Eric hurried to push the trap door at the top of the steps open. He risked a glance away from the threatening gnoll behind him and froze as he saw the state of the shop. He turned around and took a hesitant step back down, before stopping again at Gruntle's growl.

  "Can't I just... I mean, it's... I should go back down there and start cleaning up, it's going to take a long time," Eric pleaded.

  "No," Al answered, "We've got somewhere else we're supposed to be, I want to be done with this!"

  "Yeah! We said we'd bring you back alive!" Wikwocket agreed, "The alive part's done, we just need to do the bring you back part now!"

  "But, I see Ebeneezer outside and he doesn't look happy, and there are a bunch of city guard who don't look happy either!"

  "Yes, and the longer we keep them waiting, the less happy they're going to get."

  Eric looked desperately from down towards the gnoll who seemed to be looming menacingly up to the partly-opened trapdoor and back.

  He scrambled up through the trapdoor as quickly as he could and let it fall shut behind him. Al could hear him yelling "Gnoll! There's a gnoll!" as Eric's footsteps ran across the floor above.

  Al gave Gruntle a sympathetic look.

  "Sometimes, I regret that I don't let you..."

  He cut off the thought. Better not plant that idea in his head!

  "Hey, you always seemed to... respect magic-work. Doesn't Eric being able to work ...shaman stuff worry you?"

  Gruntle grunted. "Not our shaman. Dangerous. Threatens clan."

  "Oh. Uh, technically he's sort of part of our extended clan, so you really shouldn't kill him."

  Gruntle huffed in disbelief.

  "Maybe I'd better go out first."

  Al squeezed up the steps past Gruntle and lifted the trapdoor again. Stepping up into the shop, he spotted Eric outside with the guard-captain and Ebeneezer. He frantically pointed in Al's direction as he spun a slightly-embellished story of being chased by a murderous gnoll. Al shook his head and applied the broom to the task of sweeping a glass-free path to the door.

  "There it is!" Eric shouted, ducking behind Ebeneezer for cover as Gruntle came up the steps behind Al. "See? There's a gnoll!"

  "Yes. We know," the guard-captain said with the stoic tone of someone who'd clearly rather not be dealing with this situation.

  "Never mind that, what have you done to my shop?" Ebeneezer demanded to know.

  "Nothing! It wasn't me!"

  "Don't you dare try to blame the gnoll for this, the place was already on fire when they volunteered to run in to save your lazy butt!"

  "No, it was...," Eric began, and then tried to change the subject of the conversation. "It can't be a real gnoll, right? It doesn't act right, I've read Rampage of the Dark Beast twice and Grim Fangs of Darkness, so I know what gnolls are supposed to be like! Isn't shape-changing magic illegal?"

  "They admit to no shape-changing magic, and we have not yet been able to prove any is in use," stated the guard-captain. "We were taking them for further inquiries when they insisted on rushing into a burning building to help."

  "Don't change the subject, boy!" Ebeneezer insisted with a glare.

  "Well... the magic didn't work exactly like it was supposed to," Eric admitted.

  "What magic?"

  "I... borrowed the spell-scroll in your safe that makes things come to life."

  "Why? I told you you wouldn't be able to do anything with it!"

  "I can and I did!" Eric insisted defiantly, pointing to the lute still obediently hovering behind him. "I told you I could do it if you'd let me try!"

  For just a moment, Al thought he saw a surprised proud smile beginning to form on Ebeneezer's face, but it was crowded out by anger.

  "Do you know how much that cost? That wasn't one that I can make, I had to buy it! With money! And what do you mean it didn't work like it was supposed to?"

  "Well, when I told the broom and the duster and my old robes what to do, they... worked too hard?"

  "There's a lot of breakage and you've lost some inventory, but the building still looks structurally sound and it's not a total loss," Al explained, hoping to speed the conversation along as he emerged from the front door and set the broom aside.

  "Are you going to kick me out?" asked Eric quietly, hanging his head.

  "Oh, you're not getting out that easily. I taught you that magic trick for fixing things for a reason. You're going to fix everything, one piece at a time!"

  "But that'll take forever!"

  "What are you complaining about?" Wikwocket asked as she followed Gruntle out through the door. "If I knew how to do magic I'd do it all day!"

  "You hear that?" Ebeneezer said, "Why can't you have that attitude?"

  "I may have a suggestion," Bote offered, following the others out of the building. The dwarf motioned Ebeneezer over and whispered conspiratorially into his ear as he leaned down.

  "It may be that both of you would be less unhappy if you were to set him a more difficult task for atonement," Bote suggested.

  "Like what?"

  "You mentioned that the spell-scroll was costly, for example."

  "Yes, but he can't..."

  A maliciously satisfied grin replaced the anger.

  "That's an excellent idea. Okay, boy, how about you replace what you took from my safe, then?"

  "You hardly pay me, there's no way I can buy a new one!"

  "That's right, and I don't want you to buy one. You're going to make one for me."

  "I can't do that, either!"

  "No, not yet. You'd better learn fast. In the meantime, you'll learn how to make simpler ones to practice on, and maybe we can sell enough of them to pay for replacing my supplies!"

