As they moved through the entrance, the goblin leader was already waiting for them on the other side. His mottled gray skin blended into the shadows, and his beady eyes watched them warily. Several more soldiers in battered iron armor, wielding curved scimitars, stood close behind.

The leader’s voice escaped high and harsh. “I am Borgruk. Queen Grizshara awaits.”

Despite the guttural words of Goblinese, Justin understood it perfectly. Kargan seemed to take it in stride, while Bohemond frowned, as if the very words were defiling his ears.

Borgruk led them deeper into the palace. The interior was as decrepit as its exterior—dark stone walls marred by centuries of neglect, with dim blue crystals casting uneven light. The goblins scurried forward, casting anxious glances back, mostly at Kargan. They whispered to one another in hushed tones. Justin caught snippets of their conversation—words like “blood magic” and “Chaos.”

At last, they entered what must have once been the dwarven throne room. Grand stone columns flanked the chamber, though many were cracked. The large stone throne at the far end had been claimed by none other than Queen Grizshara herself. The goblin queen was imposing, tall for her kind, with deep green skin and sharp, angular features. She wore a long robe of black silk trimmed with gold, her crown spiked and set with rough-cut emeralds. Around her neck was an ornate necklace of polished obsidian stones.

Several goblins milled about in the room—advisors draped in patchwork robes, guards armed with pikes, and a few lower-ranking figures scribbling notes on pieces of parchment. All of them kept a respectful distance from the queen. Apparently, these goblins—like the Snow Goblins—were far more intelligent than the ones that had attacked Justin in the Wildwood Forest. Either that, or Justin had unfairly maligned an entire race based on preconceived fictional stereotypes.

He pushed the thought away; they had a job to do.

Borgruk approached her first, bowing low, his voice reverent. “Queen Grizshara. We found a Blood Mage, bearer of the Greatest Gift of Nyriss. Maybe he can cure the poison within Princess Nyrissa.”

Bohemond’s face set into a grim line, his lips pressed tightly together. Justin glanced at him with a subtle shake of his head, hoping to stop him from speaking. If the Knight could just keep his temper in check, they might get through this without incident.

Grizshara’s gaze flicked to Kargan, her expression cold and unreadable. “Your name, orc?”

“Kargan. Kargan Durzag. This is Justin Talemaker and Bohemond Ashcroft, mighty warriors both.”

“It is not strength of arms I want. It’s healing magic. Can yours save my daughter?”

Kargan’s hand tightened on his Staff of Aegis. “I can try, Queen Grizshara. But I don’t wish to harm her any further.”

“What is your level?”

“Level 4, Queen Grizshara.”

The Queen’s eyes narrowed in skepticism. “Level 4? And you claim to wield the magic of Nyriss?”

Kargan hesitated. “Yes, but I’m still mastering it. I’ve healed wounds, but poisons are new to me.”

Grizshara studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “New to you? You would risk my daughter’s life? You would gamble with the heir to my throne?”

Kargan swallowed but met her gaze evenly. “I won’t lie, Queen. My magic isn’t perfect, but I’m willing to try. I’ll do all I can to save her, but I can make no promises.”

Grizshara stood from her throne, towering over them, her eyes flashing with a mix of desperation and authority. “Before you touch my daughter, I would test you. A simple task.”

To Justin’s complete surprise, she drew a knife, and without hesitation, cut herself deeply in the arm. Her surrounding advisors and supplicants gasped in shock. The wound gushed blood, enough that she’d bleed out in minutes if untreated.

Kargan snapped into action. Blue magic pulsed from his hands, surrounding the Queen in a soft glow. The Queen’s flesh mended before their eyes, the torn skin sealing itself. Within moments, the injury had completely healed, leaving no trace of the wound or even blood.

Grizshara watched Kargan closely, her eyes narrowing as she inspected her arm. “You may have skill, orc. But healing a wound is one thing. Healing my daughter is quite another. If you fail…”

She let the unspoken threat linger in the air. Kargan nodded solemnly, seeming to understand the weight of the task before him.

“Come with me,” Grizshara said, her voice hard. “We’ve run out of options.”

Without waiting, she strode toward a side corridor, her steps echoing in the cavernous room. Several goblin guards shifted nervously, eyeing the group’s weapons. Justin glanced at Bohemond, whose hand had already moved to his sword hilt. The Knight looked ready to strike, his patience clearly worn thin by their circumstances.

“Bohemond, relax,” Justin said in Aranthian. “We’re here to solve a mystery, not start a war.”

