The wand was en elegantly carved ebony 'J'.

Unlike a spellrod, it did not have a gem at the end, but a subtlety glowing vein curled around it to point towards the subject. Rendering it a whole lot less ostentatious of an object, something more suited to the esteemed and venerable discipline of spellcraft.

Scratch shook it about like a broken remote. "And how do I set it off?"

"Ah- well..." The bandit man fretted back and forth. "If you repeat the mnemonic, the way to flow your magic should feel natural. So just... say the words."

He pointed the wand. "Rhada's touch."

The vampire didn't flinch. And, indeed, nothing happened.

"Magic is cast by constricting zhe flow of magic, not by opening it. You vill never cast a zhing if you can not move your internal chambers."

"You don't have an ethereal body, Papa Scratch?" The bandit asked in slight disbelief. "Are you really just a regular goblin?"

Scratch looked at Noss and gestured at the human, with a now-look-what-you've-done expression as one might give an incompetent mason after the collapse of their handy-work.

The bandit's name was Bert, and he had been a mage in an adventuring party of slightly-above-average repute before falling into criminality and exile due to a sweet crimson addiction.

"A goblin may guide zhe growth of a curse, sure, given a devil altar. Curses take and excrete magic on zheir own after, all. But zhat vand... nozhing more zhan a child's toy in your hand." Noss teased.

"Zhe most you could do is disrupt zhe magic of ozhers."

"Screw this." Scratch grabbed a spellrod with energy-ingesting-and-excreting magnosilican artificial manabladder attached to the back.

It had an ergonomic grip to allow aiming through the line of the forearm that encased the metal box and gave the entire instrument a compact, practical appearance.

A squeeze at the trigger launched three motes of elemental fire towards the vampire.

This time he did flinch, but for nothing, as they all missed the target by a wide margin.

"You shoot him," Scratch handed Bert the charged spellrod. "Aim for the heart, that's like a vampire's brain."

Having briefly died, Noss shook awake. "Stop. Enough. You have made your point."

"This isn't intimidation, we're actually trying to kill you. Keep your elbow stretched Bert, steadies the hand."

The man still hadn't taken his shot. There was a hesitation in him.

"You vouldn't kill me. Zhat vould be zhe emotional reaction, vhile you are a rational man."

Scratch tapped his foot. "You fell in love with the fake fairy form of a wrinkly tart, who is simultaneously to old *and* too young for you." He showed the talisman that he now wore around his neck.

"You conspired to steal from me, destroy my home, and developed a curse capable of killing me. And now you're saying it's rational to keep you alive? Like I can trust you? Like that doesn't make me look weak?"

A silence hung between them.

"I've got kids Fleder, I want to teach them the right lessons. Like: don't try to rat on daddy or you're getting skewered on the rack."

"Regardless, you must not kill me, Scratch. For good reason."

Scratch looked up in disbelief at Bert, who was still waiting to hear the reason. "You do realize he's just stalling."

"I am not your subject, baronet Scratch." Noss Fleder said. "Ve both serve zhe Ravenous Lich."

"Yeah. So it's the lich you've betrayed, that doesn't help your chances at survival."

"Soon, vord vill come for you to release me."

"I don't think-"

A raven landed on a crate next to him and looked at him expectantly.

A natural bird couldn't have made its way inside to where they were. And, indeed, its leg held a little container, being a familiar animal to the lich.

Scratch closed his eyes as if he were in physical pain for a moment. "Hold your fire."

He untied the message and tossed the bird a copper coin as tip.

"This is in cursive, I can't read this."

"I zhall translate for you... it vill zay somezhing like zhis; Scratch, release my apprentice at once. His actions vere in line vith our interests. Signed, Ritter."

"He's right, it does say that." Bert said, bend into a 150 degree angle to read over his shoulder. "The lich proclaims the vampire was acting on his direct orders. It was a double-cross."

Scratch looked up with genuine venom in his eyes. "You're worse then the chicks."

----------------------------------------

Noss was released from target practice and sat at the kitchen table.

