My experiences in Cat Alley and points since made me feel incredibly sleazy for it, but my more recent epiphany about Enjoin’s potential made it the first thing I noticed: Miss Sneppit was hot.

Not in the effortless way of, say, Nazralind, who had never shown any indication that she knew how to operate a hairbrush. On the contrary, Sneppit was more meticulously and aggressively made up than even Minifrit, and her sense of style was splashy enough to practically fill the room. In fact, she suddenly made me think about that gyaru Yoshi and I had rescued in Akihabara Station.

Sneppit had a clear color scheme: pink, white, and gold. I couldn’t tell whether her skin was a paler shade of green than any other goblin I’d met or she was slathered with some kind of foundation, but she definitely had on vivid pink lipstick and ice-white eyeshadow. Her hair was bleached stark white and then dyed pink along the elaborate curls which hung behind her ears, accented by occasional golden highlights. Even her irises were pink, which I could tell because she had her pink-lensed, gold-framed glasses perched down on the tip of her nose, the better to glare at us over them.

She was dressed, actually, in very much the same style I was, in an outfit of the type favored by Fflyr noblemen: long coat with matching boots over a ruffled shirt and loose pants in a contrasting color, complete with high turned-down collar and oversized cuffs. Though while I wore red on black, hers was—you guessed it—hot pink over white. We both had golden embellishments, though. In fact, her outfit was a lot more embellished.

I had a sudden distracting insight: rich goblins did that because rich humans did that, and rich humans did it to mimic the style of artifact armor and weapons—which the goddesses had specifically and deliberately designed to look like high-end JRPG equipment. No wonder everybody with money on this damn planet looked like an anime character: they were literally trying to. God, I hated Ephemera.

“Listen, Snep,” Zui said, taking a first step up the stairs toward her irate boss.

“Don’t you Snep me, you insubordinate, top-heavy little drain fungus,” Sneppit barked down at her. “I’ll deal with you in a minute. Right now I’m seeing a lot of other things on my tram platform that clearly don’t belong here. Oh, hey. Rizz!” She turned her head to shout over her shoulder. “Looks like she lived.”

Another goblin ambled up to the top of the stairs, this one an older version of Rhoka. Well, the face was different, they probably weren’t even related, but this spry middle-aged goblin was obviously part of the same social role. Her brown longcoat and wide-brimmed hat were identical in style, though considerably more battered and patched; instead of armbands, she wore a purple scarf affixed at the front with a steel pin. The mechanical polearm slung over her shoulder was identical to Rhoka’s.

The elder stared grimly down at the Arbiter for a second before speaking. “Day’s young.”

Ooh, someone was in trouble.

Sneppit, meanwhile, was rapidly canvassing the assemblage of humans, elves, and her own employees milling around in front of the parked tram, her expression none too happy. She met my eyes for a moment before moving on to inventory the rest of the crowd.

“Well, let’s start with the least insane part. Dap, you’d better have an excellent reason for being here and not at your post.”

“That’s my fault!” To my surprise, Yoshi stepped forward, then bowed, causing a stir among the onlooking goblins. “There was no way eight soldiers could have held that station against what the Goblin King was throwing at them. It was going to be lost anyway. I made them get on the tram. They would have died for no reason, otherwise.”

Sneppit’s eyes narrowed and she shoved her pink shades up to glare through the lenses. “So. Lord Seiji, I presume.”

Ydleth brayed a shrill laugh and Flaethwyn made a strangled noise. I just blinked.

“Uh…sorry, no. I’m Shinonome Yoshi.” He hesitated, then visibly steeled himself before managing to make the proclamation. “I’m the Hero.”

Immediately, every armored goblin on the stairs and ledges aimed a slingshot at him and drew it back.

“These guards are under a contract with the standard acts of the Goddesses clause—”

Rhoka’s attempted intercession was cut short by a sharp rebuke from Rizz, who it turned out could also project properly.

