“I need a table for three, mead to quench my thirst and meat to calm the hounds,” the Patron from Black Ice Bastion said, voice deep. “Just today we passed at least a hundred villages and towns, saw the beginnings and ends of roads, and… There is even more waiting for us. We’d be grateful if you hurried.”

The patron from Black Ice Bastion stepped through the silent inn and stopped in the far corner of the dining hall, where the candlelight of the hall’s wooden chandelier barely made it. By that table, guards of Gothsin’s streets had dined a minute ago. Once the chaos began, in true guard manner, they removed themselves from the scene unseen, leaving their pints and plates behind.

The black-haired patron tied the leashes of his hounds around the legs of the table. He sat, leaned back, and slammed his feet atop the table. Then he dragged them across it – plates and pints shattered.

A pair of customers—who worked relentlessly to keep their eyes on their soups—snapped towards the newcomer. Their gazes shied away a split second later. A few loyal customers curled their fists and gritted their teeth, offended at the behalf of Saint Goblin. And those who stared at the black-haired man with dead gazes didn’t even flinch.

For a moment, Ba’Gan smiled.

Saint Goblin sighed and looked at Adria. And nodding reluctantly, Adria shuffled towards the table. She sought other goblins who could do it instead. All the witless catered to other customers, pretending the patron from Black Ice Bastion didn’t exist while Ba’Gan vanished in the kitchen.

Northerner. You’re looking for me, Adria thought, but it doesn’t mean you’re here because of me. Maybe you heard the rumors of an invisible goblin inn, learned the passage words and wanted to check it out? I surely would - this sounds like an interesting place! Maybe... You're trying to escape someone and decided to hide here 'cause killing's not allowed?

Taking a deep breath, Adria approached the patron from Black Ice Bastion. He looked down on her as she cleaned up the mess. The black-haired man’s expression was cold. Impenetrable. His eyes were unfocused, lost in deep thought.

As Adria picked up glass shards from around the hounds, their ears perked up. The hounds sniffed her.

Adria shoved all the shards and food scraps into a pouch and stood up.

“You’ve been here long?” the black-haired man asked.

“Not at all.” Adria shook her head.

Then, she cursed in primitive goblin.

Why did she say that? If this patron was hunting her, he knew she had a Mask of Roguish Disguise and if he learned when she got here, he would connect the dots sooner than later.

“Well, actually, yes,” she corrected herself. “It depends on what you mean by long.”

“Not long at all would be… About a week?”

Shivers crawled all over Adria. Her eyes stayed glued to the ground.

“I’ve been here about a month. That’s not long at all for me.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. Then, goblin, you’ll have no issue bringing me a pint of midnight black mead with a holy touch, will you? I’ve had a long journey and I’ve wronged people, and a drink to rid me all the evils would be… spectacular.”

“On it.”

Adria bowed and strode away. She tossed the pouch of shards and food scraps. In the kitchen, she leaned against the wall, closed her eyes and heaved for a minute.

That was close. That was too close! You know who I am! You definitely know! Panic ran circles in her head, like a witless confused at a complicated set of instructions. And you want me to bring you a drink I’ve never heard of in my life!

Once she opened her eyes, master chef U’lis, stood in front of her. U’lis’ white and food-stained clothes were too big and dragged after her wherever she walked. It looked like she tried to impersonate a human, but lacked three goblins standing atop her shoulders.

“What are you doing? Why are you here? Why are you messing with the perfect harmony of my kitchen?!” U’lis said, waving her hands around. Her foot-long fingers curled in frustration. She had immense magical reserves, for a goblin.

“I need ingredients—no, I mean I need help… No, actually, I need both,” Adria said. “What is a midnight black mead?! What is a holy touch?! How do you combine those?!”

“It’s so basic I can’t even begin to describe it…” U’lis’ eyes dropped in disappointment. A furious frown took hold of her face. “Thank the Twenty Gods you don’t work in my kitchen — you’d get your ass kicked for not knowing something like that!”

Over U’lis shoulders, Adria caught glimpse of a witless goblin struggling to find where to hold a knife. Another little green one couldn’t muster the strength to chop a potato. Don’t tell me you have high standards when your cooks are doing stuff like this, she grimaced. Then, she asked:

“But can you help me?”

“Yes, definitely.” Nodding, U’lis spun on her heel. She, too, noticed the goblins making a mess and yelled for them to get themselves together. Then, she grabbed an empty pint, sparkled a pinch of salt and a few cloves of garlic. “Pour black mead on this and give it a mixing.”

