Duke Montgomery of Dichtershire stood flaming at the base of Benesant's new spire.
He was hard to ignore.
The man was a towering highborn nobleman, inflamed by the fires of Rhada. Workmen with heritages from all over the four realms lowered their heads as they saw him.
He would have killed them if they met his eyes.
-
The death of his daughter still laid heavily on his mind. It had gone unavenged.
Currently the spire would have to serve as outlet for his frustration.
There was something unholy about it. The way the major houses in Reddington had exsanguinated themselves obsessively feeding it, like thralls to a vampire. The way the Promise sucked up all the glory and prestige of its creation. And the way not a single high priest could be found blessing the stone.
Not to mention its ungodly height. It stood like a needle piercing the gibbous clouds, unnaturally still.
-
He strolled through the crenelated white arches to enter.
Although it were as wide as a cathedral, the stairs leading up were a ring around the true core of the building. The obelisk holding the engravings of the goddess.
It was the same pattern repeating over and over again towards the heavens. The only thing breaking up the monotony were the scaffolding. The half-chiseled images. The incomplete parts.
"Montgomery."
It was his vassal's familiar, a hawk, that had come to speak to him.
The duke shook out of his thoughts and realized he'd ascended at least a dozen floors.
"The crown is moving against the Promise. Should we do something?"
He didn't answer. "What is this place Giles? What's its purpose?"
"It's a hole for harebrained provincials to burn their money in. All the materials, all the builders you see around you, they're paid for in paper money. They buy it up to spend it on their petty prestige, further contributing to the use and demand for the stuff."
"They feel trapped, Giles. They've already ruined their families, if they don't get their hands on the wyrm shards they'll be left destitute. The baronet is banking on them resisting this take-over."
"So you won't send noble-born to add to their number?"
"There's something more to this place. I can feel it. Some divine energy."
Giles sighed, and through magical projection, the hawk sighed as well. "The farmsteads around the Promise have no way to sell the little produce they do have. It'll be my township that will have to make accommodations for them if they cannot survive in their crown-given estates. Scratch is able to deprive them of their income under the guise of famine-relief after the cabbage blight this summer. Now, if you're right and the blight was not natural but magical in nature, that gives us all the more reason to overthrow-"
"Not overthrow, burn." The duke of Dichtershire closed his hand around a dancing shape of elemental fire. "Make it flush with the dirt."
"... We just may. The foreigners seem to have finally sparked fire in the boy. With your permission, I will be joining in."
He looked up. "The crown prince has taken up arms?"
"He was almost your son-in-law, it would be strange if he didn't think at least a little like you do."
A great swirling of mana followed and the duke transformed into a mote of light, zipping away to a faraway place.
"Monty? Are you there?" The bird said. "That a duke's bloodline for you, not stingy with mana at all." It preened itself and looked at a builder, who was staring back in amazement. "I've known
Montgomery all his life, some war will do him good, get his mind off things, even if it does require the sacrifice of a minor crook. Reddington nobles need a dragon to slay from time to time, you know."
The man closed his mouth and nodded politely.
"Although, in earnest, the day goblins likely aren't half as evil as we're making them out to be."
0000
"So this is where we stage child abductions," Scratch said, "since you took an interest."
"You use a devil altar." Ritter said, matter-of-factly.
Since he'd lost the moniker of Ravenous Lich, he'd become more laid back. His dangerous black smoke no longer coated his body half as often, and he was wearing a bespoke green gentleman's outfit Jasper had sown for him, fit snugly to the bone.
It made him look halfway approachable.
"Changelings belong to the demon family of temptation, and they've decided that they really like me now." Scratch explained. "So I get a discount, basically."
A tall mirror reflected both their forms. One tall, the other short, between the billowing red drapes that dressed up the devil altar.
Silhouettes of stalking, predatory creatures were cast upon the fabric, but shown to be without physical reality when it moved out of the way.
The demons had sensed somehow that the goblin had mentioned them and moved in from the abyss. The image within the mirror began to fog up, until it was no longer visible.
The palm of a large boney hand pressed against the glass from within the fog. "Master Scratch... you wish to see sights beyond sights once again?"
"Bregornatis. I'm showing Ritter here around, please show me the double we've posted in Linefort."
The hand started to slowly move, then suddenly sweeped across the glass, wiping away a stroke of condense on the inside of the mirror. Now, a daylight scene was visible.
An infant was being burped by a nanny in the streaking light of a nursery window.
"There you go, she's in her place. Nobody suspects a thing."
The child seemed to notice them through the mirror and gave them a slight, crooked smile, then returned to their role.
"Alas. I can infer what you intend to show me, but my senses are those of a lich. These tricks of smoke and shadow... I cannot see. Only lifeforce."
