Matt sat up and swung his feet off the bed. His toes hit the cold wood, alerting him to the fact he no longer had boots on. He looked at his body and realized he was wearing only a simple tunic and plain trousers.

“Oh man, my stuff.” He checked his inventory as the reality of what had just transpired fell on his mind. His weapon, his amulet, even the gold he’d taken out of the chest and the key that opened the bloody thing in the first place were all now in the possession of a murderous troll. Or... was it three trolls?

Matt rose to his feet. “Do I even have anything else in here?” He moved to the chest of drawers and opened the top one. Nothing. The second one. Again, nothing. He went through the remaining drawers and confirmed they were all empty. He turned back to the chest at the foot of his bed. “Are you one of those magic chests that restocks itself by chance?”

He opened the lid and grunted. “Of course not.” He let the lid crash back down and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This sucks. This is total BS.” He started walking to a small table on the far side of the room he hadn’t noticed before, holding a square box and a small potted flower.

“Join E.M. Games, they said. It’ll be fun they said. Get paid to play games all day, they said.” He threw his head skyward and shouted, “They didn’t say I’d only be playing games for the next ten years!” Not that he’d really ever had a girlfriend, but he liked to at least pretend he could work up the nerve to meet a cute woman in real life and charm her. At the very least he could have gone camping or something.

He reached the table and flipped the lid open to the small box. Inside was a stack of square parchment and what appeared to be a dagger of sorts. He picked it up, wondering if it was meant to be a weapon or a letter opener. Still, when he touched his finger to the tip it was sharp, so he stuffed it into his inventory.

Acquired Letter Opener.

“Ha ha, of course. Let’s give the executioner a letter opener as a backup weapon. He doesn’t need to worry about people breaking into his home, but he might get some super scary letters in the mail!”

He removed it from his inventory and tossed it onto the table, staring at the potted plant for a second or two before grunting and picking the letter opener back up.

“It’s better than nothing, I guess.” Entirely dismayed at his ill fortune, he spun around, taking in the room slowly. His eyes finally settled on a pair of fuzzy slippers sticking out from under the bed.

“If those have bunny ears on them, I’m going to go outside and stab the first person I see with my letter opener.” He reached down and breathed a sigh of relief upon finding a simple, red velvet pair of slippers with a silver monogram across the toes in some sort of runes. “Magic slippers?”

He equipped them and waited for a cool system message.

Acquired nobleman’s slippers.

“Well… at least my toes aren’t cold anymore,” Matt assured himself. “Let’s go downstairs and get some food. At least here I can stress-eat without adding bulge to my waistline.”

As he walked down the stairs, he thought of his equipment back at the troll grotto.

I could order all of my troops to come with me. He scanned the interior and found one of his guards standing dutifully, watching the door. Matt shook his head. If chopping the troll to bits had only resulted in new trolls springing to life, then there wasn’t much any of these guards were going to be able to do.

The door opened and in walked a tall man that Matt hadn’t seen before. Instinctively, his hand went for the feeble dagger, but the guard nodded and saluted the man. Puzzled at the guard’s behavior, Matt cocked his head to the side.

“And who might you be?” Matt asked.

“I am Filbug Diggleskin, your steward.”

“Filbug... Diggleskin?”

The man nodded, beaming from his eyes and smiling widely before taking a deep bow. “I have been hired to look after the house, furnish it, add onto it, or accompany you on whatever errands you may require my assistance with.”

Matt smiled, remembering his conversation with Bethilda. “And you can cast spells, right?”

Filbug nodded, pursed his lips and glanced around the room. “I can easily create a few wards. Your friend told me about Shadowfingers 9,000. I can attune a few of the wards specifically to him. It should dissuade him from further foolishness here at the house.” Filbug strode toward Matt and frowned, examining him head to toe and making a clicking sound with his tongue while shaking his head.

“What?” Matt asked.

“You aren’t dressed properly for a lord,” Filbug replied evenly. “Given my wages and the contract length I would have expected someone with a bit more... elegance.”

“I’m an executioner,” Matt shot back. “We aren’t known for elegance.”

