The men had been following the tracks of the first.

I had shifted to the gates to get a better look at the group. Eight men, all openly carrying guns. I counted three badges amongst them. A posse of lawmen and those deputised to assist them.

They were close enough to hear their conversation.

"… Tracks are leading in this direction. He definitely dropped from his horse and let it continue to run. Look, there you can see that he was running himself up the track and passed through the gates." Eight men were making their way towards the gates. The group's tracker was identifiable as he was the most ruggedly dressed. He was riding next to another man who had a badge on his chest and was explaining the tracks as they advanced.

"Are you sure?" The man was close enough now for me to see the badge on his chest. It read Sheriff.

"Yes. He tried to use his horse as a way to distract us while he ran away into the forest. He followed the track from close to the road and came up here and through those gates." The tracker was confident in their ability to read the tracks.

"All right." The Sheriff said after several moments. "Right then. Let's return to town. I will report that we lost him and place a bounty out in case he reappears."

The reaction of the others was quite interesting. Most seemed to agree with his decision and nodded their heads, while two seemed to be confused. One of them spoke up.

"But Sheriff Johnson, the man robbed the bank, surely we should be tracking him down?"

"No need. The odds are no one will see him again now." Sheriff Johnson turned his horse and started back towards the road. The other riders followed him, but the man who had asked the question was still speaking.

"But Sheriff. He is on foot now; we could ride him down quite quickly."

"If you want to continue, please feel free. If you can bring that vagrant to justice, we will all be very thankful and impressed with your skills. But today we shall not pursue him any further, as justice of another type will most likely find him." Sheriff Johnson had passed the group and was now returning to the road. He spoke over his shoulder to answer the question.

They rode away, and I observed the man who had questioned the Sheriff's decision look over his shoulder several times before they disappeared into the trees.

"Well, that was close."

I reviewed what happened and the expressions of the riders. Their discomfort at approaching the gates was present in most of them. The two who were surprised by the decision to go no further were the only ones who remained neutral. I suspected that most of the riders were from local families that have been here for some time. They had heard the stories of this place.

As for the Sheriff, I didn't think he wanted to be the third lawman lost to New Midian.

April passed, and I received no more visitors.

Tensions between Venezuela and Britain, unfortunately, didn't improve, leading to a limited conflict. On the 17th day of the month, the British Royal Navy and the Venezuelan Navy began to clash. The Caribbean Squadron was trying to impose a limited blockade on the Venezuelan coastline. The Royal Navy had the heavier ships, but the Venezuelan Navy had learned from the conflict in Cuba and was deploying its torpedo destroyers more aggressively.

I would be interested to see how this conflict played out.

On the same day that the conflict broke out in the Caribbean, the Sino-Japanese War came to an end. The Japanese had beaten the Qing Empire on all fronts, claiming control of Korea and Taiwan. They also gained access to several provinces along the mainland coast of China. Additionally, a significant financial penalty was imposed upon China, further strengthening Japan's position.

Negotiations for the book from Harrington's contact continued.

I was awaiting further details of the growing conflict in the Caribbean when May arrived, and my next visitor arrived.

From the way the man was getting ready, it was clear he was going to be a Challenger. I watched him put away his firearms and pull out a sword. The lantern and satchel confirmed it to me.

He walked up to the gates and through them, turning north along the pathway.

[A Challenger have entered your Dungeon.]

He was heading into Harrington's hunting ground, and this would be the first time I would have seen my sixth Hunter in action.

Harrington found him about halfway through his hunting ground. He looked over the man walking down the path and chose to meet him. He got ahead of him and stood in the pathway.

He greeted the Challenger and sparked up a conversation with them. He was both polite and elegant with his words. This confused the Challenger, evidently, as he was cruder but direct.

Harrington pulled his sword from the cane sheath while berating him for his lack of manners or eloquence.

The Challenger attacked with a wild slash of his sword. Harrington parried it and nimbly stepped out of the way. This gave him the opening he needed to cut across the Challenger's windpipe. He collapsed to his knees, grasping at his throat as blood poured through his fingers. After a few moments, he collapsed forward.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

"Swordsmanship is a serious skill."

Harrington was disappointed with the calibre of his opponent and seemed to be in a bad mood while he buried the body. This changed, however, when he discovered a large stockpile of tobacco being carried in this Challenger's saddlebags. It turned out to be his favourite brand, and he had quite a large amount of it. He went back to his lair puffing away on his pipe happily.