Scratch shrugged. "Well, it doesn't matter. What matters is that your future apprentice is on the way."
Bregornatis evaporated the scene and they were looking at just the impression of his hand once more. "The goblins must provide tragedy and lamentation to the court of shadows... this is the way of abyssal dance."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, there's all these... conditions and stipulations. I wouldn't come to you without a mission Bregornatis, show me the second floor bedroom of the West-Merheim estate." Scratch said.
The piercing cry of an infant rattled the cave. The mirror showed a less behaved kid crying his eyes out in a wooden cradle.
Nobody was there to attend to him.
"There he is," Scratch said, "just like she said. Bregornatis, we shall steal the heir to this baronet house and stifle the bloodline. We have bought betrayal of a mother, we shall corrupt a noble house, and strengthen the subhuman race. Are these terms acceptable to you?"
"It is... acceptable."
"Then provide us his image."
The mirror's surface began to broil and bubble, until it had degenerated in a gray slime.
Dark magic coiled and whispered around them as Scratch turned to Ritter. "You've got to get to them before they're baptized, otherwise we can't do this or the goblin thing."
"Children are humanity's most precious resource after all."
"Same as with your apprentice really, we need someone on the inside to clue us in on a mark and help keep the secret. In this case, the kid's own mother wished for a quieter son."
A glob of demonic ooze slide onto the floor, and an infant burst forth. "From the the cold and from the dark, I have come." It said. "For Scratch, who is to be demon king. What is my mission?"
"West-Merheim in eastern Blurich." Scratch said, "you must become their son and destroy the reputation of the baronet family."
It bowed. "With great dishonor, sire."
"Let's get you into place ASAP."
"Scratch," Ritter said, "I've seen enough. You sap the wealth, hope, and now even the blood from humanity."
"I... well..."
"I know that I can entrust to you the stewardship to the remaining shards."
"H-hold up." He had lifted the demonic infant onto his hip, so his range of motion were restricted, but still he gestured wildly. "You're the dungeon lord right? I'm just minding this one dungeon for you. I figured, without your tower, the Promise is basically your main base of operations..."
Ritter looked away and into nothing. "It has been... two months... since we defeated Pinchin and made him one with the aspect of war. I've only just began to understand what it means to be free. I want to see the world." His empty eye sockets then returned to Scratch. "Once I have a new apprentice, I will be able to establish a new tower. When that time comes, I will no longer be seeking for Malsidious resurrection."
Scratch sighed. "She'll be here for a few years, come and get her once she's big enough."
"You've done me a great service."
The lich disappeared. Not in a cloud of smoke, but by transforming into a point of light and zipping backwards through the dungeon. A standard Escape spell.
----------------------------------------
There was a special delivery service for changelings meant to replace lower nobility around the continent.
Because they had taken on the form of human beings at their earliest age, they did not have the power to carry themselves very far. Diplomatic envoys provided an avenue.
It was Quiet the goblin that had the thankless job of packing the demonic infants into suitcases to be transported with the food aid, weapons, and religious idols.
Their tiny unclawed hands dug meanly into his arms as they latched on to him. They grinned maliciously in the darkness of the devil altar.
"Scratch?"
Scratch was sat on sating pillow next to the devil altar, smoking his hookah.
He was in no state of mind to address him, intoxicated by the blue grass and magical shrooms in the magical mist.
"Are you communing with Cyclophan again?"
"Your master is in the execrable realm of the abyss," a changeling said, "do not disturb him now. He is dealing with devils."
"I was just wondering... did Ritter like your gift? Because... because you said we needed him here."
"The demon king has no need for sorcerous sycophants, our kind will be all the support he need-"
"Shut it."
With one command from Scratch, the demonic infant's lips sucked together.
"It's not whether he likes it." He put the mouth piece back on the device. "The world's most powerful sorcerer isn't going to fight for us just because he liked his present. It's about binding him to the Promise."
"...yeah."
Scratch took over one of the changelings, which had taken to pulling out his poor brother's hairs one by one. "The answer is no, I wasn't able to get any commitment from him. We may have misjudged his character, I think he was... grossed out. We'll have to retreat into the dungeon and let them have the surface."
Quiet shuffled his feet. "...could fight..."
"What was that?"
He spoke up. "We've got the biggest army in the world. We could fight them for it."
Scratch laughed. "That'd be great wouldn't it? If we hadn't been so greedy building up the colonies, they'd still be dependent on us..." he pondered for a bit, "...ah well, spilled milk. There's no chance any of the tribes would fight for us now. What do they need us for?"
"Can't... the guilds... all those nobles...?"
