text: | “Now!” screamed the lute-playing assailant, who changed the song’s key. The adventurer with the spear thrust a lucky strike into Benvolio’s belly. Blood splattered on the cavern floor. Walter covered his mouth, suppressing a gasp. Benvolio swaggered back and forth for a few minutes, smoke spilling forth from his nostrils. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and then, with a mighty crash, he collapsed onto the ground. “Huzzah!” the adventurers cheered. Walter’s eyes widened. Did they just kill Benvolio? Walter debated jumping out from hiding, doing something to avenge the friendly dragon. But what could he do? They were armed and the best “weapon” he had available was an industrial-grade flashlight. The spear and sword would both do him in before he could land a single hit. He sank to the ground feeling helpless. Benvolio’s body was limp, unmoving on the ground. “Friends, let us commence grabbing the loot!” The leader pointed to the large piles of gold. They grabbed handfuls of gold and gems, filling their sacks to the brim. The group laughed and made jokes, singing their praises for defeating such a wicked foe. Walter clenched his fists and his jaw as he watched them, tears of rage filling his eyes. After the party had taken all the riches they could carry, they dragged their heavy sacks of treasure out of the cave. After a few minutes of silence, Walter emerged from hiding and approached Benvolio’s unmoving form. Walter knelt beside Benvolio’s snout, patting it lightly. He could taste the bile that had risen from his throat. Tears rolled down his cheek and his body heaved with sobs. Perhaps he didn’t know Benvolio well, but he had just witnessed a senseless murder. There was also the matter of how he would get home. Sure, he had the book, but he didn’t have magic. He was just an accountant from the Midwest. His greatest skills were itemizing deductions and singing Aerosmith songs karaoke. No matter how passionately he sang “Dream On” it wasn’t likely to conjure a portal back to Earth. Did he just lose his only chance to get home? How would Beth pay the mortgage, how would his grandson feel about having another family member walk out of his life? “Oh no, I am so sorry.” Benvolio’s voice spoke softly. Walter jumped back with a shriek of surprise. “I should have been clearer earlier,” Benvolio admitted, “that I might need to fake my death.” The tip of his wing gently tapped Walter’s shoulder. “There, there, my friend, there, there.” “What the hell just happened?!” Walter screeched. “Oh, that.” Benvolio stretched his wings a bit, then turned his neck from side to side. There is an ancient rumor that all red dragons are evil, and that we hoard gold. It is a most vexing falsehood. As a result, it seems at least once a fortnight I am confronted by some foolish knight or adventurer wishing to end my so-called reign of terror.” “That’s awful,” Walter replied. “Indeed, I try to dissuade them, but usually it results in me having to pretend I am attacking them without causing harm until they give up. Sometimes if there is anyone nearby who could get hurt, or a potentially unreasonable amount of collateral damage, sometimes its easiest to fake my death.” Benvolio looked back at the shelves, “They could have set this entire place ablaze, and I would be the only one able to survive the fire. I thought it best to hasten my ‘demise’ before they got someone killed and destroyed my collection in the process.” “They stole your gold.” Walter noted, his head tilting toward the piles of gold and gems. Benvolio only laughed in reply, then rapped his claws rhythmically against the cavern floor. There was a shimmer of light, and where the gold and gems had been there was only a pile of ordinary rocks. “The illusion for them will wear off in about two hours. By the time they make it back to town they will realize they have been bamboozled. The townsfolk get a good laugh at it, explaining to the latest group of adventurers that the alleged treasure is a fake. I hope word will eventually get around enough that I can finally end these tiresome charades.” Walter looked back to the pile of rocks, suddenly relieved he had ignored temptation. As an accountant, he dealt with far too many clients caught up in the latest get-quick-rich scam. He was glad to have narrowly avoided this realm’s version of that. “Now then, shall we get back to the matter at hand?” Benvolio asked. Walter nodded, pulling out the book.