Laugh peeked into the wooden opening. Thankfully, none of the slimes had crawled up the chute towards the seat, so he didn't need the prodding stick.

He lifted up his tunic and sat down.

The original inhabitants of the cave had been apprehensive about the outhouse concept. They had been relieving themselves in the surrounding forests all their lives and were resistant to change. That was natural for young goblins that had only seen winter. However, Laugh had seen other seasons, and knew all too well the precautions goblins had to take to not be overrun by slimes.

Still, the latrine was taking it a step further. Whereas normally goblins would simply find a dedicated pooping corner somewhere downhill, Scratch had ordered the digging of a broad pit for the waste to collect in, and an elevated cell away from it all.

There was a pattern there, manipulation of one's surroundings, it shone through in everything Scratch did, from building, to mining, to dealing with other tribes. When he wasn't content with the way things were he made an effort, not to adapt, but to exert control. It was very ungoblin-like.

These were the kinds of thoughts that went through Laugh as he took his daily shit.

When he finally finished he cleaned himself with a leaf and went outside.

The outhouse stood next to the perimeter, some distance away from the tower and as far as way as possible from the well. It stood elevated above a wooden support structure with a few steep steps to get up and a chute at the back, guiding the waste into a trench filled with pulsing blue slimes. The substance expunged by the blue creatures after digestion was a muddy green water, so much had they produced that not all of it could be absorbed by the eager dry earth and a layer of it glistened between the blue.

Fat was on lookout on top of the tower, he waved at him as he walked back to the square, where the workshops were. He waved back. They didn't say anything.

There was a mutual trust between Drool's sons and him, Scream and Digger now, although they would probably never become part of the brothers proper. That suited Laugh fine, he had lived as a beta male for much longer and under much worse conditions under Horns.

Back in the square he began to dutifully continue his chores. The distillery needed new water, there were pelts that needed to be smoked, and they were building a sturdy cell to hold a breeding slave.

Scream and Digger were already gathering water and smithing metal rods respectively, a smoke plume from the kitchen hut showed Quiet was preparing the fish they had caught, and Biter was practicing his crossbow.

Laugh took a moment to appreciate the scene. The sounds of rock banging on heated iron, the splashing of water and the occasional *twang* of the crossbow blended together into a calming background melody. He couldn't help but think how much better it would sound punctuated by the wails of women in labor, as he was used to. Pretty soon they'd be a real tribe.

It was almost morning when the bandits arrived at the hidden waterfall.

The wide cave entrance was an intersection of the cavern systems of the underworld with the open sky of the overworld. A small stream of the wide river delta was diverted into the world below instead of the sea here. While caverns extending up to the surface were hardly rare, they were uncommon enough not to be taken in consideration by idle eyes scanning the horizon. The place had therefore become a good meeting place for thieves' guild members.

Barbara was holding still, her brother-in-law was holding her roughly by the hair.

Sebastian stood on a rock, impatiently tapping his foot.

Both felt their hearts skip a beat when the creaking wagon wheels of Nestor's caravan became audible.

"Lydia" The Harkness man said sweetly, when he saw the bandit leader approach. "Kindly fetch Nestor for me, so we can make the transaction."

"Fyro." Lydia looked at him with a cold glare. "Nestor isn't here, you'll be trading with us. Who's that?"

"What's that?" Fyro sprung into anger immediately. "You took the wares from our trading partner? Did you at lea-"

"Don't you dare-" Lydia hissed, showing rage but trying to avoid lose her cool in front of her subordinates. "-accuse me of anything. Unlike some branches of the family, my honor flies high, still."

Fyro gripped his prisoner tighter, making her scream into her gag. "Some honor. What where you banished for again? Excessive honor, was that it? Your deviant se-"

"Argh!" Sebastian screamed. "Will you two shut up? You're both fallen nobility, cousins or not, neither of you has any honor. Where's my talisman? There was supposed to be a talisman in this freight." He jumped down from his rock and stomped towards the wagons angrily.

