“Is there anything else?” I asked.

Arin, Renee, a wounded adventurer named Hener and I were all gathered by my gate discussing the dungeon. Hener’s party of nine had been the first group to head towards the mountains, and had found the entrance about thirty miles away from my house.

True to what Arin had told me when I’d first arrived in this world, the dungeon itself existed in the old ruins of a town, mostly buried under rock and mud, but still recognizable for what it is. The adventurers didn’t know where exactly the entrance was however, because a band of orcs were currently there making a pilgrimage to bring their sacrifices.

The party would have returned completely intact from their scouting mission, but were ambushed by a troll, leaving the man we’d found in the river dead and a few others of the group injured. The dungeon- being undead in kind- had corrupted the lost adventurer, turning him into what was pretty much a zombie. A foul way to go, surely, but his part thanked me for his dispatch.

“Not really, no.” The adventurer shook his head. He was a good foot taller than I was, and built like an ox. His hair was blonde and curly, with a short beard to match.

“Thank you, Hener.” I smiled, “Get rested, along with your party. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s what happens in our line of work.” He sighed, “But thank you, sir.”

I handed the man eight silver coins and told him to distribute them among his remaining members. It wasn’t a massive amount of money, but a silver for each would either pay for a couple of day’s accommodations or a few rounds of ale.

He thanked me and left.

“I thought it would’ve taken longer for the dungeon to be found…” Renee had a worried look about her.

“I as well.” I nodded, “But now that we know where it is, it’ll be easier to prepare.”

I’d need to work to expand past the soon to be town as soon as I could. At my current rate it wouldn't take long, but the boost from the people and the inn would be great.

“Don’t worry though.” I said. “We’ll be okay in the end, I’m sure of it.”

“I hope so.” She nodded.

“Arin, could you grab the core book?” I asked, having an idea.

“On it.” She darted off.

She soon returned, and passed me the leatherbound book.

I opened to display current magic use, just to gauge where we were.

Magical Capacity:

1503/6200

Magical Generation:

565/hr

Magical Expenditure

215/hr

Magical Recovery:

350/hr

Ent Lvl. 2: 120/hr

Nymph: 50/hr

Utilities: 45/hr

Hmm…

“Arin, is an ent the only golem I can make?”

“They’re the only ones I ever have, but I’m not sure. Before you did it, I didn’t know you could combine them either.” The nymph said.

I walked up to the nearest coffee plant and plucked a few cherries.

If my core book worked not on a set system, but rather how my brain thought it should, then nothing should stop me from making new things. Probably. I wasn’t sure.

I buried the fruits shallow, and thought about exactly what I wanted. It took a second of planning, but once I had my basic idea down an option popped up inside the core book.

Grow Ent Archer: 350+ 50/hr

Yes. I smiled, placing my hands on the ground and watching the coffee beans grow out of the ground.

The two leg stocks grew much thinner than they had even on the regular ent, but taller. The body slowly forming maxed out at about six feet in height, but looked thinner than a stickman at its end. Out of its left hand sprouted two tall limbs, one towards the ground and the other the sky, connected together by a tendril of tightly bound vine, creating a bow. In its right formed seven long, thin arrows, all connected to its limb still, but clear in what they were with fletchings of leaves and narrow, pointy heads.

After the skeleton had grown out, the entire body began to sprout leaves, covering the ent archer and bulking up its frame. They were largely aesthetic, but I guessed that if the construct were to take a blow from something blunt the leaves would cushion the blow.

“Woah…” Renee blinked from where she stood.

“Come on, never seen a little tree man grow out of the ground before?” I grinned. I was very satisfied with my creation.

The barmaid, now innkeeper, shook her head at me in exasperation.

I, however, ignored her and decided to test my creation. Taking the archer with me outside the gate, I pointed at a pine tree forty feet away and ordered it to shoot.

The ent drew its bow in one fluid motion, and the arrow attached to its hand snapped free and sailed in an arc, embedding itself dead center of the pine trunk. I speedwalked to the target to check the damage, and found that the arrow had sunk a solid two inches into the wood.

Something, something, two inches is enough. I thought, before going back to admire the golem. The arrow it had expended was rapidly regrowing, and only took thirty seconds before it was as good as new. I whistled.