Bohemond sniffed. “Always be looking for an opportunity.”

“An opportunity for what? To get us killed? Not a brilliant plan.”

Bohemond’s jaw clenched, but he remained silent, though his eyes flashed with frustration.

Queen Grizshara turned, casting a brief glance at the exchange. “They keep their weapons. They have no reason to attack.”

The tension eased slightly, and with that, the party followed Grizshara out of the throne room, deeper into the winding stone hallways that seemed to twist endlessly in the dark. Ether crystals lined the walls, their faint blue glow offering just enough light to navigate the corridors.

At last, they reached what had to be the princess’s bedchamber. The Queen opened the door, and the room within was dimly lit, a single torch casting flickering shadows on the walls. Princess Nyrissa lay on a stone bed, her small body frail and bundled in animal furs. She was barely clinging to life, her breathing shallow. Like her mother, she had the same green skin, though hers was a much paler shade, like a wilting leaf. Justin, unfamiliar with how goblins aged, guessed she was about ten or eleven in human terms.

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By the bed stood an elderly gobliness, hunched over and focused on her work. Her gnarled hands moved deftly as she applied a salve. Her golden eyes flicked briefly to the group as they entered. Though aware of their presence, she said nothing, too absorbed in trying to keep the princess alive.

The Queen looked at Kargan expectantly. The orc went to the bedside and kneeled beside it. “When did this happen?”

“Three days ago is when the symptoms started showing,” Queen Grizshara said. “We suspect the poison was administered during the Feast of Fates, six days ago. It's slow acting.” She nodded toward the caretaker. “This is Zuldir, my shaman. It’s only by her efforts that my Nyrissa is still…”

Grizshara’s voice trailed off, and Justin’s gaze shifted to the queen’s expression. Her love for her daughter was unmistakable. He realized these goblins weren’t just mindless monsters—they were intelligent, emotional beings, capable of deep familial love.

Zuldir scrutinized Kargan up and down. Her face was hard with skepticism, and her voice escaped reedy. “And who are these, my Queen? They speak our tongue?”

“The orc, Kargan, is a Blood Mage. All three speak our tongue.”

“Quite convenient, I’d say,” Zuldir said, her tone skeptical. “It would seem as if Nyriss herself has taken an interest in our predicament.”

“Perhaps it means we’ll have our answer soon enough,” Grizshara said.

Justin wondered what Zuldir meant by that. Maybe they understood that their tribe had “become” a Vault, which meant that this scenario wasn’t isolated from the realities of the world. Justin wondered what mechanics were required for a Vault to be triggered. It was a question for another day.

“This poison is truly a terrible thing,” Zuldir said. “Only advanced Blood Magic will do the trick, and mine is not strong enough. Are you up to it, boy? You’re young, and I don’t want you going in and making things worse.”

“I’ve been asked to try, and I mean to do that,” Kargan said.

“There’s no antidote?” Justin asked.

Zuldir’s eyes snapped up to him, her gaze filled with irritation. “Boy, don’t you think we’d have used it by now? How foolish do you think we are?”

Justin kept his peace, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “Forgive us. We didn’t mean to imply that. We’re just here to help.”

Zuldir sniffed. “We’ll see about that.”

Thankfully, Bohemond remained silent, though Justin could see the effort it took from the Knight’s reddening face.

Kargan stood next to the princess’s bed. He took a moment to concentrate. Magic stirred in the surrounding air, and a blue pulse of energy encompassed Princess Nyrissa. Kargan's skin became coated in blood, too fast to be absorbed back into his body, despite the enchantment of his Blood Warden’s Seal. It was a testament to just how hard he was trying.

Bohemond turned away from the sight, disgust twisting his features. Kargan was clearly pushing himself too hard, his breathing labored, his strength waning.

“Kargan, stop!” Justin shouted. The orc was on the verge of collapse.

Thankfully, Kargan stopped, though he fell to the floor, gasping for breath. After a few moments, he stirred and regained enough strength to stand. The blood had already absorbed into his skin, leaving him pale but coherent.

Once he had gathered his senses, Kargan shook his head in frustration. “My magic isn’t strong enough. This poison…it’s far beyond my abilities to heal.”

Queen Grizshara’s expression hardened, though the pain in her eyes was unmistakable. “Then we must find Glamshara. She is the only one who can undo this.”

“My Queen,” Borgruk said, his voice hesitant but firm, “Glamshara is surely the one who did this in the first place. Why else would she flee to the Underdeep, before the poisoning was discovered?”

