The stone walls of Adria’s chamber seemed to come alive, to move closer, shifting into a prison cell all while Ba’Gan ran away. The walls looked down at Adria and laughed. In bed, she quivered. And agreed with the walls. It was over. Her momentary peace of mind had vanished.

She would have to run. She eyed her backpack, checked off what would be needed for another journey and how to pack it all in one bag.

The hounds of the Black Ice Bastion patron came to mind. According to reason, Adria had to run then. Yet she hadn’t. She stood her ground, brought the beast to sleep.

I am not running. I’m dealing with Ba’Gan.

The fear that paralyzed Adria became the fuel that pushed her forward: she jumped out of bed and snatched 'A Guide to Goblin Behavior'. Her vision shifted into a tunnel. She dashed into the darkness outside her chamber, following the fading echoes of Ba’Gan’s voice. Her memory guided her through the void as well as a strange instinct that itched at her shoulders when she didn’t know where to turn.

In a minute, Adria ended up at the main stairwell. Footfalls and rapid breathing came from above. Judging by the sound, Ba’Gan had almost made it to the two doors, one of which led to the bell tower and the other—to Saint Goblin’s quarters.

Waving her hands, whispering under her breath, Adria climbed.

It seemed hopeless. She wouldn’t make it in time. Nevertheless, she tried.

The final words of the spell U’lis had taught her left her tongue and a beastly viciousness took hold of her body, an overwhelming burst of energy. Adria jumped up ten stairs, ran along the wall and fell a few meters behind Ba’Gan.

The waiter was a step away from knocking on Saint Goblin’s door.

Adria launched 'A Guide to Goblin Behavior' at the waiter.

A risky throw—the book would hit Saint Goblin’s door if it missed.

And even though Adria had the accuracy of an archer after a spring feast, the book hit Ba’Gan in the back of the head. The goblin neighed and collapsed, and Adria jumped on him, covering his mouth.

First, Ba’Gan protested, kicked and flailed. Adria kept him pinned down, careful not to suffocate the green one. A thought crossed her mind. I could let you die. I could save myself a lot of trouble.

The thought disgusted Adria.

After a minute, Ba’Gan gave up. He grunted and stared at Adria with eyes full of contempt.

Adria’s heartbeat slowed and the rush of adrenaline faded. A heavy burden landed on her shoulders.

What in the name of the twenty gods do I do now?!

The teachers of Black Ice Bastion, among other things, had taught Adria how to deal with plenty of royal situations. Life on the streets taught how to deal with other sorts of mishaps. Nothing prepared her for holding a goblin colleague hostage because he discovered her true race.

In between the door to the bell tower and to Saint Goblin’s chambers, there was a hard-to-notice narrow window. It caught her eye. She stared at the faint lights of Gothsin and the sprawling forests of Sparkling Valley surrounding the town and the inn, and she slowed her breaths and cleared her head.

Adria lifted Ba’Gan and brought him to the dining hall. While one hand restrained him, the other unlocked the steel entrance. The clicks echoed throughout the tavern. Adria wandered out of the inn, into the graveyard encircling it.

She stopped when she was sure no one from the church could hear Ba’Gan scream. In case he did.

“Don’t call for anybody,” Adria said, sitting on a tomb. “We need to talk, alright?”

Reluctantly, Ba’Gan nodded. Adria let go of him.

“What do we need to talk about? You’re a human, that’s it. Okay, maybe you’re a spy too, maybe someone who wants to destroy the inn,” he began. “Maybe you're a hand of the Liar himself! Either way, you'll be banished, cursed and—“

“I know, I know, but… I love this place. I want to work here, live here. I don’t want to wander the lands anymore.”

“Hah, that’s dumb. You’re a human. You can go to a better place. You can go to any place you like. At the same time, you’re a human—the inn’s not for you!”

“My humanity doesn’t have to be a problem--”

“It is a very big problem.”

“As long as I wear a Mask of Roguish Disguise, no one will know.”

“Alright, wear that mask. Do what you will.” Ba’Gan nodded. “But I will tell Saint Goblin. She will have… quite the reaction, I’m sure and she will reward me fairly for my honesty, and she will finally give me what I deserve—”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“That’s what you want? Coins?” Adria’s eyebrow rose.

“Absolutely! And to never have to deal with filthy customers again.”

“But you already serve the most important guests.”

“Sometimes, there are no important guests. Sometimes, I have to go to some lowlife adventurers, some drunken and disgusting barbarians and brutes. I don’t want to be near such foul things, I don’t want to look at them, don’t want to know they exist!”

“If you think telling about me to Saint Goblin will spare you from that, you will be mistaken. I already go to some of the inn’s more… peculiar customers,” Adria said. “If I’m gone, you’ll get some coins, but you’ll also have to take my place, Ba’Gan. You’ll be making your life miserable.”

The goblin grimaced. Adria continued.

“On the other hand, if we make ourselves a deal, you could get my tips and I would take any patrons who you find repulsive. Wouldn’t that be better?”

“Tips? Tips can’t compare to the coin Saint Goblin will award me.” Ba’Gan snarled.

