text: Walter stared at the necromancer. Grimm appeared to be in his late 30s, at least by Earth standards. His beard and hair were neatly combed, he wore a long, black robe lined with emerald-colored satin. Grimm, in turn, took a glance at Walter’s attire, observing his blue jeans, backpack, and flannel shirt. “What curious attire you have, Sir Walter.” Grimm stroked his beard. “Oh, this type of clothing is pretty ordinary back in my home...” Walter paused, wondering how to describe his world to a stranger, “kingdom.” “You’re not from Bythica, are you? I heard the Dark Lord there has appointed a very strange advisor and some curious fashion choices are really taking off in the court.” “No, I am not from there. I am from Kirkwood, Missouri.” Walter replied. At the mention of the word, “Missouri”, Benvolio’s eyes widened slightly. Grimm was oblivious to the change in Benvolio’s expression, as was Walter. “Misery you say?” Grimm mused, “I have never heard of it, but to be called that, your kingdom must be awful.” “Oh, it’s not so bad, except when it’s the middle of the summer and the cicadas are doing their thing. When that happens it’s loud and you’re covered in sweat because it’s a hundred degrees out with full humidity, and don’t get me started on all the mosquitos...” Walter began to ramble. Benvolio cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, shall we get to the business at hand, and perhaps enjoy a good meal while we are at it?” They found themselves gathered around a campfire roasting meat and sharing mead about an hour later. They had to dine outdoors to accommodate Benvolio’s size. Grimm and Walter had carried out a keg of mead that Grimm had been saving for such an occasion. Grimm and Walter each held a pint, while Benvolio picked up the keg and sipped the remaining contents. The fire crackled and popped, the light dancing off Benvolio’s scales like sparkling rubies. Walter enjoyed the warmth of the fire, as the spring air had cooled considerably upon sundown. Walter had always enjoyed the outdoors, the smell of campfire smoke, it was a nice contrast to sitting in a gray walled cubicle in the office. It had also been some time since he had shared a warm meal and conversation with friends. It was a welcome change. “Walter is from another world?” Grimm raised an eyebrow. “Aye, one of those pesky gateways opened for some reason, and now he is stuck here with a treasure back home.” Benvolio explained. Grimm leaned over to Walter and whispered in his ear. “He uses the term treasure all the time for various things, what does it mean in context?” Grimm inquired. “Oh, my treasure?” Walter asked. Grimm nodded. “He means my family.” Walter explained. He pulled out a picture of his daughter and grandson. “The lady is quite fetching.” Grimm smiled, handing back the picture. “So, you are looking for a spell to go home?” “That’s the plan.” Walter smiled. “Benvolio, why did you bring him to me? You know that is outside my realm of magic.” “But not outside of the realm of Andromeda Chronos.” Benvolio replied. Grimm fell silent. He chugged the remainder of his pint, then began to chew nervously upon his own beard. He stood up and began to pace around the fire. He raised his hand a few times as though to speak, then fell silent. After a few minutes of such deliberation, he spoke. “You know she is rather unpredictable.” Grimm broke his silence. “It is just a talk.” Benvolio said in an even tone. “If I miscalculate, she will not be back for just a talk. She is crafty, she probably left some sort of contingency plan for the neophyte necromancer foolish enough to summon her spirit back to the land of the living.” “Grimm, my mother’s mark was in her book.” Benvolio’s voice was low. Walter looked up in surprise at the revelation. Walter recalled Benvolio’s strange shift in mood back at the cavern. Suddenly, it made sense. “Your inquiry, it is not simply in regard to your new companion, is it?” Grimm asked. “I have suspicions and theories. I think our fates have been entangled in some way.” Benvolio paused to finish the keg, he set it down gently and leaned his snout closer to his companions. The reflection of the flames danced in Benvolio’s eyes. “Walter, what was the name of your realm again?” “Kirkwood, Missouri?” “I believe I have heard of the Kingdom of Misery. I may have visited your realm, many, many moons ago. Are you familiar with the Kingdom of the Ill Noise?” “Gentlemen...” Walter paused, glanced to Benvolio, “I mean, gentleman and gentle...dragon.” He sighed and continued, “It’s pronounced Missouri, not Misery.” Walter paused to savor the mead before continuing, “And do you mean Illinois?” Walter asked. Benvolio’s eyes widened and he nodded with enthusiasm. Walter continued, “yes, I have heard of it. It’s right across the river.” “Indeed, this is no coincidence indeed.” Grimm mused. “So, will you summon her?” Benvolio asked. “Fine, but if we call upon her and she finds out how to regain a physical form, turning into an unstoppable lich, then you, my friend, are responsible for vanquishing her.” “Fair.” Benvolio acknowledged. “I will get my gear, but remember, you have been warned.” Grimm shook his head again before walking back towards his home.