Eusebio Duartez led the way into the same, spiraling stairwell where the hangry little dwarf had gone stomping up moments earlier. Seymour followed. A series of ensconced, illusory candles lit the passage. They reminded him of holograms, and Eusebio demonstrated that they could be turned off or on with a simple touch.

  “I make sure to activate all of these Touch Candles first thing in the morning on my way down to the showroom. We don’t want customers stumbling up this hazardous staircase in the dark, after all, but Adara demands they all be turned off during the overnight hours. She says they keep her awake.” He paused on the stairs to level his gaze at Seymour. “Anyway, it’s good to keep Adara happy. She’s a powerful sage, and also serves as the Depot’s head librarian.”

  “So you actually live on site?”

  “That’s right.” Eusebio resumed the trek up the steps. “Adara and I both have private rooms up here on the second floor – we’re the only employees of Dragon Dan’s Adventure Depot who are also residents.”

  “Really? It’s just the two of you alone here at night?” Seymour asked. “Sounds kinda romantic.”

  Eusebio snorted a laugh. “She’s close to five-hundred years old, Mr. Little.”

  “Where I’m from, a lot of people say ‘age ain’t nothin’ a number’.”

  “Those people have obviously never met Adara.”

  When they reached the second floor landing, Seymour’s eyes took some time to adjust. Compared to right downstairs, the lighting up here barely existed. Despite the dim, he could make out immense wooden bookshelves stuffed with tomes and scrolls. The shelves soared all the way to the ceiling, which appeared to be at least twice as high here compared to the showroom they’d just come from, nearing thirty or forty feet above, if Seymour had to guess.

  “The uppermost shelves are accessible only by levitation spell,” Eusebio said, then he gestured with his thumb toward a whole team of ladders, all of which glided on wheels. “Or by ladder, for the less adventurous. Or the less virtuous, like me.”

  “Wait a minute – was that some self-deprecating, friendly banter, Duartez?” Seymour bowed his head. “Appreciate you for thinking your subordinate worthy.”

  Eusebio shrugged, grinning. His love for the shop and giving tours of it was obvious, and had clearly put him in an easygoing mood. Seymour wondered if he’d still be as friendly after the honeymoon period.

  The two of them passed side-by-side through the library. A central aisle split the huge chamber into two hemispheres. Patrons browsed the stacks on either side and desks were situated in the middle of the aisle so that customers could not only shop to their heart’s content but were encouraged to study to their mind’s, as well.

  “You’ll notice there are no windows on this floor.”

  “Yeah, why is that?” Seymour asked. “It’s super dark. Does it have something to do with the apothecary you mentioned?”

  “Decent guess, but no. It’s actually all this.” He motioned around to indicate the stacks of tomes and scrolls.

  “Magical texts don’t like sunlight?”

  “They hate it. Especially scrolls. Leave ‘em out too long and they’ll fade.”

  “And good luck selling a faded scroll, right?”

  “You get it, Little. We’re practicing commerce here, not a hobby. All of this is inventory, not merely the personal collection of some wealthy eccentric.”

  “But if I were looking to hyper focus on some ultra obscure special interest, this would probably be the place to do it.”

  “You couldn’t hope for better resources,” Eusebio agreed, “no matter the object of your studies. This is the largest collection of ancient texts and magical theory in the entire realm, outside Emperor Mallex’s private library, of course.”

  “You mean that’s a real thing? I’ve heard it mentioned during some of my other assignments, but everyone says the whole ‘secret imperial library’ thing is only a myth.”

  “The best magic always is.”

  As they reached the point where the rows of towering bookshelves ended, the floor opened up into what appeared to be some kind of indoor patio. Seymour saw a waist-high wrought-iron fence arranged in a square around a number of tables and chairs, all set with tablecloths and menus. Wooden lanterns levitated in the air over each table, lending the patio a cozy glow. Even at this early hour, several adventuring parties had gathered to enjoy breakfast—among them the surly dwarf Seymour had seen earlier, who was sitting alone with a copper stein as big as his head and a plate heaped with sausages—and the space suddenly smelled incredible. He wondered if there was some sort of area enchantment which had been keeping the delectable odors from reaching the library.

  A low gate offered access to the patio, and past the dining area stood a counter where another dwarf was busy taking food and drink orders. Unlike his angry, orange-haired cousin, this dwarf was perfectly bald and wore a huge, toothy smile as he served his clientele. Beyond the counter, Seymour could see workers preparing food in a kitchen that was lit far better than the rest of the floor. The kitchen workers all appeared to be human, and Seymour thought he recognized most of them from the shuttle ride. The head dwarf taking orders noticed Eusebio and shot him a friendly wave, which the manager returned.

  “That’s Gordon, he runs the kitchen.”

  “Damn, man, all of a sudden it smells freaking awesome in here.”

  “That’s me magic sausage!” Gordon called out, somehow hearing Seymour from across the busy dining area. “Gets bigger in yer mouth, too! Just ask Eusebio!” He and his kitchen workers broke out in bellowing laughter.

  Eusebio led Seymour away quickly, continuing past the cafe area.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “He doesn’t really have a magic sausage,” he quietly explained, but then stopped to correct himself. “Well, hold that thought, he often does stock stamina-enhancing sausages, actually, and stopping off for some attribute-boosting food before a dungeon run is always time and chits well spent for any savvy adventurer, but Gordon there was being crude just now. And I apologize on his behalf, because he won’t.”

  “What do you mean?” Seymour wondered, feigning ignorance to convincing effect. “Crude how, exactly?”

  “It was Gordon’s idea of a joke.”