“Thank you!” Adria snatched the pint, hugged U’lis and ran into the mead dungeon. By the door, she snatched a torch and entered the dark chamber.

The hounds hopped to their feet and stared into Adria’s eyes when she returned to the hall. They breathed deeply, observing her every step. But nothing more. She tiptoed around the hounds, equal part shuddering at the thought of a bite and the Mask of Roguish Disguise falling off afterwards.

Adria plopped the mead in front of the patron.

He sipped and he smiled.

“Wonderful… Wonderful indeed. I am grateful,” the black-haired man said. “But do you see it? No?”

Adria shook her head and raised an eyebrow.

“There’s no plate on my table, and look — the hounds are getting restless. It means they’re truly starving,” he continued. “And if you knew them as well as I do, you’d know that some bad ideas are brewing in their heads. You’d know to get them their dinner now or…”

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Chills brushed Adria’s skin. Hurrying, she returned to U’lis domain. Behind her, the hounds howled. Saint Goblin stood by the entrance to the kitchen, observing the patron from Black Ice Bastion, muttering prayers under her breath.

Ba’Gan argued with U’lis.

“No, no, no — I am not serving him!” the waiter yelled. “Banners of the north! Dogs that could kill by looking at me wrong! Nope!”

If you’re scared of that patron… Why did you smile when he entered? Adria thought, unable to find a moment where to land in their argument.

“Did you forget what inn this is? Saint Goblin’s inn, toothpick-nose!” U’lis waved her hands, long fingers about. Adria grinned. When U’lis was in the kitchen and she cursed, the most spectacular words left her mouth.

“Rules or no rules, there’s no trusting a northerner!”

“Hey!” Adria snapped instinctively. Ba’Gan and U’lis went silent, turning towards her. “Ba’Gan bring him his meat right now or—”

“Look at me! I’m green, I’m beautiful, I’m expensive. If I even get scratched, this whole inn might as well close,” the waiter said, shaking his head. “You do it, Hah’Dria! Bring the man his meat!”

Adria’s forehead landed in her hand.

“The last thing I want to do is get close to him again--”

Howls and roars pierced Saint Goblin’s Inn. Screams of the patrons followed. Adria, Ba’Gan, U’lis froze. The witless goblins working the kitchen dropped what they cooked and scampered into the dark corridors of the inn’s back rooms. But not all made it out – a growling hound burst in, its huge body blocking the exit. Spit ran down the sides of its brown fur.

For a moment, no one moved. Ba’Gan retreated to the back of the kitchen, startling the hound. More rage, more hunger filled its eyes. It began approaching.

Adria couldn’t breathe. Her hands trembled. Her heart beat so hard that her chest stung.

The hound’s growl said it all -- he would devour them.

Adria wanted, desperately, to run. Like she escaped from Black Ice Bastion, she could leave this place behind, let the hounds finish their massacre and forget about it. But there was no exit. No place to go. From the counter on her right, she snatched a meal--carrots and a rabbit--and tossed the plate to the hound.

The creature sniffed the plate, looked up at Adria and sniffed her, and pushing the meal away, continued its advance. Gulping, she backed off and searched for other dishes on the kitchen’s counters.

Adria threw muffins, pies and roasts, yet the hound proved to be a snob of the highest degree. It had its eyes set on something cooked rarer. Something greener.

U’lis is a great cook and you’re a spoiled dog, Adria thought, preparing to die.

They retreated into the final stretch of the kitchen. Streams of spit ran down the sides of the hound’s maw as it opened for a bite. Adria raised her shaky fists. She’d die, but not without a fight. Her escape from Black Ice Bastion wouldn’t be meaningless.

Then, the wall behind Adria shifted. A secret passage opened. The tied-up corpse of a fresh boar thumped on the floor. A bloodstained bag of fresh meat flew in after it. Dressed in bloody brown boots, a pink tunic and a huge black hat--with arrows, bullets and knives wrapped around it—La’Var entered through the secret passage. The hunter goblin of Saint Goblin’s Inn. You could mistake him for a dwarf, though, considering that years of hunting built him into a monstrous mountain of muscles.

“You won’t believe what a wonderful hunt I’ve had today,” he said, strolling through the kitchen. “The local band of boars were migrating so I picked off some of the weaker ones and collected their unfinished meals…” He trailed off as his eyes met the vicious hound standing in the middle of the kitchen.

La’Var frowned, pushing everyone behind himself. He untied a bag of fresh meat, grabbed a large chunk and dangled it above the hound. The creature kept looking straight at Adria, but its growling stopped. It sniffed.

“Come on,” La’Var whispered. “Even if you were not hungry--which you are--you’d be the dumbest pup of the pack for refusing such a meal.”