More out of spite than genuine security risk, he was flanked by two trolls, ready to smash him into paste at the slightest provocation.

There was a small council of what Scratch would call ministers convened there to hear about it.

The men and women of the Promise had developed a sense of entitlement to insight and say in important matters of the state. Safety and luxury had made citizens of them.

In this case, it allowed Scratch to sulk at the back of the crowd, rocking his chair on two legs and glaring at the vampire.

-

Nevertheless, Noss addressed him personally from the other end of the table. "Vhen you first speculated zhat my master may be acting against zhe interest of Pinchin, I feared it to be a gentle lie for my pride. So I took it upon myself to test it."

"Uh-huh."

"However, I could not ask him directly. As zhe evil god sees zhrough the senses of all skeletal undead."

The vampire leaned in to insert a bit of tension into his story.

"I devised a plan."

"You can not engage in secret tests of character to key allies," Lydia said, slamming her hands on the oaken surface, "not without informing the family."

He waved away her concern. "If zhe Ravenous Lich has not taught me zhis, he has taught me nozhing: magic belongs to everybody. Ve, dark sorcerers, defy zhe restrictions of zhe gods. Ve make our own spells as zhe need arises."

"I didn't know dark sorcerers had their principles," Alpheba whispered next to Scratch.

"All beings have a virtuous narrative for their lives," Youthere said in turn, "it is a weakness of mortals to be unable to face their own evil." He placed his hand on Scratch's shoulder.

"In zhat teaching," the vampire continued, "he vould continually impress upon me, vhenever I vould voice my vish zhat zhere vas a spell to do one zhing or another: 'Noss Fleder, write it yourself zhen.'"

Barbara threw up her hands in a slightly offended manner. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Had zhe lich been steadfast in zhe ambition to tame zhe second segment, zhere vould have been no reason to veer away from zhis motto. However, vhen I wrote to him about zhe danger zhat zhe fey represent, he suggested ve rely on zhe moon goddess."

"Which would sabotage his own ambitions."

"It vas a vay for zhe lich to communicate zhat zhe second segment is not my true assignment here, vithout zhe god of death and undeath knowing."

Scratch's stool clapped against the stone as he put it back on four legs. "But you went along with it anyway."

Noss shrugged. "A token effort. My primary aim vere to keep an eye on Lacrima. If it isn't zhe shards zhat I am here to observe, it must be zhe people."

"Noss..." Lydia sighed, "this hurts us. This hurts our trust in you. The lich may have ordered us not to execute you, but that doesn't mean we can simply return to the way things were before."

"Yeah." Barbara piped up. "You were involved in a plot against the Promise, there's no going back from that."

"Managgia. What are you even saying? I count three traitors to the city that have walked unpunished." Aimone spat an actual glob of saliva on the cavern floor. "Goblin mother, you cannot claim to have always been an ally either, can you?"

Barbara tucked in her lips and looked away.

"It seems to me that mutiny is nothing more than a rite of passage in this community." He said, and leaned back.

"That's not true," Lydia insisted, "there must be some recompense. Scratch?"

Scratch had buried his face in his hands.

Suddenly, he popped it out again. "Fine." He said.

"Scratch?"

"If this is how we do things at Ritter's Promise, that's fiiiine by me. But we're not quitting half-way."

Noss' relaxed demeanor crack slightly. "Eh?"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"It's under your ruse that I started up with the goddess, and now I've made an enemy. So as far as I'm concerned, your mission is not over. Lacrima thinks you're her partner in crime? Keep up that lie.

I want to get more out of her and her goddess."

"Then that means..."

"You'll be sharing a cell."

-

It didn't take long after the decision was taken before Noss Fleder was physically picked up and taken away.

It seemed as if the Baronet had completely forgotten about the politicians and influencers that had attended the meeting, as they were left behind in the damp underground room without so much as a goodbye.

Barbara turned to Second. "What do you think?"

"What?"

"You must have some opinion on the vampire. What do you think?"

"Well I think... maybe he's called a 'wampire' and we've all learned to say it wrong just because he talks weird."