"All soft power. We can't make the thieves' or the adventurers declare total war against the royal armies. I thought we had enough of the nobility in our pocket, but then the prince went and acted on his own... hell I thought the prince was in our pocket."
Quiet went silent.
"Don't worry about it. Really, it's unnatural for criminal organizations to have territories in the first place. We'll be much more at home spread out, under the radar."
----------------------------------------
There is an art to the marching of an army. The regiments must not spread out too much, rations and water must be doled out at a consistent schedule from a caravan of supplies, and careful consideration must be made of the scalability of a pass for a crowd. If any of these things are not dealt with properly, the army can be delayed for sometimes days at a time.
The crown prince was not spectacularly incompetent at leadership, but he were no veteran. Once he had arrived at the border of the goblins' territory, it had already been stripped bare.
All weapons and foodstuff had been removed, construction was halted, and raw materials were covered in tarp to account for long absence. In a land war, such things are done to prevent the enemy from razing the land and using it to supply their troops.
It took only three days to reach the Promise, but on the third day the soldiers had had a relatively light lunch. If not hunger, there were pangs of pekishness in among the ranks.
-
"The baronet is not here, your majesty." A scout reported to the prince. "He claims you have it out for his head and has gone to the county of Scun to ask for protection. There is a small contingent of goblins still in town, but the family has fled."
"What about the dungeon cores?"
"Gone, your majesty."
The prince frowned and played with his goblet.
The war tent was large and luxurious, filled with cushions, tables, and a high chair for him to sit in. It seemed silly now that he could simply walk into town and claim it.
"One of our mages will send word to Scun. Housing him now is a betrayal of their king. In the meantime, turn over everything. Find me paperwork, whisk cards, anything that can tell us who is accomplices are and where the dark sorcery is cast."
"It seems they knew we were coming," Letta's assistant said sheepishly. "All proof must've been cleaned out by now."
"That is not true." Letta stepped forward, back straight and arms folded behind her back. "Your majesty, with your permission I would like to order my men to put their equipment to work in basement of the mansion."
"Those mining tools? Why? What's down there?"
She balled up her mechanical fist and clenched it in front of her. "A dungeon."
----------------------------------------
The basement was clear of the biggest prize the crown had hoped to obtain. The money printers.
It had become clear that gold could no longer be trusted as a medium of exchange. Traders had become all but allergic to it, choosing to avoid it in fear of the volatile value. This in turn exacerbated the inflation and made the metal completely worthless.
Promissory notes were now the measure of wealth, and he that could print them infinitely rich.
Alas, the Eston throne would have to content with debt collectors for a little while longer.
But the industrious men from the west had their eyes on a different prize. Following the breeze, knocking the stone, and magically preventing the changing of paths, the laid bare a staircase into the depths.
-
"A dungeon!" The prince nearly shouted. "Not just a core but a fully dug one. That's how a goblin from the middle of nowhere attained untold sorcerous power."
"I've been here before." Letta said as she went ahead, "sewer pipes from all over the territory converge underneath here."
"Stop right there captain," the prince said, before her crew could follow. "We can't have you delving this place on your own accord. It's Reddington land."
She looked back and smiled. "What will you do? Funnel your entire army through these tunnels?"
"Yes- no. We will organize a party, follow me."
----------------------------------------
It took the entire rest of the day selecting the right people to escort the crown prince into the depths.
If it were only a matter of competence, the choice could have been made within the hour, but a prince must show respect to the highborn in his retinue and make a show of seriously considering every one for an important mission.
The following morning, a party of twelve started their descent into the goblin under-palace.
-
The warg nursery was quickly torn up.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
It was a moss and wooden sanctuary in-between the natural stone, fully illuminated by sunstone. All easily broken apart.
But once the men started breaking things, warg wolves began to appear from every corner. There was a sea of black fur and white teeth, wolves protecting their nest.
The soldiers quickly encircled their prince, but the pack was easily kept at bay.
"These wargs serve Papa Scratch," Letta's mage said. "If they're still here, the goblins must be as well."
"Well his bodyguard isn't getting to us." One of the knights said confidently.
"They're not, they're herding us into place." Letta said. "Duck."
They had enough presence of mind to dodge her mechanical arm as she swung it around. In mid-air, it struck a wind wolf in the neck.
It had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and its attack was only narrowly deflected by her foresight.
"What-"
"Wind wolves," she said, "I've seen them before. They're the real threat here."
Before she was done speaking half a dozen wind wolves jumped on the party at once, bursting directly from their hiding place into their personal space with the power of wind.
The Blurichans were prepared with spellrods, little bursts of twisting air that interfered with the effect that gave the wolves their great speed. Still, the circling of the predators discombobulated them and the group began to break apart as it tried to keep track of the enemy.