The hound jumped on its rear legs and bit at the chunk. La’Var swiped it out of the way and tossed it at the end of the kitchen. The hound dashed after it and the hunter dashed after the hound. As it devoured the meat, La’Var weaved his hands in strange patterns.

“Oh creature, thou grand hunt is finished and plenty a meal is awaiting your pack,” he uttered. “Enough with the light -- embrace your slumber.”

And in the middle of chewing the meat, the hound passed out.

La’Var spun on his heel and grinned at everyone. Then, his majestic smile dimmed. His eyes darkened. His breaths became shallow.

Sorcery took a lot from goblins, even from the experts.

Again, screams, growls and Saint Goblin’s prayers sounded from the dining hall.

La’Var began to limp out of the kitchen. He could barely walk, couldn’t orient himself. Adria’s brows furrowed. Feet jumping, she contemplated for a moment. She had to save the people out there, but… She was weak. She couldn’t fend against the hound in the kitchen. All that she’d achieved in life was by freak luck…

Adria closed her eyes and berated herself.

Then, she took a deep breath and curled her hands into fists.

I didn’t defend against the hound, but I bought time by throwing food for La’Var to appear, she thought. Maybe I’m not all that weak and useless. Maybe I can do this.

Adria grabbed a chunk of meat from the bag and grabbed La’Var, sitting him down.

“You wait. I’m on it.”

The hunter’s eyes widened. He shook his head, tried getting up. Adria pushed him back down and hurried out into the dining hall.

Most of the customers had escaped, most of the tables had flipped and most of the meals had fallen to the floor. The black-haired patron from Black Ice Bastion sat in his corner, sipping on his drink. His hound growled and howled at the remaining customers, trapping them in a corner. They were a band of strong adventurers, their banners indicating Sparkling Leaf valley, but their eyes flooded with tears of fear -- they’d never faced the beasts of the north.

A few steps away, holding crosses, Saint Goblin yelled prayers that put up invisible walls, stopping the hound from devouring the customers.

Adria ran past, straight for the beast. Saint Goblin startled. She interrupted her prayer, yelling for Adria to stop.

But Adria couldn’t hear or see anything. Her eyes focused on the trapped patrons, whilst adrenaline and primal fear fueled her.

“Hey!” she shouted at the hound.

It sniffed. It spun around. It jumped for her.

Adria tossed the chunk of meat. The creature bit into it, landed at her feet and devoured the meat. Her hands and legs trembled, and she spent a moment mustering up the words of La’Var’s spell.

“Oh creature, thou grand hunt is finished and plenty a meal is awaiting your pack. Enough with the light -- embrace your slumber,” she murmured.

Nothing happened. The hound finished its meal and looked up at Adria. It craved for more. Stuck in place, Adria looked deeply into its eyes.

“Oh creature, thou grand hunt is finished and plenty a meal is awaiting your pack. Enough with the light -- embrace your slumber,” she said through shut teeth. And again, the spell failed. And again, she tried and tried, and tried.

The hound’s maw opened wide.

A freezing rain of fear drenched Adria.

The reasonable, rational part of her brain—responsible for making sure she didn’t get herself killed—instructed her to scream, cry and run. Now, though, the other part was in charge. Yes, that one. She felt her insides and went deep, tapping into the sorcery in the core of her blood and bones.

“Oh creature, thou grand hunt is finished and plenty a meal is awaiting your pack. Enough with the light -- embrace your slumber.”

The hound fell unconscious.

Adria stumbled backwards and crashed into a seat. She rested for a minute then found an unfinished pint and quenched her thirst. Saint Goblin ordered for the last of the customers to leave and marched over to the black-haired patron of Black Ice Bastion.

“May the Twenty Gods of the First Age curse you,” she snapped. “Did you not read the rules hung by the entrance of the inn? Do you understand what you have done?! No amount of mead with a holy touch will rid you of the curses you deserve…”

The black-haired patron tossed Saint Goblin a pouch of coins.

“Imagine you were a powerful creature with teeth that could tear apart an army. Imagine you were leashed, and you were starving, and everywhere around you, meals were walking by. What would you do? Can you blame my hounds for breaking loose?” he said. “Either way, the mead was wonderful and I’m satisfied. I saw my hounds ate and I guess they must be pleased too. We will return. We will bring company.”

Saint Goblin frowned, her face shifting into one wrinkle of frustration. She waited as the patron from Black Ice Bastion collected his beasts and left. Then, the head of the inn opened the coin pouch.

Gold and silver sparkled off her eyes.