----------------------------------------

Lydia tugged on Scratch's collar as they made their way towards the prison cells. "Aimone is right. Not a soul in the Promise or in any of the client cities pays the slightest heed to our authority. But there is something that can be done about it."

"You've got your shadow bandits, don't you?"

"Policing can only do so much, what we need is rule of law. A court-

"No." He insisted. "I'm not signing off on that. I don't want it."

A slight growl escaped from the back of her throat. "Why not?"

"Moral principle."

"You don't have moral principles..." she paused, "...do you?"

"I am principled about being unprincipled, and I like to keep it that way." He softened and went on to search for a more diplomatic way to get across his point. "Lyds... don't you think it's unnatural?"

"What?"

"All of it. The rules, the motto's, the little- when they read you your rights and everything- it's not human, it's false. It's the processed-meat-conglomerated-into-a-block-of-pink-sludge of human organization. I don't want it. I want people to mutiny, I want them to fight each other, steal, and... renegotiate, and look at for what's best for them. That's how people are *supposed* to act.."

"I don't understand. Don't you want our empire to stay loyal to us?"

"We don't own the bandit cities, Lydia, we don't own most of the Promise. And we're better off for it. An empire can crumble, chaos can't." He tapped the side of his head as if he had just said something profound.

"What?"

She couldn't inquire further, because they had arrived at the prison complex.

-

At one point, the holding cell had been a single room next to the town gate. But as the Promise had swollen with inhabitants and visitors a new solution was necessary.

It weren't an option to house prisoners of the public facing regime in the dungeon, so the venue was a repurposed warehouse with thin wooden interior walls and bars to make cells.

"Lacrima has a place in the underground harbor, if she will only play ball." Scratch whispered in Noss' ear. "Get her to agree before she squeals on the whole operation."

Once they were let in, the constable and adventurers' guildmaster came into view. They were discussing something in-between the opposite rows of cells but quickly stopped as they saw the large troll come in.

The troll made room for Noss, Scratch, Lydia, and Alpheba to enter before him. And the guildmaster turned to address them.

"You've decided to bring in the bandit witch, then?"

"Not necessarily." Scratch said.

Constable Harkness ejected air through his nose. "Next week. The duke's envoy will arrive. To pick up prisoners of war. I want Lacrima on that convoy."

"I wish to speak to my mistress." Alpheba announced.

"Right now is visiting hours," Scratch said, "we're here to observe, so could you give the girl some privacy?"

"We're not going anywhere." The constable said.

"You hold visiting hours at midnight?" The guildmaster added.

"Any hour in which there's visiting is a visiting hour."

"Let us all calm down." There had been no real rising of tension, but Lydia sprang in to cool things down anyway. "The envoy does not arrive until next week, we can delay that decision. For now, we have another prisoner to drop off."

-

"Are you fine, master?" Alpheba asked the witch.

"Alpheba, how are you my dear?" she side-glanced the constable, "you are still on old Lacrima's side, aren't you?"

"You are the witch's apprentice?" Constable Harkness leaned in. "You do not need to hide from the law. We know all children at the orphanage were exposed to control magic. You were a minor. You are not held accountable."

"We do need to have her answer some questions regarding the witch's... designs." The guildmaster suggested.

"Of course."

"Don't tell them anything, dearie. You are my apprentice. It wouldn't be fair to your new friends would it? If they get caught up in the crossfire."

The constable almost pushed Alpheba aside. "What friends? Answer me. Alpheba. Know that you are sure to lose citizenship if you continue to serve this rogue witch. It would be the end of your prospects."

Alpheba gently reached out and touched Lacrima's hand. "Miss Lacrima, as a prospective witch, I am not loyal to you... but to the goddess."

This satisfied both parties and she turned away.

-

"You must give this Alpheba girl leave to answer questions in my office." Constable Harkness demanded.

Scratch didn't answer him. "Where do all these prisoners come from? I didn't think we'd fill up all the cells in a million years."

