It was early February when the roads once again became passable.

I received a large influx of newspapers, and Harrington supplied Herbert with a message to be sent through the telegraph office. He hoped for a response in the form of a letter to arrive at the post office within the town. He made sure that it was addressed to Herbert.

I sorted through the papers and began reading the issues I had access to, catching up on the news.

Reconstruction was going on in Cuba, but several of the political leaders who opposed the Unionists had fled to Mexico. They were agitating from there, but so far they had little influence. The US government had requested that they be returned, but the Mexicans had granted them asylum.

The US Supreme Court issued two rulings at the end of January that caused considerable stir. Republican elements of Congress have brought them both to the court. The first was an antitrust law against the American Sugar Refining Company, which dominated the sugar refining industry in the United States, holding a 98% market share. The court ruled heavily in favour of the company's rights not to be interfered with by the federal government, as it had no role in regulating the manufacturing industry.

The second ruling concerned the use of the National Guard in suppressing strikes over the past year. Here, the court rules that the federal government has the authority to regulate interstate commerce and that strikes affecting such commerce can be suppressed using military force.

The Republicans and trade unionists condemn both rulings, saying that they strike not one but two blows against the very nature of a free capitalist society.

President Fredrickson and the Democrats welcome both rulings.

Internationally, the Venezuelan crisis is taking place. Tensions were rising between Venezuela and Britain. President Fredrickson was calling on both parties to resolve their issues through arbitration, rather than resorting to violence. Which I thought was highly ironic.

The next day, a significant story that could have been disastrous for the US government. The panic of 1893 and the recent war with Cuba had taxed the US government's gold reserves extensively to the point where it could affect the currency, as gold backed the US dollar. The federal gold reserve was saved when the top five families in the United States provided the country with a $75 million loan of gold. This was funded by the issuing of syndicate bonds, which sold out in both New York and London when they went on sale.

There were a few more snowstorms in February, but they died off when March arrived. In the Pacific, the Imperial Japanese Army was making advances and had landed in Taiwan.

Harrington received a letter from his contact out East. This initial attempt to acquire the book was unsuccessful. Still, Harrington was not dissuaded, claiming that the man in question had always turned down the first few probes to buy anything from this collection.

March often saw a few more snowstorms before the weather changed, but this year we had more rain, which started clearing the snow earlier. This, of course, led to more mud, but that's just the way it is.

It was at the end of this month that I got my first visitors of the year.

It was about mid-morning, and the sun was still heading towards its zenith of midday. The cloud cover had broken, and I didn't think there would be rain. Movement caught my attention, drawing it to the pathway leading from the road to the gates.

A large wagon made its way through the forest and up to the gates. It was different from the ones I usually saw on the road.

It was a large cargo wagon, but had been converted. The back was a self-contained cabin on wheels, very similar to the caravan wagons that the circus had recently passed through. It was pulled not by horses but by four oxen, which was another change from the regular traffic. Along the sides of the wagon were other containers and boxes.

"Who are you then?"

A large man was sitting on the front of the wagon, directing the oxen. The muddy trail leading to the gates slowed him down, and the oxen were being forced to work much harder than usual to get the wagon into the open space before the gates.

Eventually, he made it.

He jumped down from the wagon onto the muddy ground, causing a large splash from the impact. I got a good look at him now as he walked towards the gates with purpose.

He was about 6 feet tall and much broader than I thought possible. He looked like a walking brick in some ways. His arms were thick, and he had a barrel chest. He was white and had jet black hair with a large, black, bushy beard. If I were to guess his age, it would be in his late 30s.

We crossed into the courtyard, stopping at the base of the plinth. He reached out and traced his fingers along the inscription and then looked up and around at what he could see of the graveyard. His eyes fixated on the church in the distance.

Without a word or change of expression, he turned and walked back to the wagon, his stride purposeful. He walked around the wagon and went into the back, disappearing for several minutes. He eventually reemerged, carrying a bundled figure over his shoulder.

"My seventh Hunter?"

I watched as he carried on walking back into the courtyard and took the southern route into the graveyard.

[Potential Hunter entering the Dungeon!]

I was intrigued. I followed this new potential Hunter as he made his way to the church. The figure he was carrying was slung over his shoulder, wrapped in a canvas wrap. The figure was tied up with a rope that made it impossible for them to move.

The man walked with a pace that was almost a marching one. It allowed him to cross the distance very quickly, and he was soon approaching the church. He carried the additional weight of the body slung over his shoulder, and by the time he reached the church, he still didn't appear to be feeling the weight at all. He made no wrong steps within the maze of the graveyard.

He never hesitated at the church doors but opened them respectfully. He did his best to clean his boots off before he entered and walked down the central aisle towards the altar.