  "Really? You'll teach me?" Eric asked, hopeful and surprised.

  "Best chance to get my investment back," grumbled Ebeneezer.

  "And they all lived happily for a while, The End!" Wikwocket said, "I love happy endings! Speaking of which, you said we could each have something from your shop, right?"

  "Is there even anything left worth taking after this?"

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

  "Lots! We saw potions for flying, potions for sneezing lightning, potions that come to life as a glowing fiery mass that chases you down the stairs trying to hug you to death in an embrace of sharp glass..."

  "What?"

  "Uh, the stuff spilled in the stockroom had some sort of reaction and coagulated into something. It was unmistakably chasing after us, almost as if it was alive," Al explained.

  "My cavern-jelly concentrate! Eric, do you have any idea how hard it is to gather that and keep it viable?"

  "Hey!" Wikwocket complained, "You're interrupting my dramatic hero requesting an unexpected reward here!"

  "Uh... what is it that you wanted?" Ebeneezer asked. His brief glance towards the captain of the city guard seemed to remind him that an officer of the law had been there to hear his promise.

  "I want Sir Fluffington released from his duties to join us on our quests!"

  "Who?"

  Ebeneezer squinted at what Wikwocket was holding up.

  "Is that my pillow?"

  "Not anymore! He's ours now! He has been unable to walk since his heroic battles to vanquish the rampaging fires to save us all!"

  "Uh, she...," Al began to explain, but Ebeneezer waved him off.

  "No, no, I get it, we have our own local gnomish clan here in Southwall. I hereby release my pillow..."

  "Sir Fluffington," Wikwocket corrected.

  "Right, of course. I hereby release Sir Fluffington from my service."

  "Well, I'm satisfied!" Wikwocket announced. "What do you want, Al?"

  "I want to get where we're going and get some food and rest. Although... Eric demonstrated a sleeping-spell a little while ago. Would you mind teaching that one to me?"

  "Just that?"

  "Yes, I think that would be useful. But maybe not today. I'm not sure we've got time, or that I can concentrate on much right now."

  "Consider it done!" Ebeneezer answered, pleased that this was another reward that wouldn't actually cost him any substantial amount. "Come back when you feel ready, and the secret of Ebeneezer's Exhaustion Enchantment will be yours! And what about you, my kind dwarven benefactor? You appear to be a holy person, so I imagine your divine faith provides for your needs, but surely there is some reward you desire from Ebeneezer's Elixir Emporium?"

  Bote gave the matter a moment of thought.

  "Do you have a chest, lockbox, or safe with a substantial amount of gold in it?"

  Ebeneezer's optimistic smile wavered and he began to sweat. "Y-yes?" he answered reluctantly.

  "Then you must have a very successful business here, and the discount you have offered us in perpetuity will not be a substantial burden. For me, that will be enough. I am certain we will have need to purchase supplies, once you are operating again."

  Ebeneezer sagged in relief. "Allow me to express my gratitude for keeping this disaster from getting worse, and for not being greedy the way adventurers are said to be, and we look forward to seeing you again. I hope your business this evening goes well!"

  "Wait, what about Gruntle's reward?" asked Wikwocket. Ebeneezer followed her gaze in disbelief.

  "The gnoll?"

  "Yes! What do you want, Gruntle?"

  "Snacks."

  "Yes, he talks," Al answered preemptively.

  Gruntle pulled the stopper out of the small, round glass bottle full of dark red-brown liquid. The gnoll sniffed hungrily as a scent like an oven full of broiling meat filled the air.

  Ebeneezer had said something about an experiment and gone inside. After some cries of anguish and cursing as he saw the state of his stockroom, he had re-emerged with the bottle and handed it to the gnoll. Gruntle poured the meager contents of the bottle of Ebeneezer's Carnivore Concentrate into his mouth. An extended groan of contentment came from the gnoll, and Wikwocket caught the empty bottle and stopper as the gnoll dropped them.

  "I can't decide whether to be pleased or angry with you people," the guard-captain told Al once everything had been settled and the escorted march to their destination resumed. A small crowd was already gathering to see the fire, active guard activity, adventurer heroics, invading monsters, or whatever combination of these things the rapidly-spreading rumors were suggesting. They talked excitedly amongst themselves as they parted to let the guards through on their honor-guard and/or prisoner-escort duties.

  "Oh, sorry about running off like that, we didn't mean..."

  "Not that. Well, I'm not happy about that either, but that's not the issue. I really thought your alleged gnoll would have at least tried to kill or eat Eric or someone else before that was over, so I'm pleasantly surprised that didn't happen. On the other hand, I owe Carl five silvers now. I hate losing a bet."

  "I... talked him out of it."

  "You realize this doesn't really support your claim that that's a real gnoll."

  "Understandable," Al sighed. "I swear he is, though."

  The guard-captain leaned closer.

  "If you've discovered a way to perform a transformation that we can't detect," he told Al quietly, "the city council will certainly offer a pardon and an official variance in exchange for information about how you did it."