"These are minor nobility from Blurich. They've been attacking the forest in siege armor for weeks. We have to take them prisoner."

"Can't you just eat them?"

She shot him a hateful look.

"We have reason to believe Lacrima's plans may be further reaching than we had ever anticipated." Harkness continued.

"How many damned siege armor attacks could there have been? How did this happen?"

"Baronet. Listen to me."

"Constable." Scratch looked the man in the eyes. "Why do I have so many youths in my drunk tank?"

"...It seems that. Your city may have become symbolically significant. In this war."

"Blurich is the home country of the church, after all." The guildmaster reminded them.

"You're kidding."

"Why would I joke about something like this?" She turned away from him as Quiet come hobbling in his little guild uniform. He had brought her her staff.

"If Reddington loses this war," she continued, "the disbanding of the Promise will undoubtedly be among the concessions the king will have to make. If that happens, all our livelihoods will be destroyed. However, the urgency among Blurich may be lessened with the elimination of internationally condemned individuals."

The staff found its way pointing at Lacrima.

But constable Harkness pushed it away. "These people will be judged by a court of law, Puella."

"I am more condemned by the church than she is," Scratch said, "you wouldn't turn that thing on me, would you?"

For a second it seemed like she would, but Lydia growled softly at her.

"Chill out, baby," Scratched sussed, "the woman is stressed out about her business. There's no adventurers coming in ever since the war began, are there?"

"That's no reason to threaten a baronet," the constable said sternly. "Adventurers' guild staff need reminding that they simply peasants from time to time. Perhaps a few days in a cell..."

"Stand down constable. We're all on the same side here."

"Actually..." Quiet piped up. "I had this idea..."

"Baronet," Harkness insisted, "we do nee-"

"Shush. What is it Quiet?"

----------------------------------------

"A taxi service, basically."

"What?"

Scratch sighed. Barbara wasn't being overly receptive, he had antagonized and belittled her ambitions too much.

She diverted her attention away from him, manning the underground shop, and wasn't extending the courtesy of interpreting modern lingo from context anymore.

"We'll need some of the wagons and routes to ferry adventurers back and forth. Most of them live in the surrounding farmsteads anyway."

She didn't look at him as she counted her money. "Smuggling is the only way to supply Lucky with the ingredients for sweet crimson. It's the thieves' guild primary lifeline."

"You've got the circle now, don't you?"

She didn't answer, so he tried it from a different angle.

"Listen... it was Quiet's idea. He wants to impress the adventurer lady, we're all rooting for him, it's a whole thing."

"..."

"You want the adventurers' guild on our side, don't you?"

"If you want to make a request, take it up with my business partner."

"Partner?"

"Second is at the perch. He's the overseer for the market."

-

Scratch's younger brother sat on the elevated platform that connected the market to the wooden walkways.

Officially, he was the overseer for the marketplace. Making sure the people were peaceful and the structures stable.

In a more real sense, he was employed as diplomat, the link between the thieves' guild and the dungeon master. When they weren't on speaking terms, they could talk through him.

So he kept half an eye on the proceedings below, and most of his attention on a book of outlines he had received. A children's toy that could be colored in using crayons. He only had three colors however, and one of them was a piece of charcoal.

"Yer not s'posed to sell things upstairs, it should be through the market." He said without looking up, as soon as he heard Scratch climb onto his plane.

"What're talking about? You mean me selling mortgage pass-throughs and stakes into bandit outfits at the mansion? That's banking stuff."

"Barbara says if you're selling to outsiders it should go through here." He looked up. "And I said the people you appoint to advise are also a product. Because they pay you for it and they only do it because of the guarantee that you will pay their debts if they fail."

"Yeah... insurance."

"Yeah."

"You know Second, we need to provide those financial products to bandit cities can grow. The mortgage is upfront money so they can build houses, the stakes are upfront money so they can buy equipment and connections for a syndicate, and the insurance is risk spreading so they will dare to do it. I resell the ownership of these things so we have enough money to do it in every province of the country."

"You can resell them here." Second returned to his coloring book.

"What have you got there?"

