With the newly uncovered layers of sediment by the clearing of the tunnel new possibilities opened up.

Some gold had already been uncovered in the sand, but now the vein itself had been laid bare. Without access to a wider economy gold wasn't of much use to them however.

Two other new acquisitions were rock salt and limestone. The salt was a welcome addition to Quiet's kitchen, the limestone had other uses.

Currently they were wearing fur clothing, the skin was mostly untreated, except for the basic scraping that most of the feral goblins neglected with their loincloths. Although they weren't hanging flaps of rotting meat, they were a far cry from properly tanned leather.

With the new limestone and old horse carcasses from the bandits' stay Scratch decided to put some manpower on fixing that. They needed some new work to keep them busy now that the perimeter was finished anyhow.

-

The first thing they did after scraping the horse skins was submerging them in quicklime, created by cooking limestone in a metal pan in an open space.

After two days of letting the caustic liquid affect the material it became easy to pull out the dead animals' hair. At that point much of the top layer of the skin could be scraped off, to keep only the supple part.

After washing out the quicklime this material was then brained and smoked. Meaning it was submerged in a broth of horse brain and raw egg, squeezed dry, and suspended over a fire. The chemical significance of this escaped Scratch, but he knew better than to question an age old recipe.

-

In the end they were left with a more durable and supple sewing material. More suited for the warmer period that was coming. Fat and Dumb had so much fun working with it that they didn't even consider it a chore to sew new tunics out of them.

"How's it taste?" Scratch asked.

Quiet nodded approvingly and handed him a bun to try it.

They were baking bread with salt now, unearthed with the help of their good friend Cyclophan, the evil god. It was a marked improvement. With the much larger eggs from their cockatrice creature they were able to produce a complete healthy breakfast.

One of the bedrooms had been cleared out to be a monster pen, the beast had been given a blindfold to impede its ability, making it no more dangerous than a slightly large, blind chicken.

"We're almost out of flour." Second said. "Are we really going to hand these out?"

"I thought we had this conversation? We're going to need to make some friends if we want peace in our times."

"We did not have that conversation."

Both creatures had perfect and objective verbal recollection, the cause of the disagreement was nobody's lapse in memory, but Scratch's overconfidence in his own ability to convey implied meaning.

"Well... Fine." He said. "Then you know now, just in time to set out."

The party selected for diplomatic relations consisted of Scratch himself, Quiet, and Second. Kicker and Biter, who had been on this kind of expedition before, were to stay at the cave to defend it. Dumb was left in charge of delegating the chores in the meantime, with the perimeter done this just meant making sure the firewood supply was kept up, food was gathered and prepared each day, and everybody kept doing their training.

As an added goal they could renew their focus on gathering precious metals from the cave, Scratch had singled out the gold as significant, although he wasn't yet sure how to use it, and a heard a few voices warning him of it.

-

As the party waved goodbye and set out on their journey, they were dragging along with them the sled, carrying woven straw boxes, each containing some bread and a slice of hard-boiled cockatrice egg.

"So. We're not trading them for anything this time." Second said.

"We're trading them for some goodwill." Scratch answered.

"What's that?"

"It's... just them liking us a bit more."

"So we're not trading them for anything this time."

"No."

-

They hadn't walked an hour before Scratch began to grow bored of his own plan. "Ugh. Days on the road. If only we could keep one of the bandits' living horses."

"Those big animals?" Quiet whispered.

"Yeah, they use them as mounts, it's faster and less tiring."

Second criticized the idea. "Too big. You wouldn't be able to control them."

"Hmm. Said Scratch. You're right about that. Nice hides though." He stroked his tunic. With the temperatures rising it was good to get out of their fur and into something a bit more summer-y. The tunics were like long shirts with short sleeves, usually from just one patch of leather sown into the proper cut. Scratch thought it made them look like ancient Romans.

