Adria followed an echo of footsteps into the dim corridors beyond the dining hall. Her hand reached for the bone dagger out of instinct, but it wasn’t on her. Fists would have to suffice. Only if her frazzled nerves could do damage to anyone as they did to her…

The footsteps stopped, and a minute later, she reached an open doorway, light spilling out of it. A sneeze rocked the archive room ahead. Adria’s hand curled up into an angry ball and stepped inside, and looked down.

Ba’Gan didn’t notice her: he was looking into an ancient cabinet, where U’lis’ spices had been piled.

“Do you really not care about the inn? All the goblins here?” Adria said.

The waiter flinched. Slowly, he turned around, revealing a pair of wide eyes.

“You don’t understand what’s really happening,” he said calmly, staring deep into Adria’s soul. “I am helping--”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Adria raised her hands. The sight of the fists made Ba’Gan take a step back. She let go of them and began forming a spell. Now the waiter trembled, shaking his head.

“No, don’t be a witless! Listen to me!”

“Look around!” Adria shot back. “The Liar is here, he’s waiting for his meal and U’lis can’t even cook it. I don’t know who paid you off, but I hope those coins were worth it -- we’re risking losing the inn and everyone inside it.”

The waiter’s eyes flooded with disappointment. But he didn’t try to run. Whatever came his way, he would accept. And so Adria’s spell finished, forming a blinding rope. It tied around him. She waved, and the rope dragged Ba’Gan out of the way. She took the spices out of the cabinet and turned to the waiter, shaking her head.

He didn’t say anything and neither did she. The look was enough.

Adria entered the kitchen. Inside, the usual storm of steam, smells, and heat met her. Witless whizzed about and put together countless meals while U’lis yelled orders at the top of her lungs. Adria snuck in from behind and put a hand over the master chef’s eyes. U’lis flinched and gnawed at Adria’s hand, trying to get out. Adria dropped the spices at the master chef’s counter and let go.

First, U’lis slapped Adria then turned around and gasped.

“You found them!!!”

Adria nodded and waited a second until U’lis calmed down and stopped hugging her.

“And I know who the traitor is,” Adria said. “Don’t worry about it now, though. We’ve got a lord of evil and darkness to serve.”

U’lis grabbed the spices and roared at the kitchen’s witless. A group of five popped open a crate and took out a slab of ice. The poor little green ones carried it over to a counter and U’lis cast a spell, which thawed the ice at incredible speeds. In the blink of an eye, the kitchen was flooded: a new group of witless appeared, mopping the chaos up into wooden buckets. While a third team of goblins opened up a furnace, tossing wood inside and lighting it, the master chef tossed the unfrozen meats onto an oven sheet. Bottles and baggies of spices in between fingers, her hands weaved as if she was casting a spell of tastiness.

Doubtless, Adria should’ve already returned to the dining hall. But the view hypnotized her. And it gave her an excuse to keep away from the Liar.

U’lis kept a jar of spices on hand whilst she applied juices and fruits. The smell of the main course turned heavenly. Then, she took the jar out of her pocket and opened it up. Why’d you do that -- there are holes in the cap, Adria thought, scratching her head.

Soaked in flour, a frog croaked in the master chef’s hands.

Adria’s eyes widened.

The holes are there so it doesn’t suffocate, right?

U’lis squeezed and twisted the frog, and a strange liquid poured onto the meal. At the same time, someone breathed down Adria’s neck. Her hair rose up.

“Where have you been?!” La’Var grumbled. “I’m dying out there on my own… And… Well, the King of Dark Alleys is up to something. I have a bad feeling.”

Adria spun on her heel and faced the hunter.

“We need to ask Saint Goblin what to do -- this isn’t going to end well.”

La’Var’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t, but… You were with me on a hunt. You faced death and didn’t even blink, and I think, by now, you should know what to do. What's most important is that you come to the dining hall. I can’t handle it on my own.”

Adria hesitated, yet she couldn’t help but nod in approval of the hunter’s words. Her reflection showed the same person who had suffered in the hallways of Black Ice Bastion, except for the eyes. They were of a different Adria. One who had been stabbed by everything in life. One who couldn’t bleed anymore. One who knew how to survive whatever came her way.

Adria strode out of the kitchen, and after a moment’s confusion, La’Var followed with a wide grin. The second she stepped foot in the dining hall, the pressure became crushing. Even the witless serving the King of Dark Alleys brought him his meals and scuttled away. Among the peasants, there were strange looks. Hands were gripping pitchforks and scythes.

Adria frowned.

“Do you arrogant bastards really believe you’ll take down the Liar with a few farm tools?” she muttered.