Eight days later, another arrived.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Blackstone made short work of him, just as he had done the first time. His sledgehammer quickly ended fights with brutal impacts, shattering bones and puncturing organs. And that was your best option if you didn't dodge.

Herbert came the next day with a message from Harrington's contact. I took it from him at the gates, along with the papers and walked back to the church. I notified Harrington of its arrival, and I would meet him at the church.

He caught up with me when I was almost there. I handed him the message as we continued to walk. He opened up the letter and began to read.

"Well then, there it is." He said after reading the words.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Let me guess, the price has been named."

We were walking into the church, and I was pretty eager to read the papers, but the day was still far from over. I couldn't risk taking my attention away from the gates and having someone enter without my awareness until the system triggered.

"Indeed, Keeper." He opened up the paper again and showed me the amount requested for the book. I wondered why he was hesitant at first, then I found out.

"How much!"

My voice echoed around the church.

"Indeed, Keeper, it is quite the demand, but the book, I believe, is worth it," he said. I could see that he was worried that I would reject the price outright. He was eager to get his hands on this book, as he had expressed a desire to read it himself.

I thought about it as I walked past the altar towards the door that would lead me to the crypts. Harrington continued to follow me, awaiting my decision. Once we were down underground, I placed the papers down and turned to him.

"Very well. It will use up all the excess money I possess, but we shall secure the book."

He sagged in relief at my decision, and the smile he was trying to hide was evident. But I wasn't finished.

"Also, order an English-to-Latin dictionary."

"Keeper?" He asked, confused.

"As most texts involved in the occult are written in Latin, it's best I brush up and improve my skills in the language."

"Oh. Intellectual improvement is a fine endeavour, Keeper." He praised my decision, but I suspected that he wanted to hoard such knowledge to give him an advantage in the future.

"I will arrange the money. You prepare the means of transfer. Hopefully we'll see it in a few weeks at worst."

May passed, and I was now considerably less wealthy.

My silver and gold reserves were untouched, but my supply of greenbacks was now exhausted. I still had quite a bit of loose change lying around, but nowhere near the financial reserves I once possessed. I now possessed roughly three hundred dollars in change and small bills. This book was costing me nearly six thousand dollars.

Herbert had to go to another town to move the money. If you had done it in Crossway, it would have raised too many red flags and questions. It turns out that Harrington had an account with the bank based in that town and was able to grant Herbert access, pretending to be him.

We received confirmation of the transaction a week later. The book was on its way.

I had worried that we could have been ripped off or conned. Still, Harrington assured me that reputation was everything in the circles this man worked in, and such an accusation would be devastating to him professionally and financially.

I distracted myself with news from abroad as I waited for the book's arrival. The dictionary arrived first, which took a little stress off me. At night, I began working on my Latin skills.

Clashes between the Royal Navy and the Venezuelan Navy continued in the Caribbean. The Royal Navy was learning the harsh lessons that the American Navy had learned about the danger of torpedo destroyer boats. They lost two ships and had several more damaged. The Venezuelan Navy suffered far heavier casualties, with 11 ships lost and several of their coastal fortifications and facilities shelled.

The end of June brought Herbert to the Dungeon gates again. This time, he came with the papers and a large parcel.

The Liber Societatum Occultaeum had arrived.

I had to chase Harrington off the church when he found out the book was there. That day was a terrible drag as I waited for nighttime to come. As soon as the sun started to set, I moved back to the church and some of my avatar in the crypt.

I placed the book on one shelf, next to a dictionary, and opened the cover.

There were many interesting groups listed within its pages, but I was looking for one particular organisation. The book was structured with the newer organisations at the beginning and the older ones towards the end. I skimmed over the pages looking for the keyword Athamos. I found several references to it in other groups and cult sections.

This sidetracked me a bit, but I did learn some interesting things. It turns out that the Way of Athamos was in an on-and-off Cold War-style conflict with the cult called the Daughters of Medusa. It turns out that for the last thousand or so years, they had been clashing over rare tomes and artefacts.

It was towards the back of the book that I found what I was looking for.

It took me two days to translate the full text of what was known about the group.

Athamos was an alchemist in Greece in the third century BC. It seems that he encountered a place of great power that tested him, and he emerged with new abilities and knowledge.

"That sounds like a Dungeon."