Huckabee almost stopped the noble from approaching, but he didn't quite see a reason why the customer shouldn't inspect the wares so he let him through.

The wagons were filled with spices and jewelry. Stolen and illegal goods that could only be traded in secret. However, the baron's son had no interest in these forbidden treasures. He shoved aside the cases roughhandedly until he found a black case with the image of a winged deer upon it. He grabbed it and held it to his chest in relief. "It's there, okay, it's there."

He never let go of the mysterious package while paying the two bandit underlings for it.

When he turned around the Harkness cousins were still glaring daggers at each other.

"By Geros man, will you just pay the bitch and get out of here?"

"Inspect the contents!" Fyro ordered his followers. "Report back to me for the value."

"We know the value." Lydia said. "We bought it ourselves. What's with the prisoner? Is that your new hobby?"

Fyro scoffed. "I'm not a deviant like you. Even if my dishonor now means I share the bed with a commoner. This is just a traitor, dispose of her." He threw Barbara on the damp cold stone.

"What would you say about the bandits?" Harkness asked Sebastian, when the group had left them with the purchased wares.

"What do I care?" The Tanner boy scoffed. "They're bandits. Of course they stole it."

The older man raised an eyebrow. "You know, not paying attention to these matters exactly why your house is in decline."

"What did you say about me?!" Sebastian tried to angrily shake his fist while still holding the cumbersome case.

Fyro rolled his eyes. "They wouldn't dare make enemies of TWO thieves' guilds just for a quick buck, would they now? Not when we're their only trading partner. They're trying to take over the smuggling route, so we're dependent on them. But where did she get the money..."

"That's another thing. I thought only your branch of the family got disowned, making you hide under a false commoner identity. What's your cousin doing with the bandits?"

"That's a separate matter. It's a distasteful affair, I don't like talking about it."

"That's fine, I don't ev-"

"She was exposed publicly as a deviant."

"..."

"She had this fondness for young boys."

"So?"

Fyro narrowed his eyes at him. "Really young boys."

"O."

It wasn't unheard of for certain nobles to have unnatural predilections. Those things could be tolerated behind closed doors. But when deviancy was brought to light, a house had no other choice than to distance themselves from their member and cut all ties. Sebastian knew all too well what a headache it was keeping track of various secrets and scandals and making sure they weren't exposed, lest they embarrass the family. He was taken aback by how freely someone like Harkness, who was no longer bound by that sort thing, could talk about these matters. He wondered to himself what was worse, really, indulging in unnatural sex acts with those of equal birth, or sharing the bed with a commoner. He didn't quite know the answer.

"It's time to part ways." Scratch suddenly stated, they had reached no clear landmark but he recognized the amount of distance traveled by the amount of patience lost. "Let's divide the loot."

"How." A river goblin asked.

"Well, let's see. One group splits it up in parts, the other two gets to choose which part they want first. That way the parts have to be equal so the first group doesn't end up with the smallest piece. Sounds fair right?"

The goblin went through the steps in his head, darting his eyes from place to place to visualize it. "'S fine." He said.

"Yeah, yeah, and who divides? You?" Dumb challenged him on no real point in particular.

"Why not? You think you'd do a better job?"

Dumb crossed his arms. "Yes. I absolutely do."

"Fine by me." Scratch shrugged. "I'm going to have a smoke, wake me up when the others have chosen their share."

Taken aback by Scratch's quick relenting Dumb suddenly understood the responsibility was a chore, not a privilege, he hung his shoulder as he recruited his brothers into creating three distinct heaps.

They were following the river, but at a distance, between the trees, to avoid meeting humans, who would walk alongside the riverbed for adventuring. So the small goblin army had been trekking over gnarled roots and ditches, and could now finally rest on a small patch of grass.

Scratch distanced himself from the rest and sat down in the shade, he took the goblin king's pipe from his waistband and laid a tuft of blue grass on the ground. With the pipe in his mouth he attempted to light the dried material using a twig and his two hands, hoping to create enough friction with a repeated twirling motion.

