Gaius' mouth was full of a tangy aftertaste when he woke up. He wasn't entirely certain, but he thought he heard a noise coming from downstairs. It was exactly that hushed kind of noise Gaius himself produced on many an occasion when breaking in.

  He opened his eyes. Everything around him looked clear and had a red outline. At least now he knew exactly which potions he was drinking.

  His less than ideal sleeping position left Gaius with a neck that turned only halfway, but that only made him look meaner when he got up and brandished his axe.

  If he had to guess, Alejo's goons decided to pay him a visit. Break a few windows, maybe a few bones, and show him what happened to those who their boss didn't consider a friend.

  "Now listen here, fellas," Gaius shouted downstairs. "I know you think you're hitting some merchant with more gold than sense on his hands, but let me assure you, you have no idea who you're dealing with here. There hasn't yet come a day when a bunch of common thugs screwed me over and lived to tell the tale. You have exactly one chance to leave before I get down there."

  Gaius couldn't hear any leaving. There weren't any official guidelines for Gaius' profession of choice, but perhaps the most respected unwritten rule of it stated that thieves didn't steal from other thieves. And while the guys downstairs had no way of knowing they were disrespecting a colleague, Gaius still had a reputation to uphold.

  This time he added a flaming enchantment to his axe. It wasn't quite as deadly as the humble dollop of acid, but way flashier, exactly what he needed to put a scare in a bunch of backwater bumpkins.

  As the flame engulfed the axe head, a sharp stabbing sensation forced Gaius to close his eyes and scream out in pain. He completely forgot about his potion-enhanced eyesight.

  He dispelled the enchantment, rubbed his eyes, and left the room. And even though he was able to see now, Gaius couldn't spot any intruders.

  "Is this how it's going to be? You're hiding now?" Gaius hit a nearby wall with the blunt side of the axe head. "Come on out, it's not even on fire anymore, you fucking cowards."

  A sharp hissing noise came from behind one of the shelves. Gaius took it as an invitation to rush ahead and overwhelm whoever was hiding there.

  The shelf was neither high nor wide enough to hide any proper thug. This occurred to Gaius as he was just about to turn the corner.

  His eyes were still sharper than those of an elven cat, so he couldn't even disbelieve them when they showed him a minor demon - an imp - crouched behind the shelf.

  The creature was about waist high, had leathery bat wings, and skin the color of a ripe tomato. Its stumpy legs ended in hooves, while a pair of tiny horns adorned its scraggly head.

  "Shut your yapping, pal," the imp said instead of a hello in a deep coarse voice entirely unfitting for a creature of such minute size.

  More out of surprise than anything else, Gaius sent a chop in the imp's general direction.

  The demon slipped from under the strike with a short hop and then proceeded to flap his wings just out of Gaius' reach.

  "Settle down, you horse-stealing bald-headed bum. You might hurt yourself with that thing," the imp said, hovering at about Gaius' face height.

  "I'm not signing anything," Gaius blurted out while trying to remember what he knew about dealing with forces that shouldn't be mentioned around crossroads.

  "And I'm not asking." The imp squinted at Gaius. "Not like your sorry excuse for a soul would even fetch anything."

  There were rituals, blessed concoctions and weapons, exorcisms and prayers that helped combat demons. But all of those required some connection to the divine and maybe a pinch of piety. And seeing how during his last visit to a temple Gaius nicked a couple of very expensive and even more holy tablets, he figured he didn't have a lot saved up in that particular line of credit.

  "Who summoned you? Was it Alejo?" Gaius asked, thinking that maybe he underestimated the shabby extortionist.

  "Who?"

  This was the first demon Gaius had ever met, so it was difficult to be certain, but the puzzlement on the creature's unnaturally pointy face looked genuine enough.

  "Forget about it."

  "Whatever." The imp planted himself on a shelf and crossed his tiny arms on his exceedingly hairy chest.

  This gave Gaius a chance to breathe and realize he was having a chat with a denizen of hell like it was a belligerent drinking buddy.

  Just to be on the safe side, Gaius wasn't putting the axe completely away, but he did lower it and relaxed his grip a bit. If he had a choice, he preferred not to fight a fiend, no matter the size.

  "What are you doing here if you're not with Alejo?" Gaius asked.

  "Hiding."

  "Why?"

