"The city is on lock-down." His second-in-command said. "Are you listening?"
He wasn't focused on her words, the documents in front of him were far more important.
They were telephone logs.
"Will you look at this? The journalist is in regular contact with the 500 number."
"What?"
"That's the burner phone Galia's carrying. They're gaining a network."
She slammed her hand on the desk in front of him to gain his attention. "We don't have time for these antics. You've investigated that cell, they're children playing make-believe. Please focus on what's important to us, the syndicate is falling apart, the law is closing in."
He leaned back and shook his head. "They're magic. I saw it."
"Magic." She said it out loud just to demonstrate the absurdity of the phrase.
"This Sanadora person is their leader. She's been burning our capo's alive using some sort of fire spell, the side-kick can fly, and this Galia person does something with wood. They're all 'old souls', that's what they call themselves."
Her lip curled, she looked disgusted. "You've gone insane. Are you just going to ignore the national guard moving into the city?"
"The old souls are the source behind all of this," he turned inward, not answering her question, "They're unraveling the syndicate. They're the ones that protected missus Pulitzer over here while she exposed us to the world."
"If you actually went out on the street you'd hear everybody say it. We were stronger under the last boss."
"I just need to find an in, learn how this magic works so we can anticipate it."
"Some of them not even shy anymore, calling you a know-nothing rick kid with an MBA."
He looked up. "Oh. You were saying something?"
She turned away from him.
"I don't have an MBA." He said.
"You've been running this family like a business." She opened the door to leave, the bass-boosted thumping of the night club becoming audible from down the hall, "so you better keep it running fortune 500 style. 'Cause there's nobody left that's going to stay loyal otherwise. Not when they're sending in the army."
----------------------------------------
Scratch stirred from his daydreaming. It had been ages since he'd reminisced about the old world.
Or should I call it the 'real' world'?
The phone was ringing.
He already regretted getting it installed in his house. It would have suited much better in Noss' laboratory or at the devil altar. It wasn't like it needed a land-line with the sympathetic magic linking it up.
"Hold your horses." He told the inanimate machine as he made his way towards the back.
The little bead was repeatedly smashed against the copper bell all the same, it wouldn't stop while the machine was active.
To open the telephone cabinet he had to retrieve the little key from his sleeve and unlock it.
"Papa! The phone is ringing!" Ada yelled from the other room.
"I heard!"
He opened it up and turned the bell the other way. It was the only way to turn off the alarm, as the little wheel and string jerking around bead weren't going to stop just because he'd lifted up the horn.
They did not have that technology.
He put the goat horn to his ear. "This is headquarters."
"Papa. I'm stuck in the swirly woods again."
"Who is this?"
"Aww, papa, it's Roland."
"I don't think so. My Roland is three years old already, he knows not to cross the border into swirly woods."
"I was chasing some spies! They were too strong for hobgoblins to fight so we needed an ogre."
"Spies?"
"Yeah."
"Are they with you now?" He gestured at Quiet, who happened to be passing by.
"No I hacked them up."
"You don't need to chase anything into swirly woods, Roland. Once they're inside, any direction they go is warped into spirals towards the obelisk. That's, like, the only thing about the woods."
"They could have gotten out if they had a compass."
"Did you find any compass on them?"
"...No."
"It's alright. Quiet will send a dog with a wind-rose."
Quiet nodded.
"In the meantime, sit tight, and cover the horn back up. I don't want the next party to get starved there to find out they can call me from the obelisk."
"Yes, Papa."
The line went dead. Scratch put the horn back and repositioned the bell so that it would ring again the next call.
"Our smartest ogre." He said.
"There's only three." Quiet responded. "Was it more spies?"
"That's what he called them. Armed to the teeth though, might as well call it an invasion force."
-
Quiet followed him onto the other room. "So then they're going to send the army soon."
"The king still hasn't formally retracted our territorial status." Ada piped up from the next floor. "The crown can not take official action without risking sanction from our allied houses and the adventurers' guild."
Scratch pointed up to refer to her.
"But eventually they will, right? Send in the army."
"The court is motivated by power and legacy." Ada said, while Scratch fetched himself a drink, "current tensions are over economic power and the Promise controlling the de facto national currency.
