"You've got fifteen minutes." The lawyer checked his watch and peered out of the tinted window. "We're protected by attorny-client privilege, so there's nobody listening."
Our lead sat down on the harsh concrete seat of the prison meeting cell. It was mere days now before his unexpected death by Benesant's warriors.
"You look terrible old man. Aren't they feeding you?" He mocked the man in front of hm.
"You got some nerve coming in here." The prisoner grunted.
"Believe me. You're the least threatening person I've met all year." Was the response. "Wanna smoke?" He offered him a cigarette.
The older man looked disgusted at the thing. "I smoke cigars, boy. Get that fag stick out of my face."
"Fine." He lit one up for himself. "Let's get to talking."
"Yeah? You think I'm gonna save your ass after what you did?"
"Save my ass?" He coughed and laughed. He looked at the lawyer to find mutual derision for the old boss, but the lawman kept a straight face.
The new boss collected himself, feeling slightly silly for being the only one to respond so strongly. "Tell me your price has-been. Call off the dogs and we'll get you a bigger cell. Some of those cigars you like maybe. Cuban?"
The old boss scowled. "You don't respect anything do you-"
"Here we go." The new boss rolled his eyes.
"You never respected the family. You never respected the code. You never respected the hustle."
The preaching was met with a mocking pantomime, the younger man opened and closed his hand in the air like a chatty mouth.
"Are you really in any position to preach, mister? You're beat, and you know it. This whole thing is spiteful, think about your new position and what we can do for you. Instead of clinging onto some demented payback scheme."
The old boss leaned back. "They're not my men."
"Come now."
"You think payback is spiteful, boy? Payback is inevitable, but not through me." He pointed upward. "Everybody gets what's coming to them sooner or later. What have you done lately, to build the community?"
The younger man took the cigarette out of his mouth again and crossed his arms, refusing to answer.
"Nothing, right? Tell you something sonny, reaching the top is easy. Nobody ever told you this because they thought you'd know. All you gotta do is break the rules, have no respect for anything or anyone."
"Uh-huh." The new boss was more than a little skeptical.
"But you can't stay on top breaking the rules, capiche? You did the easy part, you broke the machine. Now you're at the hard part, maintaining it. And you can't do that, a no-good, no-respect punk like you, no way."
"I see. So really, it's my own fault."
"That's right."
"You hearing this?" He turned to the lawyer again. "It's me barbequing buttons. Can you believe it?"
"I've been telling you for months. With hits this visible someone is bound to strike back, inside or outside the law." The lawyer answered.
The old boss burst out laughing. "You get as much respect as you give."
"Shut it old man!" Briefly the new boss flashed with anger, but then immediately calmed down. "I understand that there is nothing we can do for each other."
The old boss crossed his arms defiantly. "Nothing."
"Then we will never meet again. Enjoy your retirement old-timer." He stood up to leave.
"Yeah right." The other called after him. "You'll come crawling- Hey! Are you listening!?"
But they had already left the room and spoken to the guard.
The prisoner was taken back to his cell and they never saw each other again.
----------------------------------------
Scratch shook his head to rid himself of his ominous remembrance. He wasn't in the mood for self-reflection or maintaining any machines.
He was showing Lydia Harkness the industry around the trading post.
"Why did you bring me here?" She inquired about it.
"To ease your mind." He tapped the side of his nose. "Didn't you make me promise the bandits wouldn't be exploited?"
She looked out over the impromptu flea market that had emerged around the paved roads. Most of the bandits remaining in the Promise were men, but there were some women, Denise and her daughter most notably. They were inspecting and trading goods imported from the human world.
"It's called comparative advantage, a neo-liberal hobbyhorse." He explained to her. "Every craftsman here specializes in a trade. They ship off furniture and rugs and what-not to the colonies, and they get the low-skilled labour intensive products in return. That's an efficiency increase over the autarkic commune you were trying to have before."
She looked at him. "Do you realize how much of what you say is meaningless babble?"
"Call it a quirk."
"But I do understand." She continued. "The camp has become more like a human city. That's what you want, isn't it? To be more like humans."
He gave her a side glance. "The parts that work."