Their first stop was what Biter had referred to as "the cat group", because cats were most dangerous in the area. But unsurprisingly, they hadn't made it through the winter.

"We can skip over the small groups." Scratch said. "They won't be around anymore. What matters are the communities, from our own trading partners that'd be... let's see."

Second answered for him. "I think the island tribe and the hill tribe fit."

It was telling how Seconds' name for each group incorporated the natural defenses they relied upon.

The island's tribe was a community of about nine goblins, they lived on a patch of land in the middle of a more wild part of the river, which stopped the aggressive six-legged foxes from assaulting them. The fur and earthenware traded by the cave goblins had played a key role in preventing their death from the cold during the winter and halting the amount of goblins being dragged along the stream when trying to drink.

The hill tribe had dug themselves in at the top of a steep hill. They needed a constant guard to fend off the man eating donkeys that grazed near them with big sticks, but added mobility due to shoes had left them relatively well off, not to mention that replacing their sticks with Scratch's spears had helped them scare off the monsters some more.

These were two groups that had good reason to be warm towards the diplomatic envoy, but there were also others in the forest that they hadn't had contact with yet.

-

"There's also the tree home." Scratch said, referring to the hole underneath the roots of an ancient tree whose occupants had been allies of the orcs. "That Runt kid lead us to them. Whatever happened to Runt anyway?"

Second looked at him in surprise. "You don't remember? We got away from the orcs and he decided to go back to the tree home. Similar language I suppose."

"I was kind of out of it at the time." Scratch admitted. "But if we have some rapport with Runt we can set up ties with that tribe. Maybe even other former orc vassals."

He didn't know how much the goblin tribes had benefited from their orc beneficiaries, but he suspected it was mostly weapons for taking out other goblins they had gotten out of it. The cave goblins themselves had some black steel knives and daggers left over at the cave, stolen from the ancient temple at one time, for pretending to be one of them.

"Let's make a round movement." Scratch gestured the path they would take with his hands. "To the river, downstream a bit, and then back."

"That seems like a detour." Quiet said softly.

"There's some other places I want to visit."

"A-ha." Second pointed the finger accusingly. "So there is something else you're hoping to achieve."

Scratch rolled his eyes. "There always is. Everything I do always serves at least two purposes."

Barbara was standing at the dockyard, seeing the ships dock. Currently the merchants of Eston were getting rich and fat off trade and the footfolk like herself could do nothing but fight for scraps. But that would change soon. Soon the orc horde would disrupt the smuggling business of her fellow guild members, with any luck they'd wipe out every last one of those bandits, and collapse the underworld of Eston.

She looked at the day laborers helping to unload one of the ships. She recognized various Thieves' Guild members and key contacts among them, this week they would load a ship with stolen artifacts heading to the republic of

Grienice, among them a very rare case of fairy dust, an alchemical component used only by the most wicked of alchemists.

Sure, the few rare metrials had made it through, but the majority of the profit wasn't derived from the occasional rare smuggling ware. They wouldn't earn back the cost of the coverup without the last main load of mundane stolen goods this season. Nestor's caravan, that would fail to make it through Eston's goblin and orc infested woods for sure. As far as she could determine the Thieves' Guild leadership had taken no precautions, or even warned its lower ranked members of the possibility that this season's black market event would fall through. In a few weeks the culling would start, and then the forest would be too swarming with adventurers for any illegal trade to make it through. For at least two months.

She wrung her hands, already selecting the strongest men in her head for a good attack squad. When her friends' smuggling ring would fall apart, she'd have her pick of thugs jumping at the chance to be part of her protection racket.

She'd only need to wait one week for the seriousness of the situation becoming clear to everyone. In the meantime, some preparation was required.

-

She turned her back to she ships and swayed her hips along to the back entrance of the potion shop she had just left.

"Made up your mind?" Grinned the alchemist's assistant, spreading out a variety of forbidden concoctions for her to buy.

