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soldiers were out playing war games in the desert.

There was nothing I could do to keep them from Gary.

“I’ve had enough of this,” said Kempton. “Come on!”

Just before Kempton could lead them, the crowd parted at the back. People stepped aside, one after another.

“Let’s calm this down,” said a man.

He walked through the middle of them. A tall guy. He wore trousers and a shirt well-tailored and way more tasteful than anything someone from Yondersun would wear. His beard was immaculately groomed, his blond hair swept back and oiled.

Riston. The stranger. The man who’d arrived in Yondersun one day, gone to the Scorched Scorpion for a drink, and had stayed in town ever since. Nobody knew who he was or where he’d come from. All they knew was that he’d decided to run in the chief elections. And beyond all rationality, people supported him. They supported him above me, even though I’d risked my gem arse time and time again for the good of the town.

It wouldn’t be a stretch to say I was bitter. Another of my imperfections.

The crowd hushed as if Riston was the king and every word that left his mouth materialized as gold coins for them to scoop up.

“I’m sure whatever happened here,” he said, not the slightest bit bothered about the corpses, “the chief will resolve. Let’s not be hasty.”

“The spider monster killed them!” shouted a gnome woman. “Kempton says he’s in the storeroom, covered in their blood!”

Riston kneeled beside one of the corpses. It was an old man. I didn’t know his name. Seemed too late to bother learning it now. Riston planted a kiss on the dead man’s forehead.

“Sleep well, old one,” he said.

Uh, what? This guy was weird. Simple as that. How was I the only one to notice it?

“I’m glad you’re here, Riston,” said Galatee.

“I thought you might need my assistance. Is it true what they say about the monster?”

“It seems that way.”

“We don’t know that,” I said.

“We have a room full of corpses and a monster nearby. It doesn’t look good,” said Galatee.

“This one thinks you shouldn’t say until you know for sure!” said Warrane.

I could have kissed him then. Warrane was a guard. He was supposed to shut up and protect Galatee, but he’d spoken up for Gary. Sometimes it takes a bakery full of corpses to know who your friends are.

“They’re here! The monsters are here!” said a voice outside the shop.

Sure enough, my dungeon creatures flooded onto Jahn’s row. Brecht, Shadow, all my kobold miners, my fire beetles. The numbers weren’t even, but we had something else on our side: fear. The crowd was scared of my monsters.

Or… they would have been. Had I not allowed my monsters to go to town after work.

Now, I realized that the townsfolks’ old fear was gone. They’d become too used to seeing my dungeon creatures. Instead of being scared of my dungeon mates, they were angry, and things were going to get ugly.

The odds weren’t even. In the dungeon, sure. We’d pulverize them as easily as if they were…um…iced buns. And that metaphor hadn’t sprung to my mind because I was in a bakery.

“Core Beno,” said Riston, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “Call off your creatures. Let’s not have more bloodshed.”

Call off your creatures.

That manipulative bastard.

I’d only told my monsters to get here to save Galatee, Warrane, and Gary from the mob. Riston was making it sound like we were the ones causing the tension. As if I’d summoned my creatures here to cause trouble. He’d played me.

The worst thing would be to argue. To try and explain myself. When you’re in a hole, excuses are like shovels digging away more of the dirt.

Riston held up his hand. He faced the crowd, his face the picture of benevolence.

“Return to your homes. I will speak to Chief Galatee. Whatever has happened here will be resolved. You have my word. And you know what it means when I give you my word.”

Know what it means? They hardly knew him!

I kept my thoughts to myself.

The crowd left the shop. Their anger began to ebb. I dismissed my monsters, and soon, we were alone.

Galatee was about to speak when Riston cut in.

“Do you have somewhere you can keep the monster?” he said.

“Gary is coming back to the dungeon,” I said.

“I think not. Four people are dead. Not just dead. Slaughtered.”

“We don’t know that it was Gary. I’d bet my arse that it wasn’t. It isn’t in his nature.”

“No? It isn’t in this monster’s nature to kill?”

He had me there. Every monster in my dungeon was created to kill heroes. Except for Tomlin, who was a coward through and through.

Galatee nodded. “I am sorry, Beno, but Riston is right. Until we know what happened, the monster must be kept where we can see him.”

“The monster? You know his name, Galatee. You’ve talked with him dozens of times. He sang at your birthday party.”

“The monster will remain in our cell, Beno. I would suggest that you keep the rest of your creatures in your dungeon. The town won’t be a welcoming place for them at the moment.”

CHAPTER 4

I floated around my core chamber, circling it again and again. It was my version of pacing. Gulliver, sitting on a chair I’d bought especially for when he joined me in the chamber, rubbed his forehead.

“We have to be honest with ourselves about how this looks,” he said. “Gary was blind drunk. He was found in the bakery, feet away from where four people had been murdered.”

 “Gary wouldn’t do this,” I said.

“Okay. Pretend it wasn’t Gary. Imagine if you woke up to find four kobold corpses. Not far away from them, there was a drunk

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