"There's more powerful creatures on this floor still," Letta said, "beasts of all kinds. We have to make a break for the next floor, if we-"
"No." The crown prince said resolutely. "If we cannot clear the first floor, we have no hope of clearing the dungeon. Men."
"Aye-aye."
High nobles tended to neglect their training. It was impossible to reach the pinnacle of their potential in one lifetime, so they turned to other ways to prove the superiority of their bloodline. But a family does not curry the favor of the royals by serving ineptly in their sorties. They knew at least enough magic to upstage a knight or baron.
"Pyroclastic cloud!"
High level fire magic erupted from between the ranks of the dungeon clearers on all sides. Great billowing clouds of black and red meant to overwhelm shield walls and siege equipment ran through the cave. Around corners, into crevasses, until far out of their sight. The sound was deafening, as all works of the goblins were uprooted and burned to cinders.
The wolves hadn't had time to make a sound. They were bracing for the attack one moment, blackened cadavers the next.
It was silent for a moment, and a honking sound came from behind the smoke.
A hydra swan, many headed and the size of an elephant burst out of the empty dark far ahead of them.
All heads were united in one fury, bearing its mighty wings wide it came charging at them.
But the prince stepped out of the formation, pointed his finger, and without speaking launched a bolt of elemental fire at the monster. It split apart into seven and hit all seven heads at once, exploding them into nothing.
The boss monster fell to the ground, not having cleared half the distance between them.
They looked around. The floor looked different now. It was hotter, filled with noxious smoke. All around them was the emptiness of destruction.
"That's that." The prince said. "Captain, you were about to lead us to the next floor?"
----------------------------------------
The next section was the forge.
The cargo lift had been disabled, but there was a path through the scaffolding that let to the surface of the cavern. A long descend through precarious metal walkways.
The last time Letta had been there it had been replete with the clanging of metal on metal and heat from the forge. Now it seemed cold and dark compared to the inferno above, and there was unsettling darkness between the stalactites.
One of the highborn peeked over the edge of their walkway and whistled. "That's a long way down. Spiky too."
"Any wind magic among you?" The prince asked.
"The 21st brigade is a piloting regiment. Siege armor." Brummum said.
"Figures. I suppose we'll have to get down the traditional-"
As he spoke the metal sheet underneath them buckled and titled, unfooting half the party and sending them to grasp at any handhold between the metal supports.
"Men! Hold on." The prince locked his arm around a post and reached out the other to help his ally, and others on stable footing began to do the same. But they were disrupted when their own platform began to shake.
Two of the knights slid off the edge to their deaths.
"The enemy is below us." Letta said. "Trolls!"
They came swinging around from all sides. Long armed subhumans with shield greaves and tremendous strength, pulling at the platforms and caving in skulls.
The remaining dungeon delvers quickly tried to reposition, but no footing was secure, and the enemy was able to move around unpredictably.
"What about another pyroclastic cloud?" Brummum suggested.
"It works better when the enemy's close together." The prince said. "You do something."
Letta held out her arm and a harpoon shot out, piercing the throat of a troll. "With your permission. Perhaps this time we should try making a getaway."
"Do you remember the holy scripture of Benesant, captain?"
"What of it?"
"Do not suffer evil to live."
Fire engulfed his blade, and he cut the supports around them diagonally, so that the section above them toppled onto the the trolls swinging on the outside.
He leapt and severed the connections of the uneven platform, dropping it flat onto the one below.
The severed metal glowed white-hot from the intense heat, and the entire structure began to lose integrity.
Seizing the momentum, the nobles fell upon the trolls with blade and magic, tearing apart the scaffolding to get at the nimble enemies.
Before long, they were in free-fall.
Letta hooked onto the rope of the lift with her harpoon, taking Brummum with her.
Some others managed to slow themselves using the unevenly collapsing supports, and yet others cushioned their falls with the bodies of dead enemies or allies.
All-in-all, half of the party survived.
----------------------------------------
They found themselves at the bottom of the cargo lift, patting off the dust on the wooden walkway leading out in either direction.
The early morning sun shone directly into the cavern, illuminating the buildings to the east and the lion's head entrance to the right. And the crown prince was counting heads.
Letta run up to him and shoved him with her real arm. "Is that how the crown of Reddington treats his men?"
One of his retinue was about to stand between them, but he stopped her. "If I had not taken action, we would all have died."
"You mowed us down, it's like you saw no difference between friend or foe!"
"Letta..." Brummum put his hand on her shoulder and she backed off.
"Your majesty," the knight said, "your mana?"
"I have one more great spell in me, but..."
"If I may. We have spell paper for an 'Escape' spell. I think now is the time."
"I don't want to do that."
"Your majesty!"