"I have." Barbara answered in a more solemn tone. "Some mana toxin if you don't mind." She fished a silver piece out of her purse. A steep price, when dealing with illegal substances that was unavoidable.

"Excellent choice." The assistant mimicked the eager-to-please tone of voice his master would adopt when handling customers, it didn't get a laugh. "Here you go."

"How many of these can you produce by the end of next week?" She asked, rolling the vial in her hand.

"Next week? I don't know. I have to be careful you see, if the master sees any components are missing..."

She not so subtly showed a dove egg-sized gold nugget in her hand. "I'd like seven more before sunday."

The boy audibly gulped. The nugget had to be worth almost twelve silver pieces. "I'm sure I can arrange something... How many knights are you planning to take on anyway?"

Now she did chuckle. Mana toxin was useful for bringing down individuals more powerful than one self, because it had the ability to disrupt their ability to use their own mana, something those with higher power relied on more than mundane peasants. "I might be aiming a bit higher than the knight's watch." She said.

"W...well. As always, you didn't get it from me." The boy said nervously, as he packed up his poisons.

"I'm not supposed to tell anybody this..." Barbara purred musically. "...but things might get heated soon. I advice you choose the right side to support."

She left again, leaving the assistant patently confused.

The island tribe welcomed the diplomatic envoy with open arms. They deployed a young tree with half of the branches broken off as a make-shiftt drawbridge for them to cross the river.

"How's life, old chum? Happy to see us?"

"Good. Thank."

Neither party had ever seen the other before. The earlier trading party had consisted of three entirely different goblins. But there was something recognizable about goblins going about dressed in crudely stitched clothing. And

Scratch derived ironic enjoyment out of greeting a total stranger like an old friend.

Scratch kept babbling, hamming up the role of returned friend while the goblins he hadn't even asked the name of where trying to keep up with his quickly spoken words.

Quiet unpacked one of the gift boxes and handed it over to the leader. He was clearly starved because he immediately sat down to scarf down the prepared meal.

The leader eats first. Scratch thought to himself. He had almost forgotten the alpha-male structure other goblins used for their society.

-

"First sad?" one of the island tribe members asked when their leader started crying.

"I don't think that's the reason, buddy." Scratch said as he ruffled First's, the leader's, hair. "Don't eat it all at once, but don't try to keep it too long either. It's a spoilable good."

With that they unloaded the amount of bread they thought would be about appropriate to gift a tribe of this size.

"Remember us when you eat it."

The leader hugged Scratch's waist tightly. "Thank. Thank." He sobbed into the tunic.

"Whoa, stop. This is new."

-

When they were about to leave again, as they didn't want to spend too much time on each location, the goblins came running after them with a gift of their own. A freshly slain six-legged red fox. It wasn't an equal trade, but then again, that wasn't the purpose of the mission. They thanked them for the gift and added it to the sled.

"They were really happy with it." Quiet said, somewhat content.

Second agreed. "They were eager to see us return." He added, looking at the red fox.

"Haven't eaten any cooked food before, I imagine." Scratch explained.

"They should." Quiet mumbled.

Careful to keep his composure he gratefully cut up the expensive filet mignon.

Dining in a five star restaurant, eating expensive foods in an expensive suit, he could feel his humanity returning. It was a good feeling, being a human being.

The man paying for it all was a well known career criminal. "Eat up kid, you deserved it."

He threw back his head to wash down the beef with a big gulp of twenty year old wine. "Ah! That does a body good."

"You like that, how'd you feel about eating like this every day?" The gangster suggested before taking a sip of his own.

He looked around th establishment while picking food rests out between his teeth. This is where I belong, high society. "Yeah, sure I'll launder drug money for the Syndicate."

"Ugh-Ah" The gangster choked on his wine.

"Ey, you alright?" He asked him, after winking at a fur wearing lady giving them a stare over her shoulder.

"I was suggesting you come work for me, at the sawmill."

