmised that was because the entire setup was behind some form of powerful shielding magic.

  An ostentatious, illusory crest projected high into the air above the tent; a gold shield depicting an animated fight scene between a wolf and an enormous snake. The wolf repeatedly won the upperhand, crushed the snake’s windpipe, and then strutted around victorious, dragging the serpent’s elongated carcass, before the entire scene would reset and repeat.

  “Nobles, indeed,” Eusebio sighed. “Any idea who it belongs to, Ermin?”

  “I do not.” The big man shook his head as he approached. Every morning he shared his passenger manifest before Eusebio opened the shop. “They seem to be quite concerned with appearing intimidating though, don’t they?”

  Eusebio nodded, frowning.

  He opened the shop, same as he did every morning. Then he stood outside beside the doors and greeted the customers and his subordinates alike. Normally he’d stay in the showroom to help the others deal with the early rush. But today, he carefully studied every customer who entered to try and weed out any problems early. The nobles were likely to demand an outsized amount of attention, whoever they were, and Eusebio knew he’d be best served by dealing with any other high-needs or disgruntled customers well in advance of their appearance. Once they decided to come inside, he was certain he wouldn’t want any interruptions.

  Fortunately there were no obvious issues requiring his attention, but still the noble party didn’t enter the shop right away. The usual line of customers began to assemble from the main counter and within no time at all the queue stretched damned near back out onto the savannah.

  The nobles’ delayed entrance made Eusebio’s gut roil with apprehension. What were they waiting for? It wasn’t until the shop had been open for nearly two hours when a procession of eight gorgeous elven attendants came in through the double saloon-doors and held both sides open.

  The elven women were dressed in long white gowns with golden accents. Their skin was bone white and all eight had bright golden eyes and pale green hair. They stood nearly as tall as the doorway, and looking at them closely the maidens all struck Eusebio as especially gaunt, even for elves. Then he noticed the heavy iron manacles each wore on one ankle, connected to a chain which led back outside.

  “Concubines?” Eusebio wondered under his breath.

  Seymour Little suddenly appeared beside him for the first time all morning.

  “What’s this?” he wondered. None of his usual orneriness was present in his voice.

  “I’m not exactly sure. Nobility from some far-flung territory would be my guess.” Without turning to face him, Eusebio added, “you’re late for your shift.”

  “Yeah, I mean, I said I would be and I’m a dude of my word.”

  A little person suddenly appeared between the elf maidens in the entranceway, equipped with a silver instrument that was something like a tiny trumpet. His elaborate costume was an odd patchwork of colorful tassels and bold fur accents like a jester in the court of a barbarian king. He lifted the trumpet-thing to his lips and blew a blaring riff that stopped the showroom in its tracks. Everyone from workers to adventurers froze in place and then turned to look at the little man and the impossibly loud sound coming from his diminutive instrument. When he was satisfied he had their attention, the little fellow bellowed in a booming voice which belied his tiny stature:

  “You are honored to receive the Keeper of the Kraken Crown, WilderKing of the Southern Wildlands; he who tamed the World Wolf and made it his loyal pet; descended from the line of Ulrikken Uskander, who ascended to become the God of Tundra; tremble at the name: His Majesty, Indomitable WilderKing Glacius Uskander. Make way at once or know his wrath!”

  The little fellow moved aside with two crisp steps and a pair of guards wearing dark red chainmail stomped inside next. They marched down the central aisle toward the main counter with swords and shields drawn, clearing out the customers who had already been standing in line. Eusebio stepped forward to intercept them, but kept a safe distance.

  “Gentlemen.” He kept eye-contact as he bowed to them each in turn, diplomatic but firm. “It is against our customs to brandish weapons within the shop. And I can assure you they won’t be necessary.”

  The guards said nothing. They simply stared back at Eusebio. He sighed. He didn’t want trouble, but he knew the shop’s defenses well. In addition to the ancient, celestial rank dragon pretending to be asleep just outside, the structure itself held many secrets of its own. If push came to shove, he wasn’t the least bit worried about the threat posed by men whose equipment wasn’t even magical and obviously so, with rust and other signs of wear plainly visible.

  But Seymour Little hadn’t been trained on the advanced, hidden security systems yet. In truth, Eusebio had been stalling that particular training module, thinking Little might do something to get himself fired, first. Putting off the security piece was biting him in the ass just now, as Seymour strode forward to confront the guards on his own.

  “You heard him,” he near-shouted. “Put your weapons away.”

  “Seymour—”

  “Don’t worry, Eusebio.” Without turning away from the troublemakers Seymour gestured for him to stay back. “I’ll handle these two.”

  The guards broke their statuesque discipline to exchange a quick glance. One nodded to the other, who in turn grinned. He slowly began to raise his sword – when suddenly Seymour reached forward and grabbed it by the blade.

  “I gave you a chance to disarm on your own,” Seymour Little explained with surprising calm. “But if you need a hand I’ll give it to you.”