Before the altar, he stopped and turned, placing the figure wrapped up onto the pew closest to him. The body was positioned in a sitting stance, and the figure with it was struggling to move.

The potential Hunter ignored him and walked up to the altar. There, he hesitated for the first time. After a few moments, he reached out his hand and placed it onto the cold marble surface.

[Potential Hunter: John Blackstone. Has asked to become a Hunter in your Dungeon and offers one sacrifice to you.]

[Do you accept: Yes or No?]

"Yes."

The contract was made and needed to be finalised.

Blackstone's expression had never changed so far. He walked up to the wrapped figure and opened the top around the head to reveal a gagged young man about twenty. He bent over and reached out with his large hands, and the younger man tried to move away. The potential Hunter gripped his head. The struggle increased until the Blackstone jerked.

Crack.

The man's head was turned in an unnatural direction, and he slumped down dead.

I summoned my avatar. Blackstone stood back up and looked at me.

"John Blackstone, I am the Keeper of New Midian, and we have a few rules you should be aware of…"

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Blackstone was a man of few words…. Literally.

I had explained the rules of the Dungeon to him and shown him to his new home. Yet, he accepted the rules and looked over the place where he was going to live with three words in total.

The first thing he did was bury the body of his sacrifice.

Once it was done, he returned to his wagon and was presently unloading it. I used this time while he was busy outside the Dungeon to look at his character sheet.

Hunter Name

John Blackstone

Level

1

Kills

1/5

Skills

 

Loyalty

Neutral

Carpentry. V

 

Masonry. V

 

Blacksmith. V

 

Leatherworking. IV

 

Trap Making. IV

 

Hammers. V

 

Dark Traits

 

Sadistic Trap Maker.

 

Sadistic Trap Maker?

Well, that was a first. The only other Hunter with such a skill was Rigger.

I opened up the further information section on his dark trait to learn more. I quickly read over the description and got the gist of what he was. He reminded me of Jigsaw from the Saw movie series. According to the description, he revelled in making elaborate traps and placing victims within them, but he had a twisted sense of honour. His traps were vicious and sadistic, but if they escaped, he was willing to let the victim go as they proved worthy of their lives.

To reflect his extensive skills in building and metalwork.

Over the next few hours, I watched him unload and transport two workbenches, an anvil, and an extensive amount of tools, along with materials, to his new home. Once he had done that, he began to dismantle the wagon, leaving the oxen to graze in the area while he worked.

He was still working as the sun set, but would soon finish. He had stripped the wagon down to the axle and wheels now. It looked like he was preparing to start dismantling them next.

Rigger approached the gates to go on a night hunt while all this was happening. He stood next to me as my avatar was watching Blackstone from the gates.

"New Hunter?" He asked while watching the other man work.

"Yes. His name is Blackstone."

"Big'un. Don't want to fight that' un." He remarked on the size of the new Hunter, and I could see that he was a bit intimidated.

"He's a trap maker like you."

That got his attention, and he turned his head to look at me. "Better or worse?"

"Better. He's very skilled at construction and metalwork."

"That so?" He turned back to the new Hunter, watching him this time with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Best get Roberson out here to move the oxen down to the Driver household."

As I spoke, Blackstone was pushing a wheel towards the gates to be taken to his lair.

"Need them." Came the rumble of his voice.

"What for?"

I had no idea why he wanted the animals left or what he needed them for.

"Parts." Came the rumble again.

"Parts?"

I echoed, confused.

"Reckon I know what he wants." Rigger then spoke up. "He's looking to skin them and use the bones."

"Right then. That's quite a big job. We only need help."

I looked at the four oxen again, taking this into account. They were not small animals by any measure. Killing them and processing the bodies would be quite a messy and time-consuming project.

"Use the open space to the north-east along the path. That should be plenty of room to herd the oxen, too. I will see if I can drum up some more help."

Blackstone finished dismantling his wagon while Rigger rounded the oxen and got them moving into the Dungeon to the chosen location. The beasts were not too happy with what was being asked of them, but they got rolling in the end. I reached out to the other Hunters to see who was willing to help with the killing and butchering. Roberson was soon on his way. The other Hunters came out to see what was going on.

By the time they had all gathered for the killing, Blackstone had finished moving what was left of the wagon to its lair. I waited for him to arrive, and when he did, I introduced the Hunters to each other.

I watched the Hunters sizing each other up, even those who had been here for years. The tension between them was palpable, but they were here for a job or just out of interest. Those who were not going to participate were likely to drift away once the butchering began.

I had held off killing the oxen until he came, as they were his beasts.

It was still early in the night. With few words, he explained what he was looking for, and the rest was anyone else's to claim.

With a nod from me, the four oxen died.

All seven Hunters joined in the butchering. This surprised me, as I had expected most of them to go away once the killing was done. Instead, the Hunters were working together to dismantle the four corpses, even Harrington, who was wearing much more rugged and sturdier clothing.