"Yeah, and launder money. You're scouting me for the Syndicate after I set up the real estate bait-and-switch for

Frankie, right? I'm saying I'll do it."

The criminal leaned back with his hand on his forehead. "What are you doing, you wearing a wire or somethin'?"

"Oh!" He tapped the side of his nose to indicate he understood. "Yeah, yeah. Only legitimate business. No conspiracy, I get you."

"You're a smart kid, but you ain't too clever. Do me a favor and stay in your lane from now on. No being a wiseguy, understood."

"Understood, sir."

He'd do anything to live a life of dignity like this.

"Do we have all the escaped horses now?" Huckabee asked his fellow bandit.

"There's bound to be a few that died in the wild or got to far away." Said Dee. "I think this is all we have."

"Such a shame." He said, looking at the small herd. "And we used to have so many too."

Dee got a little annoyed. "Yeah, and we used to have a lot of people too. That's a shame too."

"I know. I know." Huckabee sighed, he had wanted to veer the conversation away from dead comrades, but in the process he had said something insensitive again.

-

The bandit camp was slowly starting to function again. Most of the essentials were there, even if the orcs had destroyed many sentimentally significant possessions along with all the human life. There were enough tents to sleep in, buckets and mugs to use and food to eat. They had even been able to secure the doves and resume contact with the thieves of Eston. Because they were just so eager to do the thieves' dirty work.

Dee groaned while thinking about all this.

"What's on your mind?" Huckabee asked.

"I was thinking about the next thing we have to do, just to keep the guild leadership happy. Are you prepared?"

"Hmm? Escorting Nestor's caravan, right? Pretty routine."

"Pretty routine. Except just before we were doing it for that stuck-up noble boy and you were awful, ya git."

Huckabee looked pained. "You mean with the goblins, right?"

While guarding the carriage they had crossed paths with feral goblins, they were very easy to deal with normally.

Goblins are fearless and will attack enemies that severely outclass them head on. However, when trying to fight them off without hurting them the battle becomes a great deal more complicated, and increases the chance they'll find a way to hurt you.

"I just spend a week watching the fallout of the last time I killed a goblin." Huckabee whined.

"Alright, but, like, you still need to kill them."

"Yeah..." Huckabee relented, but didn't sound convinced.

-

They were patrolling around the outside of the camp, with the orcs gone the need for constant vigilance was reduced, but there still needed to be some guarding to make sure no animals or low level monster snuck into the area.

"Wh- oh. It's you guys." Huckabee reached for his sword when he saw a trio of diminutive creatures bursting out of the undergrowth, but they were Beatty's goblins.

"Yikes, were you about to lob my head off?" Scratch asked in an amused tone.

"I actually, non-jokingly, was." Huckabee said.

"Well, hold your horses, we're just passing through." He said, helping his brother drag a sled of material over an outcropping rock. "How are you guys? Is the rebuilding going well?"

"As good as it gets." Dee said, but she had something else on her mind. "You three aren't here for a snatching spree, are you?"

"A what?" Second asked, digging into his nose with his finger.

Dee sighed in relief. "During this time of year, when it's not as cold anymore, we see a lot of goblins climbing out of their holes to attack human farms and grab women." She explained.

Scratch scratched his head. "I suppose that'd make sense, wouldn't it? We're just doing some charity work, for now.

But now that you mention it, how do you guys feel about those farm people? You know, the ones working the lands just outside the forest."

"We're basically enemies." Said Huckabee. "Bandits have a price on their head, farmers are bond servants to the king."

"Huck!" Dee shot him an angry look. He was giving their goblin friends a carte blanche to pillage and rape them.

"What?"

"How did all of you become bandits anyway?" Scratch inquired, the sled now firmly planted on the level ground and they were ready to continue.

"Oh... you know..." Huckabee leaned against a tree. "All kinds of different reasons, some of us were born to bandits, some of us were exiled or abandoned..." He was getting self-conscious about telling his life's story to an inquisitive goblin. "Ahem, Dee, what about you?"