These factors drive the occasional spat, but they will not engender drastic measures until they become existential. As long as the soft power of the thieves' guild remains a secret, the state can not justify taking action against us."
Quiet looked at him questioningly.
"They'd need a good excuse is what she's saying." Scratch explained, "Ada has been working on her vocab for the diplomat position." He put his drinks down. "When it comes right down to it, clashing with the king's men is the last thing I want. Loyalties tend to disappear when you're up against state power. The whole operation would crumble."
Quiet looked at his feet. "I thought... maybe... if there were another war... we could take some knight women prisoner..."
"Not having much luck on the dating scene?"
He looked away.
"I have an idea. We're showing our plans today, how about you come along and tell us a thing or two about the work you did?"
----------------------------------------
The vampire countess had been the first to arrive at the council meeting.
Once in a while she had to come down from the stalactites to remind the world she was not, actually, a monstrous bat, but a refined noble woman.
She sat perfectly poised at the end of the stone table as if it were natural. As if she hadn't spend the past months completely feral in a cavern.
The room was not friendly architecture for vampires. To start with, it stood squarely on the surface when the Promise had access to the underworld. Secondly, there was no roof.
Lacrima was a witch and worshiper to the moon goddess. Her temples were open to gaze upon the heavenly bodies.
She sat sideways on the side of the wall, peering into the room. She was a fairy queen; youthful, giant, and distractingly naked.
"Not getting impatient are we, night creature?" She said. "A mere few hours before sunrise."
"I know exactly how long 'til dawn, vulgar woman. Your lord knows not to test my patience."
"Not my lord!"
She knew how to press her buttons.
Pixies and lightning bugs scattered and fled as the dog sleds came rushing into Lacrima's clearing.
For a second it became dark.
When magical light came back, the goblins and werewolves had poured into the temple and filled up the room.
Scratch looked at his timepiece, a pocket-watch of sorts powered by mana. Then he properly took in the room.
He clapped his hands. "I see everybody's here. Let's bring in the plaster."
"Not so fast dearie." Lacrima said. "You claim the Ravenous Lich holds stake in our enterprise, don't you? Well then, the meeting can't start until he's here. Isn't that right?"
The vampire shot her a mean look. The goblin all-father would not seriously let the night run out over her suggestion, but even the idea was a verbal attack.
"I am here."
"Waagh!" The fairy queen jumped off the building in shock.
"Far be it for me to interrupt you in your... discussion." The minotaur lich appeared in a cloud of black smoke from between the tiles of the earth.
"Ritter, thank you for joining. This is a familiar setting I think." Scratch said.
"You are referring to the diplomatic board I maintained with other dungeon lords, before all of us were bereft of our territories by mortal hands. These are not good memories."
"Ahem, well... thank you anyway, for stopping by in your travels. You see everybody that claims some sort of ownership over our town is here."
"Vouldn't do to exclude zhe lord over all dungeons, vould it?" Countess Fleder said.
"Nor our greatest investor and long-term house guest." Scratch responded.
She made a little bow, closer to a head nod than real curtsey.
"Of course I've invited Lacrima, who is a patron saint of sorts to the goblins of the colonies that are blessed by Guth. This is Lydia, she manages the shadow bandits. Rhadavann, one of the goblins from the outer territories here to represent his mother and her neighbours. My sons Will and Jasper, overseers for the inner territory, and my adoptive son Roland..." As quickly rattled off the names and pointed around the group he barely left time for anybody to register their faces, but the ogre couldn't be missed.
Where the goblins were mossy green and hobgoblins orange, the ogre was a muted red. He had horns and fangs and no hair. Nearly eight feet tall, broad, muscular and rippling with magical energy.
Over his shoulder he had slung a battle-axe nearly as large as himself, shiny steel reddened with blood.
"H-hi..."
"...He's here as security. Now that everybody is acquainted, let's get down to business."
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The goblin horde moved as one to transport a long horizontal object from the sleds to the stone slab. It was covered by two thin blankets and a nightgown.
"May I present to you: the city of the future!"
At his cue the fabric was pulled from the plaster and the object unveiled.
