The Deputy was disarmed and was now standing before me.

He had urinated in his trousers from fear. To my eyes, the stain was clear to see, but Herbert could not see it as the lantern was on the ground behind him. He was neither tall nor an impressive example of a man. He was rather average and did not stand out in any way.

Roberson was standing behind him, blade free of its sheath, ready to be used. He had been babbling for a few seconds, but my Hunter had dissuaded him from further conversation with a swift blow to the back of the head.

"Right then, Deputy…"

He looked at me, terrified, and didn't answer, his mouth opening and closing, reminding me of a fish. His eyes were big and round.

"Swan." Herbert offered as the silence grew.

"Deputy Swan. We have a bit of a situation here. Your predecessors have a habit of meeting with unfavourable outcomes in this location, as you can see from Sheriff Smith's fate. I think it's time we break that cycle, don't you think?"

As I spoke to him, his face contorted as he was trying to grasp what was happening. The bullet that had torn from my avatar's form was slowly draining my ability to hold it. I had time yet, but I knew I needed to get this resolved quickly.

With my final question, he suddenly nodded as fear drove him to stay alive.

"Excellent. Now tell me who replaces Sheriff Smith now that he is dead?"

Deputy Swan looked down at the body to the side and then back up at me. From what he was not saying, I reckoned it would be him.

"That would be him." Herbert again offered as a silence grew again.

"Good to know. Now, Deputy Swan, this will go far more easily if you learn to communicate with words."

"I-I-I…" He started blubbering.

"Best stop there. I'm going to offer you a deal. I will need your help in concealing the evidence of Marshall Stone's disappearance and that of his posse. Don't worry, I have a plan for that and a story for you to tell. Agreeing to my deal will see you hopefully elevated to the rank of Sheriff. Within your new position, I will require your assistance in hiding the trails of those who disappear in this area."

I was quickly formulating a plan and still making up the story, forced to think fast on my feet. I would need help with this.

"Of course, you can not agree to it. And well then…. I think you can figure out what happens."

As I spoke, Roberson placed his blade across the man's throat from behind. His face went even whiter if that was possible.

"Now there's no need for unpleasantries. I agree to provide my services, and I will do my best to help improve your station in life. If you would like to do this, please step forward and take my hand. But if you do, please remember that if you break faith with me, I will have my due in this life or the next."

As I spoke and reached the end of my little speech, I lifted my hand and offered it to him. Roberson stepped away, removing the knife from his throat, but remained behind him. He turned and looked at my Hunter, and I could see him shaking with fear.

He was hesitating, but I expected that and waited patiently with my hand outstretched. I knew I could rush this, but I wish he would hurry up. Holding my avatar's form was becoming increasingly complex by the second.

He looked around again and then at me. He reached out and took my hand.

"Good. Now we have work to do."

I let go of his hand and reached out to the Hunters further into the graveyard. I use my ability to communicate with them mentally.

"Rigger, bring the sack with the money to the gates. However, please remove the silver coins before bringing them here. Bring the Marshal's badge as well."

I turned my attention back to the man before me.

"Deputy Swan. A large chunk of the recently stolen money will be returned to you. He will take it back to town and tell the following story. Marshall Stone and his posse had trapped the man they were hunting. He was gunned down in a resulting fight, allowing the money to be reclaimed as far as you can tell. When you and the late Sheriff Smith arrive on the scene, you encounter the second fight happening. Members of the posse turned on the Marshall, and they were fighting over the money. In the resulting fight, you were left as the only survivor with Sheriff Smith dying valiantly in the line of duty. You recovered the money and returned to town."

I can see the confusion on his face as I explained the story to him.

"Yes, I know there are problems with the story, but trust me, they will be dealt with. Herbert will travel back to town with you to help support your story, as the sound of the battle drew his attention from his home."

Rigger entered the courtyard from behind us, and I indicated for him to drop the pack and the badge. He nodded, dropping them and then disappearing again.

"Roberson, please bring them over."

He quickly moved and retrieved the heavy pack and the badge. He brought them over and handed them to Deputy Swan. The man staggered under the force of the bag's impact. Roberson was not gentle, and the bag was heavy. He was forced to grab hold of the badge as it was thrust into his hand.

I could tell that he was utterly lost and would need a lot of handholding.

"Roberson, take the good Deputy over to his horse."

I motioned for Herbert to come closer.

"You understand what you need to do?"

"Yes. But, Keeper, even I can tell you that's a pretty thin story." He looked concerned.

"I know. Find Senior Ahmed and the woman I mentioned, Eleanor. Tell them both it was time to get to work. Explain to them the story and that I need it to stick."