Dee just stared at him.

"So you just... found each other?" Scratch asked.

"That's a nice way to put it." Dee said. "But really, we're collected here because we all want to be absolved by the

Thieves' Guild."

The other two goblins were ready to leave, but Scratch held them up by listening intently to what she had to say. "Tell me more. What's the Thieves' Guild?"

"Right, uh, so... A Guild is an organization of all people doing the same thing. So there's the Carpenters' Guild, the Bakers' Guild, the Adventurers' Guild-"

"The Thieves' Guild can get us new identities, false names." Huckabee interrupted her. "They are the organization for things you don't want the kingdom to find out."

"The only one?" Scratch raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"I mean, yeah? There are different ones in different cities, but if it's illegal, it's handled by the Thieves' Guild."

"I suppose the waiting list for one of those new identities is pretty long." Scratch posited. "With how many of you are holing up here."

Dee puffed out her cheeks. "You have no idea. I have no idea how long it was since the last time anybody got to go to Eston. And in the meantime, we're stuck here doing their chores."

"Chores?"

"Fighting off the orcs so nobody sends any military to Eston (thanks for that by the way), keeping the smuggling route safe, assassinating travelers, it's a handful."

"Hmm" Scratch thought about it. "It sounds like they don't have much incentive to get you out of here."

Both bandits were put off by the comment.

"Anything you need to do for them soon?"

"Uhm..." It didn't feel like he should be sharing that kind of information, but Huckabee didn't see the harm in telling a goblin. "Next week, we're escorting a smuggler?"

Scratch glanced at his brothers acting impatient with the sled. "Can you tell Lydia we'll be dropping by tomorrow? No.

The day after tomorrow. There's something I want to discuss."

"Sure thing..."

-

The two bandits stared at the goblins leaving, they were bickering and joking with each other like brothers.

"Lately life has been getting weirder and weirder..." Dee said.

"Did he say something about doing charity work?" Huckabee asked.

"Did he just call the boss by her first name?" Dee added.

"It sounded like he was going to make her a business proposition." Huckabee answered.

Scary times... scary times..." Dee muttered as she went ahead to resume the patrol.

Kicker was practicing using the crossbow on a tree, Fat was behind him, fletching crossbow bolts and not at all keeping up with the speed at which Biter could ruin them.

Biter was supposed to be keeping a lookout from the tower, but he had descended. "Kicker, hey, Kicker!" He yelled, stepping into the path of Kicker's practicing range.

"Stop! Stop!" Dumb came running. "No walking in front of the firing range. Stop that right now!"

Biter rolled his eyes. Thinking Dumb took being put in charge too seriously, he stepped back with his hands raised demonstratively.

"What is it?" Kicker asked, he had put the crossbow down and approached him.

"Can you take over watching from the tower? I have to go." He bended his knees and held his hand in front of his crotch as non-verbal communication.

"Can't you hold it in until your turn is over?" Said Dumb.

"Don't be... Dumb." Biter responded, surprised and happy at a new way to dismiss his bossy brother.

"I'll go stand on the tower." Kicker said. "I'll take the crossbow, I think I've got the hang of it now."

"Okay." Biter was already running off. "But I get to practice with it when it's your turn."

-

Beyond the tree line is where the goblins would go to defecate and urinate. It was far enough away from where they lived for the smell not to bother them. A new place had to be found every time in order for them to not step into their own waste, but the forest was big and they hadn't ran into any problems yet.

As Biter found his way beyond the perimeter he noticed a smell hanging into the air. Now that the temperature was so consistently above the freezing point the many weeks' worth of poop and dead bodies were exuding their pungent stench. It had only gotten worse over the past days.

He pulled up his tunic, the new clothing made the process easier, which was good since they all wanted it to be over sooner. He leaned with his back against the tree in a sitting position. While he was defecating he was in a vulnerable position, but he had never had to worry about wild animals straying near the cave.