“You are not empowered to negotiate or even render contract advice when not under my supervision, Arbiter.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong, though,” Sneppit said in a more even tone, staring down her nose at the eight abashed-looking goblins in armor who were clustered behind Dap. “Hm. Acts of the Goddesses. Never imagined I’d have to deal with a literal one, but the precedent on that’s inarguable, isn’t it? Fine. If the situation was that bad anyway I’d rather not lose people over it. You wipe that smirk off your face, boy,” she added at Yoshi, taking an aggressive step forward so that one foot was half off the top stair.

“I—I wasn’t smirking—”

“And the rest of you idiots, lower those weapons!” Sneppit barked, causing the rest of her security detail to stop threatening Yoshi. “You think this situation isn’t ugly enough without a Hero rampage on my own tram platform? That’s better. And as for you.” She pointed accusingly at Yoshi, who gulped. “That was a real nice gesture, saving the lives of eight goblins. Tell me: how many goblins did you kill on your way to get to them?”

He abruptly went pale and started to reflexively hunch his shoulders. “I didn’t want—the situation was—”

“Oh, sure, they were your enemies,” Sneppit continued ruthlessly. “Mine too, for that matter. Did you know that, Hero? Were you aware that there were different factions in Kzidnak? Did you at any point pause to consider that some of the goblins you cut down on your way here weren’t Goblin King partisans, but maybe just civilians trying to protect their homes?”

“I—look, that wasn’t…I mean, we’d been told… Um, the thing is…”

It was at that moment I realized I’d just been standing here watching while everyone except me put on their own showtime. Sneppit had effortlessly dominated the room and reduced the Hero to mortified stammering with nothing but her own force of personality.

And she was a cutie.

Yep, no two ways about it: I was looking at Goblin Queen material here. If, of course, I could get her interested enough in working with me, and she didn’t turn out to be another narcissistic monster like Jadrak. Which meant now it was my turn.

“Well, this is fun!” I said brightly, causing everyone’s attention to swivel to me. “We should get out more often, I never get to meet anybody this interesting. Miss Sneppit, it’s a delight to finally meet you in person. I am Lord Seiji.” I swept a far more impressive bow than Yoshi’s, not that he’d made it much of a challenge. “And I’d like to ask you for a favor.”

“Oh?” Sneppit’s eyebrows shot upward as she turned to focus on me fully. “And what might the great and terrible Dark Lord need from little old me?”

“For now? Just a moment of your time.” In theatrical terms, this was tricky; Sneppit and Yoshi had embodied two poles on the axis of assertiveness, which meant that in order to stand out here I had to take a completely different approach. Usually I just filled the air with bombast, but competing with the lady of the house was a bad idea. Instead, I opted to create a specific impression: calm, charming, reasonable. It’s hard to do that without coming off like a sleazy salesman who wants something. “I realize you’re already having a hell of a day, and that was before we dumped this trainload of weirdos on your doorstep, so I’m sorry to press. But, if you’ll indulge me with a word in private before coming to any decisions here, I think you’ll find it worth your time.”

Sneppit regarded me thoughtfully from her high perch atop the stairs, and somehow I knew she’d instantly decided what to do. This dramatic pause was pure pageantry, a moment in which all her subordinates could see her symbolic position over the Dark Lord. I couldn’t begrudge it, and not just because I too appreciate a good piece of showtime. She depended on maintaining her authority over these people, and given that I was hoping to use the resources and connections of her company it didn’t serve my interests to undermine her.

“Well,” she said at last, “I can’t really turn up my nose at a reasonable request like that. Sure, Lord Seiji, there’s an office room nearby where we can talk for…not long, I hope?”

“Shouldn’t be but a couple of minutes,” I assured her with a smile. “I appreciate you meeting me halfway.”

An armored goblin leaned over to whisper in Sneppit’s ear, then jerked back as she made a swatting motion at him. Gizmit took that opportunity to begin climbing the stairs, adding her own opinion.

“Perhaps I should come along, Snep. I’m familiar with the Dark Lord, so—”

“He specifically said ‘in private,’” Sneppit interrupted. “I know you two’re just concerned with security, but use your damn heads. This is the Dark Lord. If he decides to murderize me, just what the hell do you think you’d do about it anyway? I’ll always make time for a man who can kill everybody in the room but still asks politely when he wants something. Basso, keep this station under control but don’t antagonize the butts if they don’t start it. I’ll be back in five.”