"I understand." I could see he was determined to see my orders through.

"Good off with you now."

He quickly mounted his horse and rode off with the other man. Roberson came over to me as they rode off into the trees, and we stood together watching them disappear into the darkness.

"Keeper, a question?" Roberson suddenly asked.

"Of course."

"Can you actually back up the threat you made about him breaking faith with you?" Roberson asked as he turned his head slightly towards me.

"Honestly, and between me and you. No."

He looked at me, full-on surprised, and was silent for several moments. Then he started to laugh. Not the sadistic one that most of my Hunters indulged in. It was a deep belly laugh full of humour and amusement. He turned and walked back into the graveyard, still laughing. It had gone to the point that he was actually starting to cry and was wiping the tears away from his eyes.

I dismissed my avatar.

The next day, I dealt with Blackstone's next level.

Yet he fulfilled his duties in burying the dead before retiring to his lair. It was almost 48 hours before he reemerged changed.

He was always massive, but now the word barely did him justice.

He was not taller but broader. He had expanded to the point where his clothes were straining to hold him. His skin had changed, now turning a deep brown and acquiring almost a leathery texture. His eyes were a solid black. His hair was a coppery red. I noticed two large protruding lumps on the temples of his head. What they represented, I had no idea, but I suspected that I would find out in time.

Hunter Name

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John Blackstone

Level

3

Kills

0/16

Skills

 

Loyalty

Neutral

Carpentry. V

 

Masonry. V

 

Blacksmith. V

 

Leatherworking. IV

 

Trap Making. IV

 

Hammers. V

 

Stealth. I

 

Dark Traits

 

Sadistic Trap Maker.

 

Greater Form.

 

Greater Form.

He had not accepted another skill or improvement, but instead had developed a new dark trait.

Greater Form.

Your Hunter size has increased. They are developing into something large and powerful. Your Hunter will now be far more resistant to damage from physical blows. Their strength will also have increased to match their new, improved stature.

"Makes sense."

The following week was spent dealing with the aftermath of the recent visit.

I now had a hundred silver dollars more added to my collection.

The Crossway Chronicle was brought to me by Herbert. It contained a special story on the death of Marshall Stone and Sheriff Smith. The story that I had concocted was now being spun as the truth. Deputy Swan was now Sheriff Swan, voted in by the City Council in an emergency meeting. He would need to be fully elected by the population, but many suspected that it would not be a serious concern.

The Marshall service was initially unhappy but accepted the story, especially after Marshall Stone's badge was returned to them. Herbert told me that, on the surface, the stories were being accepted, but underneath, many people were questioning them, albeit not extensively. They knew that something had happened; they suspected that it involved New Midian.

I was pleased to hear that Senior Ahmed and Eleanor were working to ensure the story was accepted. Herbert had discovered that the Daughters of Medusa, through Eleanor, had recently acquired a stake in the Crossway Chronicle and were influencing the stories it produced.

That was an unexpected piece of good news.

Another was that it seemed the Way had control of at least one, maybe more, members of the town council.

There were some questions asked about the disappearance of the silver, but no answers were forthcoming. Over the following few days, things started to quieten down as the area returned to its usual routines.

August continued, and I got a bit reflective. I decided to review my own status.

Dungeon Name

New Midian

Level

6

Hunters

7/7

Infamy (Local)

Known

Infamy (State)

Whispers

Infamy (National)

Whispers

Infamy (Global)

Unknown

Kills

66/160

Victors

5

Perks

 

Beacon (Assigned)

Spatial Folding. (Mythical)

Walls. (Common)

Maze. (Uncommon)

Mausoleums. II (Common)

Hide the Crime! I (Uncommon)

Crypts. II (Common)

Additional Hunter. (Rare)

"I am well over a third of the way to my next level."

I had honestly not expected to be in this position in 1898. My projections indicated that I would reach my next level sometime around 1910 at the current rate of progress. And that prediction was my most optimistic. Now that was up in the air.

I was reviewing my numbers when I noticed a rider approaching the gates. It was not late in the day, and the sun was riding high in the sky. I shifted down to the gates to get a better look at who was approaching.

Sheriff Swan was riding up slowly.

I could see the hesitation and fear on his features.

I waited till he was a bit closer, and then I summoned forth my avatar. He was startled for a few moments, and his horse detected his surprise, causing it to become a bit skittish. He eventually calmed it down and dismounted.

He slowly walked to me; every step seemed to be harder for him.

"What brings you to my gates this day, Sheriff Swan?"

His face was pale, and I could see he was shaking. I waited for him to gather the courage to speak.

