Sheesh, can you believe we're only two weeks into the new year? Feels like a month. Anyway, welcome back! This is a long chapter today (I thought about splitting it into two but decided against it), so buckle in! We've already established this story's legend, so how about we actually establish the story now? See you at the bottom of the page!

Lil' Town probably had an actual name at some point, though no one could remember what it was. It was written down somewhere, in the town library, perhaps, but even the people living there only knew it as Lil' Town.

Like the name suggested, it was a very little town, only consisting of twelve houses, a well, and a single line of shops near the very center. There were plenty of fields for raising livestock, of course, and there was also the forest just outside of town. Someone might occasionally step inside to forage for berries or even hunt for small animals, but for the most part, everyone stayed away. The Dark Forest, they called it, because it seemed to turn into an impossible miasma of shadows when the sun went down. Everyone knew better than to go in then, even the most rebellious youngsters.

Though it was late into winter, there had been no sign of snow the entire season; the nights were dry and crisp with frost, but the mornings were just warm enough to melt it all away before the sun reached the highest point of the sky. Despite the cold, everyone who lived there had a routine to stick to: livestock to feed, bread to sell, water to fetch from the well… and Reginald Copperbottom was no different.

Reginald's house was the closest one to the Dark Forest, and one of the newest houses in Lil' Town. It had only finished being built three years ago, and though it had little more to it aside from the necessities, it was a durable, cozy place that had seen him through each winter since its construction.

As the sun rose that morning, peering right through the shutters of the window over his bed, Reginald opened his eyes and gazed around his room. The only other objects were a chest for his clothes and his bookshelf, though its shelves were not as full as he would have liked them to be. Resigning himself to his daily fate of leaving his warm bed, Reginald rose and dressed quickly, putting on his thick black gloves last. He clenched and unclenched his hands, letting the leather loosen up and warm against his skin until there was hardly any resistance at all. He nodded to himself in satisfaction, then grabbed the shiny wooden comb and hand mirror sitting on one of the shelves and began to tend to his hair and mustache. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was looking a mess, and it was hardly a minute before he deemed himself presentable for the day.

He set the comb and mirror back on their respective shelf. They were the nicest objects in the house, belonging to a home and a life that was no longer his, but his most prized possessions were the small stack of books he had managed to save from the fire. It was an eclectic mix of fiction and nonfiction, and some of them were in better condition than others, but they were his, now. He stroked the spines of the book tenderly, then shook his head and entered the main room of the house.

The only furniture of note was the large table with a number of chairs scattered around it. He rarely used it when he was alone; in all honesty, he hardly stayed in his house at all when he was alone, which was most days. There was no time to sit inside; there was work to be done! Speaking of which…

Reginald hurried to the door and slipped on his winter shoes and his coat. He set his hand on the knob, took a deep breath, and stepped into the brisk morning. He worked through a shudder as he shut the door behind him and walked into town. Most of the households were starting to wake up as well, though the ones belonging to the farmers were already noisy with morning activity.

The bakery on the street of shops was his first stop of the morning, as always. Given that Lil' Town was out of the way of the bigger towns in the country, there was never much of a variety of ingredients to work with, resulting in the same breads and rolls for the baker to sell every morning. Still, they were good, hearty rolls, not too dry and fairly filling. Often, Reginald could last the whole morning on just the one.

"Good morning, Mr. Copperbottom!" The baker, who was aptly named Mr. Baker, raised a hand as Reginald approached.

"Good morning, Mr. Baker. Everything in order this morning, I hope?"

Mr. Baker set out a tray of rolls, fresh and steaming in the cold air. "Quite so, Mr. Copperbottom! Thank you again for tinkering with my oven the other day; I don't know what you did, but she's not spitting smoke everywhere, that's for sure!"

"Good to hear." Reginald set some money in the basket and Mr. Baker handed him one of the rolls. "Do let me know if it acts up again, won't you?"

"Of course, sir! Have a blessed day!"

Reginald raised his roll like he was offering a toast, then walked on. Some women were huddling together by the well, waiting patiently (or impatiently) for their turn at drawing a bucket. They called to him as he passed, and he greeted them back. A few of the younger ladies tittered amongst each other in a little group, alternating between sneaking a glance at him and giggling into their hands.

Reginald smiled politely at each of them. They were all lovely people in their own ways, of course, but he had no interest in appealing to any of them in particular. He was far too busy looking after the town, and- as naive as it might be- Reginald was hoping perhaps to one day find someone special to keep him company. That day, and that person, had yet to come, though, so he'd keep to his job of looking after everyone in Lil' Town. He'd been selected to do so specifically, after all. It wouldn't do to let everyone down.

