You shake your head. You don't have that much. You doubt you could get it if you sold everything you own. You doubt a handful of low level treasure items will go for two hundred. Even with Mercy's haggling skill the majority of the money you got from the Merchant was him buying his cart pieces back from you, and most of the rest came from the gems.

“No? A pity. Can I interest you in anything else then?”

Without further talking, you pour over the cards.

You face a choice, the way you see it. Get as much material as you can, or save up for something that you can't produce yourself. Your mind keeps turning over the Challenge Lock. It's reminiscent of some of your fame and animus abilities, but... stronger. Absolute. You could effectively keep anyone who joined you but didn't want to fight out of harms way. Anyone who was under levelled could retreat, at least until the invaders were worn down. You could place traps that the heroes would be forced to face.

You nod to yourself, mind made up.

“Fourteen sets of the stone, and one of scrap ore. That will be all, for now.”

“For now? Very well. I will be in the area for some time anyway. If you change your mind I will be at one of the local settlements for the better part of a month I imagine. After that though, who knows when I will return?”

You jerk your head up and down in an approximation of a nod, hoping you've made the right decision. The trader hands the fifteen cards over to you. As you touch each one they vanish. You can feel the weight settle into your storage even as a faint ringing noise correlates to the price being extracted. It hurts, almost physically, to feel the distance between you and the Challenge Lock increase. It is tempered, somewhat instinctively, by the feeling of eight hundred coins still sitting in your storage...

But you know that another three hundred will vanish soon enough.

The temptation to hold out on the treasure room is immense. One or two adventurer raids and you could have the thousand needed.

You break that train of thought, refusing to dwell. It is one thing to consider new information and revise your plans. It's quite another to throw away your plans because of fear.

She respawned. She's safe. She wants to contribute. I can name anyone else who wants to stay.

You breath slow and deep until the memories return tot he recess of your mind, before you turn a tight smile at the merchant.

“It was good to meet you. I'm sure we will do business again soon.”

His returning smile is no more genuine.

“I may come back sooner if you promise me that it will be you negotiating.”

His tone is only half joking. You chuckle.

“Not a chance. Not worth it.”

His shoulders sag, and he packs his pack without another word, hefting it onto his shoulders. Once he is fully prepared, he fixes you with another stare.

“Good hunting, Red Scale.”

You nod.

“Good trading, Merchant.”

And then the doors close with an echoing thud and a brief whiff of cool air. You turn away. Then, before you can consider it more, you open your menu and find the Treasure Room. A small drop down menu asks you to choose an treasure to sacrifice. After considering it for a moment, you go with the Heels of Swiftness dropped in the most recent raid. The cloaks of disguise and slowfall at least might have some use to your minions even if they're too large, and the necromantic skull will go to Amanda when she wants it. Overlarge heels that do not increase the wearers balance just seems like an issue waiting to happen to you.

Hitting 'build', you expect the build location pop-up, but instead are met with nothing but the slightly hollow feeling of one hundred stone, three hundred gold, and a pair of high heels vanishing from your storage. It passes quickly, but leaves you with no idea of where exactly your new construction has appeared.

Need something to distract myself.

You pause for a second.

Well she did say to hurry back.

Dark mood evaporating with every step, you walk with purpose toward Goblin Town. Just as you step into the darkness, you glance back and see Willow staring at you. She flushes.

You hum a jaunty tune as you hop your way through the huts, taking a moment to bemoan you don't have any clothes you could divest yourself of any more – the best part of knowing you wife was ready and waiting for you after a bad day was the expectation after all.

Or perhaps knowing there were two such people.

Hey, you never pretended to be anything but a horndog.

Your thoughts catch up to you as you reach the fur flap to Feathers' cave, causing you to miss a step and stumble.

Clothes? Wife?

Your head feels heavy and you catch yourself on the stone door frame, leaning against it with one hand to your head, a familiar ache twitching in your temple. Your vision fuzzes white for a moment.

Non-con start

“Oh you beast! You animal! Just like that!”

Stone under your back, soft flesh above and around you. A pervasive feeling of... anger. Sadness. Resignation.

Fear.

Something tight holds your mouth shut, cutting into your jaws.

“Say my name.”

You can't.

“Say my name!”

You grunt as the binding tighten.

“Oh yeah. Just like that.”

Non-con end

Intelligence and Integrity roll.... Failed!

You shake your head. What were you thinking about? Something... something important? No. No you don't think so. Otherwise you wouldn't have forgotten, after all.

Oh well. You'll just chalk it up to one of the gods having a drake fetish. That makes sense. That makes sense.

You're on the floor. When did that happen?

Not important.

You push yourself to your feet, ignoring the smell of blood as best you can. You wipe your nose with a piece of rag – from the looks of things, something Feathers uses to clean her weapons. It comes away bloody.

That's... that's not normal right?

You shake your head. Something is wrong but it can wait. You clean yourself as best you can with the rag, snorting flames a few times and then sneezing to clear out any remaining blood. You have more important things to think about.

You step into the cave.