Behind him him he could hear Dumb scolding the human women for not standing still, as he tried to group mother and daughter in two different heaps.

It took some time, during which the amount of noise from arguing goblins increased, before Scratch finally managed to light the patch of grass. He tenderly lifted it up by the not burning part between index finger and thumb and dropped the substance in the pipe head. He blew in it a few times to give it more oxygen, and then started sucking on the mouthpiece.

Did you have a succesful hunt?

You didn't hear our conversations?

No?

Then I suppose the humans didn't tell us any lies.

Well. No deliberate lies.

I see, so you're already walking back that boast.

I guess I would say that a lie is only a lie if the teller knows it's not the truth.

Uh-huh. Sure. How's the cave doing?

As far as I can tell, no problems. The culling hasn't started yet and they weren't attacked. Though the biting goblin still hasn't had his foot heal.

The biting... oh Biter. It wouldn't heal in a few days, would it?

I suppose for a goblin it wouldn't.

The hunt was dissapointing. Our target turned out to be lean meat.

Tell me you at least got one woman.

One and a half. It was a surprisingly small family, considering.

Considering what?

Just... considering what I expected. I recruited two seperate tribes as meat shields and in the end, nobody even got hurt.

But that's good, right? That means you can keep doing this to more humans.

I absolutely can't. The humans are organized, if they detect a pattern we'll be considered a threat. What do you know about their armies?

What do I know... let me see... Armies are usually for fighting other armies. They're composed of knights, nobility, but not very high on the hierarchy. I'd say a knight is a bit stronger than a novice adventurer, equal to an orc really. Dungeons usually don't have to worry about knights, only adventurers, but I know they're more disciplined and come in greater groups.

Hhhm. Well, at least they don't have conscription.

Chickens?

We've got two. Neither looks very big.

The phone rang.

A man that would later be known as Scratch the goblin looked up from his paperwork and picked it up.

"Your boys got away." The voice on the other end said.

"Who is this? Be more specific."

"Wha-? It's agent blue, I'm talking about your heist team."

"Ah, Blue, good to hear from you. How're the children?"

"They're doing fine. No thanks to you."

"Good. Let's keep it that way. You say the operation was a success?"

"That's relative. Two of them did die. I'm saying here they don't have any leads on the vehicle."

"Then they got away. Thank you Blue, I'll bring them in."

"Wait, before you hang up, I want you to tell me something."

"I can't disclose other operations with you."

"No, it's about this one. Why this team? You have access to so many professionals, but the big job of the quarter you get a bunch of thugs and junkies. There was a shootout!"

He held the phone between his shoulder and head to free his hands and perused the amount of unfilled paperwork. "I guess I can tell you that. There's multiple reasons really. First of all, in the right circles a job offer is considered a favor, I have various social circles listed I want to endear to strengthen our faction, these people go home to communities that celebrate their deal with us."

"But the ones that don't get to come home leave behind a community that hates you." Agent blue responded.

"That will vary, but yes, death always incurs a cost. That is also my second reason. This wasn't a high-skill heist, it was a high-risk heist. Death was likely to occur, and I prefer to put those least valuable to me on the front lines."

"That's cold."

"Maybe. Was that all?"

"No. One more thing. The vigilantes showed up, they were too late, but they caused some chaos."

"What chaos can they cause? I thought they were kids."

"They are. It's just... wherever they go strange things happen. Big lights in the sky, people being set on fire, ghost apparitions."

"You're pulling my leg."

"I really aren't."

"I'm sorry." Dumb mumbled.

The distribution had resulted in the river goblins taking the adult woman and the hill goblins taking the chickens.

"Hhmm." Scratch hummed, looking over their part of the loot. The little girl had collapsed on the ground, now that even her mother had been taken away from her. She was no longer crying, just staring in the distance with dry eyes. They had some kitchen tools, like a shiny gray cutting knife and a sharpener, some fruit and dried meat, and one-third of the books of the family's bookshelf.