  "Because I wasn't looking forward to being pestered with inane questions about some Alejo, whatever that is, on my night off." The imp smacked his lips with a mixture of disgust and annoyance. "Yet here we are."

  "And I'm supposed to nod and act like that explained anything? Like it's perfectly normal to have a chat with a demon in the middle of the night?" Gaius presented his middle finger to the demon. "No. Fuck you and fuck your smug triangular little face."

  The demon reacted to that by covering his ears, sticking his forked tongue out, and hissing at Gaius. A few moments later, the imp said, "Easy there with the language, pal."

  "What's wrong with my language?"

  "It disappoints your mother." The imp's words dripped more acid than Gaius axe did earlier that day.

  Gaius blamed his inexperience when dealing with demons on his current state of complete and utter befuddlement, so he returned to a topic that made at least some sense.

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  "You still didn't explain what you were doing here in the store, to begin with."

  The imp grunted. "It's my store. I work here."

  "Right."

  "What, you steal a horse and suddenly think you own the place?"

  "I've no idea what you're talking about."

  "Oh, I see, you merely borrowed your ride for a while after kicking the previous owner to the curb." The imp shook his clawed finger at Gaius. "Save it for the judge, pal," he said with a grim smirk.

  "Alright, how do you know about that?" There was no point in denying things any further.

  The imp coughed and shook his head. "Na-huh. Not dealing with this. Just shut up, sit tight, and wait for the big man. He'll tell you everything you need to know." Preempting Gaius' objection, the demon glanced at his axe and added, "And if you think about running or swinging that thing again, let's circle back to those horses one last time. Alive, dead, the boss didn't specify which way he preferred you."

  For a moment Gaius did consider running. But then the sheer absurdity of the situation forced him to ask, "Who's this boss of yours?"

  The imp snorted and looked past Gaius. A different voice came from the staircase. "Ah, if it isn't my new employee."

  The Slavian accent was a dead giveaway, but Gaius slowly turned his head just to be absolutely sure.

  Standing on the stairs he saw Vasily. The old man's suit looked impeccable and his head was once again occupying its rightful spot.

  "You have got to be shitting me."

  Gaius' crude outburst resulted in the imp hissing again, but by that point, an angry creature straight out of hell was yesterday's news for him. The entirety of his attention was focused on the store's real owner.

  Vasily tilted his head and shrugged as if to boast his complete control over the neck and its surrounding areas.

  "You see, son, death and me, we are not exactly on friendly terms," he said. With each word, the old man took a single step forward. When he was done, he was breathing in Gaius' face, and despite his calm demeanor, he didn't look at all friendly.

  "You breathe," Gaius noted.

  "Yes," Vasily agreed.

  "No." Gaius stepped back. "I'm from Mystlund if you remember. As kids, a lot of us get the talk when grandpa starts to smell funny and then moves into the attic or the family crypt. I know a lich when I see one. So why do you bother breathing?"

  "A lich." With Vasily's accent, the word sounded like an insult. "What a crude, unpleasant state of being. Your parents, my good boy, must have not been as educated as you think, or you'd know that a mere lich would have been reduced to a floating skull after today's incident. A crown, a pair of glowing eyeholes, constantly chattering teeth. That's no way to live."

  The old man was clearly mocking him, but Gaius didn't see any other options but to take it and try to learn more about his predicament.

  "Alright, so what do I call you then?" he asked.

  "Vasily. Or boss, if that suits you better." A set of wrinkles around the old man's eyes indicated he was joking. "But if you have to know, I am what we in Slavia call a koschei." When Gaius reacted to that with a blank stare, Vasily elaborated, "Still a wizard, a phylactery of sorts is still involved, but the actual process is more akin to molding yourself into something undying, as opposed to your approach of ripping yourself from the cycle of life and death altogether. It's more natural this way. I still eat, breathe, and get all the other perks of healthy circulation. Plus, it's much easier to reanimate yourself after some underground beast catches you with your pants down."

  "They call them alefs here," Gaius felt compelled to clarify.

  "I see. And what are they?" The old man's voice was full of curiosity.

  Before Gaius could answer, Vasily headed for the kitchen. Gaius had no choice but to follow.

  "I don't think they really know," he said.

  Past the beaded curtain, Vasily produced a handkerchief from an inside pocket. He gave it a good shake, causing it to expand into a wide piece of cloth embroidered with stylized images of woodland creatures native to Slavia – bears, foxes, and rabbits. He then shook it once again and immediately placed it down on the table. Once he did, a misty glass bottle and two clay mugs appeared out of thin air, surrounded by plates full of cured meats and cheeses, and a few loaves of fresh, still steaming bread.

