It was yet another fine morning in Saint Goblin’s Inn.

This dawn, in particular, was a perfect example of the quiet and peaceful life Adria had achieved: the leaves of the plants along the room’s walls sparkled from the early sun shining through the windows, her soot-stained clothes dripped blood down the sheets of her bed and onto the floor, and a witless in a doctor’s coat snored in the corner.

See? Normal. Except for the crimson-drenched outfit and the doctor. Adria couldn’t for the life of her figure out why and how they ended up here.

Once she thought more about it, the ghost hovering around her and twirling at the bandages wrapped around her arm was another odd case.

“Whoa. You’re really out of it. That spell, the one which destroyed my half-alive folk, was powerful so, to be fair, you are lucky that you’re just dazed and not in my plane of existence.”

Adria looked sideways at the faceless spirit while memories came crawling back.

After Adria and La’Var exorcised—a nice word for slaying the already dead—the hallows possessing the inn, the ghost had brought the beaten-up pair above ground, hiding in Adria’s pocket whilst she explained what had gone down to the inn’s crew which awaited in the dining hall. Then she’d handed the saved witless over to U’lis and passed out on the spot.

The pains and aches of last night returned. And even though Adria came close to becoming a cripple, she couldn’t sleep in. The inn needed her. The Liar would arrive in less than a week.

With the thought in mind, she got out of bed.

“I wanted to ask this last night, but I kind of realized it was a bad idea doing it in front of the hunter,” Martin said. “But… Do the others know you’re a human?”

“No, only Ba’Gan, the waiter, and I hope it stays that way.”

“Why?”

“If someone who isn’t a goblin is caught living and working at the inn, they’ll get punished, banished and cursed…” Adria bumped her toe and her gaze dropped: a cobweb-ridden ancient chest laid at her feet.

It was not supposed to be here. It had not been here yesterday. How did it even… get here?

“I told you this wasn’t a good place to leave it.” Martin slapped himself.

“Oh, right…You put it here…”

Martin had retrieved an ancient treasure the spirits discovered. Adria and La’Var protested the best a goblin and a pretend goblin on the verge of death could. They weren’t by any means old—not even close to Saint Goblin’s age—but they felt too old for lugging around this heavy chest. Eventually, the ghost got his way by promising to bring it up with his own claws, and he even sneaked it into Adria’s room once the goblins had gone to bed.

“Do you have any clue what’s inside this thing?”

“It’s a treasure chest. What else, apart from treasure, could be inside?”

Even though Adria had been against dragging the heavy chest up to the inn, now that it lay in her room, she couldn’t defend against its enticing gaze. The strength it lured her with made her realize she was getting too good at pretending a goblin. Yet the immense curiosity didn’t kill her reason.

It could go without mentioning that flinging open a random chest rescued from the depths of a cave beneath an ancient church was a recipe for suicide.

Adria needed protection against the endless terrors the chest may hold.

She looked around for her bone dagger: it had been dropped by the feet of the snoring witless in the corner. She tiptoed to the doctor goblin and picked it up quietly, and the goblin groaned, signaling that its tiny organism restarted. Its eyes peeled open. First, they caught Adria then the dagger.

The witless cried out and dashed into the corridors.

Jaw ajar, Adria turned to the spirit.

“A creature in bandages and a knife made of bones would bring even me a few sleepless nights,” Martin said before Adria could form a single word.

“But you don’t sleep—”

“Stop wasting our time and open the treasure!”

A terrible stench exploded out of the chest.

Adria backed away, holding her nose. Martin floated up higher, away from the chest.

“Last I checked, beautiful, wonderful, precious treasure doesn’t quite smell like that.”

“Nothing smells like this!” Adria snapped. “It’s either the corpse stash of a serial killer of the Twenty Gods’ experiment in trying to create the filthiest imaginable scent!”

Out of the chest, Adria picked up a vial of brown liquid, inside of which, a six-legged rodent floated. In the cap of the vial, there were tiny holes.