After checking in with the tailor, the woodcarver, and the school teacher, Reginald approached the last "shop" on the street, his favorite: the public library. He knocked before entering, ducking his head a little as he stepped into the warm space.

It was a single dark room, with a long bookshelf lining two of the walls and a tidy little fireplace on the far end. The fireplace was something Reginald had built himself, with a great deal of help from some others. The stones were arranged in a way that would keep the fire nice and contained in a little pit, keeping the books safe while still allowing a light and a place for one to warm their feet as they read.

The only other people inside were the town elder, known affectionately as Dusty, and the librarian, a frail man named Mr. Booklit. Reginald greeted them quietly.

Mr. Booklit jumped a bit, but quickly resumed scanning the shelves of books. "Mr. Copperbottom, how do you do?"

"Quite well, thank you." Reginald approached the fireplace, where Dusty sat in the rocking chair closeby. "Good morning, Dusty," he said again, more quietly.

Dusty's eyes were shut, as always, and it was only the quiet creak of the rocking chair that made it clear he was alive. Still, Reginald gently took his wrist and pressed his thumb against the inside, holding his breath until he felt the subtle, subtle beat of the old man's heart. Reginald sighed in relief, then patted Dusty on the hand before walking away. Dusty had been the one in charge of Lil' Town before Reginald had been given the job. It wasn't entirely clear if he approved of Reginald taking over, but the poor man was too old and frail to do anything about it. Far too old. Reginald had found more than a few spiders trying to spin their webs somewhere on his person before.

Mr. Booklit jumped again when Reginald approached him, and sagged his shoulders with a weary sigh. "Mr. Copperbottom, I truly would appreciate it if you announced yourself," he said.

"Of course," Reginald said, deciding not to point out that he already had. "You seem on edge today," he said instead. "Is something the matter?"

Mr. Booklit fiddled his hands together. "Nothing yet, I suppose. Did you see the sky today?" Reginald glanced out the little window in the front door. He could just see the pale gray light if he angled his head just right. "That's not a good sky, sir," Mr. Booklit said gravely.

"Do you think the weather might turn?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps our luck is about to turn, as well…"

Reginald frowned. Aside from Mr. Baker's oven acting up the other day, things had been going quite smoothly in Lil' Town. Thus, a turn of luck would mean-

Someone banged on the door and Mr. Booklit nearly leapt out of his skin. Reginald hurried to open it, and one of the farmhands stumbled inside. "There you are, Mr. Copperbottom!" He gasped, bracing one hand on his knee and pointing in a vague direction with the other. "There's- It's the-"

Reginald set his hands on the man's shoulders. "Calm yourself, man. Whatever is the matter?"

The man looked at him miserably. "Suave's coming into town."

"I knew it!" Mr. Booklit shrieked. "Sound the alarm!"

"Hold on a moment!" Reginald said, reaching over and setting a hand on Mr. Booklit's shoulder. "Terrence coming back into town isn't the end of the world."

"Well, that's easy for you to say, sir!" The farmhand cried. "He's friends with you, not us!"

Reginald took a slow breath. "You're certain he's on his way?"

"Yes sir; one of my sheep wandered off from the rest. Next thing I knew, it was running back to me as fast as its gimpy little legs could take it! No one frightens the sheep like that Suave!"

"Alright," Reginald said, "Alright. Let's not waste any time, then. Mr. Booklit, you remember what to do?"

Mr. Booklit nodded, though he was shaking so much it was hard to tell. He grabbed a key that was sitting on top of the nearest bookshelf and went to the middle of the room, getting on his knees and feeling the floor for the keyhole to the basement. Once he got the trap door open, Reginald turned to the farmhand. "It's Smith, right?" The man nodded. "Help Mr. Booklit exchange his goods. I'll inform everyone of Terrence's arrival. Oh, Dusty-" Reginald looked toward the old man, but he was gone, the rocking chair still creaking as if he'd taken off running. How could a man as still as death move so quickly?

"...Right then," he said instead. "Quickly, now!" He hurried out the door and shut it behind him, taking a second to look to the horizon. He couldn't see Terrence and the rest of the Toppat Clan yet, but he had no doubt he'd hear them approach soon enough.

He bit his lip. He hated feeling like he had to put Lil' Town on lockdown whenever Terrence and the clan stopped by to check in. Terrence was a good man, even if that goodness was buried under an increasingly thick layer of arrogance and rowdiness. Reginald just needed to work a little harder to let that goodness out.

