August started with rain.

Several days' worth.

The land remained damp for a few more days.

The world kept turning. Over the next few weeks, for the rest of August, passed with no visitors or intruders. Across the globe, empires were expanding their territories and engaging in imperial activities.

In the Philippines, a rebellion against the Spanish Colonial Government occurred.

The weather changed towards the end of the month with a heat wave. The sky was cloudless with a harsh sun beating down on everything. The once vibrant green faded into a dull yellow as the heat and light took their toll on the environment.

The heat wave was affecting all states across the northern part of the country, with a particular focus on the eastern northern states. Reports were coming in that it was bad. Hundreds of people were being reported dead from heat stroke.

For ten days, there was no relief until September brought the rain.

The land recovered, and life went on.

When the rains ended, the visitors returned.

A group of six rode up to the gates. I looked them over as they tied up their horses. Their attire and general disposition screen grave robbers. I have to think about that, as I found it odd that there were so many people willing to rob the graves in this world. I wasn't sure if it was as common as mine during this period, as it appears to be here.

Most of them were carrying bags and shovels. I spotted several pistols in holsters on the hips of several of them. I watched them as they walked up to the gates and through into the courtyard. They never bothered to read the plinth and its message, instead turning south and walking down the pathway.

[Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.]

"Here we go."

I reached out to my Hunters and informed them of what was happening at the gates and the six men who were walking down the pathway. I had already decided on where they were going to be ambushed and directed the Hunters to that location.

I followed behind, looking them over, but not listening to their conversation. Another thought struck me: why is the number six so popular? I often had groups of visitors numbering six, which I found a bit odd. I wondered if there was some psychological aspect to it, as I knew that the dungeon transmitted its location out to those who were sensitive to some aspects of the arcane. These messages were communicated through dreams, so perhaps, on some level, they were also affecting those who came to rob here, as well as the numbers that came in.

I thought about this as they walked through the dungeon and came to another unfortunate conclusion: that this was a question I would not get an answer to.

They did not stop to search the mausoleums; instead, they directed themselves towards the church through the maze. It seemed that they wanted to start their work their way out of this, suspecting that the wealthier occupants of the tombs would be closer to the centre of the graveyard.

They were sort of right.

The ambush point was on the third ring, and after several missed turns that led them into blind alleys or dead ends, they eventually found their way to the junction. This gave my Hunters plenty of time to arrange their positions and be ready for the intruders.

They were moving in a relatively tight clump, and I think the dungeon's underlying disturbing elements were starting to take a toll on them. When they are dented, they are far more spread out, but as they move further into the maze, they have steadily grown closer together.

"Go."

I gave the order as soon as they reached the point where the ambush would take place. From here on in, it was just a matter of seeing who would come out victorious in the fight. The odds were on the side of my hunters, but I'd learnt from watching many battles over the last few decades that you never count out your opponent until they are dead.

It was close to midday, but the sky was cloudy, as the threat of rain still lingered in the air. The six Hunters quickly emerged and attacked the intruders in my dungeon. The men cried out in confusion and alarm as the hunters appeared and attacked them. Several were for their firearms, but the rest used shovels that they were holding to try to defend themselves. Unfortunately, regardless of their intentions, they were at a disadvantage.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Blackstone was the first to take one down, not messing around and using his hammer to crush the man.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Rigger was next, seeking to get his kill out of the way to escape even the weak sunlight. His Bowie knife almost disembowelled the man he jumped on as he stabbed them violently and repeatedly.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Harrington and Rodriguez finish theirs off almost at the same time. As they did so, a shot rang out in the air as one of the men had got his gun out and fired, but he had missed McGregor as he stepped slightly to his right, avoiding the shot.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

His sadistic smile was plastered all over his face as he repeatedly stabbed the man who tried to shoot him. Roberson was the final one to make a kill as he was focused on minimising the damage to the body of his prey.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

And with that, the fight was over, and the cleanup began. The group had gotten so used to it that they didn't even bother waiting for my instructions and got to work. Thankfully, a couple of shovels accompanied the intruders, and they will soon put them to work digging graves for their former owners. Looking around the scene, I knew I was going to have to clean up this site, as there was quite a lot of blood leaking from the bodies. It will probably take a day or two to eradicate the evidence of the battle.

