Today's Earth date: December 25, 1991

Getting out of the Cuts feels amazing. It was so hot and sticky… I thought I might lose my mind.

And our welcome in Iomallach has been exceptional. They aren't throwing parties like Cuan did, but we've got nice quarters, all the food we can eat, and access to any resources we might need for the Temple run or to train for it.

I wonder if she's ever been to Iomallach? Maybe I could take her when I get back.

-The Journal of Laszlo the Paladin

The butler at the door held Blackwell's letter in his hand. "I do not doubt the veracity, sir, but I'm afraid other members of the family are already using the accommodations."

"It's okay, Fergus," Wayne said, trying to calm the old scholar. "We can find something in town."

"I'm afraid that's unlikely," the butler said. "Even the worst inns are fully booked during the festival. Might I recommend camping? Many festival-goers prefer that experience, actually."

"I do not prefer to camp," Fergus retorted.

"I meant no offense, sir."

Wayne put both hands on Fergus' arms and began to guide him away from the front door. "Sorry for the confusion."

Before the butler could depart, a voice called from behind him. "We got visitors? At this hour?" the man asked.

He was in a small pair of yellow swimtrunks, had a large over-tanned belly that entered the room a full step before he did, and had a glass of something dark in his hand. When he reached the door, Wayne saw that the trunks were dripping and that he had left a trail of wet footprints on the wood floor behind him.

"I'm afraid Lord Randolf mistakenly promised the manor to this group, sir," the butler explained.

"Sounds like Randy. He's got a stick so far up his ass that birds are nesting in the branches." The man took the letter from the butler and read it. "No shit. The Zero Hero is with y'all?"

Fergus sensed an opportunity. "He is indeed."

"How many of there are you?"

"Seven."

Handing the letter back to the butler, the man asked, "How many rooms do we have open?"

"Three, sir."

Turning back to Wayne and Fergus, the man stuck out a soggy hand. "I'm Billium." Wayne and Fergus shook it in turn. "We're only in town for the festival. If you don't mind sharing until we skidattle, we'd be happy to have you. A few drinks with the Zero Hero sounds like a good time to me."

"Lord Blackwell promised–"

Wayne covered Fergus' mouth. "We accept," Wayne said. "That's very kind of you. I'll go and let the others know."

"You're him, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm the Zero Hero."

"Shiiit, let my man here worry about your things and your people. You two gotta meet everyone, right away."

Before Wayne could mount an argument, Billium grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. "We're pretty gross from the road," Wayne said. "We aren't exactly presentable."

"Randy's side of the family doesn't know how to appreciate hard work. We do. No one will mind."

The interior of the Blackwell house felt like a high-end hunting lodge. The ceilings were high. Every inch was either dark-stained wood or hand-laid stone masonry. The walls had more taxidermy than art.

Billium led them through a large gathering area the size of a basketball court. One side had an array of chairs and sofas, and the other had a kitchen and several well-stocked racks of booze. At a glance, they looked like the drink sloshing about in Billium's hand, some variation of whiskey or bourbon, Wayne guessed.

Not stopping, they stepped out a grand backdoor onto a stone patio. Like Lord Amethyst's estate in Cuan, every plant and blade of grass was manicured to perfection, the patio breaking into a dozen separate paths that snaked through the gardens and eventually to the cliffside overlooking the Cuts. Wayne could see a gazebo perched at the edge, and the Lighthouse loomed in the distance.

At the edge of the immediate patio was a large swimming pool. The lamps surrounding the area were just bright enough for Wayne to see where he stepped. As for the dozen or so people scattered around the patio, sitting at the pool's edge, or lazing about in the water, they were all silhouettes holding glasses. Other than a vague sense of who was male and who was female, Wayne couldn't make out any more detail than that.

Two small women emerged from the house behind Wayne as he took in the scene. They were both tiny, frail, and had white hair. If he had to guess, they were in their late seventies at least. They too carried cups, but theirs were currently empty.