  “I’m sorry, I still don’t get it. How is a magic sausage that gets bigger in your mouth funny?” He scratched his head. “Could you explain it to me like I’m five?”

  “The sausage was a ruse, Seymour. Gordon was in fact alluding to the hypothetical engorgement of his own member.”

  “Which is magical?”

  “Gordon’s member is not magical.”

  “Not what yer mother said last night, Duartez!” Gordon crowed from behind them. The kitchen staff roared.

  “Man, I’m impressed he heard us all the way over here.” Seymour shot finger guns at Gordon the dwarf, who returned the gesture, but with an increasingly confused look on his face because guns didn’t exist on this world. “I mean you’re practically running away, we’ve really covered a lot of ground – but he’s got some great ears on him, doesn’t he?”

  “That he does.” Eusebio stared daggers back at the cackling dwarf while he dragged Seymour away by the elbow. “‘Tis a dwarven trait. They all possess senses heightened far above our own. Which can be annoying, but which also enables Chef Gordon to concoct flavor profiles more complex than his human counterparts can even begin to conceive of.”

  “I guess I’ll have to give him a shot for lunch.”

  “In all seriousness: try the sausage. Even the non-enchanted offerings are divine. But don’t let him know I told you that – I’d never hear the end of it.”

  They had traveled across the entire floor and were now nearing the stairwell to the third and final level. Before it, tucked back into the corner, was an unusual booth-like structure, constructed of pegboards to which herbs and roots and possibly something’s intestines had been pinned up to dry. Also in the booth were some shelves about Seymour’s height which held jars containing all sorts of bizarre miscellanea. He saw flakes of silver metal in one jar and long gray tongues in another. There were jars full of various-sized eyeballs and others with live insects crawling around inside and still others appeared to contain swirling vapors like little miniature hurricanes caught inside glass.

  At the rear of the booth, a creature with warty pink skin attended to customers from behind a counter trimmed with yellow and rose luminescent moss which provided plenty of light to see by.

  The creature working the booth appeared to be some sort of goblin. No taller than Seymour’s waist, it must have been standing on a stool. Wide, bat-like ears protruded from either side of its head. The luminescent moss reflected in its beady, black eyes, set above a pair of nostril-slits and a mouth full of sharp brown teeth. And yet its curves and mannerisms were oddly feminine and even sultry, he realized, and it was wearing some sort of strappy little floral-print goblin mumu thing with a plunging neckline.

  “This better not awaken anything in me,” Seymour muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nevermind. So this is the apothecary?”

  “That it is,” Eusebio affirmed. “That’s Feshka taking orders at the counter there. She’s our alchemist.”

  “Not to be rude,” Seymour said quietly, “but what exactly is she?”

  “She’s human, most of the time.” The manager began walking again, headed for the nearby stairwell, but Seymour didn’t move at first.

  “Hold on,” he said, jogging a few steps to catch up. “What do you mean ‘most of the time’?”

  “I mean ‘more often than not’.”

  “Could you be any more vague?”

  “Of course,” he said, and he skipped into the stairwell. Seymour hurried after.

  The third floor was unlike the others. It was far more cramped and cluttered, with many small rooms and stands and curios shoved into every available space, containing every type of miscellaneous object imaginable. In a way it reminded him of an antique shop back on Earth, the kind of place you’d find in some small town, well off the beaten path.

  Merchandise hung from the ceiling and covered every inch of the walls; no space could be wasted. As Seymour followed Eusebio around the narrow, tunnel-like corridors, he noticed shelves of enchanted corkscrews, a squadron of kites strung up overhead, a taxidermied skunk with rubies for eyes, more individual teeth than he’d ever have guessed, and even something called the Self-Cleaning Chamber Pot of Sir Hector Horatius.

  “Does that do what I think it does?” he asked, pointing at the chamber pot.

  Eusebio stopped to examine the bulbous pot with his catalogoggles before confirming that, “it performs exactly as the name implies.”

  “You sound very sure of that. Almost too sure.”

  As they continued to explore the floor, Eusebio explained that this would be where Seymour would be assigned to work.

  “So what am I doing up here, exactly?”

  “Inventory.” Eusebio retrieved a metal canister from high up on a shelf. He popped the lid to reveal that it had been stuffed full of wands. There must have been ten or twenty hidden inside. “Give me one moment.”

  Seymour watched while Eusebio used his own pair of Gnomish Catalogoggles to examine the canister’s contents in silence. Finally, he found what he was after:

  “There we are.” He passed a single wand to Seymour. “Have a gander at that with your goggles.”

  Seymour did as he was told, and the label containing the item’s details quickly appeared:

  “Am I looking for something in particular?” Seymour turned the wand over as he examined it.

  “Do you notice anything out of the ordinary?”

  “Not really, it’s just a toy really, right?”

  “That’s true. It’s a novelty item. Anything else?”

  Seymour thought for a moment while continuing to study the label. “It’s in poor condition.”

  “Well done.” Eusebio took the wand back, and Seymour removed his goggles. “And that’s what you’ll be doing up here. I need you to inventory every single piece of merchandise—you can update the item’s description simply by concentrating on doing so while wearing your goggles—and anytime you see a condition of ‘worn’ or worse, it’s time to get that product off the shelves so that it can be repaired by the shop artificer, Ridley. He has a workshop downstairs in the showroom – I’ll introduce you two later.”

  “Okay,” Seymour agreed, “but this is a huge task. It’s going to take me forever to check the condition of every single item up here.”

  “Well, not quite forever, but we do expect it will require around a month of your time. Possibly more.”

  “Then I guess I’d better get started.”