A model city.
-
One a scale of 1 to two-thousand, give-or-take, the miniature landscape could barely fit over the length of the table a full twenty paces in length.
It was made of thin wood and plaster with cemented pebbles outlining the shape of the terrain underneath.
On one end, the cliff sides were visible. And so where the towering structures of the Promise.
Then there were the small townships and farmlands of the favored territory, featuring tiny walls, workshops, and even quarries out of thin wood and white plaster, which eventually made way for the less developed outer territory and the woods.
"It was Quiet here that put together the team and coordinated the creation of the maquette. Quiet? What can you tell us about it?"
The shy goblin was pushed forward and Scratch made place for him.
A significant portion of the world's most dangerous magical beings was staring him in the eyes.
"Yes. So..." He gathered himself. "So the little buildings are made with wood, but they're painted with bassan- bassanite paste. So we used a hand plane to make the walls, and-"
"It goes vithout saying," countess Fleder interrupted, "zhat if ve are gazhered here merely to admire your hobbycraft. I vill kill you."
Roland reached for his weapon, but no-one else reacted so he quickly let go. Embarrassed.
"The arts and crafts are a visual aid," Scratch said. He gestured at his sons, who produced additional plaster creations from a crate and began to place them onto the display, reaching around the shoulders of the world's most feared in the process.
"We're planning to expand the territory, building additional housing blocks, wider roads, this thing... what is that thing Will?"
"It's another water purifying plant, papa."
"Aha. Enfin, high ambitions. I need everybody here to sign off on it and discuss how to use the remaining whitespace."
Even Lacrima leaned in to observe the transformation the model city had undergone. His summary had undersold it. The additions had turned it from a rural collection of settlements into a sprawling mega-city.
The fairy queen's lips pouted. "Has your population grown so greatly that you can't house them anymore?"
"Au contraire, the growth is slowing down, that's the reason. For years now we've put a price floor on food crops to stimulate broodmothers into expanding their farms. So it'd match our exponential growth. But the added value of more sons has gone down over time and the numbers are plateauing. This year is the first time we're going to have a vegetable surplus. Might as well dump it on the foreign market, we'll bankrupt some farmsteads and buy their land for cheap."
"Yes... I only ask because you've completely encircled my witchwood with your towers."
"Ah, yes, central park."
"This is not a park. And I must have a regular exit towards my other fairy woods." She put her finger onto the model and crushed some buildings in the way of her coming and going. "Without being reported on."
"Fair enough, we can move the yeast plant south. Any objections?" He looked around the room as he asked.
She frowned. "You're putting it to a vote?"
"Of course, everybody here has a stake in-"
"Can't just move the yeast." Will said, it's connected to the road. We'd have to replan the whole transport network.
Jasper shook his head. "And the sewers are already dug, so..."
"Ah, too bad Lacrima. That's two votes against."
"Those two votes are both your party you absolute-"
"The sewers connect to the dungeon, correct?"
The goblin patriarch hesitated. "...Yes. We have the design principles to promote magical flow. Magical underground tunnels help us influence the territory in case of an emergency."
"Noss is adept at spellcraft, but his understanding of dungeons is incomplete. In order to preserve the main 'stem' of the dungeon path, long distance branches must rejoin the maze. A dead end this far from your main line will cause unpredictable backwash pressures."
Unaccounted for by any mortal effort, the model city began to twist and shift, moving around like a sliding puzzle, until a new layout was created.
"With this, the power of the dungeon is maximum."
"That's certainly... one idea."
Quiet's beautiful plaster maquette had been mutilated beyond recognition. It now resembled a winding maze branching and rejoining like a river delta on a mountaintop.
"Surely you jest." The vampire scoffed. "Zhere is a more vital vein to preserve, zhe lifeblood of zhis enterprise is commerce, not magic. A varped mess zuch as zhis vould ruin me.
"Hell-o?" Lacrima butted in. "The witchwood is why all of this got started. You can't build over it."
All of a sudden, they were all talking over each other and increasingly, shouting.
Scratch snapped his fingers.
At that cue, Roland drew his weapon and smashed it into the stone. The resulting noise scattered life for a few miles around.