“Well Arin,” I said, “There’s more security.”

“That’s incredible!” She did a little jump. “I’ve never thought to try anything different.”

“Well, if we can… may as well do some more experimenting later.” I nodded. “I’m rather low on magic now though, truthfully. We’ll have to try some more later.”

“Should we name this one?” Arin asked.

“Hm…” I thought, “Well, it’ll get real confusing if we make more. Maybe we should just name them by type?”

“That could work.”

“Baum for regular ents, and… Feil for the archers.”

“Feil? I like it. You’re quick on the naming” She commented

“Well… uh…” I hesitated. I didn’t want to tell her I was just bootlegging the roots for their names from german.

“How many of those can you make?” Renee asked.

“Theoretically, as many as I want.” I said.

I didn’t want to necessarily expose my limits in defense, though I did trust Renee. At least to a degree.

At my current capacity, I could create a few more golems before my recovery would be dangerously slow, so that’s what I did.

Magical Capacity:

453/6200

Magical Generation:

565/hr

Magical Expenditure

215/hr

Magical Recovery:

200/hr

Ent Lvl. 2: 120/hr

Ent Archer (x3): 150/hr

Nymph: 50/hr

Utilities: 45/hr

Even with only three new ent archers it would take me twenty eight hours to recover my magical capacity. With all the coffee plants Arin had sown, my generation had greatly increased, however it seemed that each plant had a minimal effect in itself. It was all rather frustrating. Growth was slow, defense was expensive, and at this stage there wasn’t much I could do to make it go faster. Sure I could build and farm, but even that was slow or expensive. I wasn’t keen to go out and endanger myself killing things, nor go treasure hunting.

Treasure hunting? I thought.

“Hey Renee.” I got her attention.

“Yes?”

“Remember how we talked about distilling?”

“I do…” She tilted her head.

“How about we make a deal? I’ll cover the startup cost, land, buildings, and actual distillation. You handle workers, marketing, shipping, and supplies. Profit split sixty, forty, my way.” I scratched my chin as I spoke. “And your inn gets reduced rates.

She blinked twice at the offer.

“Take some time to think about it, of course.”

Renee pursed her lips, deep in thought. She shifted foot to foot, made to say something, rethought, and settled on another minute or so of silence.

“...When could we start?” She asked hesitantly.

“I can get stills as soon as a coppersmith can make them, and we’d actually start distilling as soon as we had the barrels, building, and mash.”

The barmaid thought for another moment, brushed her brown hair behind her ear and smiled.

“I think we have a deal.”

“Perfect.” I smiled.

….

Two weeks later, multiple stills were ordered and the distillery was well under construction. The complex was being built in between the road leading to Livartown the the mountain river, a perfectly convenient geological feature for a craft that takes large amounts of water. I hired the mages that had worked to build Renee’s inn, and they’d already finished the first rickhouse’s foundation and framing.

The first groups of otherland adventures had also arrived, granting me my first sightings of how those that would drive my economy and war really acted. Many were gruff and rugged, but at the same some looked like sophisticates, using their profession as a means to elevate themselves above the common man. The differences between the two types were stark, but most glaring was the armor. The latter group seemingly put more effort into maintaining their gear’s bright colors and polish than a hot rod aficionado would their vehicle.

My territory had just reached the edge of where the town was coming up, and I realized the little village would need a name. Eventually, after much thought I settled on Eden. Though the people of this world knew nothing of the name’s history, it went over well with people who heard it. I wish I could say the reason for the choice was something to do with perfection or promised land, but truthfully I just liked the song Here in Eden by Charles Wesley Godwin, and thought it fitting.

Subsequently, the distillery was to be called Eden’s Nectar, which Renee had already begun to spread word around about. I made sure she knew that it would be quite some time before we were actually ready to sell booze, but even so she’d secured contracts with a few noble houses. The girl’s drive and connections went far beyond what I’d expected.

Unfortunately, however, these developments came with a whole slew of paperwork.

“I’m taking a break.” I sighed.

Arin and I were in my office, with me reading and signing documents and her enjoying a cup of tea. The tailor had dropped by a week or so ago, and delivered clothing for the nymph the morning previous. She was currently wearing a pair of deep green pants and a cream and brown blouse. She’d been drawn to the more natural colors the tailor had brought, and dressed much more timidly than I’d have expected.