“Keep the peace as best you can,” I instructed Aster. “Punch Ydleth or Flaethwyn if they need it; the rest of this lot have manners. Won’t be long.”

“How dare— Hey!” To judge by her compounding outrage, I gathered that Flaethwyn wasn’t used to people walking away from her mid-rebuke. Which, of course, was half the satisfaction of doing it. The other half was being away from her.

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“He’s not wrong, though,” Ydleth said reasonably, which I knew was not going to calm the elf down but for the next five minutes that was Aster’s problem.

I bounded up the stairs six at a time, which made the security goblins visibly twitchy but they all had the sense not to point weapons at me. Fortunately these steps were wide enough to accommodate a human foot, though they were each half the height of human-sized stairs and I wasn’t about to mince my way up them one by one. Sneppit greeting me at the top with a nod, which I returned, and I was impressed anew that even towering over her I didn’t overwhelm the force of her presence.

Miss Sneppit curtly evicted two goblins doing paperwork in a small side room; I had to duck to get through the door but inside the ceiling was high enough to stand up in, if only just. Which was good, because sitting in any of the goblin-sized furniture would have made me look ridiculous. The height disparity was probably why Sneppit hopped up to perch atop the desk rather than take any of the chairs.

“Hey, pretty nice,” Biribo commented, buzzing around the chamber in a circle as soon as the door was closed. “Thick stone walls, no listening holes, heavy door. They take their privacy seriously around here.”

“Glad you approve,” said the mistress of the house, her tone less wry than she could have gotten away with. “So! What can I do for you, Lord Seiji?”

“I’ll come right to the point,” I said, getting an approving nod. “I’d like to ask you to extend some tolerance and hospitality to the Hero.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Well. I expected to be surprised by whatever you had to say and even so, that one was a shocker. Wouldn’t the Dark Lord want to jump on an opportunity to kill the Hero while you’ve got him at a disadvantage? That’d make the whole world your berry basket, as I understand it.”

“I’m afraid your understanding is…incomplete,” I replied. “The great game of the Goddesses doesn’t end until the Dark Lord dies. If a Hero gets killed, Sanora gets to summon another one.”

“Wish that surprised me,” Sneppit muttered. “Everything everywhere is rigged in their favor.”

“Killing a well-established Hero can buy a Dark Lord a lot of room to maneuver and strengthen their position,” Biribo said, taking up the explanation, “but this early in the game? It’s almost not even worth the effort. The next Hero wouldn’t even be that far behind Lord Seiji.”

“And more importantly,” I added, “odds are good the next guy wouldn’t be nearly as agreeable.”

“Agreeable?”

“That’s the issue, you see. Where Yoshi and I come from, there are no goblins—just stories about them, which don’t resemble the reality very much at all. He’s grown up thinking of goblins are greasy, predatory, barely sentient little monsters only good for fledgling adventurers to train themselves by killing.”

Sneppit curled her lip contemptuously. “Sounds pretty much like the King’s Guild’s official line.”

“Exactly.” I leaned forward, watching her eyes and seeing that I still had her full attention. “So he started with those prejudices, came here and immediately got them reinforced… And now he comes face to face with the reality. Goblins are just people like anybody else, in many ways more sophisticated than the Fflyr. What he’s gotten roped into isn’t a fun fantasy adventure, it’s stomping through people’s homes to murder them and steal their stuff. That is why I want him to see goblins at their best. Here’s the thing, Sneppit: Yoshi is a good kid. Kindhearted and wants to help people, the whole classic hero archetype. When he figures out his allies have lied to him—including Sanora herself—and used him as part of a system of political exploitation, he is not going to take it well. What I want is to give the kid a life lesson in just what depravity he’s participating in, and then send him back up top knowing better. Imagine how much we could get done if the Hero is too busy crusading against corruption among his own side to bother us.”

“Hmm.” She looked skeptical, but I could tell I still had her interest and pressed my advantage before it waned.

“But those are future concerns, and also my problem. You’ll be wanting to hear what’s in this for you, especially in the more immediate sense.”

“Wow,” Sneppit commented dryly. “Congratulations, that officially makes you the most considerate human I’ve ever dealt with.”