When the ringing stopped and the blades of grass settled in their place, the temple was silent.
"Ladies, gentlemen." Scratch said, as his son administered healing magic on his ear drums. "We have all night. Let's put it to a vote."
-
When the morning dawn streamed cold orange through Lacrima's witchwood, Quiet's model looked markedly different.
The main road had a curve to it, there were designated undeveloped zones and sections of the dungeon dipping above the surface. Most notably, little red flags stood on controversial plans on which the decision was postponed to a later date.
"You planned this, didn't you?" Lacrima said, still in her place when the other warlords had left.
"This meeting? You were there." Scratch said, playing dumb but looking exceptionally pleased with himself.
"Even the Ravenous Lich has committed to coming back for the next meeting. That's what you wanted, you're trapping us in the orbit of your little bureaucracy, hoping we'll get invested in it."
"You make it sound so devious- can you wait with cleaning it up," he touched the wrist of the hobgoblin that had come to collect the maquette, "Roland is using the thingy."
The ogre had a magical device in hand. A square box with a lens that he held to his face and produced a little flash every time it was activated.
"I were afraid you had found stronger broodmothers, but this is even worse isn't it?" The fairy queen said, loud enough for him to hear. "This is what happens to the children your demons steal away.
You transform them into subhumans."
"Oops, a bit loud. Don't worry, Roland doesn't mind. I learned from Bree that what kids care about is the family that raised them, not the one that could have been. So we're not keeping secrets like that anymore. Speaking off..."
The ogre came up to him and handed him the rectangular pictures that the magical device had produced.
*Council meeting of the Promise* and *Ogre attention-grabber*.
Lacrima raised her eyebrows. "What? Those are world-memories."
"All high nobility collect their world memories," Roland said, repeating someone else's words, "can't let them linger around for someone to blackmail you with."
"Wise words," Scratch said, tucking them into his coat pocket. "Now that we're not disturbing the magic, we can start loading the plaster onto the sleds. Boys?"
"Seemingly, you have a magical device for everything these days." Lacrima said. "How does the goddess of magic approve?"
"Guth is broadening her horizons." Scratch said.
----------------------------------------
The world memories had a specific destination.
The oubliette in the basement level of the dungeon, where he put all things to be forgotten.
A marble statue eyed him as he opened up the box at the far side of the room. One of many now.
A veritable gallery of stone incarnations of Benesant took up half of the oubliette, sectioned off via metal grates.
Bree, who would guard the entrance to this chamber of secrets, looked on with an uneasy feeling. Once in a while, the corner of her eye caught a shift, a hint of movement, as the goddess' presence phased in and out of her depictions.
"Hey, papa?" She asked. "You've got all of them now, don't you?"
"All depictions of Benesant in the world? No, not even close. We're only storing the ones we've gifted replacements for in the neighboring counties. There's probably ones out near the capital that can still talk to true believers."
"Licentious gnat!" A mass of stone arms shot out from between the metal bars and grabbed at him. One got a hold on his longer sleeve. "What image have you put in my place?" One of the stone heads said, contorted in rage.
The troll came to her father's defense and smashed the brittle stone.
He dusted himself off, but the fabric had torn. "If you must know, they're modeled after a nice girl called Justine from north of here. There's no reason for the worshipers to believe it is anything other than an updated, more detailed view of the goddess they knew."
"But it not being my image, I can not take its presence. I cannot hear their prayers."
Scratch stifled a chuckle. "Well no. That's the idea."
The stone moved as one in an uncanny stop-and-go wave, drawing back and slinking to the side. The many mouths spoke one by one, each finishing a fragment of her speech.
"You believe you can expel me from this world by eliminating my church? This can not kill a god. I am one with the light, with honor, with the hope in people's heart. As long as there is goodness in this world, I will survive here."
"If only that were all you did." He said with a smirk, looking at his daughter.
He was puting on a blasé attitude to encourage her to laugh the god in the face.
But she looked on dead serious as the animated stone continued to rave.
"I am not blind to your corruption. Somehow the native idols of worship are becoming steeped in darkness and I know you are at fault. I will commence a purge. A great crusade!"
"Papa..." Bree whispered.