It was claimed that he lived for another three centuries and disappeared when the Roman Republic transitioned to the Roman Empire. At that time, he established his cult, which he called the Way, dedicated to the study and understanding of alchemy and the arcane arts.

During those nearly three centuries, he led his organisation extremely successfully, allowing it to acquire a great deal of mystical knowledge and temporal power. The organisation's fortunes prospered throughout the Roman Empire; however, its fall heralded a severe weakening in its power and wealth. With the rise of the Roman Catholic Church, the organisation went underground and became what it is today.

The Way has seen several peaks and falls over the next sixteen hundred years. It is no longer one of the major power players as it once was, but it seems to be actively attempting to reassert itself.

My discovery was a significant boon to them, it seemed.

I closed the book with a better understanding, but this left me with even more questions. We had a deal at the moment, but would they honour it? That was the major one that always played on my mind, and reading about them and their past indicated that they would as long as they thought I had the upper hand or something they needed.

"Trouble. Trouble indeed."

The world had stopped for my studies, while things continued to unfold around the globe.

Fighting in the Caribbean continued. In other parts of Africa, the British Empire was annexing more territory. Europe celebrated the completion of the Kiel Canal with great fanfare in Germany.

In Central America, the nations of Nicaragua, Honduras, and El Salvador are united by the Treaty of Amapala.

July had arrived.

Summer was here. The land was green. Animals and birds were abroad. The skies were mostly clear. My flower beds were thriving, and I was considering having the Hunters clear the path to the road again, as it was becoming overgrown. I had a great view of everything from the top of the spatial bubble.

Eight riders came up the trail. I shifted to see what I was dealing with.

Treasure hunters or looking for the man who had robbed the band recently. They had a rough and dishevelled appearance. If I could smell, I would smell their desperation; they would reek of it.

I watched them dismount and secure their horses. The conversation was muted, and they were working according to a plan. The leader was the roughest-looking of them and had a nasty scar on his face. He kept them focused on their goal and listened to them as they searched for the money that had recently been stolen.

I watched them come through the gates and turn north.

[Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.]

Eight men armed and looking for a quick score. I informed the Hunters of what they were facing and decided on the ambush location. Six vs eight, not odds, I liked, so the location of the ambush needed to be to the advantage of my Hunters. I had played this game before, so I knew what to do and where.

My Hunters were gathering.

The intruders were moving at a slower pace than usual, often stopping to check different mausoleums along the way to see if anything of value was present. The lack of bodies in nearly all of these mausoleums was starting to affect them, and they were growing increasingly concerned with what they were doing.

Their leader kept them focused and on task, deciding to stop searching the mausoleums and head straight for the church. They were not entirely confident in their actions before entering through the gates, but now they were rattled.

By the time they reached the ambush point, most were openly arguing for them to stop and turn back. The problem was that it was too late for them now, but they did not know that yet. It was time to show them.

"Go."

They were so distracted by their arguments that they did not see the danger until the Hunters were right on top of them. Several cried out an alarm when they finally noticed them, and they went for their guns. Most were in the act of drawing them when Hunters got into striking range.

Brutal hand-to-hand combat broke out, and several of the guns were discharged in the fight, but I cannot tell if they hit anything. Cries of pain echoed, and blood flowed from wounds.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Blackstone made the first kill as he never wasted time with his kills at the moment. His sledgehammer destroyed the skull of the man pulling the gun on him.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Harrington was next, driving his blade through the chest of his opponent as he screamed in pain, and blood pumped from the wound.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Rodriguez was next and was moving to kill quickly because he was the closest to one of the eight men who had been targeted yet, and he was being targeted as he had drawn his gun and was about to fire. His Tomahawk was buried in the head of the man he first targeted, and he pulled the body in front of him. A bullet impacted the body, and at this close range, the kinetic energy knocked the body into Rodriguez, and they both fell over.

The last of the intruders still standing was their leader. After shooting his comrade, he turned to seek out another Hunter to shoot. However, this attempt was ended by Blackstone. His sledgehammer hit him from behind, shattering his shoulder, and the man collapsed in a terrible scream of pain. The sledgehammer fell again, ending the noise he was making.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Roberson followed up right behind him with his kill. But he was shot in the shoulder by the last standing. He fell back with a cry of pain. Harrington claimed his second kill of the fight, coming to his aid.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Rigger and McGregor took their time with their kills, but added them to the total.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

Eight Intruders entered, and eight bodies now lay on the ground.

Time to count the cost.

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