March saw the snow retreating, heralding the arrival of spring.

  Green started to spread all around the Dungeon and beyond. The appearance of wildflowers soon followed this. Adding in the animals' return to wandering between the trees, everything was as it should be.

  Out on the road, more people started to travel. Wagons and horses were soon coming to and fro. Herbert was able to resume a regular visiting schedule. With this, the papers began to arrive more regularly.

  Out in the Philippines, it seems that the rebellion against both the Imperial Japanese and German armies occupying the different halves of the islands had finally come to an end. Fighting still rumbled on in South Africa, but was far more sedate at the moment as both sides were licking their wounds and reorganising after several months of heavy fighting.

  Tensions lingered between the United States of America and the United Central States of America. The US Gulf Squadron was now regularly exercising off the coast of the southern neighbour.

  It was towards the end of the month that Senior Ahmed made his first appearance of the year. I watched him as he wandered up to the gates with his escort and summoned my avatar. We exchanged the usual greetings and pleasantries, then got down to business.

  "We are most satisfied with the initial profits from our oil exploration." He smiled while speaking to me. "We are most grateful for your information. We have made great strides in securing drilling rights in several basins within Texas. We are currently exploring the rest of the country in the areas you indicated for any additional deposits."

  "That is good to hear. What of the sourcing of helium?"

  He frowned slightly now. "That is going slower, but we are making progress. Several wealthy individuals and different companies, both nationally and internationally, have expressed interest in buying the helium from us to be used in the development of airship technology."

  "You should start to see a return increase in the next ten years."

  "We agree. The flight of Count Zeppelin's L1 has greatly increased interest in airship technology. Many new companies are looking to be established, and we are quite advertising the advantages of helium over hydrogen."

  "Yes, I believe not exploding will generally help sell your product."

  He nodded and said nothing to that. It was time for me to ask him my question.

  "Senior Ahmed. I find it strange that normal members of your organisation are not seeking to challenge themselves against my Dungeon."

  He tried to hide it, but he tensed when I asked him the question. The slight movement of his shoulders gave away his unease. Over the decades, he had become far more observant and quickly spotted his micro-gesture.

  He smiled, trying to cover his initial reaction. I think he saw that I had noticed it. "Keeper, that is quite easy to answer. The recent increase in the natural flow of magical energy through the world meets most of our members' needs. We suspect that eventually some more will test themselves, but for the moment, the majority of our members are happy with the resources they have access to."

  I suspected he was telling me only part of the truth. Most would be satisfied with the mystical energy increase that I had inadvertently created. But I knew human nature was well. There are always those who hunger for more.

  "That is good to know, Senior Ahmed. But please remember that anyone who wishes to come is always welcome to test themselves."

  I didn't want to push the issue just yet.

  "Of course, Keeper. We have told all of our members that any who wish to test themselves need only step forth and say so." He was still smiling at me, and I knew he was lying.

  There was something else going on here, something I wasn't aware of yet. Were they purposely withholding information from their members? Or with the risks too much for them to take. I suspected that the only member of their organisation who survived the trial had painted quite the picture.

  This brought our conversation to an end, and he set off quickly. He sought to end the conversation faster than usual, and he rode away a little bit faster as well. Something in my question had rattled him.

  March gave way to April, and the first visitors of the year arrived.

  I watched as the two men approached the gates. I spotted them through the trees' foliage, coming from the road. I had recently had the Hunters out clearing back the vegetation that was always threatening to reclaim the path to the road.

  Harrington did not enjoy this aspect of the job, but he did it.

  There were two older Caucasian men. Both rough and unkept. Their clothes were heavily patched and worn. I would not call them outdoors types; they are just poor. This made them possibly treasure hunters or grave robbers.

  I watched them tie up their horses and approach the gates. Each carried a pack with a shovel and various other mining implements. Neither was armed with any firearm I could see. Each was in desperate need of a bath, I think, and I could see the clear signs of alcoholism on the faces of both men. One had a slight yellow tinge; I wondered if his liver was even functioning properly anymore.

  "This is the place, then." One said.

  "Reckon so." The other replied, looking through the gates. "This is where the locals said they might be buried treasure."

  "You think they were lying to us? Telling us a fable to get us out of the town?" The first person to look at was the partner as he spoke.

  "Maybe. The sheriff said he had the stories himself and knew of this place." He didn't say anything more, just started coughing loudly. He was the one who looked ill, and I suspected that he was suffering from liver disease and maybe something else.

  Interesting. Why had the sheriff sent the two men this way?. My dealings with him had him hiding the evidence of those who passed through and turning a blind eye to the horses Herbert sold. From what these two men were indicating, he had actively sent them this way with stories of buried gold.