The horses were dealt with after the bodies and were delivered to Herbert. Quite a bit of tobacco and alcohol was gained from the dead, but they were all of the cheaper varieties that Harrington turned his nose up at. The others were not as discriminating and quickly divided the items among themselves. There was only a little money gained, and that was also sent down to Herbert.

Roberson had not buried his kill and disappeared with her into his lair. The others quickly departed as soon as the loot was split, seeming happy to be away from each other and to have gained a few luxuries to enjoy.

Things went quiet again in September, past and around me, the land started to change towards the end of the month.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

October saw the weather change decisively as autumn had arrived, and the land around me was now changing in preparation for winter's arrival.

I was watching the world from the top of my special bubble, and around me, the birds were migrating. I happened to look across the river to the ridge leading to Crossway, and I saw a group of riders coming over the hill. From this distance, I knew they were, and I thought to myself, 'There goes my quiet time.'

I waited for them to cross the river and disappear from my sight, hidden by the forest. I shifted down to the gates and awaited their arrival. It didn't take long for them to come up the pathways leading to the gates, and I counted Senior Ahmed with four other riders.

I waited for him to approach on foot and call out for a meeting with me. He was bundled up against the cold, damp air. The weather had been getting colder and had been wet for the last few weeks. I wait for a few seconds before summoning my avatar to the courtyard.

"I greet you, Keeper." He bowed his head when he greeted me.

"Senior Ahmed."

I returned the greeting. I was hoping that this would be over quickly.

"I thank you for taking the time to speak with this humble seeker."

If I didn't have such distance from my emotions and control built over the years, I would have laughed my head off right there and then.

"What brings you to my gates this day, Senior Ahmed?"

"I have come to inform you that we are establishing our oil drilling company. We have redirected many resources from our organisation to the new oilfields that we have acquired. We suspect that we can start reaching the upper oil deposits within a year or two and be at full production."

"Excellent. Are you planning to process the oil into new products, such as petroleum?"

"Yes. We will have facilities close by, so we do not have to pump the oil far to be processed." He produced a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his coat. He opened it up, and it revealed a topographical map of a location I was unfamiliar with. However, from the diagrams and lines placed on it, it appears to be where they are drilling in Texas.

"I take it that you are looking just to start production for the moment and planning the future to expand."

"Yes, we are. The local governor was not very interested in our proposals, but we suspect that, over time, if the money flows as you claim, we will see greater cooperation with the state government. We will then be able to use the profits to expand our influence into other states, namely this one."

I nodded at his words, but a stray thought popped into my head that I felt compelled to ask him.

"What do you plan to name this new corporation?"

"Ah. An excellent question, Keeper." He blinked momentarily, then smiled as he spoke. "The elders decided on the name of the Athamos Oil Corporation."

Again, I was grateful for my emotional distance and years of control, as it took everything I had not to groan loudly and roll my eyes.

"Yes…. An interesting name. But a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

He frowned slightly before answering. "Our organisation is not widely known. We believe using the name of our founder as part of this new venture would not draw too much attention to us."

"In that, I can understand your reasoning. But I am looking at a long-term marketing perspective for your cooperation."

"And what would you suggest?" For the first time in all of our conversations, I wondered if I had just caught a hint of snark in his tone.

"The American population is very patriotic. This trend is likely to continue growing over time, so I suggest using something that appeals to their national pride. This will benefit you both in marketing and in your interactions with politicians. What politician would be foolish enough to go up against the company that represents American industry so proudly as… the United American Oil Corporation?"

I pause momentarily before naming something a bit more practical for the name of their new venture. I pulled the name out of the air, thinking about all of the names I could vaguely remember of different oil firms from my world.

"United American Oil Corporation." Senior Ahmed said it slowly, feeling out the words as he spoke them.

"Yes. The United is to express the combination of several different aspects of the industry. America, of course, is the place where the oil comes from. Oil is what you use and process. The corporation part at the drop in future if he desired it."