It’d been interesting to see her choices, as she’d been either naked or in a magical robe her entire life. The robe almost entirely for my own sake. Subsequently, she was unshy with her body, but kind enough to dress modestly. The nymph had been no more socialized in this world’s culture than I had, so her perceptions of many things were largely dependent on what I knew and would be comfortable with, something I was thankful for.

Therein, her choices reflected that: modest, dull in color, but still free and complimentary to her nature. The intentions were clearly to balance her levels of comfort with an aesthetic of her choice, and I thought it was the best it could have been. There was something innately attractive about someone being natural in how they carried their dress, and Arin was that to a tee.

“Want to go for a walk?” She asked, setting her porcelain down on a coffee table.

“That… sounds like a good plan.” I nodded. “It’d be good to move.”

I threw on my gunbelt and some boots, while Arin remained barefoot. She’d denied the opportunity to acquire shoes, claiming she didn’t need them.

The two of us made small talk as we walked outside of my yard, passed the wall. One of the ent archers stood quietly on the gate, watching us with a faceless face as we walked by. Its orders were to make any dungeon spawn holier than before, and was always focused on its duty.

“Have you been well with this whole arrangement? That of you helping me?” I asked Arin when we made it to the riverbanks. We were a ways off from both the site of the distillery and where we found the corrupted adventurer.

“What’s that question about?” She tilted her head.

“Just… wondering.” I shrugged, “This whole time, you haven’t complained about a thing.”

The nymph took a moment to think.

“I’m not really sure if there is anything for me to complain about.” She finished.

“Now, is that the truth or feelings being bottled?” I asked.

Arin pouted.

“The truth.” She declared. “I lived in the valley with nothing but myself, the forest, and the river. When the deity told me I’d aid the Sanctuary Master, I worried over what you’d have been like. I knew very little of other sentients, but what I did know was frightening and sad.

“But when I met you, you were kind to me. You treated me well and let me partake in your limited luxuries, something which I could never have hoped to before. You even gave me a room… and called me your friend.”

So no, I don't have all that much to complain about.” She finished.

“I’m glad you think so highly of the situation, dearheart.” I smiled warmly.

“But what about you?” She asked.

I paused.

“I was ripped from my world, handed a magic book and told to beat a dungeon. Frankly, there haven't been many things in my life that I’d say were better.” I chuckled. “Truthfully though, this has been fun.”

The nymph breathed a sigh of relief.

We walked along the river as we continued our chat. The water flowed blue and clear, creating an almost musical feeling with its sounds. What I’d told Arin was true, not many things had happened to me as good as being summoned here.

The mage-made road was our return path. As we walked I was continually impressed by the speed at which it had been created, as well as the quality. The packed dirt paving blocks were smooth and even, with the seams hardly noticeable.

“Hello!” A man’s voice called out as I admired the road. Ahead of us was a young fellow in a dark robe.

“Good day.” I nodded my own greeting.

The silence as our paths crossed was awkward, with nothing more being said. It was only after Arin and I had passed the man by that he spoke.

“You wouldn’t happen to be the Sanctuary Master, would you?”

I stopped to turn.

“Yes-”

The man had a blade out, and was already closing in. His right hand rocketed forward, right towards my chest.

Time seemed to slow as the silver metal came closer, and before I could so much as gasp Arin had moved to intercept. The blade pierced her hand and kept going, but she had deflected it enough that it avoided any of my vitals. Rather, it quietly slipped into my left shoulder, clearly visible but causing no pain.

For a moment, no one moved. I was still too shocked to act, but like a punch the realization hit me.

This dude just stabbed me. I blinked in rage. He stabbed Arin!

The hooded man and I made eye contact for a single instant, only long enough to get my glare across, before my right hand dropped to my hip. Arin was still pinned to me by the blade, but she was on my left side, leaving me free to draw my revolver.

I pulled the weapon high and pointed it to our attackers head, but when I pulled the trigger, no bang sounded.

I didn’t cock the hammer. I blinked, before action set in and my thumb moved upwards. Unfortunately, the stabber got wise and smacked my pistol aside with his free hand. With one arm imobile and the other batted away, I decided to use my head.