“That’s…really sad,” I acknowledged. “But maybe not surprising. The reason I’m confident we can come to an understanding here is because you and I have basically the same priorities about this current crisis. To begin with, Jadrak has to die.”

“I am actually somewhat surprised to hear you say that,” she said. “Jadrak finding out there’s a Dark Lord right upstairs is probably one of the things that emboldened him to openly proclaim himself. He was definitely wanting to reach an accord with you, Lord Seiji. I was more than half expecting you to be here to dictate terms of my surrender.”

“I—really?” I blinked, processing that. “Ahh… If the trams haven’t been running all day, I guess you haven’t had the opportunity to get fresh intel from Jadrak’s camp.”

“I find myself curious what’s got the two of you at each other’s throats, though,” she said pointedly.

I winced. “Ah, well… The embarrassing truth is it started as a cultural misunderstanding. But neither of us can afford to back down from it, so here we are.”

“That a fact,” Sneppit said flatly. “Let me guess, his emissary said something you didn’t like and you blasted him.”

“Hey, give me a little credit,” I protested. “I don’t blast people for hurting my feelings. Murdering my allies on my doorstep, though, that’s a reliable way to set me off. Considering our amicable and mutually profitable relationship thus far, I’d think you would find that reassuring.”

“Very slightly.” She folded her arms, giving me a look over the gold rims of her shades. Surely those things were just for style? You wouldn’t use pink glass for vision correction… “Dealing with violent and volatile people is not reassuring even when they’re nominally on my side. And what’s hanging in the forefront of my mind right now is that if Jadrak is committed to fight the Dark Lord to the death, he’s a cornered animal and therefore ten times as dangerous.”

“He was always a cornered animal. Even if all of Kzidnak was behind him, he has no chance against the Fflyr. Isn’t that why you were against him in the first place?”

I couldn’t really blame her for trying to improve her bargaining position at my expense, but that didn’t mean I was gonna let her get away with it. Sneppit tilted her head momentarily to one side in a gesture of acknowledgment, and I continued.

“But as I was saying, we’re in the same position and have the same needs here, Sneppit. We both need Jadrak to not exist anymore. All of goblin society needs that right now.”

“We can agree on that,” she nodded.

“But, and feel free to correct me if I’m mistaking any nuances of goblin culture, it’s my understanding that you guys are generally not impressed by violence or shows of force. Killing the Goblin King, even if it’s obviously necessary, is not going to be a good look. And Kzidnak right now is full of people convinced it is the opposite of necessary.”

“I could maybe get away with it,” she grimaced. “You’re not completely wrong, though. That wouldn’t help my social prospects down here.”

“And I bet that goes double for me. Big swaggering human comes down here and destroys the goblin leadership with swords and spells—that’s playing right into the stereotype that keeps you folks up at night in fear. I would really like to come out of this with good relationships established with Fallencourt, and the need to eliminate Jadrak all but conclusively rules that out.”

Sneppit’s eyes narrowed to slits. Then a slow smile began to tug at her painted lips, and I knew I had her.

“But,” she said softly, “what if it was a Hero who killed the Goblin King?”

“That’s what Heroes do, after all,” I said in my most reasonable tone. “They kill people and wreck stuff. Nobody would be surprised. But I have an even better idea than that. What if we were to supervise this Hero while he worked? Minimize the collateral damage, protect people as much as we can. I’m betting that in the aftermath of Jadrak’s fall, those of us who used our wiles rather than our fists to make sure the Hero only did what he came for and then fucked off would be seen in a much better light by the rest of goblinkind.”

“Mm hmm.” It was amazing how much this woman could communicate through subtle shifts of her posture. Suddenly we were no longer two potentially hostile strangers feeling each other out, but friends colluding at some other sucker’s expense. And she did all that with a smirk, the angle of her shoulders, the position of her head. Oh, yeah, this lady was dangerous. “And then, of course, with a Dark Lord rising and no Goblin King… Well, historically, goblins have formed the logistical backbone of most Dark Crusades. Isn’t that right, familiar?”

“I’ve already told him about that, don’t worry,” Biribo assured her.