That’s where the godawful stench is coming from.

“I haven’t seen platinum coins and jewels in a while, but I don’t think they look like this,” Martin said. “Check deeper, maybe they used this to hide the treasure. Any dishonorable fool after a quick coin would get discouraged by this and only fine, worthy men would continue digging!”

“The entire chest is filled to the brim with these vials.” Adria took another one, which contained a large beetle.

“Check deeper. If I had the paranoia to hide my treasure in the dungeon beneath a First Age church, I would’ve also been paranoid enough to fill it with decoys.”

Grunting, Adria took out the vials, putting them on a shelf. Sorry, plants, for making you bear this terrible stench, she thought. And no matter what you do, don’t try to feed off these things.

At the bottom of the chest, a rusted sword and a pouch lay in wait. Before Adria could take it, Martin snatched the sword and started swinging it around. The spirit unleashed warrior grunts and glorious shouts.

“Oooh, poison damage!”

Adria shook the disappointment out of her head.

She’d understand if any of the inn’s goblins would’ve done so, but… You’d think that with a few centuries of wisdom, one would stop swinging lethal weapons at pretend enemies.

“Bow to me. Scream in fear. Run. No amount of craftsmanship and sharpness can defeat a little bit of rust.”

Adria looked past the spirit and her face glimmered with excitement.

“You missed the real treasure.”

The words knocked the sword out of Martin’s grip and the ghost jumped into the chest.

His body morphed into a dwarfish creature to fit inside. He raised the untouched pouch over his head and jangled it. Adria tried to take the pouch, but Martin moved it away, untied it, and poured silver and copper coins all over himself.

“Nevermind. I’m not disappointed in you. I’m disappointed in that treasure.”

Martin jumped out of the chest, coins falling all over the ground, and wielded the rusted blade and pointed it at Adria’s throat. Blues flames ignited all over his translucent body. Deep inside his eyes, dark tendrils of hate slithered.

“Don’t you dare talk anything bad about treasure!” he growled. “Gold and jewels, silver and copper, rats and bones — it doesn’t matter, as long as it’s a treasure.”

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“I’m starting to think you weren’t a knight.” With the tip of her finger, she pointed the rusted blade away from herself. “More like a pirate of the Sandgeu.”

Slowly, Martin lowered the blade away from Adria and turned to the window, staring off into the distance.

“Actually—”

The door to Adria’s quarters swung open and La’Var marched in, pint in hand, soot-stained sword hanging off his waist, burnt-up black hat dancing atop his head. Most importantly, bandages wrapped around the hunter’s limbs and torso.

He stopped once his eyes met Adria’s. She looked him up and down and the hunter did the same. The pair looked like war veterans, who had just returned from the frontlines. After a moment of silence, they burst out laughing.

“Good morning, glorious Hah’Dria… You too, creature.”

“Hey, I’m no creature — I’m a man!”

“You’re a spirit.”

“So you’re saying a man can’t also be a ghost?”

La’Var waved Martin’s words away and continued.

“It’s a new day. A new impossible task to complete until the Liar arrives. We have to hunt a Verti deer, a wyrm and…” La’Var hesitated for a moment. “And a Thing. All in all, a month-long hunt for a party of ten strong men, who’ve faced summers that turned forests into deserts and winters that froze over oceans, while we are…” He tapered off, taking a deep sniff. Adria flashed a ‘don’t ask’ expression.

“Two goblins and half a man,” the hunter finished.

“You did your math wrong — I’m a whole man and a full spirit. I’m two in one.”

Whilst La’Var groaned at the spirit’s words, Adria shuddered.

Verti deer. A wyrm. A Thing?

During the escape from Black Ice Bastion, whilst she passed through the northern forests in the darkest of nights, Adria encountered quite a few glowing antlers in the night. The red eyes beneath them had never caught onto her and she thanked the Twenty Gods.