While focusing on doing his business he was jolted out of his concentration by the sound of water sloshing around in a large sack. He looked around to see a large blue transparent blob crudely propelling itself towards him from the base of another tree, which created the sloshing noise.

The way it headed for him directly seemed ominous, but Biter didn't want to rush through his process and risk soiling his new tunic. Besides, the thing moved at a snail's pace.

As the blob was entering his personal space, Biter finished his business and shook his body in order to rid himself of the last stray particles. If the thing was like any animal he knew it would lunge at close range in order to grab a complacent prey.

Luckily, it wasn't.

Biter stood himself upright and walked off as the thing seemed to settle itself in the place he had just done his business.

-

"Guys!" Biter yelled from beyond the treeline. "You won't believe what-"

As he jumped over a tree trunk to near the perimeter his foot sank into a viscous liquid. He fell squarely on his nose.

"Ah! What-?"

He turned on his back without being able to dislodge his foot from the jelly, he watch as his boot was sloshed around inside another blob, a smaller one. Not until he saw the seems on Second's attentively sown fur boot come loose did he realize the burning sensation on the skin. The pain was increasing by the second.

-

"AAAAAAAAAAH!" Biter's screams rung far over the clearing and even into the cave, causing Laugh to lower his pickaxe and come out.

Immediately Kicker jumped down from the tower, followed by Dumb and Fat.

In a panicked state of mind long distances seem shorter, and they flew over to their brother in what felt like two heartbeats. They found him writhing on the floor, tearing up but trying to stay strong, and constantly pulling at his leg.

"What's wrong? What are you doing?" Kicker panted.

"It's stuck. It has my leg." Biter grimaced.

Kicker looked at the slimy creature and readied his crossbow.

"No. You idiot." Dumb pushed it away. "Who are you more likely to hit?"

He may be annoying, but he was right in this instance. Kicker wasn't about to admit it though. "What do you know?

You've never-"

As they were bickering Fat had closed the distance and plunged the knife he had used for carving crossbow bolts into the pliant liquid. The thing seemed to suck him in but he ran his hand down the side, pulling away while leaving a large gash in the blob.

"Yes!" "Alright!" Kicker and Dumb cheered, but Biter was less enthusiastic.

"I'm still stuck!" He groaned.

The monster was completely unperturbed by the damage it had taken and continued digesting Biter's foot. It had burned through the skin at various places now and red blood was seeping out.

Kicker and Fat committed to a quick succession of stabs and slashed, careful to avoid harming their brother, but the slimy material simply knitted itself together after being forced apart.

They were trying to figure out some way to carve out Biter's body part without getting themselves lodged in when

Dumb returned. He had left in order to pick up the bucket of quicklime they had been soaking skins in.

"Outofthewayoutoftheway" he yelled as he jumped down from the perimeter at high speed with a heavy load.

Kicker and Fat jumped to the side just in time to avoid the acidic substance he splashed from his container.

The blob recoiled at the introduction of the substance and let go of the goblin's foot, who was quickly dragged out of its reach by his brothers.

"What did you do?" Fat asked sheepishly.

"Scratch said the quicklime was dangerous. I thought if knives don't hurt, let's try something else that does."

"Aww. My foot. My foot." Biter cried out. It was visibly discolored and hurt where it had been inside the substance.

"Let's get back to safety." Kicker suggested. "I think I see more of them around."

The hill tribe was as happy with the diplomatic envoy's visit as the island tribe were.

Scratch and company didn't want to pull their sled uphill so they asked the leader to come down, which he did, alongside eight of his friends.

There was much merrymaking and playful conversation. The topic veered into the predators the tribe used their spears to fight off. Scratch seemed interested in the blue grass the dangerous creatures seemed to graze on, and was taken to a patch of it. He pulled out various tufts of the vegetation and pocketed it.

