A few weeks later, Eusebio stood at the top of the marble staircase where the manager of Dragon Dan’s Adventure Depot and his boss met regularly after dark, in a clearing some distance within the jungle. He threw up his hands, utterly exasperated.

  “But he’s only been working the showroom for three blasted weeks!” Eusebio cried, loud enough to startle awake some unsuspecting jungle bird. It squawked and went flying off into the night. “You’ve got to be kidding me with this one, Dan. Have you heard nothing I’ve told you? Nothing of his poor reaction to acquiring magic and winning a few combats? Nothing of his ego run amok? Please, Dan, please – tell me this is some kind of joke. If we go through with this, I can guarantee you it will only encourage him to act with even greater insubordination.”

  “I assure you, I am being completely serious.” The dragon floated, his gold-scaled, elongated torso undulating all around the clearing even while his head remained perfectly still, and his gaze remained fixed upon Eusebio. The tendrils of his mustache roiled with flame, casting a warm light over the area, reflecting in his scales like distant campfires.

  He had been maintaining this clearing in the jungle and meeting with the managers of his shop here for many years, away from any prying eyes or ears. Away from Ch’idi – the spirit who haunted his shop and whom Adara often channeled. The lonely staircase stood as a convenient relic, lifting his subjects up so that they could more easily feel heard. It lent these little chats an almost ceremonial air.

  And in a tone of finality befitting that ambience, he looked down at Eusebio standing atop the stairs and decreed, "We are promoting Seymour Little to Sales Lead, and that is all there is to it.”

  “This is insane. What exactly is going on between the two of you?”

  “Have you considered the possibility that I—and our customers—simply like him?” The dragon’s tone bordered on playful, despite his voice feeling something like a force of nature.

  “Well no, Dan, I can’t say I have – because he’s not exactly likable, is he? In fact, I find him rather frightening. Frightening in his lack of norms. Quite frankly, he seems downright allergic to decorum.”

  “His consistency in violating Heschian norms is in itself a valuable asset, is it not? The way he subverts the sigils to which he applies a catalyst. We have nobles traveling for days to have him evolve their little princes and princesses. We are earning powerful consumer loyalties which had previously eluded our reach.”

  “I admit: his ability to produce previously unseen spells and classes is compelling. In that way his betrayal of Heschian customs could be seen as advantageous for the shop to possess. But don’t the spells and classes he produces also strike you as a little, I don’t know…. evil? It’s as though every new class he helps a customer evolve is slightly twisted in some way. Just yesterday, he led the Duke of Buckton’s daughter through an evolution that ended with her becoming something called a Class Traitor – a Hero variant of the more common Enchanter class, but specialized in turning an opponent’s cardinal class abilities back against them, with additional bonuses if that opponent holds a noble title.”

  “Yes,” Dan noted with amusement, “his evolutions do occasionally seem to possess a somewhat dark sense of irony.”

  “The novelty will wear off, Dan, and then we’re going to have some very angry nobles complaining that their kid isn’t a Paladin.”

  “But that has always been the case.” The flames rippling along Dragon Dan’s mustache flared. “It’s almost impossible for the children of nobility to manifest the required Temperance sigil, after all.”

  “Regardless, as your manager, whom you’ve entrusted to oversee the daily operations of your magic shop, I feel the need to reiterate how backward it is to reward Seymour Little with a promotion just for being weird. And borderline insolent.”

  “He also possesses an indomitable sense of right and wrong, as he illustrated in his precedent-setting dealings with the Wolf Father.”

  “I was there, remember? He’s lucky he didn’t get himself killed. If you ask me—and I can’t help but notice you haven’t, Dan, but if you did—I’d tell you that the risks related to empowering Seymour Little far outweigh whatever benefits we might gain from his nebulous sense of right and wrong, no matter how stubbornly he upholds it.”

  “Perhaps there’s more to it. I can relate to him.” Dan paused. “He’s far from home; the only one of his kind—”

  Eusebio interrupted with a scoff.