Tales of these creatures had been enough. She was fine with never facing them head-on, just like the wyrms.

I’d rather step on the tails of a horde of Verti than get on the wrong side of a wyrm.

“What in the world is a… Thing?”

La’Var’s expression sunk and he shared glances with Martin, who, if he had a face, would’ve frowned as well.

“You’ll see when the time comes.”

“Yeah, it’s for the best.”

The hunter emphasized how desperately he needed Adria's and, to a lesser extent, the ghost's help, and he listed all the things they would need for their descent into the woods. Adria packed her bags, dressing for the occasion. A heavy leather backpack, ripping from the overload of contents inside slung over her back.

She was venturing even further from the dream of a quaint and peaceful life, but if she didn’t do this, she could only engrave an epitaph on the headstone of her dreams. With the inn gone and the Liar having found her, that life would become a memory.

Martin hugged the treasure chest and kissed it goodbye and hovered up to Adria’s side.

“Ready?” La’Var asked.

Adria and the ghost saluted.

“Good. Now the worst part of anything in life comes – asking for permission. I am a firm believer in doing everything first and then begging for forgiveness, but I am not testing Saint Goblin. Not at this time. Not with the mood she’s in. And I have the perfect little story to convince her.”

Grinning, Adria nodded. They’d put their green lives on the line to save the inn but didn’t mind a fair dose of mischief and dishonesty to get what they needed. As she walked for the door, La’Var grabbed her by the shoulder and reeled her back.

“It'll be better if I do it alone.”

“Can we at least hide and listen?”

“Too dangerous.”

“What if there was no way for Saint Goblin to physically see us?”

“Don’t even try.” La’Var scowled. “You’ve already taken a punishment and a half. I don’t want to have to carry your corpse down the stairs to Saint Goblin.”

Adria looked deep into La’Var’s eyes.

Even though the hunter had experience and took great care of Adria, he couldn’t see inside her and couldn’t see what only she knew – that there was more within.

“Trust me,” she uttered and began weaving her hands in strange patterns.

A blanket of concealment wrapped around Adria and Martin, while La’Var’s head dropped in disappointment. Finally, she and the ghost vanished, and the hunter turned to the door, waving after himself.

Saint Goblin stood in the archive room, facing the rows of bookshelves, petting a skull. Grunts and huffs, and whispers sounded under her nose like she was quietly arguing against herself. Beside her stood a table with a misty crystal ball. An invention every goblin had to face before getting a job at the inn.

“I have to again apologize for what happened last night, my child. I’ll be eternally grateful to you and Hah’Dria for saving our fellow goblin and exorcizing the inn.”

“We did what we had – no one else in their right mind would go down there.”

“Indeed. Have you checked on my dearest waiter? Is she up and around?!”

“Well, that’s the thing. She’s alive and awake, and when I was preparing for the hunt, she begged me… To allow her to use her magic again. See, she cast an incredibly powerful spell, but couldn’t finish it, couldn’t use all of her power. But if she went on this hunt with me…” La’Var trailed off, letting Saint Goblin connect the dots. Adria, too, realized the hunter’s intention. Her hand curled into a fist.

You bastard! How dare you! She thought. This wasn’t about you needing help. You want to push me to my limits, don’t you?! Want me to realize all of my potential, huh?! Screw that. I’ve had enough of that in my life. I just want to save the inn and work here forever!

“No! No, no, no, no” Saint Goblin snapped. “That is my final answer. You will not take Hah’Dria with you on such a dangerous hunt.”

La’Var was flustered for a moment.

“She may end up saving my life or hunting a wyrm all by herself or achieving a new level of magic if she comes with me.”

“That is exactly why you shall not bring her along,” Saint Goblin said. “The Twenty Gods will lead that child to the stars, but so far, she is weak and inexperienced. I cannot allow myself to waste her life on a hunt.”