He had a long night ahead of him.

The Toppat Clan was a group led by one Terrence Suave, a wandering thief who'd taken a liking to the country where Lil' Town resided and had made it all into his own sort of kingdom. Lil' Town was one of the many towns in his "kingdom", and one that he visited the least often since it was so far from everything else. He did make sure to visit, though, and it was a bit of a nightmare when he did. The town would more or less become the Toppat Clan's playground, and the people were expected to cater to them until they left again. Terrence did this in exchange for protecting Lil' Town, though from what, it wasn't entirely clear.

Reginald was also a member of the Toppat Clan, having been taken into their care about five years ago when he'd become homeless. Terrence had found him, weeping amongst the ashes of his home, and taken pity on him, helping him find what little had survived and even helping him make a small grave for his mother, who had died in the flames.

After that, Reginald was taught the art of sleight of hand, learning to swipe things here and there as a means of both survival and profit. He traveled around with the clan for nearly two years before Terrence surprised him with the "gift" of Lil' Town, even going so far as to help build the house he lived in now. Reginald's previous house had been on the outskirts of Lil' Town before it burned, so of course, his mother was buried here as well. It truly meant a lot to Reginald that Terrence had decided to give him "ownership", letting him settle in familiar territory while being able to tend to his mother's grave as he wished.

It had been incredibly awkward that first year; the people of Lil' Town only sort of remembered Reginald, and they didn't like the Toppat Clan at all, so Reginald had had to work hard to prove himself a worthy leader for them all. With time, patience, and determination, Reginald had earned the respect of his townsfolk, and for the most part, things were quite peaceful.

However, unlike Reginald, Terrence couldn't bear the thought of staying in one place for too long, so every so often he'd arrive to whisk Reginald off on an adventure. Reginald appreciated the fact that Terrence cared enough to do this; truly, he did. He just wished the man didn't leave so much damage in his wake for him to clean up in the following days.

As Reginald stood in the center of the path leading out of Lil' Town, waiting for the telltale signs of the Toppat Clan's approach, he wondered what sort of "adventure" was in store for him this time. He usually enjoyed them, as much as he could: heists meant to swipe jewels and rare items right from under the noses of pompous nobles were his favorite. Lately, though, Terrence had been getting worse and worse at staying under those pompous noses. This usually resulted in the breaking of said pompous noses, right before they were all chased off with bullets whizzing past their ears and dogs snapping at their heels.

Terrence didn't seem too concerned, even after that close call last summer when they'd sought after a surprisingly large ruby. They'd nearly lost two members in the ensuing chaos, and tensions had been high when the Toppat Clan departed Lil' Town last. Hopefully, things had smoothed over since then. Reginald didn't need anyone snapping at one of his villager's necks for a misunderstanding.

And perhaps that was the case, he thought with a sigh as the raucous voices of the clan began to echo towards Lil' Town. Soon after, he spotted them striding up the path: most of them were on foot, though a few were on horseback. It occurred to Reginald that there might be fewer people here than he remembered there being, but before he could put too much thought into that, one of the horses charged forward.

The large black mare thundered towards Reginald, something that only sort of struck fear into his heart. There was only one man who refused to ride anything other than large black mares, and only one man eager enough to potentially run someone over with said mare in his excitement to get where he was going. Reginald widened his stance, watching the horse grow closer and closer before deftly throwing himself out of its path.

The mare whinnied as its rider yanked hard on its reins, dust kicking up as a harsh line formed in the path from the force of the sudden stop. Reginald stood quickly and brushed himself off, watching as the rider leapt off the horse and turned to him with a wide grin: Terrence Suave, the leader of the Toppat Clan.

"Reg!" Terrence shouted, "that was a close one! I almost got you that time!"

Reginald approached calmly, smiling and holding a hand out towards his leader. "If I didn't know any better, sir, I'd think you were hoping to trample me on purpose."

Terrence grabbed Reginald's hand and yanked him into a hug, slapping his back and laughing loudly. "Nah, I knew you'd get out of the way; you're good at knowing when to do that."

Reginald returned the gesture, though much more gently. "It all comes down to practice, I suppose."

Terrence pulled back and shook Reginald slightly by the shoulders. "And that's why you're my favorite guy! How ya been, guy?"

"I've been busy, as always. I fixed the baker's oven the other day."