"She's not commencing anything." Scratch said. "The holy city isn't going to raise an army against me when they're still reliant on the donation drive for restructuring. The adventurers' guild is bought out. And her world-hopping lackeys aren't done incubating yet. She's bluffing."
The goddess regained her composure and limited herself to one body. "Heiligdom is no longer mine. Your machinations there are laid bare to me. But I do have faithful in this world still. The crown shall march against you."
"The crown?"
"Regional lords are compromised by your shadow bandits, but in the name of the goddess, the crown takes action."
"Papa, what does that mean?"
"It's a silly story Bree, let's get out of here."
"You may have fought a knight regiment to a standstill, but the power of the king rivals-"
The goblin shut the door behind him. "Something to be forgotten about."
----------------------------------------
Reddington's capital was as imperious and pristine as it had ever been.
Where the duke's estate had been weathered and neglected, the king's castle still shone with its gray walls and verdant terraces.
Towering statues of dragon slayers carried the arches and bridges of the ever ascending steps towards the palace, so that visitors felt like tiny sprites in a city of giants.
Brummum didn't have time to take in the vistas, as Letta was getting ahead of him stomping up the granite stairs.
He rushed to catch up to his captain.
Twenty minutes since they'd broken off from the garrison and entered the city gates. Twenty minutes and she still hadn't spoken a word to him.
He clutched his case and looked at her back as they marched. Her uniform was modified to allow for her oversized mechanical arm and it made her look like a tavern brawler to be without a sleeve.
Perhaps detecting his disrespectful thoughts, she glared at him over her shoulder and he quickly averted his gaze.
-
"Halt. State your name and purpose." The guards said.
Their clothing was colorful and ceremonial, and their weapons were lances for fighting dragons.
Brummum wondered how useful they'd really be in a fight with a person.
"Letta. Captain of the 21st Stahlburg brigade. The last Stahlburg brigade. This is my assistant, Brummum. Your majesty is expecting me."
"We're on a mission from the goddess." He added.
"One moment, I shall send for the chamberlain. Please have patience captain... Letta."
The Reddington guard stammered over his words trying to address her. A peasant without a family name wouldn't have been able to attain a military rank here.
Not that one's breeding was irrelevant in Blurich, quite the opposite, but it was a different sort of lineage that was obsessed over.
As they waited, Letta turned back to look down the ascend they'd made.
He knew what she was looking for.
Somewhere out there, on the eastern horizon, was the Promise.
Up this high, perhaps one could even see it.
-
They weren't taken for an audience with the king.
Instead, they were seated in a side room with the palace chamberlain.
He eyed Letta's arm apprehensively as he poured them both a cup of tea. "How can I be of service?"
"We were expecting to meet his majesty."
"His Majesty is currently indisposed, however I assure you this matter has his full attention and a report of this meeting will be at his desk first thing this evening." He gestured at a young page transcribing their words in the corner of the room.
It was a flagrant disrespect to show a foreign commander, but the captain retained her composure.
"Our battalion has been permitted entry into your lands for a crusade upon the Promise. We've come to gather troops and able-bodied fighters in order to penetrate the territory."
The page's fountain pen scratched diligently upon the paper and the chamberlain smiled faintly.
"Certainly, certainly. This would be the enhanced siege armor that gave us so much trouble in the last war?"
"All that remains."
"Well," he picked up his tea cup, "I cannot speak for his majesty, but I certainly think it should be achievable to have you standing by on the Count's mission."
"Standing... by?"
"Certainly. At this point the primary concern is how to avoid escalation into violence."
"Ah- captain..." Brummum panicked when she stood up.
"The primary concern is to destroy the enemy of the goddess!"
"Please captain, sit down." The chamberlain sussed, "the baronet has shown great willingness to reconcile with the church through many generous gifts. One of their tenets is redemption, is it not?
And besides, the surrounding territories would be greatly troubled if the great city were to be closed down."
"They're bought out, under his umbrella." She fumed.
"No, no. A poor harvest. It is the day goblins of the Promise that are providing famine relief after the unexpected outbreak of crop blight. His majesty acknowledges the need to seize the money printing apparatus, but it is best done peacefully. With- to be sure- a show of force, but then a peaceful transition of power to a more suitable baron."