"You lot destroyed the way down," Letta said. "This is our only chance to reach the end of the dungeon and kill the dragon."
He raised an eyebrow. "Dragon? Just how deeply have you explored this dungeon before, captain?"
"Your majesty!" His underling insisted. "We can hardly clear a dungeon while we're dead. Please, let us return."
"As I said, I have one more great spell in me. I have Escape memorized. Those that are too injured to fight on can leave with the spell paper now, I will return with those willing to fight on later."
"It is our duty to protect y-"
"I relieve you of that duty."
She bit her lip.
"Actually..." Brummum raised his hand. "Can we be send back as well?" He avoided Letta's eyes. "It's just... sorry."
"It's alright." She said. "This is my vendetta, not yours."
The knight sighed. "Alright. Everybody gather around me."
Within a few seconds, the already halved group shrunk down to just two.
The prince and the captain.
----------------------------------------
"How were you planning to slay a dragon just be yourself?" He asked.
She showed the crossbow built into her arm. "Poisonous bolt. I've only got one shot, but I only need one."
"That's some high grade equipment."
"The church is generous towards enemies of Scratch. Or it used to be, before..."
"Right."
"What about you?" She asked.
"What?"
"I'm pressing on to slay the dragon and take my revenge upon the enemy. Why does the crown prince of Reddington want to risk his life in a high-ranked dungeon?"
"I..."
The cave had been eerily silent until then, but suddenly an infant's wailing chalmed against the stone.
"Don't get distracted." She said. "If we're going to make it to the dragon we can't keep clearing the entire floor. Directly to the lion's head. With haste."
The crying didn't let up.
"Your majesty..." she said with a sort of threatening energy.
He unbuckled his weapon. "Take this. It's an enchanted blade from the royal treasury, it can cut through anything."
She hesitated.
"If I know the spirit of my people, and I do, you never expected to survive that dragon fight. Did you? You have no need for an Escape spell."
She snatched it out of his hand.
"It is an honorable thing, dying to avenge your family."
"No, it's-" she avoided his eyes, "I'm selfish. Revenge is all I have to live for. What you're doing, saving lives, that's honorable."
He saluted her, and she saluted him back.
"Let's both be quick about it, Scratch will have his hobgoblins looking for us." She said.
And then, at last, he was alone.
-
The crown prince followed the distressed wailing of the infant over the wooden walkway, up an incline, and towards an eerie red tent. Inchoate shadows danced against the fabric against a warm glow from within. And Papa Scratch sat up on a higher platform looking at him.
"Your majesty."
He gave a slight bow. "Baronet. I'd say I'm here to arrest you, but..."
"But you'd have to explain the kid, right?"
The prince's eyes darkened. "I'm here to take her back."
Scratch was surprised. "Take her back? I assume you mean kill her. There can't be two princesses of Reddington, you're getting rid of the evidence to what you did."
"Come down here!"
"What for?"
"So I can kill you."
"You're not selling me on it." He ran his hand through his greasy brown goblin hair. "You know... every swap needs an accomplice on the inside. Usually it's a servant, or some jealous sibling too young to know any better. I didn't expect a grown man from a privileged- some would say the most privileged position to steal an infant. Refresh my memory, did we offer you money?"
The wailing halted for a second, as if the child was choking on something, but she found her breath and continued.
"The devil altar has the ability to transform the unbaptized," Scratch explained, "a couple of minutes more and young Rita will be one of us."
"Her name is Melina."
"Not anymore. She's been chosen as a lich's apprentice."
The prince eyed the baronet and didn't see any weapon, he then resolutely turned and began to walk long steps towards the devil tent and the source of the wailing.
But he slowed down when two ogres emerged from within, blocking his way. Tall, hulking men with horns and impossibly large blades.
"I'd like to introduce you, these are Ronald and Gawain. Converts just like your little sister. They grow up so quickly."
The prince took on a defensive stance, and so did the ogres. The missing blade felt light on his hip.
He smirked. "Ogres? Really? A knight would lose, certainly, a baron, maybe. But I am Augustine Reddington, descendant of the first heroes, heir to-!"
"You're saving your magic for an Escape spell, aren't you?"
He bit his tongue.
"You see the duke of Dichtershire and a few other vassals have joined your troops up top. If you die here, they'll go nuclear on me. I mean, we're talking Heiligdom level here. So I'd like you to get the chance to Escape as well."
The prince tried to peer into the tent between the ogre's massive forms, but he couldn't find the girl.
"August, are you listening?" Scratch asked. "I'm offering you a deal. Nobody finds out about you helping the changeling, and you get to say you killed us. Really, you're the big winner here."
"...Weakness."
"What was that?"
The prince looked up defiantly. "I had a moment of weakness and you exploited that to harm an innocent child!"