"Hey." She stooped down to touch his shoulder. "We're on the side of good, aren't we? Or not evil."
"Oh, Lydia," He smiled and touched her cheek, "Lydia Lydia. Lady Ah." In a meaningless non-answer.
-
They strolled around for a bit, perusing wares on their date about town.
"Can you get by everything, Denise?" Harkness asked the mother straight out as they walked into her, skipping any formality.
"Hhm." She paused to look at the bandit leader. "Is everything alright, Lydia? What's behind a change like this?"
"We're extending our ambitions." Harkness spoke with confidence, taking full responsibility for the decision. "We're aiming to become a real town."
"I see... I suppose we couldn't be one big family forever. Still, it feels unpleasant charging for the daily gruel." She looked around and leaned in a bit. "Me an Cobaline are getting by, but some of the older fellows are having trouble finding a niche. They're too proud to admit it, they don't want to be accused of being a drain you know, but as it is now..."
"Unemployment." Scratch interjected from below. "Sounds like they'd be thankful for a construction gig, ey Lydia?"
"You are set on having a human house, aren't you?" She sighed in bemusement.
"Poor old Denise has been cooking gruel for free all these years. Now that's she's setting prices she can collect some personal things from around here, can't you Denise?" Scratch began.
Denise nodded. "In just a few days the wealth in the camp has been flowing into my pockets. I feel terribly guilty, but I can not lower prices any further-"
"You don't have to. Your clients will balance their accounts when they find a way to earn their keep. A good ol' stimulus expense from uncle moneybags in the short-term, some sort of export opportunity in the long-term."
The two stared at him.
"Uncle moneybags is us." He explained. "I'm digging into the gold supply. I said I would."
Denise looked at Harkness. "That's all well and good, but you can't pay them in gold. They wouldn't be able to buy anything small."
"I hadn't considered that." She answered. "We'd need to do some exchanging with Mabel's Eston. But thieves don't like large coins either..."
"I'm sure it'll work out." Scratch dismissed the issue.
"Och. I almost forgot." Denise perked up. "Cobaline! Cobaline, come by, mister Scratch is here."
The young girl ran away and then came back, clutching something in her tiny fist.
"She has been knitting that thing for weeks." The mother said proudly. "It's meant for you."
The girl outstretched her arm and handed him a small white object. He held it up to look at it, it was a white eye patch, witch embroidery on the front. It depicted a stylized rabbit's head, more cute and cartoony than the real thing.
"It's... an eye patch." He smiled awkwardly. It was a great deal more cutesy than he would like to present himself as.
"I like it." Harkness commented with a bit more breath than usual. "Put it on."
Not seeing any way out the goblin patriarch took off the dusty old bandage covering his face, and replaced it with the white bunny eye patch.
"Very pretty." Denise said.
"It suits you." Harkness added.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"Hhm." Scratch responded. "Thank you."
Cobaline held up her hand. "Two copper."
"Cobaline!" Her mother reacted in shock.
Scratch burst out in laughter. He liked the item a lot more after that.
----------------------------------------
In truth, preparations for the construction of a home had been going on already, and the project could start off almost immediately.
It was the first major project that involved no goblin labour.
The way their society ended up developing was that no goblins, other than Scratch, were independent. If they did any work at all, it was in the name of their master.
This was because their society was modeled after the family unit. With goblins being given the role of children.
Every colony had a mother, who decided over its future and finances. A position in earned in return for the use of her body.
Inside the Promise Barbara held such a position, but she had to share her authority with Scratch.
These families were single households, with the goods they acquired distributed within at the discretion of the family head.
Scratch and Harkness had a similar family arrangement with their children. Though with their numbers, it wouldn't be appropriate to say they were structured like a family, as much as just being one.
The construction of the new estate was not done in the name of Barbara, or any of the colony mothers, it was purely for the young Harkness family. It was therefore not obvious to make Fyro and his younger siblings lend a hand. All of the work was done by strong workmen with expertise. Human men.
"Are we going to live in a tower?" Jasper asked his father while the two watched over the humans putting the wooden framework of the second level on top of the brick walls of the first.