"I've come to ask a question of you, sir." His voice was weak, and fear echoed with every word.

"Keeper."

"Sorry?"

"You will address me as Keeper."

"Keeper." He tested the word slowly before continuing. "I need to know something."

"Which is?"

"The deal…. I want to know…. Am I…." He could not ask the question.

"You want to know if the deal you made has dammed you?"

That was the question. This was not the first time I had been asked, and it will not be the last, I suspected. I had prepared an answer.

"No. I have no claim on your soul if you hold faith with me. I will not ask you anything more than to hide the trail of those who come here. Most of those who come here arrive of their own free will. Those few who do not often are allowed to leave."

There were a few more lies in those words, but he does not know that. My words seemed to alleviate some of the fear he was experiencing.

"You will not make me do more?" He asked.

"No. What you require to do is hide the evidence of those who come and disappear."

He fell silent, looking down, thinking about what I said to him. I hope my words relieved the tension and fears he had. Having him work for me would be a great boon, allowing me not to worry about hiding the trail of any who comes to New Midian. I had Herbert relocate the horses to towns further away, so as not to raise suspicions, but that was becoming increasingly difficult as the years passed, and I knew new modes of transportation would soon emerge. Being able to dispose of the horses within town would be a great benefit to everybody.

"I will not need to deal with any bodies or hide any crimes?" He suddenly asked, looking up again.

"As long as it does not involve revealing this place's location, no. If anyone comes looking for New Midian, you can quite happily claim ignorance."

"New Midian?" He asked.

"That is the name of this place."

He took a few moments to process that before continuing.

"This all becomes meaningless if I am not elected sheriff."

"Don't worry about that time already moving through other proxies to help make that happen."

"Others work for you?" It was clear that he was not the sharpest tool in the box.

"Yes. How do you think the story of Marshall Stone's demise has been accepted so readily?"

He then fell silent, thinking about what I just said to him.

"I understand now that Herbert Driver works for you, but who else?" He seemed somewhat concerned that others were in my employment.

"That doesn't matter, just know that they are out there."

After another few moments of thinking, he continued. "How do you want me to hide the trail of those who come here?"

With that, I had him.

"Strangers passing through can easily be ignored and forgotten. Horses will be delivered for sale by Herbert. Best not to ask where they come from. If anyone asks about them, you can say they've moved on. Just make sure that there is no evidence that they came here."

"That can be done." He was now more confident with his words.

"Excellent. If you have any questions, please direct them to Herbert, as coming here directly sometimes could be hazardous to your health. And before you say anything, that was not a threat, just a friendly warning. Those that stalk this area are not always the most obedient. If it's an emergency then come."

His face went pale, and he looked around wildly. I told him this because I didn't want him to appear like the others all the time.

He took my warning to heart and soon disappeared.

I was happy to see him go.

Unfortunately, I had to deal with two other people.

Senior Ahmed was the first to come to the gates.

He was a bit smug during our conversation, as I was forced to thank him for his assistance in dealing with Marshall Stone's disappearance.

He tried to extract some of the price from me, but I reminded him that what I had given him was far more than he should have in the first place, and that when the time comes, I would provide more information.

He seemed a bit disappointed with this, but he understood that I was still offering them a great deal in the future.

Eleanor proved to be a bit harder.

I had discovered her second name was McGuinness, which I thought was a bit odd, as I didn't get an Irish vibe from her, but more of a French one.

She pointed out that her sisters had invested a considerable amount in the Crossway Chronicle and were now considering other publications. I asked her to look out for several famous ones from my world in case they also existed here. I told her that they might be a good place to establish long-term influence in.

She pressed me more on what was coming in terms of new mass media technology. I told her that it was not the time to speak of such things and that the printed word and telegraph system were the best focus for them at the moment. As soon as new technologies emerged, I would assist them with the necessary knowledge and information.

She was not happy about that and pressed again for more information or even knowledge on magical items or abilities.

I reminded her that she or her sisters could always come and face the trials, gaining the rewards in the process.

The look on her face was hilarious. I thought she was going to throw up. Her organisation was capable of great long-term thought and manipulation, but it seemed that they lacked the physical aspects needed to prove victorious here.

I knew it was a bit of a sexist assumption, but I didn't feel I was wrong. Until one of their members appeared and actually proved victorious, my beliefs would stand.

She left a bit disappointed, but knowing that I would fulfil my side of the bargain when the time came.

I was quietly relieved as I watched her write off, shaking my head at the fact that it was still August 1898. A single question came to mind, and I spoke it aloud, which probably jinxed myself.

"What will the rest of the year bring?"

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