  The old man sat down, poured foamy mead into the mugs, and invited Gaius to join him.

  When a sorcerer who can shrug off losing his head easier than you get over a light cough offers you a drink, you don't really have a lot of options.

  After they were done with the first round of mead, Vasily tore into a thick slice of ham and resumed their previous conversation.

  "Shame. Those creatures are the main reason I came here in person. After you were gone with my caravan, I caught a couple of them and dug around inside. Truly fascinating automatons, they are. I was hoping the locals would shed some light on their origins."

  The imp followed them and was now picking through the dying embers in the stove with his tail. The embers hurt Gaius' eyes, reminding him that this entire conversation was taking place without any lights on.

  This was where he congratulated himself on his ability to scream internally, while outwardly looking perfectly fine with the situation.

  "Caught them and dug around? Just like that?" Gaius asked after taking a bite from a sandwich he had put together.

  "What can I say. I had just teleported an entire caravan full of stuff, and me with it, across an ocean. On top of that, I was busy pretending to care about whatever you were saying. And that horrible noise. They got one over on me, I won't lie. But once my head stopped spinning, I showed them what's what."

  "You mean rolling," Gaius corrected Vasily. The imp, who was awfully quiet this whole time couldn't help but chuckle, but shut up again once the old man raised an eyebrow at him.

  "This is where I get all mean-looking and tell you how you shouldn't joke with the dead," Vasily said.

  The old man leaned back and as he did, his features shrunk and deformed. Parts of his skin rotted away, revealing a lipless grin. Gaius felt a shiver creep up his spine, freezing him in place. Then, the moment passed, and Vasily once again resembled the perfect gentleman.

  He let out a quick cackle and said, "Nah, that's not my style. But do not interrupt me again, son." With that out of the way, he continued, "You are from Mystlund, as we've established. You know what a real spellcaster is capable of. I simply stopped the flow of time around the buggers and had a field day with them."

  The nonchalant attitude with which Vasily mentioned using time manipulation was even more terrifying than his previous display.

  "I don't know if there's an archmage currently alive in Mystlund who's capable of something like that," Gaius mumbled, full of awe.

  Vasily was clearly enjoying the effects his words had on Gaius.

  He winked and said, "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, there are drawbacks to my condition. It's not all power and wisdom."

  "What drawbacks?" Gaius asked.

  "As far as I can tell, your liches can run for centuries on crankiness alone. Me, I need to borrow some life force on occasion."

  Gaius froze once again. All that food on the table. What if he was the second course? Vasily caught that and reacted with a half-smile.

  "Judging by your lack of hair and your outright shabby appearance, you must be getting up there in years, son. You have nothing to worry about. My purposes require the vitality of youth."

  More or less reassured he was in no immediate danger, Gaius was finally able to swallow the chunk of bread he had stuck in his throat for a while.

  "And I guess running a successful business acts as a cover for all the kidnappings?" he asked.

  Vasily poured another round of mead, chugged half a mug, and said, "Son, I am an immortal businessman with a store in nearly every major city. There are few who wouldn't gladly give up a few decades of their life just for a shot at briefly sharing in my wealth. In fact, I had to hire a couple of ogres just to turn away all the overeager supplicants from my castle."

  Gaius nodded to all of this, thinking that immortal or not, but Vasily really was a shining example of a Slavian. Bragging came so seamlessly natural to him.

  And much as Gaius enjoyed a good story of riches and magics, a single thought has been nagging at him for a while now.

  "You told me to call you boss. Why?"

  Vasily was in no rush to reply. He finished his drink, smacked his lips, and wiped the foam off his beard. Finally, he said, "Where I come from, son, a man's word has weight. You introduced yourself as one of my employees when you arrived here. Now, you have to follow through with those words and be one. Alive or dead, that's for you to choose."

  "You can't be serious."

  "Oh, but I am. Either you work for me, or you are a thief. And in my business, you can't go soft on thieves. So even though your transgression may be minor, amusing even, I have a certain image to maintain. You know how that goes."

  The mad glint in the old man's eyes painted a clear enough picture of what would happen should Gaius turn this offer down. That picture involved thorny vines and reanimated horses.

  Story Facts - Chapter 5