"Sheesh, if that's the most exciting thing that's happened since summer, then it's a good thing I'm here!" Terrence grinned at him incredulously. "I know I gave you the place and all, but don't you ever want more than this provincial life?"

Reginald raised an eyebrow. "'Provincial'? Where on Earth did you hear that word?"

"Some lady in a town I was passing through said it. It means 'boring as hell'."

"Well, actually, it refers to a quaint, if less sophisticated lifestyle common to the countryside-"

"Details, details! I'm not here to learn words, I'm here to party hard and adventure even harder! Speaking of which, does that baker guy still only have bread rolls? Still no cake?"

"I'm afraid not," Reginald said as he turned to wave at the rest of the clan members, who were finally entering the town limits. "Traders don't usually come by bearing cake flour."

"Crying shame," Terrence replied, throwing an arm over Reginald's shoulders. "It's not a real party without cake, but we'll make it work. Hey, guys, look!" He grinned at the approaching clan members and poked Reginald roughly in the cheek. "It's Reg!"

The clan called out their greetings, and Reginald returned them all. "Now," he announced, "I'm sure you're all tired from the long journey, so perhaps we should-"

Terrence laughed and jabbed him in the side with his elbow. "What, tired? After a little stroll like that? No way! Right, guys?"

The clan murmured in agreement, though Reginald couldn't help but notice that a number of people had heavy shadows under their eyes, like they'd been riding well through the night. Sorry, Mr. Booklit, he thought, then turned to Terrence. "The winery recently obtained some new bottles-"

"You had me at 'winery'." Terrence jumped back onto his horse. "C'mon, guys; drinks are on Reg!" This earned some more enthusiastic cheers from the clan, and the group began to run for the town center. Reginald watched them go for a moment, shaking his head before following after them.

Mr. Booklit and Smith should have finished putting out the correct wares some time ago, so he was certain that the secret of the public library/winery was safe. He could only hope that they'd made themselves scarce immediately after. Mr. Booklit had a very punchable face, according to Terrence. Reginald had had to repair the poor man's eyeglasses so often that he might as well be considered a semi professional oculist.

Reginald should have suspected something was up when Terrence wasn't the first person to pass out drunk. After raiding the "winery" and harrassing poor Mr. Baker into baking them some cornmeal cakes, the Toppat Clan had congregated at Reginald's house for their tradition of partying until the sun rose the next day.

There was something nice about having so many people in his house, which was normally so empty and quiet. When the Toppat Clan arrived, the large table and many chairs in the main room of his house were crowded with food, drink, and camaraderie. Sure, it was rowdy, and sure, sometimes a chair would end up broken, and sure, Reginald had to be on his guard to keep people from walking in an out of his bedroom at their leisure, making it difficult to partake in the celebration, but the warmth of good cheer and friendly faces soothed something in Reginald, even if it quickly became overwhelming.

As the sun began to set, most of the clan was too drunk to understand how to use a door, so Reginald took a moment to step into his backyard for some air. It was a small little yard, fenced in with the towering trees of the Dark Forest just outside. Inside the fence, various flowers and plants were scattered around, either in the ground or in little pots, all of which were centered around a simple stone marker on top of a square plot of grass. At this time of year, hardly any of the plants were in bloom, or even remotely green, but Reginald knew how to tend the garden through the cold months until spring let them raise their heads. He made quick work of his plant care, then knelt down in front of the stone marker.

"Hello, Mother," Reginald said quietly, smiling sadly at the grave. The stone wasn't marked with a name or a date; Reginald honestly hadn't known his mother's first name, and he preferred not to know the exact date he'd lost her. He knew it had been years, but he didn't need to know the number of days since then; that felt like too great an honor to give such a horrible occasion. The only indication of who rested beneath the stone was a brittle picture frame he'd scavenged from the fire, containing a mostly unblemished photograph of him and his mother.

He must have hardly been ten when the photo was taken; he grinned unabashedly up at his mother with a gap in his front teeth while she smiled down at him on her lap. Reginald had never known his father; his mother was the only person in his life that he loved, that he cared for, that he even knew, and so it was only her loss that he felt in the pit of his soul. The pain had dulled over the years into an ache, but he knew it would never fade, nor did he want it to. It was important to him to feel that ache, that one last true connection to his mother and his past, to a life filled with books and art and soft fabrics and good food and music and smoke and fire-

Reginald nearly leapt out of his skin when someone clapped him on the back. He looked up to see Terrence kneeling behind him, an unreadable expression on his face. Reginald quickly wiped his eyes; the sun was almost down and the Dark Forest was beginning to take on its terrifying dark shape.