"I'm glad you decided to invite this pair of man meat inside!" one of the women slurred. Wayne recognized the voice as belonging to one of the people who had yelled out the window at the party a moment ago.

"Not just any man meat," Billium said with a flourish. "This is the Zero Hero and his Royal Scholar companion."

That announcement attracted the attention of the other partiers. Anyone who was in the water waded to the edge nearest to Wayne and Fergus.

"Randy has them chasing dwarf trash and told them they could stay here. They'll be bunking with us until the festival is over."

The same woman put a flat hand on Wayne's chest and looked at him hungrily. "Nice of Randy to send us such a nice surprise. You must get all the gals as young and fit as you are."

"What are you drinking?" Billium asked his guests. "I'll have it fetched for you, right away."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Wayne had experiences similar to this one on Earth. Not so much being a minor celebrity entering a stranger's home who was then accosted by handsy old women, but more so that he had arrived at a few parties late, having missed the bulk of the festivities.

Being the lone sober voice in a room full of drunk partiers had limited appeal. Their headspaces were too far separated and the idea of "catching up" on drink never turned out well for him.

"That's okay," Wayne said. "We've been in the Cuts for a few days, and my people are tired. I don't mean to be rude, but I'd be happy to pick this up in the morning."

Billium shrugged. "All the same to me."

"How do we know you're really the Zero Hero?" one of the shadows in the pool yelled. "Randy's a tool and not the sharpest."

For a moment, Wayne considered hitting the shadowed man with Upsidaisy, but he was wary that being thrown into the air and dropped back into the pool could be taken the wrong way. Instead, he gently guided Billium to the side to create a clear path.

Blitz-Blitz-Brake.

Blitz-Blitz-Brake.

Wayne zipped over the pool and toward the cliff and then zipped back. The drunks cheered.

"There's your proof," Billium shouted. "Hope you're happy. Now let's let these fellas get settled."

Wayne, Armond, and Fergus shared one room. Vanilli, Sammy, and Hector shared another. Margo, as the only woman in the party, had her own.

"It's a big bed," Armond said. "I don't mind splitting it with you."

Fergus was beside himself. "Next, we'll be sharing underwear. This is a disaster."

Armond laughed. "This is still luxury compared to camping in the Cuts."

Wayne let Armond and Fergus debate which side of the bed should go to who–well, Fergus debated. Armond didn't care, but Fergus couldn't decide if he should be on the side closest to or farthest from the door.

While the indecision continued, Wayne claimed a rug, a few blankets, and a couple fluffy pillows. It reminded him of sharing hotel rooms on spring break in Jersey, six dudes crammed into a two-bed motel, and he found himself agreeing with Armond. The very fact that they weren't in the jungle anymore made any accommodation luxurious.

"Embrace the adventure," Wayne said gently. "Think of this as one extended party. We'll have this place to ourselves soon enough."

"No, not soon enough."

"This is what happens when an entire family shares property across a continent. I doubt Blackwell did it intentionally, and it's nice of Billium to let us stay regardless. We're total strangers to him, remember. He didn't have to do this."

Fergus sighed. "I'm not going easy on the wine collection."

"I'm sure that's fine too."

Wayne was the last to get his turn in the bath, but he was the first to wake in the morning. Again, he had two hours of sleep at most, but he felt fully refreshed. His body had either recently adapted to his rugged lifestyle or one of his new unlocks affected his recovery time.

Maintenance Shop from Railroad Tycoon was his best guess. In lieu of any way to actually test that theory, he made a mental note to see if his accelerated recovery was consistent. If it was, that was enough evidence for him.

In the large gathering room, several people were asleep on couches, snoring from last night's drinks. Most looked like they had gone to sleep wherever they happened to land.

"Beverage, sir?" A new butler asked. "Perhaps coffee or freshly squeezed grapefruit juice?"

"Coffee, please."

