“All gods need champions, Max. All the cool ones, anyway. Storm gods have mighty warriors. Fire gods have their alchemists. Death gods got their gravediggers. You get me?”

Max nodded.

“But chance gods, well, who the heck worships them?”

Gamblers?

“Nah, that’s the Lucky Sisters. Chance is different. Chance is what you least suspect. Everybody wants luck on their side, but chance comes out of nowhere. Only reason I get to pick a champion is you came knocking unintentionally with those annoying dead-hexes.”

Makes sense.

“Enough that I got a chance to pop by on a blue moon!” Trix giggled. “Right. Now to business. I think it is about time I had a champion of my own, a representative of chance on this earth. Let me mold you, and I’ll make you the most improbable knight the world has ever seen!” Trix smiled wide and toothy. “What do you say?”

Max pinched his nose. What’s your price?

“Huh?”

Every deal has a price, Trix. If it didn’t, my tongue would be back in my mouth.

“Stop thinking so probably! I won’t take your soul, your first born, or your tongue. I’ll even help get that back, because there is no way in heck you are ever going to get it scrubbing Viking poop from sunrise till sunset. You know that, don’t you?”

Max snorted. I figured Cobbie wouldn’t let me go, even if I paid back everything a hundred times.

“Yup. There’s the choice, Max. Work with me, take my improbable quests, or spend your days mopping up heroic waste.”

Screams filled the inn and Max nearly slipped in the hole.

Penelope’s voice was strained and whiney. “Wretch! Hands off!”

Then came Vlandor’s horrible voice.