It had been three days since Jess had been rebuffed by Master Darkhault.

Mike had accepted her back that evening with a sad, knowing smile. It seemed to Jess that his low opinion of the alchemist was well earned. The uptight, old fart hadn’t been interested in any of her questions and eventually she had simply left with her tail between her legs. No answers. No explanation. No idea what to do next.

Still, at least the back room that Mike had promised wasn’t too bad. It was clean and the bed was soft and when Jess had timidly asked about bed mites, Mike had a truly alarmed look on his face that suggested such things wouldn’t be tolerated under his roof. It probably had something to do with all the fur. It also helped that Mike didn’t seem to mind Jess’s company in the shop.

She had spent most of the morning in the corner of the room on top of an empty, upturned barrel. It wasn’t a comfortable seat when sat with her legs crossed, leaning against the wood panelled wall, but it was a good vantage point and out of the way of any foot traffic.

“Are you sure I can’t help behind there?” she asked once more.

“No,” Mike replied quickly, too quickly, before giving the counter a perfunctory wipe with a damp cloth.

It was a mystery whether he was worried about a stranger being so close to his profits, or whether he was worried that she might sow a seed of chaos in his hyper-organised displays. The longer Jess stayed, the more certain she became that it was probably the latter. Such a neat freak. The counter was wiped down between each customer and helping clean (whether she was sweeping the floors or wiping down surfaces with a damp cloth) seemed to be the only chore around the place that he didn’t balk at Jess helping with.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall, staring at the open doorway. She needed to find an escape from this world itself and to do that, she needed more information. Open streets and fresh air called to her from outside, but why bother when she could simply wait here and let the adventurers come to her.

The fact that Mike was a minotaur barely registered on the weird-o-metre when compared to those adventurers that entered the premises. They were varied in looks and wore different armour or weapons, but personality wise… they all were the same. There was no personality. They were like deadly armoured vegetables. They would come in, walk up to the counter to trade and just wordlessly accepted whatever they were given or would simply pocket the items and walk out. Occasionally they would point woodenly at items displayed on Mike’s shelves, but even when they were interested, there was no bartering. Either they placed the correct coins on the counter and waited to be given the item, or they stared blankly before leaving.

Jess had even tried initiating conversations with adventurers that entered the building, much to Mike’s amusement. Every time, they had walked past her as though she was nothing more than furniture, sometimes knocking her aside if she happened to walk in their path unexpectedly. It was vexing for sure.

“What about if I just… pass you the items?” Jess asked.

Mike’s response was more forceful, but not unkind. “No.”

Each adventurer was greeted with the same script. Anything that they brought into the shop to sell was bought, no questions asked. That perplexed Jess most of all. It was the reason there was always a barrel standing in the room, ready to fill. The adventurers would bring in all sorts of garbage. Whether it was tattered rags, broken weapons, carved sticks or bloody entrails, Mike bought it all… and most of it ended up being unceremoniously added to the barrel, never to be seen, or smelled, again.

“What about if…” she began but trailed off as her eyes widened at the sight of a towering figure blocking the doorway.

Jess watched agape as the adventurer walked around the room. He was an intimidating height with broad muscled shoulders and broader armour that swathed his bulk. The pelt he wore seemed to be an entire animal of some kind. Heavy dark brown fur that was edged with a paler sand-coloured fluff covered his back completely. The head of the beast, which looked almost comical as a flapping hood, covered his unkempt hair. Yet, not his features, nor the menacing glare on his face, were what had attracted Jess’s attention.

“Mike!” Jess barked in panic as the adventurer approached the counter. “Mike! Mike, look!”

She pointed frantically at the stranger with alarm. Mike glanced in her direction before looking up at the approaching adventurer. His face dropped like a stone when he eyed the stranger up and down.

Blood coated the adventurer. Not a small spatter, but a drenching of the deep red liquid covered his armour. Jess considered that it was a surprise that she hadn’t heard his approach via the squelching of his boots. The thought caused the back of her throat to tighten and her stomach rolled.

“Welcome adventurer,” Mike greeted the man through clenched teeth. “Thank ye for – “

The words were cut off when the adventurer reached towards the hilt of his sword. Jess saw Mike’s eye widen and she clasped her hands to her mouth in shock, paralysed by the scene. She squeaked a sound when an object was withdrawn from beneath the cloak. Thankfully not a weapon, though Mike’s reaction could have fooled anyone. He stared in horror as a dripping satchel was dropped on the wooden counter before him. It hit the surface with a wet thump. Mike’s left eye twitched as he continued his speech with a strained voice, “- choosing to visit Toleron’s Trinkets.”

He gulped heavily as he wiped some of the bag’s spatter from his hand onto the wet cloth that he kept beside him. “I’ve got the finest wares in the land,” he finished on a resigned note.

Without any further words, Mike reached to retrieve payment for the mystery goods in the bag. The adventurer held out an open, bloodied palm to accept before leaving the premises.

Jess’s attention jerked back and forth between the trail of bloody droplets that now coated a circular track on the otherwise clean floor, and Mike’s downtrodden face. She hadn’t expected a guy whose face was mostly furred to be able to go pale, but the blood had definitely drained from the few areas of exposed skin.

“You alright, big guy?” Jess finally asked after he hadn’t moved for a few moments.

The only response that he gave was a single ear twisting forward for a second, then settling back to match the other, pressed against his hair.

Yeah, best to give a minute, she decided.

She decided to head behind the counter where she could grab a spare washcloth. It was a grim job, but the blood would be easier to clean before anyone else entered the room and spread it around.

At least this level of insanity isn’t considered normal, she thought. Though it concerned her that a guy covered in blood could just waltz through the city like that. She settled onto her knees on the floor and started scrubbing. Her mind idly considered the options of where the blood had originated, and her eyes flickered up towards the bag that sat before Mike. Jess grimaced. Yeah, Buddy. I’d need a moment to process that too. God, I hope he doesn’t open it.

By the time that Jess had cleaned about a quarter of the floor, Mike’s shaky voice finally spoke up.

“Ye don’t have to do that.”

Jess stretched her back by arching it. “Nope, I don’t,” she informed him before continuing to scrub at the foul droplets. For a few minutes there was no sound other than the soft scrubbing of cloth against floorboards. Jess would need to rinse out the material soon as scrubbing was becoming less and less effective at clearing the mess. She rose to stand and realised that Mike still hadn’t moved from his position. His eyes were fixed on the wet bag. Blood was beginning to pool around it, soaking through the material onto the wooden surface.

“Seriously, Mike. Just dump it in the barrel,” she said, her voice thick with disgust.

Mike remained motionless save for a single ear that shook. It was a fly buzzing around, no doubt attracted by the scent of whatever hideous mess lay in the bag.

What if it’s human? Jess suddenly thought. A cold shiver rippled through her, and she resisted the urge to hug herself. The damp, blood-soaked cloth in her hands already soiled enough of her skin.

As if sensing her thoughts, Mike looked up at her. “If yer asked about it… we checked. It was boar guts. No more. No Less.”

“What if it isn’t?” asked Jess as Mike moved to retrieve the barrel. She didn’t dare stand with her back to the door, just in case the bloodied psychopath returned with more glorious bounty to sell.

“Best not to think about it,” he warned, but that was easier said than done.