With a steaming cup in hand, Wayne went outside to see the grounds in daylight. A man–who Wayne assumed was Billium, based on the glistening, well-oiled belly–reclined in a lounge chair and had a red cowboy hat over his eyes.

"They always say early bird gets the worm," Billium said without stirring, "but the second mouse gets the cheese."

Wayne chuckled but had no idea how that applied to this present moment.

"Sit wherever you like."

"I don't want to disturb you."

"I'm just enjoying the morning sun. You'd have to be a talented asshole to find a way to mess this up for me."

Looking across the top of the canopy from this side of the Cuts wasn't all that different from the view he had seen in Vientuls, but sitting in a comfortable chair with a cup of coffee was a definite improvement. He watched as white, yellow, and red birds flew up out of the jungle in batches of ten to twenty before swooping back to the safety of the branches.

As for the Lighthouse, Wayne officially accepted a suspicion that had bothered him from his first glimpse of the tower: The grandeur of its presence was wholly out of place in the landscape. Not only was it silly to build a lighthouse over a jungle, the size of it was unnervingly colossal. Even from here, Wayne felt like he had been hit with a shrink ray and was coming to terms with being tiny in his new world of giants.

"Enjoying the big city?" Billium asked.

"Haven't seen much," Wayne admitted. "I spent most of yesterday waiting with the wagon in the street."

"The festival is quite a time. We do it every year. I think you'll enjoy yourself."

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."

"So you work for Randy, huh?" Billium asked. Wayne couldn't tell if that topic shift was a natural progression of the conversation or if his host was desperate to gossip about his family members.

"Something like that. Fergus and I are retracing the journey of the Chosen Heroes and looking for dwarven ruins along the way. Lord Blackwell gets first access when we're done."

"How's that going?"

"Uncovered two them between here and Cuan, which I understand is pretty good."

"I see. Is the Zero Hero all business or do you have other interests?"

Wayne laughed. "I'm trying to be as little business as possible. This trip started more as a private quest for some collectibles then it turned into work somewhere along the way."

"I'm intrigued," Billium said. "What collectibles attract the eye of someone from another world?"

"Do you know what a Christmas catalog is?"

Billium stared back, blanky.

"Easier to show you." Wayne triggered Goods Storage and was pleased to find that the Blackwell pool counted as "in town" to the system. The interdimensional storage unit opened over the water. Wayne popped in, grabbed the Page of Power featuring Quicken, and popped out.

"You got to warn a guy before you do something like that," Billium said, chortling. "Does that mean the rumors are true? You got Diary access after all?"

"Sort of," Wayne answered. He passed the page to Billium, hoping to keep the topic off of himself. "I'm looking for more of these. They're pages from a catalog on Earth."

Billium squinted to inspect the paper in the bright sunlight.

"If you know any art dealers or museums I should check, I'd be grateful for the tips."

"Wrong city for art museums, friend. We appreciate life a lot more than the up-tights down toward the Capital."

"Oh."

"Do all the pages look exactly like that one?" Billium asked as he returned the document.

"No, they're all a little bit different. Pages from the same book, essentially."

After returning the page, Billium poured some oil into his hand and rubbed it absentmindedly over his chest and stomach while he thought.

"Master Sanders might have something like that, if I'm remembering right. If I'm wrong, don't hold it against me, but he owns the arena. He's new money but still relatively respected."

"I'm grateful for the lead. Thank you."

Wayne stood to go see if any of his party had woken yet.

"Wayne," Billium gruffed before Wayne could step away. "Happy to have you as our guest, but my daughters are very dear to me, you hear?"

Overconfident and overprotective fathers–that was one thing Wayne didn't miss about being young. He wasn't thrilled to experience it again. All Billium was missing was a disassembled deer rifle on the table next to him.

"Won't be a problem," Wayne said and headed for the door.

"You didn't ask which were my daughters!"

"Don't need to."

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