"I wouldn't call it that, but to be honest I don't know the classification of buildings." He responded. "We'll have two floors, one to receive guests and live in, and one to sleep in."
"Wouldn't we be living while we sleep anyway?"
"...Yes."
Jasper scratched the back of his head nervously. "I... like our rooms we have now."
"What? That damp cave next to the workshops? Come now. You're going to have a room of your own, with a real bed."
"...Alone?"
"Yes. Some privacy at last, right? And you'll have a mattress."
Jasper went silent.
Ada come stomping towards them, her hair falling wildly over her face. "They kicked me out. They said I'm in the way. Tell them I can help!"
"Why?"
"Why? Because I'm stronger than any of them. I can lift way more bricks!"
"How about you let the pro's do their job, hun? It's what they're being paid for. They know what they're doing."
Ada didn't like the answer. "This money thing is weird. Before, when mom wanted something she'd tell the humans to do it, and when we wanted something you'd tell the goblins to do it."
Scratch gave Jasper a knowing look and then addressed Ada again. "Come sit down, honey."
She crossed her arms and dropped down beside him, staring the same way towards the house. "It's stupid."
He moved behind her and began to comb her hair out of her face with his fingers. "Your mother and I have always wanted a lot more things than we asked for."
"Well, why-?"
"When your late uncle- you never met him- stepped back to let me lead the tribe, it was because he believed that I would make it better, stronger."
"And you did, didn't you?"
"I did. Today, everyone in the cave does what I tell them to. And they do it because it makes the lives of the goblins that live here better."
Ada contemplated his words for a bit, she could see where he was going.
"If I made them do things that didn't make life better, if I made them fetch me drinks and collect jewelry, they wouldn't follow me anymore."
"But you do make people fetch you drinks." Jasper protested.
"My point is: we're not doing that anymore. From now on everything anybody does is for their own benefit. That way, everybody is always doing something that contributes. That's reason one."
"Because you always have two reasons for everything." Ada noted.
"That's right." Scratch was done fixing her hair. "The second is so that everybody can associate with anybody. We're opening up to any outsiders that want to deal with us. It's a diplomatic move."
Ada turned around. "And what about us? Do we have to go along with this weird money thing?"
"Your mother and I are already discussing an allowance. For things to fill your new rooms with."
She was about to protest, but then she looked closer at his face. "You've got a new... a new uh..."
"Eye patch." He gave her the word. "Did you only notice just now?"
"It's weird." She said.
He pinched her nose. "Your next chore is to find some words to replace 'weird' with, you use it too much."
----------------------------------------
It took just over a week to complete the outline of every room that was to be build.
Following the initial design, the base took the shape of two wings encircling either side of the cave square. The upper floor lay on top of it, but was connected at the back, over top the dungeon entrance, akin to a u-shape.
Double rows of thin pillar encircled the square now, holding up the parts of the upper floor with no building underneath, the bridge above the cave and the overhang of the wings. What had previously been a square was now an atrium.
It was far along, but far from livable. Most of the walls weren't filled in completely, the floors lay open, and there was no roof.
At that point, Lydia Harkness decided to have the dove till moved into the incomplete home.
"Careful!" Stanford shouted from the sidelines as the cage, alongside its living inhabitant, was heisted onto the second floor. He then turned to the bandit leader. "Lydia Harkness. What have those poor birds ever done to you?"
She showed very little expression. "Messenger pigeons benefit from high nests. We've always suffered delays due to them circling in search of their home. Now we have a tall structure. We're making use of it."
He crossed his arms. "This is not another political play, I should hope? First access to incoming mail? Showing Scratch that you're taking control?"
She gave him a look intense enough too uncross his arms and hold them straight against his sides. "No. This is a group decision."
The goblins were involved in the measure, Scratch and his sons encouraging Ada, who was holding the cage up while the men secured it to the top of the left wing.
Once the dove till had been attached, it looked like a little tower head, sticking out even above the second floor.
"Aviary in place." Scratch confirmed.
Stanford was skeptical. "Do you really believe a bird would more easily-"
As he said that, the shadow of a bird descended from the sky and gracefully perched on top of the wooden framework.