The Queen regarded him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. But if she truly made the poison, she would know the antidote. It stands to reason, does it not?”

“Glamshara ran away?” Justin asked.

Zuldir nodded, rising from the Princess’s bedside. “Glamshara is the Queen’s sister, a strong Alchemist. She even has a class for it, unlike our own bumbling potions master, Zogmar.” The way she said “potions master” told Justin that Zuldir very much doubted Zogmar’s skills.

“If she’s so good with alchemy, then why isn’t she the potions master?” Justin asked.

“A good question. It’s because she specializes in poisons. She creates them for our tribe’s arrows. As Borgruk said, she fled shortly around the same time the poison would have been administered, into the Underdeep. Those are the vast halls that stretch beneath the palace and Drakendir itself. That’s where we think she brewed the poison.”

“How can you be so sure?” Justin pressed. “Seems entirely too obvious, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Zuldir said. “But the poison is of a rare kind, one she might have thought Zogmar wouldn’t guess. He scoured the texts for anything that fit the symptoms. He came upon something this morning. If you speak to him, I’m sure he’ll tell you more. To my surprise, the poison’s effects seem to match the Princess’ symptoms. And the ingredients match those that were recently uncovered.”

“Recently uncovered?” Kargan asked.

Zuldir nodded. “Two weeks ago, an earthquake opened a new area in the Underdeep. Among these exposed chambers was a dwarven alchemical lab. Glamshara, along with Zogmar, Borgruk, Grashuk, plus Ralthog, went to investigate. She must have taken the ingredients while they were down there, while my husband didn’t notice.”

“Your husband?” Justin asked.

“Grashuk. He’s Warlord of the Tribe.”

“I see. I thought that was Borgruk.”

“Borgruk leads a single war band of the tribe, the Threshers. Grashuk is chief of them all.”

Justin filed that away. So many names, so many suspects. It was hard to even know where to start.

“Maybe we can start with Zogmar?” Kargan said. “I have questions about the poison itself.”

“The potions master will tell you all about it, Blood Warden. You can find him in the alchemical lab, near the throne room.”

“Thank you,” Kargan said.

The Queen turned to Borgruk. “Captain, guide the Blood Warden and his companions around the tribe. Answer questions they have, give them anything they need to sort this out. They have my full permission. Whatever food or rest they require, make sure you provide it. And of course, ensure their safety. I shouldn’t have to say that, but the would-be killer might get desperate once they see an outside force has gotten involved.”

Borgruk’s eyes widened at the command. “Of course, my Queen. They are safe with me. Anything else?”

The Queen’s voice trembled, though her resolve remained firm. “I don’t want to believe my sister would do this. But I cannot deny what is before me. If she crafted the poison, then she must answer for it. I know we have our history, with the succession…but treason? It’s difficult to believe.”

Zuldir nodded somberly. “One can never truly know the heart of another. Not until they show you what lies beneath the mask they wear.”

“Perhaps, Zuldir,” Grizshara conceded, before turning back to Kargan, her eyes filled with hope. “Please. Find an antidote. Ask Zogmar what’s needed to make it. Maybe he’s worked something out by now. That’s your priority, my daughter’s life. And of course, I want to know the truth. Wherever it leads.”

Kargan rose to his feet, his face grim. “We’ll find Glamshara. And we’ll find an antidote.”

“How much time do you think she has left?” Bohemond asked.

“That’s hard to say,” Zuldir replied. “The girl is strong, and my shamanic training has slowed the poison’s progress. But without an antidote, you have two, perhaps three days, before the damage becomes permanent. After that…even Nyriss herself wouldn’t be able to save her.”

Justin didn’t think it was nearly enough time. Hopefully, the mystery wasn’t as complicated as it seemed.

Grizshara nodded, her sharp features softened by a mix of hope and desperation. “Go then, with my blessing and that of Chaos. I’m trusting you because you're outsiders—neutral in our affairs. It’s become clear to me that our tribe is too entangled in suspicion and politics. Only a fresh perspective can uncover the truth.”

Bohemond looked like he was about to object, but Justin quickly stepped on his foot. “Of course, Your Majesty,” Justin said, bowing slightly. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Borgruk nodded toward the door. “Come. I’ll take you to Zogmar.”

Borgruk led them back to the throne room, his steps brisk. As they walked, Justin’s thoughts spun in all directions. Glamshara, the poison, the earthquake, the dwarven ruins—it all seemed too tangled.

But if they were to complete this Vault, then they had to figure it out. It was time to pay this Zogmar a visit.