Filbug lightly traced a finger around the front of his collar. “Quite right. I suppose it takes little finesse to remove a head or stretch a murderer’s neck.” Filbug snickered then and shrugged. “Still, we must find you suitable attire. One cannot be seen out and about without at least a modicum of self-respect, and no self-respecting person of means would be caught dead in such common clothes.” Fillbug passed his eyes over Matt’s avatar slowly until he arrived at the red velvet slippers. He winced as though physically pained. “Especially not those.”

Heh. If only he knew that being caught dead is exactly what put me into these clothes. Matt sighed. “Wards are the only spells you know?”

“Of course not. I am a spellsword. I specialize in fire magic, and I trained with blademasters in Trionte for nearly twenty years. Not only can I use a sword better than most, I can forge swords as well.”

“Fire magic?!” Matt clapped his hands. “Trolls can’t heal if you use fire magic right?”

“Trolls?” Filbug asked, his brow knotting together. “Are there trolls near the city?”

Matt nodded. “I was bested by a troll in a cave, not too far from the city. He has taken things that belong to me. Can your magic defeat him?”

Filbug nodded grimly. “Trolls are nasty creatures. You are lucky to be alive. One should never face a troll without magic.” Filbug turned his right palm upward and a fireball burst into existence. “If a troll has dishonored my master, then I cannot rest until the beast is destroyed.”

Before long, the pair was retracing Matt’s journey through the forested hills. Of course, Filbug had insisted that one of the guards lend armor and a sword to Matt, but otherwise the pair made good time. Matt could only hope that no one else had found the cave and defeated the monster inside, thereby gaining his items and gold.

When they reached the tunnel, Filbug insisted on going in first.

Matt followed quietly as they wound their way through the passageways and finally came to the chamber where Matt had died.

Three trolls lumbered around the area. Their ambling, aimless steps could hardly be called a patrol, for they left plenty of blind spots to be exploited.

Matt looked to Filbug. “You still think we can beat them?”

Filbug winked. He sheathed his sword and held both hands akimbo. “All right you smelly, overgrown swamp rats, listen up! You took some things that belong to my master, and I am here to take them back!”

All three trolls turned and locked onto Filbug. Matt sucked in a breath, backing away as he readied his sword just in case.

The three beasts rushed forward as Filbug brought two blue fireballs to life in his hands.

“The sentence for your crimes is death.” He flung the first fireball into the nearest troll’s chest. The flames whooshed through the air and slammed into the beast’s torso, sizzling and sputtering as the flames bit into the flesh and threw the monster onto its back. The troll howled in pain, slapping and tearing at the burn while flailing on the ground. The second troll dropped a moment later, having taken a fireball to the face. This time a hole burned clean through the monster, and the second troll fell in a smoldering heap.

The third troll launched a sizeable stone, clipping Filbug and spinning him a bit so that the third and fourth fireballs missed their marks.

“Sticks and stones won’t break my bones, but my fire will surely burn thee!” Filbug shouted as he launched another fireball. The troll dodged to the side and laughed as it bent down quick as lightning and grabbed another hunk of stone. The rock sailed through the air and caught Filbug square in the chest this time, throwing the spellsword to the ground just as the first troll with the scorched chest got to his feet. The two trolls turned their hungry, yellow eyes toward Matt.

Matt glanced at Filbug, who was moaning and barely moving. He looked back to the trolls. The injured one was limping toward him, and the other was gathering a pair of stones. Matt figured he could run, but then he’d likely lose his brand new steward. Of course, if he stayed to fight, he’d likely die. There was only one reasonable course of action.

Matt sprinted for the injured troll.

The beast raised its claws as if to strike, but just before Matt came within range, he juked left and dashed for his stuff. After all, it was just sitting in a pile. “Loot my stuff!” Matt shouted as he closed the distance to his items. Nothing happened. A rock flew toward him, but he ducked under the flying hunk of stone and then slid into his stuff like he was heading into home base after a grand slam. He ignored the system messages as his stuff disappeared, absorbing into his inventory, and kept his eyes on the troll who was winding up for another pitch.

That’s when he saw Filbug rising to his feet.

The spellsword was no longer smiling. His arms erupted in flame and his body lifted from the ground as he chanted something. A spark ignited under the wounded troll, striking its foot and making it stop in its tracks. A moment later there was what could only be described as a bolt of lightning, except instead of an electrical bolt it was flame. The spell burned through the injured troll, exploding the top of its head and launching the helpless creature into the far wall.