"My apologies, sir," he said quietly. "I got distracted, I suppose. Sentimental."

Terrence tugged on the back of his shirt. "Come inside; there's something I want to talk to you about." He stood and returned to the house without waiting for a response. Reginald gave his mother's grave one last look before getting up to follow after his leader.

Inside the house, some clan members had woken up, clearly still woozy but not nearly as much as people unused to such indulgences would be. Terrence sat at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the table. Reginald bit his tongue and regarded him. "You've been holding out on me, Reg," Terrence said. His voice was flat, with none of the jovial tones he'd been speaking in before Reginald went outside.

Reginald continued to bite his tongue. His first thought, of course, was that Terrence had figured out that the winery was also a library. He'd always expressed a dislike for libraries, and while Reginald wanted to believe that Terrence would never do anything so rash as to destroy all of those wonderful books, it was easily the best option to hide them away when the man came to Lil' Town. Was the jig finally up?

Terrence gazed at him in complete seriousness for a moment longer before the facade cracked and he burst out laughing. "Sheesh, lighten up, Reg! It's not that big a deal; especially now that I know."

"Know what, sir?" Reginald asked faintly.

Terrence rolled his eyes. "The treasure, moron! In the woods!"

Reginald blinked once. Twice. "Treasure in the Dark Forest? There's no treasure in the Dark Forest-"

"Have you checked?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then how can you know there's no treasure?"

Reginald stammered, then shook his head in exasperation. "Where on Earth did you get the idea that there's treasure in that wretched place?"

Terrence grinned and swung his legs off the table, standing up and bracing his hands on the wooden surface. "It's a little rumor I happened to hear in the big city: about a wizard's hoard in a dark forest in the countryside. And wouldn't you know it…" He pointed at Reginald and winked. "I just happened to remember that there's a dark forest in the countryside by Lil' Town- it's even called the Dark Forest! Coincidence?"

"W-well," Reginald began, a sinking feeling in his stomach telling him exactly where this conversation was going, "it's true that the Dark Forest supposedly once had a wizard living deep inside…"

"Ah-ha! See?!"

"But," Reginald emphasized, "those are just local ghost stories; hardly even legends. Going into the Dark Forest is dangerous, especially at night! The trees are so dense that it's impossible to see your hand in front of your face-!"

"All the better to hide a wizard's hoard, don'tcha think? Come on, Reg, where's your sense of adventure? Your sense of thrill?"

"The opposite place as my common sense!" Reginald snapped.

Terrence's brow twitched. "You're not going soft on me, are you, Reg?" Reginald's response died in his throat as Terrence's eyes went hard and dark. "You don't like being an over-glorified handyman in this crap town, do you?"

"Terrence-"

"You want bigger and better things, don't you?" Terrence stood and slowly walked around the table towards him. Reginald felt rooted to the spot. "You're not getting complacent, right? You're not rejecting everything I stand for, everything I live for," Terrence stopped inches from his nose, "right?"

"Of course not," Reginald whispered. "Of course not, Terrence."

"Good." Terrence stepped back to address the rest of the clan, and Reginald suppressed his sigh of relief. "Alright everyone, here's the plan: we're going into that Dark Forest, and we're not coming out until we get that treasure! …Or until I get bored; whichever happens first. Let's do this!" And with that, Terrence threw open the door and ran out into the night, Reginald and the other clan members running after him. Reginald hesitated in the center of the path, staring up at the dark, foreboding shape of the Dark Forest before he swallowed heavily and went after his leader.

If you've read chapter 2 of my fic CopperRight Week 2023, then you'll probably remember some things that are brought up here and there; namely, about Reginald's circumstances: he lived with his mother until a fire burned the house down and claimed his mother's life, and then Terrence swooped in and looked after Reginald. He's done a lot of good things for Reginald, so even if he's a bit of a terror, Reginald still holds a great amount of respect for Terrence and is willing to let some things slide, even when he probably shouldn't.

Running into the Dark Forest! At night! Definitely nothing will go wrong probably maybe! Nothing magical, almost certainly! It's a good thing beasts don't exist, right guys?

I like the idea of Reginald being a bit of a tinkerer, given the parachute he keeps in his hat in THSC, so I figure he's probably at least a little handy. I don't know how much he's going to get to use those skills, but I figured it'd be fun to include that.

Anyway, enough of that; next Monday, we're going into the Dark Forest! Who knows what lurks in the shadows? Find out... next time! Leave a comment or a kudos, and I'll see you in a week. Until then!