“Oh they can and they will blow you away.” Adria grinned. “The Mask of Roguish Disguise shapeshifts me into a very attractive goblin. And I know you can’t deny that.”

Ba’Gan grunted and contemplated for a minute, then slowly nodded in agreement.

“That is true.” He reached out for a handshake. “I get your tips, you get my disgusting customers, and your secret remains.”

Adria shook the green one’s small hand.

A steel cross toppled over.

Adria and Ba’Gan grimaced.

“Did you swear this deal on a headstone?” they asked at the same time. They both shook their heads. They both went silent for a moment.

“Well, it’s an old cross, it could’ve just…” Adria trailed off.

Silently, through the darkness of the graveyard, figures moved.

If Ba’Gan didn’t swear this deal on anything and that cross didn’t just topple over on its own… Then it’s something far worse..

“Someone broke through the shut barrier,” Ba’Gan hissed, “and they’re trying to sneak past us.”

“Who?” Adria crouched behind a tombstone, the waiter landing beside her.

“It doesn’t matter. We must catch them. It’s our duty.”

“And figure out how they got in here and what they are doing. Something terrible might be going on. More people—or creatures—might be sneaking through.”

“No, you’ve got it all wrong, Hah’Dria. It is our duty—as a goblin and a human—to bring whoever these things are to Saint Goblin and ask for the biggest reward imaginable.”

Adria sighed.

“Let’s say so.”

She poked her head out of the tombstone, catching a glimpse of the walls of Saint Goblin’s Inn. There was a band of six small individuals in cloaks and leather jackets. A pair of them held buckets full of red paint. A pair held cups with brushes and painted, on the stone brick walls of the tavern, 'Death to all goblins.' And the last two watched their surroundings. That pair, clearly, lacked qualifications and eyesight—they didn’t notice Adria as her jaw dropped and she returned to hiding behind a headstone.

“Kids,” she uttered to Ba’Gan. “They’re vandalizing the walls of the inn.”

“Who’s paying them to do that?”

“Maybe they’re doing this ‘cause there’s nothing else to do?”

“Impossible.”

“Anyway, I’m coming over there and asking them.”

Ba’Gan slapped the top of Adria’s head.

“You’re a human, you’re supposed to be smarter than a goblin, but you’re acting like a witless!” the waiter growled. “If you do that, you’ll spook them and they’ll run away. We’ll sneak up and corner them -- how many are there?”

“Six.”

“Oh, twenty gods,” Ba’Gan cursed, mustering up strength for a moment. “Let’s go.”

Adria and Ba’Gan weaved through the rows of headstones and crosses. Silent as a northern forest. Quick as a waiter at rush hour. Adria wished, more and more, that instead of wicked sorcery she would've been taught the ways of prayer. She wanted divine help—to make her quieter or make the young rascals unaware of their surroundings—without hurting anyone.

A rock cracked under Ba’Gan’s step. The watchmen of the vandals flinched and stepped a little closer to the graveyard, inspecting the darkness with narrow eyes. Adria and Ba’Gan stopped in their tracks. Once the danger faded, they carried on, reaching the walls.

Adria counted out with her fingers. In unison, they jumped out from behind the graves.

“Stop! You have broken through the barrier of Saint Goblin’s Inn,” Ba’Gan roared. “Give yourselves up to us, answer our questions and you may keep your lives. Else…”

The vandals jumped. Buckets of crimson splattered on the grass. Then the kids froze for a moment, eying one another.

“We just…” The vandal with a paintbrush in his grip stepped closer. “We’re sorry.”

The kid threw the brush at Adria while the other painter threw his equipment at Ba’Gan. Adria and the waiter dodged, but the kids were already dashing for Gothsin Forest, the woods behind Saint Goblin’s Inn.

“So that’s where they came from,” Adria said. “From the back, where no one except for La’Var ever goes.”

Ba’Gan took one look at the sky, the moon and the way the stars were laid out.

“They're bigger fools than the witless for breaking through the barrier there,” Ba'Gan spoke. “When they came in, it was fine, but now… By now, the spirits and the beasts will have come out into the woods. They’re as good as dead.”

He paused for a moment.

“That saves a lot of trouble for us,” he added, then remarked sadly, “but also no coins for us…”

“We have to chase after them!” Adria snapped.

“No, we don’t have to do anything. They’re dead. They’re not a problem anymore.” Ba’Gan pointed at the red text the vandals had painted on the inn’s walls. “Our only problem is cleaning this up and pretending it never happened.”

Adria took a step back, looking at the forest the kids ran into, then at the mark they’d left. She dipped her fingers in the crimson paint. Then she snatched half a dozen brushes and put them in the red as well.

“If I don’t come out, follow the trail.”

She dashed after the kids.

As the cold night wind of Sparkling Valley blew across Adria’s face, she rethought every choice she’d made leading up to this point. This wasn’t the type of peace she imagined. It wasn’t peace at all. But in the heat of the moment, when her heart raced and adrenaline pumped through her veins, she got a sense of enjoyment.