Filbug then clapped his hands together, sending a ray of flame coursing through the room. Matt dropped to the floor as the flame bored through the last troll’s chest. The creature’s eyes went wide and its mouth went slack. Only when the fire had spent all of its energy did the troll’s lifeless body fall to the stone floor.

The spellsword then dropped gently to the ground, his chest heaving as he drew breath. “My apologies, Master,” Filbug said.

Matt arched a brow and rose to his feet. “Apologies? You killed them all, just like you said you would.”

Filbug rubbed his hands together and then pointedly kicked a nearby stone. “I should have been faster to dodge.”

Matt chuckled and shook his head. “We have retrieved my items, and the troll is dead, I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.”

Filbug then turned his gaze to the crystal remnants on the floor. “What are those?”

Matt shrugged. “Not entirely sure. There was a goblin chanting or praying to it. Before it exploded it was a large crystal, like a prison for the troll.”

Filbug’s face grew grim. “No, it wasn’t a prison,” he said as he stepped close and examined the crystal shards. “It was a siphon,” he said, bending down to hold one of the shards in his hands. “A soul siphon.”

Matt frowned. “I’m afraid I have no idea what that is.”

Filbug puffed air through his lips and shook his head. “I’m not surprised. Most people haven’t heard of them, and those that have believe them to be a myth.”

“What does it do?” Matt almost face-palmed at his question. The name was obvious enough, but Filbug indulged him anyway.

“Trapping a creature in a soul siphon allows one to absorb that entire creature. Its strength, it’s essence, and its magical abilities.”

“So the goblin would have become a troll?” Matt asked.

Filbug shook his head. “No, the goblin would have remained a goblin in form, but he would have gained the strength of a troll.”

“And the ability to regenerate,” Matt guessed. Filbug nodded and tossed the shard back into the pile. As Matt watched the hunk of crystal bounce across the floor an idea came to him. “Can you use a piece of the soul siphon?” Filbug frowned. “I mean, could someone use a piece of it to take a piece of someone’s powers?”

Filbug shrugged. “I’m not sure. I suppose it might be possible, but one would need to learn the proper incantations.”

Matt nodded. “Collect all of the shards. I want to save them.”

Filbug did as he was told, but not without mumbling, “I would advise against this, Milord.”

Matt didn’t heed the warning. “Better we take them than someone else. Besides, what if another goblin finds them, or an evil wizard? We can’t have that now can we?”

Filbug collected the shards into a bag and then set the bag on the ground. “I fear, milord, that I am unable to carry these artifacts. Their energy conflicts with my own. If I carry them, they will drain my mana, and if I carry them once I am drained of mana I will start to lose my life essence.”

Matt shrugged and reached out for the bag.

Acquired 15 Lesser Soul Siphon Crystals.

Matt opened his stats page. He didn’t have any mana to speak of, so he watched his HP. He waited a few seconds and then he experimented by taking a few steps, but nothing happened.

“Are you all right?” Filbug asked.

Matt nodded. “It appears I can carry them without trouble.”

“Then we should be going. We have a lot of work to do back at the house. If you insist on keeping these... crystals, then I shall need to remodel the premises and create a workspace for you that is both protected from the outside and safe to work in. This is going to be costly.”

Filbug started walking toward the exit as Matt opened the inventory to see what he could learn about the crystals.

Lesser Soul Siphon Crystals can be used to steal the essence of another creature. If an empty Soul Siphon Crystal is present when a creature dies, then it will siphon some of the physical and magical properties of that creature. It can also be used to steal essence from a creature if activated by the proper incantations. The essence is then stored in the crystal until the proper incantation releases the essence, transferring it to the wielder.

Often considered mythical, the Soul Siphon Crystals are coveted by necromancers and enchanters, but most often shunned by wizards that have any amount of decency or wisdom. It is unknown where these powerful relics come from, or how they are made. It is said that a large enough crystal can imprison a living man and slowly siphon his essence over a period of years, thus allowing the wielder to gain vast amounts of power and knowledge.

Matt smiled wide. “Costly, you say Filbug?” He glanced to the tunnel exit and laughed softly. “Any price is worth it. I may have just found a way out of here.” Matt fished a crystal out of the bag and turned it over in his hand. “This is going to be extremely fun.”