In the can. Gonna clean it up tomorrow and stick the finished product on Patreon. Feel free to take it apart there, once it’s up.
“What do you want from all of this?” asked Mark, one day. The question seemed to come out of nowhere, even to him. But the way that Yig looked at him suggested that his host had been waiting for that question for a while now.
“Right now?” Yig shrugged. “When you leave, I want you to be as prepared as you can. Not that I’m throwing you out, Mark.”
“I know,” Mark said. “But we both know I’m not going to be staying here forever.”
“Yes. And it’s going to be rough for you up there,” said Yig. “Won’t lie, Mark: you may end up getting yourself killed.”
Yig spread his hands. “But!” he said. “If you end up winning up there, then yes, I would like something from you. “Something you won’t mind granting, either.”
“I’m going to assume it’s not gold,” Mark said dryly. One thing that he had discovered early was that Yig didn’t lack for treasure. Yig’s vault had coins from Deseret and Sonora and New California and Old America and even a few legendary reales from the equally legendary (and ancient) conquistadors. As Yig had said, once: humans were good at burying valuables, but not always as good at remembering where.