The donkeys seemed to have learned to fear the goblins and their leader boasted about how they were now able to hunt and eat the beasts.

Second nudged Scratch and pointed at one of the animals, it was hissing at two hill tribe goblins cajoling it in a very un-donkey-like fashion. "Aren't they more our size? What if we had those as horses?"

"Taming one of those? I don't know. Do you think you can do it?"

Second was surprised. "No, I thought you might."

"I don't. I do know it's easier with animals that can't eat you. Anyway let's not hang around here too long. Quiet! Are you coming?"

Quiet was off in a distance, telling the others about making fire and distilling water.

"Look at that social butterfly." Scratch shook his head in amusement. "He's really coming out of his shell."

"He gets like that when he has something to teach." Second commented.

-

They said their goodbyes, Scratch didn't want to linger too long at any one place and draw out the trip.

"You said the next place is the tree home." Second commented. "So why are you drawing out the trip by going all the way back to the river? The fast way would be to just go there directly."

"We want to go to the old ruins where you met Runt and we want to go to the place where we collected the head." Scratch said resolutely, the others had to just accept it.

-

The place they reached first was the place of the massacre.

They had encountered two humans, followed by a third and maybe a fourth one, he hadn't been able to tell in the chaos of the battle.

The orcs had been easily wiped out by various magical spells and abilities. It had been terrifying.

The bodies of the orcs had almost completely disappeared, though there were still shards of bone and rotting meat strewn about. Various distinct blobs of blueish slime where sitting squarely on the place the monsters had died.

"I don't remember these things..." Scratch mumbled as they approached the giant balls.

"Be careful..." Quiet whispered. "...they're eating the meat."

"Be careful?" Scratch laughed, walking circles around one, it pulsed in his direction but wasn't able to keep up. "You'd have to be an idiot to be caught in one these while alive."

"I don't like them." Second said uncomfortable. "Why are we here?"

"We're here because of these." Scratch hopped over to the object of his search. "We don't want any of these lying around, incriminating our ruse."

They were world memories. One called Orc Champion, the other Overwhelming Reinforcement. The champion one showed the orc chieftain at his most photogenic, a true warrior. The reinforcement one clearly showed the four humans taking care of the orc, something the bandit should not be allowed to see, the fantasy of Clyde Beatty, monster tamer and bandit saver, had to be maintained.

He tried to tear the cards, but realized they were indestructible. He decided to keep a hold of them. "Okay boys, let's skedaddle. It's getting late."

It was, the sun was already going down.

Before they reach the tree home they reached the ruins.

Scratch hadn't been there before and was surprised by its size. "Amazing. I wonder how old this world is." Did goblins really have a civilization as large as this?

Eventually he found the goblin king's pipe. It was an enormous stone thing. It started at a mouthpiece appropriately sized for a normal mouth but extended and widened until the burning end was the size of a fist.

"What do you need that for?" Quiet asked.

"Magic." Scratch answered.

-

He kept it his hand while they continued. He could fill it with blue grass at that point, but without the firepit he had no means of lighting it.

When we get back... when we get back I'll be able to talk with this damn guy properly.

-

They arrived at the tree home when the sun was already down, but the residents were still mostly up and active.

The betrayal and later disappearance of the orcs had shook them, and they were no longer so assertive in rebuking visitors.

One of the guards made pig noises when the envoy was unloading, he seemed to recognize Scratch and Second.

"I can sort of half understand him." Scratch mentioned. "But I'm really not in the mood to learn an extra language. Isn't Runt around?"

Runt was around, he came to them by the side of the alpha male, whose name was *Nug*, which translated to

"Servant". Runt served as Servant's translator when conversing with the envoy.

He thanked them for the food and asked them to share their sources of it with him. There was some trouble in the translation trying to convey the message that they had mostly made these products themselves.

Runt had to talk quickly to keep up with Servant's agitated speech. "You join us. Get woman. Get weapons. Together, take... food?"