  The conversation continued in this vein as they passed into the courtyard. They settled on this heading towards the church; they could see the spire clearly in the distance.

  "Mighty large place." The first said. His partner never answered, only coughing violently again, holding a rag to his mouth. When he pulled away, I saw blood on it. The other man wasn't looking at him, but out across the graveyard.

  The two started walking, taking the northern path.

  [Two Challengers have entered your Dungeon.]

  Well, the dye was cast now.

  McGregor would be the first of my Hunters to take a crack at them. Looking the two over, I suspected that he would make short work of them. Neither of them was carrying any weapons or tools that could be used as such. The hands were empty, and anything that could be used as a weapon was strapped to their backs.

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  The sun was high in the sky, and there was no chance of them running into the Hateful Spirit if they somehow got past him.

  The second man was still coughing.

  "Did not the doc tell you to smoke more to help with that?" The first asked his partner.

  "Aye. I can't afford good tobacco." He eventually replied.

  If that was medical advice he was given, I was amazed that half the people out there were still alive. But then I had to remember that medical technology and knowledge of this time were at least a century behind what I was familiar with.

  I moved just above them, slightly behind as they walked. This gave me the best view of them and the surrounding graveyard. I was looking around for McGregor, and it wasn't long before I spotted him. He had quickly found the two men as they were not walking at a very brisk pace.

  He spent several minutes watching them, getting a feel for his prey. I watched as he stalked from their rear. Both men were oblivious to the danger behind them. They were to focus on the distant goal and not pay attention to the area around them.

  He moved in quickly and low. His blade was drawn, and he was looking for a blitz attack. He was clearly aiming to take out the healthier man first, since he might be the most dangerous. It had become quite clear to him that one of the men was ill and quite badly at that.

  He was right on top of them before they even realised they were in danger. He splashed out across the back of the legs of the first man who had spoken at the gates. He screamed in pain and collapsed.

  The second turned to face their attacker with a look of pure shock on his face. This only increased when McGregor stepped in close to him, driving his knife through his chest into his heart. He coughed up a lot of blood, and his legs went out from under him. McGregor held up and pulled out his blade, letting him drop as soon as it was free.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill.]

  He turned to the wounded man on the ground with the usual sadistic smile on his face and got to work. He pulled out a coil of rope he was hiding under his coat and began looking around for a decent work spot. He found one and dragged the man over to it and began tying him up.

  The first man died…. eventually.

  [A Hunter has made a Kill.]

  I wasn't there to see him do his thing.

  April has been quite a pleasant month weather-wise so far.

  Across the river, the farmer was planting his next crop, and there seemed to be more people on the road than normal. I heard from Herbert that the population of Crossway had increased by at least a thousand over the past five years, making it a relatively prosperous town in the region. Trade with Cascadia due to the rail line running through the mountains was the main reason for this.

  It had taken me three days to clean up the mess left by McGregor. I had a chat with him, explaining that I disapproved of the mess he was leaving behind, and that he wanted to do such things again, please do it within his own lair. He promised me that he would.

  He seemed to be in a better mood these days.

  A light rain shower had recently passed through, and everything was a bit wet but not excessively so. It was about midday, and the sun was out drying the land and the graveyard.

  I was at the top of the spatial bubble as usual, looking around, when I spotted movement through the trees on the path to the Dungeon. I waited a few moments to confirm it was real movement down there, as the wind in the trees had tricked me, casting shadows that seemed to move and resemble someone approaching. This time I was sure.

  An open-topped buggy rolled out of the trees. A single horse was pulling it with a driver sitting behind it. Inside the buggy were two men and two women. I watched as it came up close to the gates and stopped. The driver quickly got out and opened the door, creating a small step to facilitate the occupants' exit.

  Watching them and taking in the details of the buggy horse and their clothes all in it screamed one word: money.

  "This was not good. Not good at all!"

  I watched as they stepped into the courtyard and looked out upon the graveyard.

  "This is truly amazing!" One of the men said. He spoke with an eastern accent, possibly somewhere around New York. "To think such a place exists out here so far West."

  "Truly, Albert. Who do you think built such a place?" One of the women said. She stood beside him while the other two made another couple.

  "I fear I must claim ignorance, Miss Jennifer. But to build such a place speaks of a great deal of financial resources."

  They seemed like they were about to start walking deeper into the graveyard when another smaller buggy arrived behind them. I recognise the driver straight away as Eleanor.

  "There you all are!" She exclaimed. "Pray tell what brought you up this road?"