  “He’s not the only Riftborn in the realm, and even if he was – that’s not a good enough reason for you to promote him to lead and you damned well know it, Dan. You’re letting your emotions get in the way of your best practices right now. You’ve always told me—”

  “Enough,” Dan’s voice didn’t sound any louder than it had only a moment earlier but suddenly it rang with notes of pure doom, like cathedral bells forged from the bones of an archdemon. “You will do as I say regarding this matter, Eusebio Duartez.”

  He’d activated his fear-inducing aura, just subtly, but it still caused Eusebio to stumble back a step and fall hard on his rump. He was fortunate not to have fallen off the staircase entirely; the oversized steps were more like terraces to a normal-sized man, which Eusebio happened to be. His mask of shock and terror quickly shifted to something more quizzical, though, and he cocked his head to listen.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked, panning the dark jungle. “I think there’s someone out there. I think I just heard someone laugh.”

  From deep within his tunnel-like throat, Dragon Dan also chuckled. And at the edge of the clearing, a full-bodied fern fell to pieces as Seymour shook off his disguise.

  “Hey there, besties.” He brushed off black jungle dirt and crossed the distance to join them. From head-to-toe he had come dressed in midnight black. “Beautiful night for a moonlit jungle stroll, am I right?”

  “What are you doing out here?” Eusebio demanded, scrambling to his feet so he could stomp down the stairs to get right in Seymour’s face. “Were you spying on us?”

  “Who do you mean by ‘us’?”

  “Myself and Dan!”

  “Oh hey, Dan. Didn’t notice you there. Lovely night for a stroll through the jungle, isn’t it?”

  “You weren’t strolling anywhere.” Eusebio’s voice dripped with disgust. He straightened his shirt, radiating indignance. “You were hiding right over there, pretending to be a fern.”

  “Alright, so say we accept your claim as true, that in no way alters the fact that it’s a lovely night for a stroll through the jungle. Try and stay on topic, Duartez.”

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  “Seymour.”

  “Yes, Dan?”

  “Leave Eusebio alone.”

  “He started it.”

  “I did not! You started it! You were spying on us!”

  “Was I, though? I mean I was here first. I straight up watched you ride in on your horse. All the evidence seems to suggest it’s actually more likely that it was you who was spying on me, Eusebio.” He arched an eyebrow. “What are you up to, exactly? Are you sneaking out here to meet someone? I’ve seen the way you look at Clyde’s wife – and everyone knows about her. Did Dan and I interrupt your midnight rendezvous?”

  “Seymour,” Dan said, stifling one of his blast-furnace chuckles, “that’s enough now. Let him be.”

  “Sorry, Dan.” Seymour straightened his all-black ensemble. In the glow of Dan’s mustache it was now apparent that even his face was painted black. “I just think our friend needs to be more careful where he tosses his accusations.” He turned to address Eusebio. “I’m not the enemy here.”

  “No one is the enemy here. We’re a team.” Dan turned his massive muzzle toward Eusebio. “Did you bring the fetish?”

  “Wait, Dan. You don’t actually intend to give it to him, do you? Even after everything we’ve discussed tonight and after all…. this?”

  “I’m as convinced as ever that Seymour will make an exceptional sales lead.”

  “Sales lead?” Seymour placed both of his hands across his heart, emoting gratitude like he’d just been given an award. “Little ol’ me, Seymour Little?”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Eusebio moped. He pulled something from his pocket and held it out to Dan. “Because I sure don’t anymore.”

  The object had been wrapped in a black cloth and Seymour couldn’t make out what it was, exactly, but at the dragon’s command it floated out of Eusebio’s hand and hovered in the air.

  “Give him your catalogoggles,” Dan said to Eusebio, but Seymour held up a hand.

  “No worries.” He produced his own pair of goggles from his pocket. “Brought mine; I seriously don’t go anywhere without them anymore.”

  The cloth-draped object glided through the air to him, and Seymour caught it. It felt like it might be a sub sandwich under there, but as he began to unwrap it he realized it wasn’t that at all:

  “Is this what it looks like?” he asked as the discarded cloth wrapper drifted to the jungle floor. “It’s a goddamned foot, right?”

  What Dan had given Seymour appeared to be the mummified foot of a man, severed at the ankle. If it hadn't been so dry and ancient-feeling, the act of it touching it might have made Seymour barf.

  “Use your goggles,” Dan advised.