"Think about what you're doing Augustine..."
"Rhada's Cleansing Fire!"
----------------------------------------
As the morning went out, the sun shone into the seaside cavern at a higher and higher angle. Increasingly, it was enveloped in the shadow of the earth.
Letta had to crawl to stay out of it.
The vampire countess had twisted her leg from her torso, and she was bleeding to death. But as long as she kept in the sunlight, the woman could not lay another hand on her.
Her vision was beginning to blur, and it felt like she could see the ominous stately silhouette behind her as clearly as the walkway in front. But as long as she kept in the sunlight...
The shadow was catching up to her.
-
There was the smell of burning.
This was where the wailing had come from. A red tent engulfed in flame.
"Captain!"
That had to be the crown prince's voice.
"Your majesty..." he voice sounded weaker than she had expected, "I lost your sword. I'm sorry."
"It is I who should apologize to you." Without warning he pressed a burning plank against her leg stump, cauterizing it to stop the bleeding.
She grimaced. Then screamed.
"Courage, captain. I will help you up."
Only then did she notice the baby held in his other arm. The poor thing looked bleached white from shock and stared at her with silent red eyes. "Is that... real?"
"This is my baby sister. I haven't been entirely honest with you."
She looked over her shoulder in a panic. "We have to keep moving."
"What's-"
"Keep moving." She hissed through the pain of her missing leg.
-
The young man supported her with one arm as she hopped on one leg, and held the child in his other.
Together, they kept ahead of the creeping shadow.
"I have no mana left." He said. "I used it on the baronet."
"You killed him?"
"I thought I did. It might have been a demonic double."
They moved past a burning tent, where he had fought the goblin patriarch. The shadows of the stalagmites flickered like candle fire against the creeping darkness behind them.
"Do you know where we're going?" He asked.
"Just... towards the light."
The baby looked at her with an eerie serenity.
-
Eventually their road ran out.
The salty sea wind accosted them and they were at the start of a long dockyard. A small coastal town and a merchant vessel spread out before them.
"...Ships?"
"The baronet is a lord of thieves," Letta said. "Pirates and smugglers congregate here to deal in stolen goods."
"Well I can't afford letting you live having seen that."
It was Scratch. He had bandaging around his burnt torso, and sat on the back of a windwolf.
With him, he had brought a small army of hobgoblins.
"Didn't you say you couldn't afford to kill me?" Augustine said wryly.
"There are countervailing concerns." The windwolf said.
She was a werewolf.
"Do you see that ladder to our left?" He whispered to Letta.
She glanced at it from the corner of her eye, without making it too obvious.
"Windwolves are fast, but they can't climb. In a moment I'll throw you onto there. Hold on to Melina and start climbing."
"And at the top?"
"Just... protect the baby."
"Do we attack?" One of the hobgoblins asked out loud.
"We don't want to hurt Rita." Scratch said. "She's promised to the lich. Put the kid down your majesty, no sense in spilling unnecessary blood."
As he said it, young Rita, that is to say young Melina, was pressed against the dismembered captains chest and both were thrown.
The noble's strength was impressive, flinging her above the roofs of the simple huts. She was disoriented by the toss at first, but managed to shield the infant against the impact and grasp a ladder's spoke with her mechanical claw.
"She's climbing up the flight deck."
"Jasper, Lars, take care of his majesty. The rest of you... try to find some bricks to throw at her, I don't know."
-
The prince was enough trouble for the hobgoblins that Letta made quite some headway working her way up on the ladder.
Not that is were easy. She had one arm and one leg to dedicate to the task. Every time she had her foot steady and let go of a spoke, there was half a second of vertigo and imbalance before she could grab a higher one. And each time, her burnt stump of a leg banged painfully against the wood.
But once a crossbow bolt hit the space next to her head, she found the adrenaline to rush to the top.
She knew what a flight deck was. Every military town had an elevated road for high ranking adventurers and noblemen to come in and land their flying mounts. For some it was the only way to enter.
But she didn't see any hope in escaping on a wyvern. The animals required a stronger rider, with two spurs on two boots.
Pulling herself over the edge she rolled onto her back and gasped for air. "I... was prepared to die... here." She swallowed a frog in her throat. "How cowardly of me. I could have shot him with my harpoon."
"Da." The kid kneaded on her collar, seemingly unaware of the danger.
By then, the creeping shadow had reached one end of the flight deck, and the vampire countess' heeled foot clacked onto the wooden railing.
"Peasant." She said.
With some effort, Letta sat up. "Bitch." She answered.
"You have paid for your trespass vith a limb. What ozher tributes of flesh vill you offer up to me?"
"...You're a vampire. Why are you following the orders of the goblin lord? Just because you're undead you'd lower yourself below a subhuman, is that it?"