“They’ve seen suffering, Hah’Dria,” La’Var said. “And they think what they’ve lived through equates to the hell of war. Even to the ruthlessness of the Liar.”

“They’re in line for a mean funeral.” Adria sighed, shaking her head. “Go to the northerners, I’ll take care of the King of Dark Alleys.”

As La’Var took orders, Adria appeared in the cloud of dirt and disease. Mean looks stabbed at her. She stopped by the King’s tables.

“The inn is terribly sorry for making you wait so long,” Adria said. “We’ve never seen such busyness before.”

“So you’re telling me that goblins--”

“And we want to apologize by giving you and your people a free drink of your choice.”

Adria’s voice was stern, and she made sure to be loud enough for everyone to hear. The villagers turned to each other, confused and delighted. The sharpness of their stares blunted whilst the King of Dark Alleys turned red.

Free drinks. Adria was proud of this idea. Was there a better way to earn the people’s hearts than by giving them liquid joy without a coin in exchange?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Very well.” The King of Dark Alleys grumbled.

Adria went around the peasants, jotting down their orders. Then she turned around and stepped forth, only for her heart to drop. The white mask of the Liar floated a centimeter away, grinning.

“Come, waiter,” it whispered. “I have an order only you can fulfill.”

Chills migrated down Adria’s back, but she kept her appearance up. She was doubtless that the Liar knew she was here. But that was a part of his--and quite a few northerners'--character. No instant confrontantions. He could’ve been toying, observing, scheming.

Whatever he’d been doing, it was over.

The time came to face the devil himself.

“As you wish,” Adria said. “One moment.”

Potatochop was running into the group of peasants to serve a few dishes of breadsticks. Adria snatched the witless and pulled it up to herself. In early goblin--with the words she’d learned over the past few weeks--she instructed Potatochop to bring the stinking vials from her room. Then, Potatochop had to find Martin.

It seemed obvious, now, why the treasure in the catacombs had attracted the spirit. Live beings floated in the goo between the glass. Adria, also, prayed she was right, and after drinking the filth, Martin would turn devilishly powerful. Plans and deception schemed in her head. After all, she was the Liar’s prodigy.

“Roger!” Potatochop squealed.

As Adria let go and the witless hurried off with the orders, the goblin’s white gloves caught her attention. She’d overlooked them before. Now, her eyes widened. Guilt struck her.

Ba’Gan, I am so sorry, she thought, following the Liar’s mask.

The Liar moved a finger and an empty chair slid back.

“Sit,” he said. “Adria.”

Adria obeyed. She didn’t blink or break contact with the eyes on the mask.

“If you aren’t proud of me and this escapade of mine, then I’m not sitting here a second longer,” Adria said. “Scum like you should’ve found me long ago.”

“In the grand scheme of it all, it doesn’t matter when we reunite. But it is, in fact, impressive what you were able to achieve. I am proud. And when I look inside, I see someone stronger than any classes could’ve made you.”

“I hope you know I’m not going back.”

“Oh, if only you had a choice…”

“That’s a lie. I do. I can go back dead or stay here, alive.”

The Liar cackled. His disgusting laughter brought back memories of Black Ice Bastion. The sins of that place. Heat collected on Adria’s face. Sadness welled up inside. Her hands trembled, and she was ready to snap. But she started taking deep breaths, feeling the flow of sorcery. Her emotions surged into her blood. And the magic within came ablaze.

At the same time, Adria was calm. The Liar saw her lack of a reaction, and his laughter died. Too late. Her hands were already twisting reality with Abyssian Tales. When Potatochop returned with her vials and the ghost, it would go down.

“You’re not going to win against me or the Band,” the Liar said. “You’ve seen, firsthand, who’s fought against us and hopelessly lost. I know youth is foolish, but there’s no way you don’t have a sense of reason at all.”

“I just look at it differently.” Adria smiled. The spell worked. She continued, “I’m the student of the most powerful master, and this is like a test, isn’t it? To see if I’ve outgrown the teacher.”

The face of the Liar’s white mask twisted. There was a grotesque smile.

“If you could only see what you could become if you listened…”

Potatochop whizzed out of the backroom corridors with a dozen vials in hand. A cloud of stench hovered over the witless. He stopped by Adria and dropped the things onto her lap. Then Martin crawled out of the goblin’s pocket and landed on Adria’s shoulder, yawning.

Adria snapped with her fingers and pointed at the center of the dining hall. The middle ground between the northerners and Gothsin’s peasants.

“You dropped one,” she said.