She slammed her hand on the salon table. "We're not talking about any apparatus, we're talking about the fate of the world here!"
The chamberlain gently placed his cup back on the saucer. "With all due respect, young lady. The fate of the world is decided by the administration of its territories. That's why the force moving into the Promise will consist of high nobility. Stewards of the realm. Who do not need to rely on... siege harnesses... to project power." He managed to suppress a condescending laugh, but in the corner the page chuckled.
Letta stood there for a second, her nostrils flaring, then she turned around and walked towards the door.
"Captain?" Brummum quickly picked up his case and ran after her.
-
"Halt. You cannot pass."
The way towards the throne room was blocked by a number of guards.
They brought their weapons towards her, but she widened her stance, did not let them put her on the back foot, redirected a spear and closed in to disarm one. Then she spun it around to force some distance.
"Captain, you can't just start fighting the king's guards." Brummum hissed.
"What's going on here?" A young man with golden hair and gold-lined clothing came up to the commotion, he had a bemused smirk on his face.
It was the crown prince.
"Your highness. This impudent soldier woman is trying to force entry-"
"I have an audience with the king!" She demanded.
"...Father is indisposed. You... you're not natively from Blurich are you?"
"I was born here, under your majesty's dynasty. It was goblins that took my family from me and drove me out of my home."
"See, I can tell from the accent. But these are day goblins, not the night goblins you once knew."
She snapped the fingers on her normal hand. "Brummum, we have a royal, show him."
The prince raised an eyebrow as he quickly unclasped his case.
In the box where world memories.
"I enjoy a game of whisk as much as the next person, but this is hardly the time."
"Brummum is a mage, with an affinity for time magic. Come on, show him."
Brummum nodded and tossed one of the cards in the air. "Walgis' Sight!"
Smoke and light flashed in the royal halls and an image appeared.
An elven village burning, overrun with day goblins.
"It's called 'the ransacking of the sacred grove.' In-game it lets you destroy any nature-based land an opponent controls." He said.
He showed some more.
A bribe paid to a hobgoblin. A nick with a cursed object turning a man into a werewolf. An infant stolen from a cradle.
They were all proof of the goblins' corruption.
The last one shown was Scratch himself, surrounded by the mists of a hookah, communing with an evil god.
"We must show this to the king." Letta said. "Break through this idiotic appeasement-"
"I will go."
"Your highness?"
The prince lowered his eyes. "Father is dying. I shall lead the royal army to the east."
Brummum gasped. "D-dying?"
"Your highness," the chamberlain said doggishly, "perhaps a conference with your father's advisers..."
"You are fired." He said. "Guards, show him the door."
"No! I have served your father for decade- Argh! You will regret this!"
As the man was dragged out, the prince turned to Letta. "I apologize for that. It is a black mark on the Reddington name to have one of our own trusted staff attempt to keep us in the dark like that."
"You think he was intentionally...?" Brummum half asked as he locked away his cards again.
"It is clear to me now that this enemy of the church has many tentacles. But none of his agents will swear to his name. The spies, the bandits, the beings of great power, none of them will stay loyal once the royal army is on his doorstep."
----------------------------------------
Ogre
Family: Subhumans
Threat Level: D
Reward: 3 gold pieces 30 gold pieces
Ogres are known as the barons of the subhuman race. Where trolls are fully specialized in physical power, and brownies in spellcasting, ogres occupy a middle ground. An ogre has the strength of a shield master knight and the mana reserves of an elven mage. They are usually found leading a cadre of hobgoblin spawn, making it more daring and willing to travel outside their home territory for longer distances.
An ogre may live up to 60 years if not slain, and may attempt to produce more of its kind by capturing knights or adventurers. (Weaker captives can only produce hobgoblins.)
Killing an ogre is a party quest that can result in promotion to rank C for the party that completes it.
Although ogres possess the fearless nature, they are considered to have a bestial cunning of sorts and may use simple sorcery in battle. Adventurers would do well to separate an ogre from its hobgoblin pack by exploiting its aggression and baiting it out. Subhumans are much more easily subdued when dispersed.