  Seymour held the gruesome discovery up to examine it with the catalogoggles:

  Seymour blinked at the description.

  “If I’m interpreting this effect correctly,” he said, “then I don’t think this thing really does anything on its own. Am I right?”

  “True.” Dan studied him intently.

  “It turns demon souls into catalysts, so what I’m thinking is that I actually need to get my hands on some demon souls. Find out who sells them and ingratiate myself and whatnot.” Seymour stroked his chin and pondered. “Or is it possible to just suck the soul right out of a demon myself, somehow? That would obviously be the more economical option. Cut out the middleman—”

  “Will you look at him right now?” Eusebio whined. “He’s obviously a villain.” Sudden realization dawned on his face. “Wait, why did you have me bring that nasty old foot out here in the first place? Dan, did you know he’d be spying on us from the undergrowth?”

  “Yes,” Dragon Dan answered flatly. “He’s been doing so for the past few weeks. You may leave now, Eusebio.”

  “I’ll do just that, then.” He quickly stomped off toward his horse, who was grazing at the edge of the clearing. “And I won’t be in tomorrow, Dan. I’m taking a mental health day.”

  “That’s fine.” The dragon added, “take two, if need be.”

  And Eusebio mounted his horse and left.

  “He didn’t even say goodbye.” Seymour wiped away an imaginary tear. “Sometimes I get the feeling he doesn’t like me very much.”

  “Now that he’s gone,” Dan began, completely ignoring Seymour’s melodrama. “Ask your questions – I know you have them.”

  Seymour nodded. The atmosphere suddenly felt different. A little heavier, but it had nothing to do with the dragon’s ability to manipulate gravity.

  “Why are you giving me this?” Seymour’s playful tone was gone as he waggled the severed foot at Dan. “An exotic, looted, ascendant-ranked item? It must be worth a fortune.”

  “True, it is. About five fortunes, in fact.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “It is a gift.” The dragon had never struck Seymour as more serpent-like than he did in that moment. “To celebrate your promotion.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Sales Lead, huh?”

  “Yes, I want you to take the lead. The position has been vacant since I elevated Eusebio to manager. And that is his job: to manage the shop. I want you to help ease his burden by managing the sales team. His strengths are perhaps slightly more organizational, while I feel you do well with people, and will do even better once you learn to use the gift I’ve just given you.”

  “To clarify,” Seymour said, holding the grotesque fetish up to study it by the moonlight. The toenails were all painted different colors. “I can only keep this weird-ass thing if I accept the promotion, right?”

  “That is correct, but why wouldn’t you?”

  “Can I be frank?”

  “Of course, it’s only you and I now.”

  “I think you’re setting me up.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “Well, I’ve seen the culture around your shop. I’ve experienced it to some degree. Hell, I'm participating in it right now by dressing up as a fern and spying on you and Eusebio! But frankly, it’s more than a little bit toxic, Dan. Everyone is out for themselves, crawling over one another, trying to become the king of the hill. There’s this atmosphere of competition on the sales floor that I worry could get out of hand really easily. Legit feels like somebody could shank me if they think it’d get them my job title. So like, while I appreciate the offer, I think—”

  “No, Seymour. I don’t care to hear what you think. You and I are not equals and I won’t be persuaded by your false bluster. I see through you as easily as I would a pane of glass.” There was a finality to Dan’s tone. He was bringing the meeting to a close. Dan’s elongated body began to ripple all throughout the clearing. He would soon take flight. “You cannot refuse this promotion, Seymour. If you do, then your time at the Adventure Depot ends now.”

  “And I’d have to give back the fetish here. Which is probably worth more than I could earn in several lifetimes.”

  “I suggest you return to the shop now. Examine the fetish with your Infringement ability. Then, go to the testing chambers.” Dan’s aura pressed down on Seymour subtly, making it clear that these suggestions were more like commands. “And be prepared to use it thrice.”

  Seymour waited a beat before asking, “And that’s it? Nothing else?”

  “Perhaps I’ll see you in the morning, Seymour.” Dan began to rise into the air. “Now I must hunt.”

  “Sure, sure,” he said, turning the severed foot over in his hands. It inexplicably smelled like cinnamon. “I’ll see you later.”