"What was that!?"
"A raven!" One of the workmen said. "He's carrying a message!"
A few men attempted to grab it as it hopped up and down the dove till, inspecting its openings and pecking at the bird.
Eventually it was Ada who managed to grab it. Her grip was powerful and crushing, making it crow in pain.
"It's writing, but I don't recognize it." Scratch pondered, having obtained the small roll of paper the raven had had attached to its claw. "It's in some kind of code."
"Give me that." Harkness demanded. "It's written in cursive."
"Oh."
Having read it, she folded it over and put it in her pocket.
"Well, what did it say?" Somebody asked.
"It's sensitive information." Was her response.
"You laying claim to the dove till and the very same day you receive sensitive information?" Stanford asked. "Lydia. What in the world are you up to."
"Stanford!" Scratch suddenly addressed him. "Long time no see. Are you charging enough for your healing to earn a meal?"
"Actually, my main business is meat cutting." He responded.
"Say what?"
"My father was a butcher you see. I thought that I would follow in his footsteps, but the monastery-"
"Scratch." Harkness interrupted. "Can I see you downstairs. I would like to discuss this message. Ada, please put the bird in the cage."
"Sure thing." Scratch gave Stanford a reassuring wink and lead the way into the dungeon.
-
In the foyer she retrieved the paper from her pocket again. "Listen to this:"
Dear friend,
your dungeon is growing very well. I have no doubt that your days of casting your power over the eastern coastline are steadily approaching.
It seems like I am not the only one taking note of your progress. The duke of Dichtershire himself has been made aware and has send for the construction of an army fortress nearby. I trust that, given this information, you will be able to nip it in the bud.
-R
"Who's this friend? A dungeon? I... what?" A slight panic appeared in her eyes.
He looked around trying to come up with something, and decided to tell a partial truth. "Yes. The cave is a dungeon. We've been using it to source our magic but-"
"Oh no.." She exasperated and sunk onto a stool.
"But I don't know who this 'R' character is. In order to intimidate Lacrima, I let her believe someone called Yanis is in control of the dungeon. Perhaps this 'R' came by this information via her, and is trying to cozy up to that man."
"Yanis." She covered her face. "The mad sorcerer... Scratch, how could you be so **stupid**."
Scratch liked to think of himself as someone whose pride isn't easily hurt, but he responded defensively. "We do what we need to survive, Lyd."
"Do you know what it means for the army to establish a fort here?" She asked rhetorically.
"No."
"I'll tell you. Adventurers hate it. It means patrols of knights everywhere, destroying all monsters in sight, eradicating bandit camps by the root. The whole area will be wiped clean."
"Knights... knights are stronger than your average adventurer, aren't they?"
"Around here, yes. You know that I am a former knight." She said. "But the troops are better trained and better organized than me."
"With how many do they patrol?"
"Too many, Scratch. Too many. This place is a stone in the road compared to my family."
He thought for a second. "So we just need to do what R said, and nip it in the bud, right? Prevent them from ever getting established."
"We don't have the power to do that." She sighed. "Even if as much humans lived in this village as goblins we don't have a force that can measure up to an army fortress."
"Maybe we do." He grinned. "I'm owed one more blasphemy, aren't I?"
She looked at him with suspicion. "Yes?"
"Come with me."
On their way down to the down to the deepest part of the cave, they barely spoke. Alone with her thoughts Harkness' despair for the future grew stronger. She had no doubt that the letter spoke true, and that a force was coming that could wipe them all out. If she could sacrifice her life to save her people from destruction, then that's what she'd do. That's what knights did after all.
----------------------------------------
"Are you ready, Lydia?"
"Ready."
What are you doing?
I'm summoning another demon familiar.
You could kill her.
"I'm starting the process now."
Scratch and Harkness were holding hands over the devil altar. Scratch was smoking blue grass to commune with the abyss, which also allowed Cyclophan to speak with him.
If the bandit leader dies, that is regrettable. But the power I encountered is worth it.