A spilled vial appeared on the ground. After turning around, Potatochop gasped and ran to it. Again, Adria snapped. Green smoke arose from the vial and floated over to the villagers, engulfing the people in a haze. Potatochop stood in a paralysis of confusion as the King of Dark Alleys’ army stood up with weapons in hands. Their eyes gleamed red. Their skin rotted away. Grumbling, they slumbered towards the northerners.

Now, Adria didn’t breathe and kept her fingers crossed. The most important part of the plan was that the Gothsiners saw the exact same thing but with the northerners.

Suddenly, talk among the Band of the North stopped. The northern army, trembling, raised their weapons while the Liar exclaimed in confusion. Adria turned to him. And she grinned. The Liar barked and weaved his long fingers. Adria’s seat slid away from him. She hovered a meter in the air.

“Abyssian Tales!” he yelled. His voice was frantic. Like never before. “How?! I’m the only one who can tame it!”

Adria gracefully hopped off the seat.

“Remember that night? When I and my mom dressed up as royals and infiltrated the Bastion.”

“Yes, I caught you stealing my hard-earned treasures to feed some poor, worthless scum,” the Liar said. “And then that fool of a woman cast… What was it -- Bond of the Blood? Made us one, so I’d spare you, but guaranteed her own death. I am glad for her idiocy, though. You are a wonderful, yet reckless prodigy.”

“That fool of a woman also managed to steal your Compendium of Titans and find the spell for Fated by the Twenty Gods.” Adria smiled sheepishly. “That’s what killed her and guaranteed my survival, not Bond of the Blood. Bond is relatively safe. I would know. I read the Compendium last night.”

The Liar mask melted into a mixture of rage and confusion, and he heaved, ready to yell at Adria. But she wouldn’t listen. After Martin, on her shoulder, woahed in amazement, she snapped her fingers for the last time.

Adria vanished.

The northerners, convinced that the Gothsiners had turned into unholy beasts, attacked the other side. And the villagers did the same. And the Potatochop stood amidst it all.

Adria appeared by his side and ripped his gloves off. Two hands with meter-long fingers were revealed.

“You aren’t witless,” she said. “And you cast a spell to mess with Saint Goblin’s orb. You sold all of our lives for your own gain. Shame on you.”

Before the traitor could answer, she sighed, shook her head, and vanished. Men roared and steel clanked. Through it all, Saint Goblin’s prayer could be heard, locking every door to the dining hall.

Adria appeared by Saint Goblin’s side in the shadowy backroom corridors.

“You let the King in because you knew I’d fix it all,” Adria said. “The Twenty Gods showed you today, this moment. They told you how to act. So I’d do what’s fated for me.”

Saint Goblin did not answer. She only gripped her cross and grinned, revealing a set of crooked teeth. Whilst the battle raged, Adria walked to the archive room and freed Ba’Gan, apologizing profusely.

“Oh, Twenty Gods, you really are an idiot,” the waiter croaked, stretching. “Why would I destroy the only way of freeing my family? After I’d promised them the inn would be their new home? After I told Saint Goblin my family would become her new servants?”

“I… I…”

“Potatochop, that disgusting bastard, offered me coins for some favors. Eventually, I realized what he was up to, but it was too late. Started blackmailing me. I would’ve kicked his ass if he wasn’t a powerful wizard.”

Adria’s eyes dropped.

“I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just pay me.”

Ten minutes passed and the sounds of battle died. Adria took off her Mask of Roguish Disguise and stood by the entrance to the dining hall. She took a deep breath. Martin landed by her side. And the door opened, to reveal blood splattered across every surface and destroyed table. Corpses lay all around the terrible scene. In the middle stood a chair and Potatochop was tied to it, like a prisoner. The Liar hovered in front of the traitor, snickering, forming illusions all around the dining hall.

Adria shivered and visions of Black Ice Bastion returned. But she shook her head in protest.

This time it would be different.

She wouldn’t let the Liar destroy her without a fight.

Adria’s left hand cast a blue ray of light at Potatochop whilst the other fed the vials to the spirit. The traitor filled with energy. For a second, the goblin glowed then exploded into the Liar’s face. Adria connected her soul with the spirit. And Martin transformed.

“You like treasure a bit. I think you forgot, but… Weren’t you really a pirate?” she whispered.

“Yes!” the ghost roared, and light exploded out of him.

“There are spilled drinks and spilled blood,” Adria added. “Remember those tidal waves that tried to sink you in the Sandgeu. Bring them here. Make them drown the devil in front of you.”

The ghost roared once more and all of the crimson in the dining hall arose, morphing into a wave. And the blood shattered into the Liar.