“A hunter doesn’t grow strong by sitting in a tavern — he goes out into the forests and hunts.”

La’Var took a seat by the table with the crystal ball. After a moment of looking down on him, frowning, the head of the inn sat as well. The hunter continued.

“You remember how I was when I first came to the inn and how I turned out after a thousand nights of stalking prey and running from the wolves.”

“I do, La’Var, I do all too well. Oh what a little goblin you were,” the head of the inn reminisced, dazing off into memories for a moment. “But you and Hah’Dria are fundamentally different. The Twenty Gods have twisted such a fate for her that I cannot allow the same risk I took with you.”

“You must risk it. It’s like serving The Liar. Dangerous as leaving a berry tree cut untreated, but it must be done because… Evil creeps in unpredictable ways. Something will go wrong. Perhaps the Liar will turn on us, perhaps the caravan wizard you hire won’t fix the bell. Having a powerful sorcerer aboard the inn, one who breaks the natural limits of all goblins, will be a blessing. And…”

As Adria grew red from frustration, wind blew her hair and the feeling of rising chaos took over the air.

“You have wisdom and divinity, but no matter what kind of goblin you are, you cannot do the gods’ job. They decide fates. If they meant for Hah’Dria to die too soon, she will die, doesn’t matter if it’s in the forests or in the inn. If she’s meant for glory, then the forest is of no risk to her.”

Saint Goblin contemplated. A frown took over her face.

Then, the crystal ball began trembling. Slowly, the movement intensified until the thing shook and spun and the mist inside danced in strange patterns. The sight took Adria out of her puddle of frustration. She smiled. This sight was, by no means, a doing of the gods.

The idea that Martin thought that crystal balls worked like that brought her to the verge of laughter.

At the same time, Saint Goblin’s eyes widened. Her wrinkly hands grabbed her crosses, and she prayed repeatedly whilst La’Var’s jaw drooped at the sight. The hunter glanced over his shoulder. He flashed a grin Adria’s way.

“Yes! Bring her along! It’s been decided!” Saint Goblin cried out. “Please, Twenty Gods, forgive me! For I was a fool! A clown of the court!”

The crystal ball lifted from the desk and hovered in front of her face.

It bounced into her chest and fell into her arms.

“Very well! I won’t make such a mistake again and I will always trust your judgment, holy ones.” Saint Goblin turned to La’Var. “Go, my dear. Take Adria with you. Return with the meats and her alive!”

The hunter stood up and bowed, and left.

In the corridor, the veil of invisibility fell apart. Adria was scowling in a way only people twice her age could.

“Yes, yes. I know. In the short while you’ve been here, I got to learn the type of goblin you are, Hah’Dria. At the same time, I started seeing myself as my teacher, the old Ripplerip. And I see myself in you.”

“And what?! I’m not supposed to be doing this! I’ll do it. For the inn. But I’ll never forgive you.”

“I’m fine with not being forgiven.” La’Var cleared his throat as they entered the dining hall. Swiftly, Martin shapeshifted and fit into Adria’s pocket, hiding from everyone's eyes. “I will do the good Ripplerip did without making the same mistakes. If I’m right, seeing the fruits of that will be good enough to die guilty.”

Three long-haired men in cheap iron armor arrived through the entrance, two blades hanging at each’s waist. They had red banners on their sleeves that Adria had never seen before.

“We are the Chosen Heroes!” the three men announced themselves. A few eyes glanced up at them and one of the heroes continued, “Don’t mind us, we’re just scouting this place. We heard the rumors that the Liar will be dining here later this week and as the Chosen Heroes, we will defeat him and end his terrible reign once and for all!”

“Who chose you?” La’Var remarked

“Fate,” one answered.

“The universe,” the second added.

“And our town’s wizard,” the third finished.

“You better hope the Liar doesn’t choose you as his final entree,” La’Var said. Along with Adria and Martin, he left the inn for Gothsin Forest.