What are you thinking? Don't you realize-
But Cyclophan's voice faded far away. Scratch had no trust in his counsel, it seemed to him that Cyclophan would try to prevent as much as possible Scratch gaining any power not dependent on the dungeon. It's what he would have done in his place.
Floating through the dark abyss, Scratch's soul tried to find the unendingly large inferno of power he had encountered before. The one that had promised its service in exchange for "the love of a woman".
Just as he began to think it wouldn't be so easy, he encountered it. Out of nowhere it filled up his entire vision.
'Summoner' It hissed, 'grant me the love of a woman, I shall grant you strength, magic, beyond your highest potential.'
"Lydia" He said out loud. "Are you ready to make a sacrifice?"
"I can, if you make me a promise." He heard her say, her voice came from high up in the realm of living things, yet he could hear it. "Whatever it is you're getting out of it, use it for the good of my people as well. They deserve it."
"Then we're agreed." Scratch proclaimed. "Demon. I have a woman for you."
Suddenly he was back in front of the altar. Harkness opened her eyes and patted her body. "I'm alive."
"Did you think we were sacrificing your life!?" He asked in unbelief. "You should have negotiated for a bit more if that's what you thought."
In-between them, with folded legs, sat a young boy around the same apparent age as Scratch. He was wearing a felt suit with a tie and his hair was in a bowl cut that went over his eyes.
"Y-you!" Harkness jumped up in shock. "No. How dare you take that form."
"That is the sacrifice ma'am." He grinned sadistically. "The love of a woman. It grants me the form that I need. Just like my sisters need the love of a man."
She looked at the demon, at Scratch, who was all rather non-plussed by the course of events, back to the demon, then she ran off.
"You should probably go after her." The demon laughed. "She loves you. Otherwise she would never have agreed to this."
"I will. In a moment." Scratch answered cautiously. "What is your name?"
"What would you like it to be?"
"You must have been given a name at some point?"
"Oh, many. A new face, a new name."
"Then let's stick with 'you there' for now."
You There shrugged, then got up on all fours and crawled towards him. "So do you want to begin, or...?"
"Stay there." Just as he said it, Scratch's mind became hazy and his vision blurred.
You There gave a girlish laugh. "What other demons have you bound to you? A manabelt? When you command a familiar, you put a part of your mind into theirs, to override their will. How much mind do you have to spare, hm?"
I warned you. Cyclophan send out on the last few vapors of blue grass smoke. Don't summon demons that I don't understand. I can't help you if you mess with things beyond even my power.
While the demon was not able to leave his place on the altar, Scratch had to maintain the same level of concentration he would have to give himself when fighting other instincts. He got the hang of it and straightened himself. "Don't get cocky, schoolboy. You're not that different from the manabelt from where I'm standing." Still, he wasn't confident that he could manage anything more complex.
"You don't need to be afraid of me..." The schoolboy put a finger in his mouth. "I won't hurt you..." The way he said it gave a strong impression of the opposite.
"What about that promise of yours? Strength? Magic? Can you provide that?"
"Naturally."
"Good. Because of we have some knights that need jousting."
----------------------------------------
familiars
Among accomplished mages, there are those that have the power to summon and control familiars. This is an ability separate from monster taming.
First and foremost, monster taming is an inborn gift, while familiar summoning is an acquired skill. Mages study magic in order to learn the secrets of binding familiars.
What's more, monster tamers go out in the world in order to find monsters to bind to them, while familiars are created by the magic itself.
But most importantly, familiars are very rarely used in combat. It requires significant resources and preparation in order to obtain even a small familiar, many nobles consider the life of their familiars more precious than those of their retinue. For that reason, they are kept away from danger. They are primarily used to send messages.
Familiars are vessels of servile spirits, it is by the nature of the spirit that the vessel derives its form. The shape of a familiar is therefore very telling for the personality and loyalties of the owner, the familiars of good and just mages will take the forms of white doves, foxes, or other beautiful creatures, while evil mages tend to associate with spirits that take the form of insects or bats. Demons, too, can be summoned from the abyss as familiars. A mage that wields a demon familiar has no consideration of their own sanity or the sanctity of creation, there can be no negotiation with an enemy like that, they must be slain immediately.