The shadow had progressed enough so that the countess could take one step forward, unto the flight deck floor. She did not lose her cool at the provocation. "I do not serve zhe bandit rabble. Zhey must serve me, und provide shelter vhile I seek out my son."
"I-is that what they have you believing?" Letta slowly lowered this baby to the ground, trying to get her away from the coming bloodbath somehow. There wasn't much hope for the kid, the clatter of armored hobgoblins was already bounding up the stairs.
"Vhat do you have zhere? Vhy have you taken a youngling to such a place?"
"This is the princess of Reddington." Letta admitted. "Scratch stole her from her crib to trade for with a lich. If you don't serve him, will you let me take her to safety?"
The first hobgoblins had reached the edge, but abruptly stopped upon seeing the vampire, causing his brethren to bump into him in vertical chain collision.
Keeping from distraction by the noise, Letta appealed to her again. "She is of royal blood. That must have some meaning to a highborn... Please."
The countess extended her arm and pointed at her, so that the tip of her nail burned in the sunlight.
A sudden black thing with wide leathery wings burst out of the darkness behind her.
Letta flinched, but it stopped just shy of her. A shiny black horse with bat wings and disturbing canine teeth.
"Zhe monarchies expunged us vhen ve embraced zhe blood. I owe zhem no loyalty. However, I vill sympazhize vith zhe plight of a mozher. Go, take my steed."
"Hey, you can't do that!" The hobgoblin said.
She swore angrily at him. "You vill not tell me vhat to do! Go on child, climb on."
"I... I don't have the strength."
"Zhe zhracian steed vill know vhere to go. No need to spur it on."
With her last strength, Letta found herself on the horse's bare back. She had to have been clutching the baby to tightly, because it now began to struggle, trying to escape her grasp. Regardless, she did not loosen her grip.
Not even when she faded in and out of consciousness flying out over the salty foam.
Escaped.
----------------------------------------
Less than four hours after the debacle with the royal dungeon clearers, Scratch and his extended family had escaped by boat and were sitting high and dry in an Eston drug den.
"Oh, I hope the girl survived." Lydia sighed.
"I don't." Scratch huffed. "That's royal blood escaping. I'm pretty sure the transformation completed as well."
"I hope some of the wolves survived." Jasper said.
The goblins had cleared out the shuttered building of addicts and traffickers, and were now lounging around on the musty cushions.
"This is boring, Ada whined. When can we go home?"
"We can't go home. Around sunset, when the duke realizes the prince isn't coming back, he's going to burn everything."
"Huh!? What!?"
"We made good use out of that crack in the ground," Scratch said. "But we can't make it worth everyone's while. We'll need a new base operations in one of our bandit cities."
"N-no. That's our home. My stuff is there."
"Sorry girlie, it's not really our property if we can't defend it."
-
Their sombre peace was broken by a bashing on the door.
Roland, still burned and bandaged, opened the door. A meat tenderizer in one hand to bash in the head of any visitor that didn't approve of.
Seeing the weapon, Lucky recoiled and threw up his hands. "Don't kill me!"
"Don't kill him Roland," Lydia said, "that's our crimson brewer."
"I wasn't gonna..." Roland said indignantly as he lowered the weapon.
"How can we help you, Lucky?" She said.
He straightened himself out and regained his composure. "Ahem. Just to clear things up, we may have Beauregarde and the regular guards on our side, but we're not quite a bandit city. If your family keeps loitering outside the city gates, I can't stop the crown from noticing."
"What loitering?"
"Everyone is here, Lucky." Scratch said.
Lucky cocked his head. "There's a small city's worth of day goblins camped outside the south gate. They say they're with you..."
"One of the broodmothers?" Lydia asked Scratch.
"All the girls are accounted for."
"If this goes on, you'll be discovered." Lucky said. "I'll take you there, have you talk some sense into them."
The hobgoblins all began to stand up as if it were a done deal, but Scratch gestured at them to stop. "You have access to all ingredients and distributors now, Lucky. It doesn't matter if we live or not, you're rich. Why are you risking your skin publically associating with us?"
The alchemist looked surprised. "Because you made me rich. I want to help you."
Both looked at each other non-comprehendingly.
----------------------------------------
"Scratch!"
"Ah- Second."
The goblin was dressed animal hides and stolen clothing, torn up and repurposed into multi-layered padding. He went in to hug his brothers, clasp hands with the two hobgoblins that had come with, and give Lydia a polite nod.
The mass of goblins tenting outside the city gate was a notch less put together than usual. They were all like him, dressed in bits and parts, tenting under mossy hides propped up by sticks.
"You haven't been home in years." Scratch said, "who are all of these goblins?"