Blackstone, being a builder, was something that all the Hunters seemed to appreciate. I noticed the brief and short conversations happening, as well as the deals being made.

Something had changed with the arrival of Blackstone. The Hunters were still very intolerant of each other's presence, but seemed to be more willing to communicate in a limited fashion to make deals.

Most of the deals being negotiated were between them and Blackstone, but a few others had also reached out and were in talks with them. Offers of trades for work or other items were made.

Many were glancing towards me as it progressed, and I realised they were wondering if I was going to impose myself through a tax or restriction. I thought about it and made a decision.

I called out, bringing their attention to me, and I told them that any deal they made between themselves was their business, but it would be honoured.

That seemed to satisfy them, and they carried on with their increasingly bloody work.

I left them to it. I returned to the spot in the morning to find the area covered in blood, but no signs of any bodies.

I sighed to myself and began to clean up the mess.

A few days later, my next visitor arrived.

April was spring, and the weather had changed. Green was covering the land, and wildflowers were appearing slowly. The sun was heading towards the mountains in the west, but was still a few hours from setting.

I noticed a rider crossing the ridge from Crossway riding hard. I found the sight odd and wondered what was going on.

He was soon lost from sight, and I thought nothing of it until he came up the path, but he was now on foot. He was running with a saddlebag slung over one shoulder and was openly brandishing a pistol.

I shifted to the gates.

I reached them only a few moments before he did.

He was sweating hard, his face was pale, and his eyes were darting. I was drawn to a blood stain on his trousers.

"What are you up to?"

He came fast into the courtyard and skidded to a stop. He looked around at the graveyard and then looked back at the path. He was afraid of being followed. What had he done?

He headed into the graveyard following the northern path.

[Alert! Intruder is not recognised as Challenger.]

He was in the Dungeon and Blackstone's territory. I had shifted the hunting grounds again with his arrival. The intruder was moving fast along the path. He was looking around as he moved, gripping the gun, ready for trouble.

Blackstone was fast for his size. He had split his time between his lair and exploring the graveyard that made his territory. He was moving through the graves and mausoleums. The statues and trees helped hide him as he moved through the maze of the graveyard.

The intruder was still on the sixth ring of the maze. He made several wrong turns, which slowed him down, allowing Blackstone to catch up. He was ahead of the intruder and was hiding between a mausoleum and a tree. It hid him from the path with a deep shadow.

The intruder passed him, and he moved out behind the intruder. He was carrying a sledgehammer with one hand. Its handle was designed to be wielded with two hands, but I thought that might not apply to him.

The intruder did not register as a presence until he was close. The man turned round quickly, trying to bring his gun into play, but Blackstone had other ideas. The sledgehammer was one and connected with the lower jaw of the intruder. With a sickly crunch, the jaw was destroyed, with blood and a few teeth exploding from the man's mouth as he twisted from the impact, collapsing to the floor.

Blackstone calmly stepped forward one more time and brought that sledgehammer down on the intruder's head. The skull was not broken, no, it was not even destroyed. It exploded like a ripe watermelon with bone fragments, blood and brain matter scattering everywhere.

[A Hunter has made a Kill.]

I summon my avatar to the scene as Blackstone straightens himself, pulling his bloodied sledgehammer from the ruined head of the corpse.

"I would call that overkill."

I said to him, but he looked at me and shrugged. He set off to find a shovel, not even awaiting my instructions to bury the body.

I reached down and pulled the saddlebags from the body, placing them on the ground nearby to inspect their contents. I heard jangling that indicated money in the form of coins. Opening the bags, I found several hundred dollars in bills and a leather bag containing a large number of silver dollar coins.

"Jackpot."

The paper money was nice, but it was the silver dollars that made me happy. I started counting them as I waited for Blackstone's return. He came back and buried the body quite quickly. His immense strength allowed him to move very efficiently, and before long, the grave was dug, and the body was placed within it. By the time he filled it, I had counted the money twice to make sure.

Fifty silver dollars to add to my collection. I wondered if he had robbed a bank. From his demeanour and actions, I was willing to bet he had. This could be troublesome if he were tracked here.

This took me over two and a half thousand dollars, now in silver coins—quite the impressive haul. I took the money back to the church along with the man's guns and a few personal items found on him. There was a small amount of tobacco that I offered to Blackstone along with the other items, but he turned me down with a shake of his head.

It seems that Blackstone didn't smoke or drink.

For my Hunters, that was a bit odd. But each to his own.

I place my newly ill-got gains down into the crypt and return to the top of the special bubble to wait out the rest of the day. I would deal with those items tonight.

As I looked out, I noticed a large group of men riding up the pathway towards the gates. I should have learned by now not to jinx myself.

"Oh shit!"

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.