Scratch wasn't at all sweet on the idea of giving up control to a new overlord. After hearing sobbing, he peeked over

Runt's shoulder to see the peach skin of a human woman shining through the roots. A snatching spree, huh? It looks like the other tribes are replenishing their numbers. "No deal, Nug, we have prior agreements. Thanks though."

As Runt did his best to relay the information Servant became increasingly agitated and confused. He was trying to think of a response when Second interjected.

"We're are here to work together, but in a different way. The pig men are gone, we were there, you won't be able to work together with them anymore. That doesn't mean you're alone now, us goblin tribes, we can look out for each other."

Scratch turned to face Second and looked at him top to bottom. That was a great salespitch, is that improvised or have you been having thoughts like this for longer? He thought to himself.

"Anyway." He addressed Servant again. "That's all for now. This was just a gift to remember us by. We'd like to work more closely together with the other tribes you knew under the orcs at some point. No rush, we'll talk later."

-

"I thought you wanted to find the other tribes?" Quiet whispered to him as they left the tree tribe territory.

"In due time, my dear Quiet." Scratch said in an old mansy tone of voice while pretending to puff the unlit pipe. "The important thing was getting off on the right foot. Old Nuggy isn't in the mood for questioning right now, he's just had a successful raid and he's full of testosterone. We've made contact, spreading our influence beyond that can wait for now. Besides, we're out of food."

"Then we can finally go home." Second yawned.

"Indeed." Scratch puffed. "We can fish the next batch of skins out of the quicklime."

I've learned a lot from talking to Beatrice. As it turns out, I'm not the only reincarnator in this world.

She says that most likely, everybody that has earned the title of a hero is someone from our world, which is Japan.

That means the most important people in the world are only important because they were given cheat-like abilities by that mysterious dark god.

She says that it's best to keep this a secret, and I agree, I wouldn't want anybody to think differently of me. I don't want to think of myself as Hayato Ito anymore, that guy was a failure, my name is Laurus, I am an adventurer!

-

I look out the window of my room in Eston. I had expected to leave this place a long time ago, but then the business with the orcs happened, and after that meeting with Beatrice Dichtershire. I make up my mind, it's time I go out and have a real adventure. I already have a paladin in my party, that's both healing and tanking, my specialty is dps, we need a good mid-range fighter, like a mage, and maybe a rogue...

I am all happy about my plans for the future as I leave my room to go downstairs. I was about to meet up with the others about traveling together towards Blurich, since they have something to deliver there and we can seek out the sky dungeon.

In the hallway I bump up against a disheveled looking guy. He's wearing fancy noble's clothes, but his hair is messy and he has bags under his eyes.

【Hey!】The man says rudely.【What's where you're go- It's you!】

What? Have we met before?

【How did you find me? It doesn't matter. You have nothing on me, Sebastian Tanner is not so easily brought down!】

Seriously, who is this guy?

Slimes

Family: Slimes

Threat Level: F

Reward: 1 copper piece

Slimes are the second weakest creature that still can be called a monster. They are considered more dangerous than goblins only by virtue of the fact that they are immune to weak physical damage. Slimes are large blobs of gelatinous material with very limited movement capabilities. They can only kill beings smaller than themselves, they do this by enveloping them completely and then digesting them, they must survive on a detrivorous diet on a day-to-day basis to survive.

Slime supression is a level F quest for a single person or a party, depending on the size of the area and the amount of slimes. Slimes are a popular target for rookie adventurers for being so easy to kill and for their alchemically valuable slime. However, it is easy to mistake an evolved slime of a higher threat level for a basic one, some are different merely in size. So even in a slime suppression quest, there is an element of risk.

Because of their bottom feeding tendencies, slimes tend to be attracted to, and grow on, graves and battlefields or compost heaps and outhouses. They keep adventuring areas clean, but must also be kept out of graveyards and sewers.