Second turned around and waved his arms to get the horde's attention. "Scratch is here! Papa Scratch!"
As if rehearsed, they raised their voice in unison and threw up their fists. "War! To War with us! Warwarwar~"
"All the lost boys without mothers, runaways and for other reasons..." Second said. "We're here to fight for the Promise."
Scratch pinched the bridge of his nose. "Second..."
"How didst thou know we were here?" A hobgoblin asked.
Second looked at Quiet, who hid behind his hand.
"You where in contact the entire time?"
"Not the entire time, but-"
"We can take you into the city." Scratch interrupted. "We'll clean out Lacrima's old orphanage. That's appropiate, I think."
Second looked back and forth between him and Lydia. "No... No, we'll fight them off."
"Even with all the goblins in the world, we can't defeat the combined powers of the Reddington high nobility."
"Well what about the hotspring? Lacrima and her fairy beasts? What about... what about Noss' inventions? And all the bandit lords? What about the lich?"
"We have nothing left to buy their loyalty, I'm afraid we-"
"THAT'S why Teeth had to die." Second hissed.
"What?"
"I've never stopped thinking about that day, I just didn't know how to say it but this is how it's said: Teeth had to die because you think loyalty has to be bought. Teeth made you choose between him and them," he gestured at Lydia, "and he didn't have anything to offer you."
It put an icy chill into the reunion. Lydia gritted her teeth at the accusation, but Scratch just pursed his lips.
"That is how it goes in the real world. I'd hoped by now you'd seen that."
He played with his buttons and didn't look him in the eye. "But it isn't. That's just how you are. All these boys would die for you, but you can't understand that."
"...You're right. I can't understand that. People shouldn't be dying for the sake of others, they should die for what they themselves believe in."
"They believe in YOU Scratch!" He now stared him ferociously in the eye. "They believe that the one who helps everybody should be the leader, not just the strongest one. They believe in their papa who fed and clothed them and protected them from humans!"
"It's true," Lydia said, "that goes for all of us. The bandits, the sorcerers, everyone."
Second grabbed his hands. "Every goblin in every colony knows what your face looks like, it's on the money. If you're with us, they'll join the goblin throng, every one of them."
"And then? Declare war on all of humanity?"
"No." Lydia said. "We can prevent the crown from levying further troops. The noble houses are in crisis and divided. We have the influence to stop a full-on war."
Scratch turned around. "Is everybody on board with this?"
They raised their weapons and grunted in agreement.
"Fine..." he sighed, "let's go take over the world."
----------------------------------------
The author paced feverishly back and forth over narrow hallway. Every few seconds or so he stopped to look at the orb.
There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it from a distance. Its colors were as iridescent and implacable as ever.
But ever since yesterday, he had not been able to see any of his heroes.
On an ill-given impulse, he had suddenly tuned into Hayato Ito. Or Laurus, as he was now called. His story had been published, and he had introduced new souls to the orb since then, but his path could not have changed that much.
So he thought.
It was as if the entire world of Lite had shifted into an unknown and darker timeline. He was scared to look into others whose fate had changed since he'd first wrote it down.
How could he, in good conscience, incarnate another soul, if this sort of thing could happen?
Another missed call from the publisher.
And those children that were in the news. Killed in a police shootout...
He couldn't postpone the story much longer. How would he make his payments?
Those children. He'd seen them in the world of Lite. Inside the orb.
How-
The publisher was calling again. He hung up.
It was time to call in the helpdesk.
----------------------------------------
Changeling
Family: Demon
Threat Level: E
Reward: N/A
Changelings are demonic entities put in place when a child is stolen by a dark sorcerer. At first, they perfectly resemble the replaced infant, but will quickly grow sickly and deformed over the course of a few months. In this state, they torture the parents and community with the illusion of a neglected and abused child, causing sorrow and strife within the household.
Even before this transformation, changelings can be detected using holy water or light magic, which damages them.
It is the demon's intent to drive one of the parents to madness before their true nature is too obvious to deny. Such a corrupted parent can be fiercely protective of the child and resist an adventurers' help. Nevertheless, changelings must be killed to preserve the peace.
Adventurers that suspect an infant may be a changeling must contact a church official before proceeding. The priest will determine whether this is correct, and issue the appropriate bounty for its skull.
Because changelings rely on trusted individuals within the household to perform the swap, the skull of a changeling must also come with an investigation on the identity of the traitor.
ADDENDUM: accusations towards day goblins of changeling dealings require a higher standard of proof. It has been brought to the attention of the guild that calumny on 'the goblin king taking away unwanted children' has created an opening for demon petitioners to defer responsibility. A mere accusation by the perpetrator can not be submitted as evidence.