He fell silent at the explanation of the name, seeming to be actually thinking it over. I had expected an outright rejection, but it seemed to have taken root in his mind as a concept.

"Again, I thank you for your ideas and suggestions, Keeper. As always, speaking to you is most enlightening." He put away the map that he was still holding onto his coat and bowed slightly as he made his retreat back to his horse.

I made some vague pleasantries to see him off, but I was happy that he was gone now. I dismissed my avatar as soon as he mounted his horse, but watched them until they had left the clearing and rode down the pathway and out of sight.

"Right now, what shall I do?"

November arrived, and with it the presidential election of 1896.

I haven't paid much attention to the election, as I find politics quite boring. I knew I should pay more attention to both national and state-level elections, as they could influence my plans.

I once again considered relying on the Way of Athamos as my proxies in this field. At the very best, if I were to commit my gold and silver reserves, I could possibly influence the local town council election the most. Herbert was no political operator, and Amy was still not speaking to me. There was Joshua, but he was far too young.

Give another 10 to 15 years, and then Joshua might be able to be placed on the city council, but considering the boy, I doubt it. He followed his father in many respects, both physically and socially. The more I've studied the boy over the last few months, the more concerned I've become about his future ability to find a wife.

I might be thinking a bit too far ahead at the moment, and he still might be able to put it off, but I was not confident, and I had time to think about it.

The Republican and Democratic nominees had been fighting mostly over trade and tariffs. There were other issues debated and championed, but these two seem to be the most important. The tariffs imposed had not done wonders for the American economy, and many within the Democratic Party were calling on them to be revoked or reduced to the point that they would no longer hinder global trade.

I received the Crossway Chronicle and the Portland Times, which covered the election on the same day. The Chronicle lacked any honest political discussion or breakdown, as always. I had long determined that the owner of this particular publication was a staunch Democrat and supported all of the party's policies. The Times supplied a far more in-depth and nuanced breakdown of the election.

The election was won by the Democrats once more. The new president-elect was Jonathan Mayfair. He came from a family of wealthy industrialists from the northeast. The election was close, ultimately coming down to only four votes in the end for the Electoral College, once the states had declared their results.

He had stood on a platform of lowering tariffs and increasing international trade, as well as helping internal trade in the United States. Internationally, he was more of an isolationist, wishing not to get involved in another conflict, like the one that had happened recently in Cuba. But he was also adamantly supportive of Cuba being brought into the union as a new state.

The Republicans were openly graceful in accepting defeat, but the news reports were starting to paint a fascinating picture. There was a strong trade unionist, and even I could now call a socialist bloc within the party. They were the most openly unhappy with the outcome of this election. The clampdowns on industrial action under the last president had soured many on the political process and radicalised others.

Many of these radicalised elements were now openly calling for a split between them and the Republicans. They called for the formation of a new trade or Labour Party to represent the working class and oppose the overreach of industrialists and politicians, as well as the suppression tactics used against labour unions.

Would they succeed? I did not know.

In my world, I believe trade unions were organised within America, but they never managed to break away from the existing party structure and form their own. My lack of memories once again worked against my better interests; I cursed whoever had sent me here and how they had been taken away. No more could help me in the long run by predicting future trends and political movements better.

Most of what I could remember was based on historical strategy games that required an understanding of political movements leading up to conflicts like the First and Second World Wars.

The newspapers were extraordinarily informative in some ways, giving me even a small window into this world's politics and geopolitical manoeuvring. However, it was still only a window, and I couldn't see what could come back and cause issues.

These thoughts racked my mind as the month continued, and I looked out into the distance at the mountains, where the snow line began to move down the slopes. Winter was soon upon me again, and I would be cut off.

My lack of agency outside of my walls was always an issue I had to deal with. It has not changed in the 26 years I've been here so far, and I doubt it will change anytime soon.

Within New Midian, things continued as usual. I noticed that some of the hunters were out longer, collecting firewood or trying to make their last kills before the snow arrived.

It was on the third day of December that the snow began to fall. It was light at first, and we had had no rain for over a week before it came; it settled. Two days later, the first blizzard hit, and I was cut off from the outside world.

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