Sneppit winked up at me. “Well, there ya go. Seems like you’d need experienced help getting all of Kzidnak organized into something that’ll best serve your needs.”

“See?” I said cheerfully. “I told you we’d be on the same page.”

“Well, speaking of pages, I can whip up a contract quick as you—”

“Whoah.” I held up both hands. “You’re cute and all, but no contracts on the first date.”

Sneppit softened her rebuke by leaning flirtatiously toward me, and fortunately nothing going on here was lewd enough to trigger a flashback; I was accustomed to far more explicitly sexual posturing from the crew back at North Watch. “You get a lot of leeway for being an outsider, Lord Seiji, but just for reference that’s a big gaffe in goblin culture. Refusing to sign a contract is tantamount to admitting you’re planning to screw the other party over.”

“That’s just the thing, isn’t it? I’m not that familiar with goblin culture. I could really use an experienced hand to guide me around down here, show me the ropes and help me avoid fucking up too badly. But precisely because I don’t grasp all the nuances, I’m extremely hesitant to commit my signature to anything. That’s how I avoid getting into situations where I have to either break my word or do something I really can’t afford to. Where I come from, it’s trying to wheedle people into signing unnecessary contracts that’s taken as a sign you’re up to no good.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to have another cultural misunderstanding,” she said, “given how your last one went.”

“You would have to work really hard to piss me off enough to even approach that scenario,” I assured her. “The truth is, Sneppit, us coming to a long-term arrangement is definitely going to involve some serious, long-term compromises on both sides. Let’s get to know each other a bit and feel out the possibilities before committing to anything.”

“I see what you’re saying,” she replied, leaning back and giving me a more considering look. “Do understand what you’re asking, though. Goblins very strongly prefer to have everything laid out in explicit terms. Ambiguity is dangerous.”

“Especially with humans?”

“Hey, you said it, not me.” She grinned. “For which I’m glad, that woulda been awkward.”

“I do understand, and I appreciate your indulgence. If it puts your mind at ease, when it comes to finding another goblin who can be my lieutenant in the Dark Crusade after we deal with Jadrak… Well, at this moment, you’ve got no competition, Sneppit, and a major head start on any others who might pop up.”

“I’d throw any goblin the fuck outta my office for talking to me like that,” she informed me, then smiled again. It was a knowing, mischievous, and more than slightly flirtatious smile. “But, it is what it is. These aren’t exactly normal times. All right, Lord Seiji, you’ve got…” Sneppit started to hold out a hand, then paused. “Ah, sorry. Force of habit. Not a deal, but…?”

Gently, I took her hand and gave it a squeeze, noticing for the first time that goblin digits were slightly out of proportion to their height. Sneppit’s hand was warm and not much smaller than a human woman’s, not at all the childlike limb I’d expect of someone her size.

“Friends?” I suggested.

“Friends.” She grinned and squeezed my fingers, then her expression sobered as she withdrew her hand. “I had mixed feelings, y’know. You’ve been a solid business contact, Lord Seiji, but also the living embodiment of exactly the kinda violent tendencies that make me want to shy away. It honestly is an immense reassurance that your plan down here is to play the angles and maneuver a positive outcome, rather than just hit your problems with maximum force until they die.”

“Oh, there’ll be a lot of hitting,” I admitted, “and unfortunately more dying…but you’re not wrong. I really would like to get through life with altogether less bloodshed than I’ve had to so far. Maybe you can help give me some pointers.”

“Maybe I can, at that!”

My new friend, old business partner, and possible future Goblin Queen hopped down from the desk and opened the office door with no more ado, whereupon we were immediately blasted by the shrill clamor of a screaming argument from outside.

“…that didn’t take long,” Sneppit commented.

“Flaethwyn and Ydleth,” I sighed. “I probably should have separated them.”

“You were expecting this outcome?”

“Not particularly.”

“You are…surprised by it?”

“Not particularly.”

She smirked up at me. “Ain’t it wonderful, being in charge?”

“Not fucking particularly.”

Sneppit laughed and lightly patted me on the hip before preceding me out of the office. I followed her feeling cautiously optimistic, despite the open question of just how much trouble I’d gotten myself into this time.