  "Miss McGuinness!" Exclaimed the other woman with evident joy. "How daring of you to be riding alone."

  "Miss Mary, it is a modern age, and I am an independent woman; of course, I should ride alone!" Eleanor said proudly. "I came looking for you when I heard from your telegram that you were riding up from Bosie."

  "We came to investigate the stories of the graveyard here." The man, identified as Albert, said. He turned and looked out across the graveyard again. "A truly most spectacular place. Even the graveyards of the East lack compared to here."

  "Indeed, it is. But come along, I have rooms arranged for you in town. We have much to discuss." Eleanor quickly shepherded them back to their buggy and had them riding away.

  She looked over her shoulder briefly as she disappeared into the trees with a look of relief that she had got there in time. I echoed that feeling as the death of wealthy individuals always brought questions, and those were the things I hated when they were asked about me and my domain.

  "So, what was that about?"

  I asked Eleanor when she returned a couple of days later.

  "I apologise for that, Keeper." She seemed genuine in that. "The two men are sons of rich industrialists that we are seeking to influence. Both have a rather strange interest in the macabre and have heard stories of your graveyard. I have managed to turn them away to other pursuits right now, but I fear they may return."

  "You know what happens if they do."

  She didn't say anything and nodded at my warning. I could not afford the death of two wealthy industrial sons. Their families would want answers to the question of why they had disappeared.

  "I take it your plans to infiltrate the national media are progressing well."

  I chose to change the subject.

  She perked up at my words, recognising what I was doing. "Indeed, they are, Keeper. We have made considerable inroads into several families that control large sections of the printed media supplied to the population. After the motion picture industry, you have hinted at, we are seeing the first signs of it in Los Angeles, but we suspect it will still be another decade or more before it really starts."

  I nod along as she speaks, thinking that the timeline she is projecting is accurate.

  "Infiltrating the studio system early on will give you a great advantage. But do not forget about radio, it too will be a major component in developing your control over the population."

  "Our sisters in Britain are keeping a close eye on that. The technology is progressing, and we suspect it will be another ten years as well before it becomes more available to the population."

  "More like twenty, I believe, if things continue as they are."

  She accepts my words with another nod. "It will be another few years before we have substantial control, but we are starting to see the advantages you were indicating to us. We have been shaping national narratives on certain subjects."

  "Are you opposing the American Christian Woman's Temperance and Morality League?"

  "Not greatly. We are suppressing some of their messaging as it conflicts with some of our interests. Why?"

  "Have you ever thought about what would happen if they actually passed their prohibition on alcohol?"

  She opened her mouth to speak straight away, but stopped pondering my question. She closed her mouth and thought hard about what I asked her.

  "The most obvious thing is that alcohol will become illegal. I suspect it would be driven underground but not disappear." She said after a few moments of thought.

  "Both your ideas are correct. But then you are missing out on one crucial fact."

  "Which is?"

  "Alcohol will become very expensive because it will be harder to find. In those places that serve it, we will be able to make a substantial amount of money by supplying a service to our population, which, on the whole, will oppose the ban. Remember, what people say in public and what they do in private are very different things."

  She stops and thinks about it for some time, grasping what I was saying to her. I was giving her a heads-up about the Prohibition era, if it came into effect, and how to profit from it.

  "Such places would have to be hidden from law enforcement." She said her eyes were distant, thinking about what I was hinting at.

  "And can supply more than just alcohol if so inclined."

  I added.

  "Yes, depending on clientele." She was starting to get it.

  She then asked. "Are you asking us to help them?"

  "No. But don't stand in their way either. If prohibition of alcohol comes, let it happen, just be ready to profit when it does."

  She thanks me for my words and sets off back to Crossway.

  I watch her until she vanishes into the trees. I dismiss my avatar and return to the top of the spatial bubble, where I can focus on my own thoughts.

  The competition planted an idea in my own mind. Could I profit from prohibition?

  Alcohol production would become illegal, and I remember the stories I read about moonshine distilleries existing wherever they could be built. Part of the country became legendary for its industry and its enduring impact on American culture.

  I needed income. I have been reviewing my plans and decided to make a few changes. Herbert was still alive and well, and I would have to have him make a few changes soon, especially regarding what would happen to the land after his death. I was struggling to establish the trust to protect the land, but I was going to expand upon it.

  I needed another means of influence in the world, separate from the Way of Athamos and the Daughters of Medusa. I trusted them to follow their own desires and plans. As long as they did not conflict with my own, I was content to leave them alone, but I was sensing the threat of a possible divergence.

  Going into the moonshine business might be a good idea if prohibition comes.

  That led to the next question.

  How the hell do you set a still?