"It's a giant fighting goblins. But I'm changing it so that the goblins are winning."

The black lines in the book depicted what could only be a siege harness tearing apart a goblin nest and freeing some sort of princess in a cage. Second had added charcoal spears and ropes to restrain the mechanical menace.

"You know what? Sure. I guess I'll- fucking- put a box office here. But I can't negotiate a contract over the counter, I'll need space for a back office."

"There's space."

"And tell Barbara that the schedule for the cargo transport is changing. We're sharing the road now."

----------------------------------------

The general of Reddington's royal army paced agitatedly through the palace.

He should have known the king would be too busy to receive him. His highness should bitter little regard for the war.

'Sport for aristocrats' he called. It well this sport had high stakes and they were on the losing team!

"Tell me you have good news," he demanded of the war oracle upon entering the war room.

"I have good news..."

"Ah, thank the gods."

"...if you insist that I lie."

The general threw his hat at him.

"I had advised you before to focus on reducing losses rather than gaining territory, that recommendation still can not be withdrawn. Not while the enemy continues to field such superior siege harnesses." The oracle said.

He nodded. "Has the god of war revealed the secret to their power yet?"

"They have found a way to cultivate altered forma lines. Their siege smith, Stahl, is called the Aster hero. One of those extraordinary individuals."

"A hero... then there is no hope of shifting the tide of war. Not with lady Dichtershire in the adventurers' guild."

"Indeed. The respective royals will likely agree to end the war before the winter solstice, so it will not interfere with their shared celebration. All we can do is ensure Blurich has taken as little territory as possible by then so the state will not be forced to redraw the border too unfavorably."

"He has refused to see me on the matter. 'You're a perfectly capable chess player, Hornsby, I'm sure you know what's best'."

The oracle chortled, despite himself, "he said that?"

"Our liege has more to say about our profession, which I shan't repeat here. We are morose enough as is, I'd say."

The oracle put both hands together and tapped his lips with outstretched index fingers. "If those are the king's words, we may be able to employ certain... unconventional elements."

The general raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"I have been unwilling to raise this point in our meetings, with the king's man gurgling at us, but we do have a secret weapon."

"I have not heard about this?"

The oracle produced a small scrying eye. A glass lens with the magical property to show far-off images.

The general had seen it taken out before. Supposedly, only the witch that had created it could alter the subject of the scrying spell.

"Another extraordinary. This child was captured trying to cross the border during wartime, however she does not seem to be loyal to the Blurich army." The oracle said.

He looked into the glass. Somewhere inside a dark prison, wrapped in sealing chains from head to toe, sat a tiny war criminal. "....This is an infant."

"She possesses unimaginable power over fire, capable of incinerating three platoons before she were captured. I have no doubt her power could make the difference for our efforts, but she will ask for something in return."

"What-"

"Watcher." A voice came from the scrying eye. "I can see thee, as thee can see me. If you be my captor, I demand to be released, so that I may exact my judgment upon this world."

The general recoiled as wisps of fire began to form around the magical lens. "How is this possible?"

"She must be using some sort of sympathetic magic to cast through her image..." the oracle panicked slightly as he tried to close the eye.

"I shall not be complicit in the deaths of god-fearing men!" She roared. "It is you, and the corruption you protect that shall know the goddess' judgment."

As soon as the item clamped shut, the wisps disappeared.

"Well... a mad dog. But mad dogs can be useful, when pointed in the right direction."

"The king would never approve of fielding such an unstable individual."

"Aye, but he has delegated all judgment to yourself."

They looked at each other.

"Let us not."

"Indeed."

----------------------------------------

Scrying Eye

A scrying eye is a controlled magic item. It may only be used by military officials.

It is produced via witch magic and has the ability to show an subject, or what that subject is seeing, for as long as it has an item inside to link it to that subject.

Adventurers may sometimes be granted minor scrying eyes as part of a special mission request. If they do, it is vital that such an item is returned as soon as possible after the quest parameters are completed. Unsanctioned ownership of a scrying eye is a serious offense.