A crack sounded as my skull connected with the man’s nose, causing him to real back in shock. On his retreat, he pulled the blade from Arin and I, causing her to break from her shock and groan in pain. My own still hadn’t registered, and for that I was thankful.

The villain kept his arm close enough to keep me from pointing the revolver at him, drawing back his knife for another stab. Blood was streaming down his nose, but otherwise he was actually quite handsome. An odd observation for me to have made as he tried to murder me, but one I made nonetheless.

I tried to move my left arm, but it failed to obey, so in that instant I kicked instead, right into his right thigh. The blow staggered the attacker, leaving my right arm free to favorably position my gun. With a quick cock of the hammer and a trigger pull, a hole existed where I’d wanted one, right in the man’s lower gut.

He grunted with the blow, taking a step forward before dropping to the fetal position. My shot had been at a downward angle, and shattered his pelvis. Adrenaline could only do so much to prevent pain, and the man began to groan.

I took that chance to rush to Arin’s side. She was a few feet away, clutching her hand with wide eyes. The nymph had saved my life by intercepting the blade, but a quick glance told me that she’d likely severed a tendon or two.

“Arin!” I gently grabbed her wrist after holstering my gun, “Are you okay? Let me see.”

She didn’t respond, but rather moaned and nodded. The pain had clearly caught up with her.

I took her hand and held it. The blade had gone in perpendicular to her fingers, and had completely severed her middle finger’s tendon. The others were okay, but hot blood was pouring profusely down her wrist and dripping off her elbow.

I drew my pocket knife and cut a long strip from one of my sleeves. She was in no danger of bleeding out, but I knew that covering the wound would help with stopping anemia, as well as the psychological effect of looking at an open injury.

“You’re gonna be alright.” I told her, “You saved my life. Thank you, Arin.”

The fright was leaving her eyes, but returned when she looked at my shoulder.

“Tom, you’re hurt!” The nymph cried.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I reassured. A dull throbbing pain had begun to emanate from my shoulder, as well as the warm, wet feeling of blood leaking down my sleeve. Focusing on my arm, I also felt another pain lower down. Looking at it, there was another wound along my forearm.

The attacker's knife had cut me when I’d kicked him.

“We’ve got to get you home!” She started, “We’ve got to- We’ve got to…”

“It’s okay.” I breathed, “First we’ve got to figure out what this guy’s deal is.”

I turned toward the moaning, injured heap on the ground. Two hands were held tight into his stomach, and narrow, angry eyes were looking up at me.

I knew from just a glance that this fellow wasn’t going to say anything to me. Both from the defiance in his eyes and the pain coming from his wound.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me anything about who you are or why you tried to stab me?” I tried anyway. It was a struggle to keep my voice calm.

He didn’t respond, and rather just spit on the ground at my feet.

I nodded.

“Well… I reckon you’re dead anyways.” I exhaled a long, broken breath.

I drew my revolver and cocked the hammer, blinking twice as I pointed it to the man’s head. We made eye contact over the sights for a long, drawn out moment. Anger, fear, conviction, pain. His face told me a lot.

I knew I needed to kill this man. He’d tried to murder me, had stabbed Arin, all unprovoked. His injuries would surely kill him. If not from blood loss than from infection. He wouldn’t talk. There was no reason to keep him alive. In fact, killing him would be a mercy.

But I couldn’t pull the trigger. My finger twitched, but wouldn’t obey.

“Dammit...” I whispered raggedly. Quiet enough that only I could hear.

I couldn’t tell what was freezing my finger. Cowardice? Mercy? Morality?

I knew that every second spent with my barrel to his face was another that he lay in pain and fear, but still I couldn’t make a decision. That was, until a gentle hand started at my shoulder and traced down my arm, finally resting on my own.

Arin had come up behind me, her hand joining mine on the Colt’s grip. I broke off my stare into the face of the man and looked at the girl. Her bright green eyes glistened, a merciful, kind, gaze finding mine. The nymph looked at me somberly, and the gun fired.

The pistol bucked, but I held it firm. I’d been squeezing it for everything I could. My eye contact with Arin never broke, even as the shot’s echo ended and the ringing in my ears began to fade.