  "No, honestly, the only magic I currently know how to work that involves anything like transmutation are some small tricks involving minor alterations of inanimate objects. I have no idea how to work any sort of physical transformation of something with an animating spirit."

  "If that's so, why don't you explain just how it is that you have an alleged gnoll that doesn't act like a gnoll. We're taking a longer route to the prison to keep curious crowds from guessing where we'll be, so you've got plenty of time."

  "Well, to begin with, I'm starting to realize that much of his behavior does make sense when you consider the fundamental ethology of gnolls..."

  Al proceeded to explain his developing personal theory of gnollish motivations and behavior, based on Melissa's research and his own observations of Gruntle. His impromptu lecture lasted longer than he expected, because Wikwocket kept interrupting to make Al explain things without academic jargon. The guard-captain seemed to appreciate this, at least.

  "So, as you can see, it's not Gruntle's behavior that's un-gnollish, it's just the context and environment that it's being expressed in. Most of it can still be explained in terms of demonic urges to violence, gnollish clan social structure and hierarchy, clan defense, or simple animal instincts for food, comfort, and safety," Al concluded.

  "Nothing to be alarmed about! Go about your business!" the guard-captain shouted for at least the dozenth time thus far at people leaning out of windows or stepping into the street for a closer look at their procession. "You talk like they're people," the guard captain said, returning his attention to Al.

  "Gruntle is, at least. By strict definition they all are, really, but I know what you mean. I'm beginning to think it might be possible for there to be more gnoll people the way you mean it, under the right circumstances."

  "I think one gnoll-person is probably more than enough. Nothing to be alarmed about! Go about your business!"

  The arena walls rose as tall as a three-story building, enclosing an ovoid area that appeared large enough for a militia-training camp. The guards led them around past a few gates of iron bars, through which Al could see several tiers of stone bench seats for spectators along the inside walls. At the far side of the arena a squat, square building of plain stone sat against the outside of the arena walls. The man pacing impatiently in front of a heavy iron-bound door in the building looked up at the sound of the approaching horses and waved excitedly. He ran towards them, reaching into a pocket for something.

  The man looked to be a bit shorter than Al, but of much heavier build. Almost dwarven, though the clean-shaven face and bald head suggested against dwarven influence on his ancestry. He wore the same tabard as the guards over a sturdy leather jacket and pants. A heavy truncheon bounced hanging from the side of the man's belt as he ran.

  "Will, you finally got here! And look at what you've brought me!" the man announced, hardly slowing as he passed the guards and headed straight for Gruntle. "Magnificent! You must be Gruntle! Sausage!"

  The man held up a fat link of sausage, and laughed with child-like enthusiasm as the gnoll leaned down, sniffed at it, and pulled it from his hand in his teeth. The sausage disappeared with minimal chewing.

  "Oh, look at those teeth! Do you want to lick the grease?" said the man, holding his hand up.

  "He's not a dog," objected Al, and then groaned as Gruntle began to lick the man's hand. "Evidently he has the same lack of understanding of shame as a dog, though."

  "Cyrus' letter suggested bringing a food-offering. Wonderful!"

  Gruntle made a startled questioning sound as the man grabbed one of his hands and inspected his short claws.

  "Claws look a little small, but I'm sure we can make something for that. Have you ever killed anyone with your claws before?"

  "Don't remember," answered Gruntle.

  Al was relieved when the man seemed only slightly surprised to hear the gnoll talk. "Well, no matter, those teeth are certainly lethal, and you look plenty strong!"

  Gruntle gave a small confused whine and looked to Al for guidance in this entirely unfamiliar social situation as the man reached up to gently squeeze the muscles around the gnoll's neck, arms, back, and haunch.

  "If you're done feeling up your new exhibit," the guard-captain interjected, "how about you sign the paperwork so I can turn them over to you and get back to work."

  "I'm not feeling him up, just admiring. He'll be a great draw for the audience, just look at him! I wouldn't be surprised if we double our intake! Yes, yes, let me sign and we can discuss the arrangements with Gruntle and, let's see, you must be Al, and Wikwocket, and Bote."

  "And this is Haunch," Bote said, patting the donkey gently on the neck.

  "Of course, of course. Must be a very brave donkey to be standing so close to a gnoll," said the man standing close enough to grope a gnoll.

  He took the piece of paper from the captain and accepted a pen and small inkwell. Gruntle appeared even more confused as the man stepped behind the gnoll and used the gnoll's back as a surface against which to sign his name on the paper. The man handed the paper back to the captain, who rolled it up and tucked it away inside his tabard.

  "All right, they're your problem now."

  The captain turned to address the adventurers.

  "We'll be back to collect Charlie later. There is, in fact, a reward, so don't lose him. Don't eat anybody in the meantime. That goes for all of you."

  "Thanks, Will!" the gnoll-admirer called out as the captain led their escort back the way they came. "Now, then, come in! We've got the biggest cell all set up for you!"

  "Cell?" Al asked, hesitating.

  "That's all we have here. Don't worry, I'll give you the key, you're not prisoners. We've got it all set up nice, better than any inn you might find in town. Very luxurious, you'll love it!"

  Empirical Gnollage is!)

  the .pdf here.