"It's your fault, really." Dumb then decided. "We could have just split it any way we wanted and they would have accepted it."

"This wasn't just for us, Dumb. We want to strengthen other tribes too. They're on the path between us and the humans."

"The river tribe is going to get bigger." Kicker commented. "And the hill tribe will have better weapons."

"I put the woman and the blankets in the same group." Dumb quickly boasted.

Scratch kneeled next to the girl, she was slightly taller than a goblin, but for a human she was absolutely a child.

"What's your name?"

When she didn't answer he put his hand on her shoulder slightly forcefully. "Tell us your name little girl."

"L-Letta." She almost looked like she was going to cry again.

"Letta, do you bleed? Once a month I mean."

"Are we going to... do it?" Kicker said, nervous but slightly excited.

"There's no point if she doesn't bleed, now let her answer."

"No!" Letta realized what they were talking about and started kicking madly, her hands still tied she pushed herself away from her captors with her legs, but didn't move very fast.

"Where are you going, Letta?" Scratch sighed. "Second, calm her down."

Second had kept to the background. He didn't understand how he was supposed to think about humans. They seemed like goblins, but capturing women like this was how goblins survived, so the standards for how to treat them had to be different. Scratch stuck to his eternal pragmatism, and the others were content to follow him, but Second wanted a coherent picture, he wanted to know when Scratch went to far and when not. Now he was called upon to act, to make a decision.

"H-hey." He tried, approaching the girl cautiously. She was deathly afraid of him. "It's going to be alright."

"No. Get away from me." She kicked him.

Second accepted the kick to his chest, even though it knocked the wind out of him, and firmly grabbed her ankle. She wasn't able to shake him off and tried kicking him with the other foot.

"Nononono!" She was sobbing.

"Ssshhh." He petted her leg like it was an animal he was trying to comfort. "It's going to be alright. Sshh."

She continued kicking him.

"This is obviously not working." Scratch declared. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her to stand up. "We're just going to have to assume you do."

"What does bleed mean?" Dumb inquired.

"When a woman starts menstruating it means her body can conceive." Scratch explained. "That's when her body bleeds once a month."

Letta stopped fighting, she was too constrained and the grip on her hair was too strong.

"We'll take her back with us, we have time for about one squeeze before the culling begins." Scratch continued. "If it even works."

"How is your mana?" Lydia asked Stanford.

"Almost completely back, thank you." Her subordinate answered.

He was the only member of their group that was learned in healing magic, but his capacity wasn't anything great and he had had to recover for some time after their clash with the orcs.

"You're worried about the culling, aren't you?" He mentioned.

"Am I so transparent?" She smiled faintly. "The whole forest filled with rookie adventurers, you never know when one might try his luck on a bandit. We're outlaws after all."

"I don't think we have anything to worry about." Stanford said. "There's a culling every year, they're rank F adventurers trying to reach rank E."

"Hhhmm. We've less warriors than last year. They could jump one of the women or elderly."

"You worry too much. They're here for the goblins, it'll be fine."

Patrick ran up to the pair. "Uhm, excuse me, boss."

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to like this. The Beatty goblins are here, for their money."

"That's quite alright, bring them to my tent."

"But-"

"Patrick." Gave him a 'do as I say' look.

"Yes, boss."

"Help! Help me!" Letta began screaming as soon as she saw fellow humans again.

"Give it a rest Letta. These aren't your allies." Scratch admonished her.

"Scratch, what in the name of- Why are you dragging around a child?!" Dee was extremely shocked to see a bound girl being dragged by the goblins.

"We went out snatching." Dumb said. "Like the other goblins."

"Yes, but-" Dee was at a loss for words. "She's just a child."

"We noticed. It's regrettable, but we couldn't do much better."

Patrick came back. "The boss will see you now." He glared at the party in disgust.

"And... there you go." Huckabee had carefully sorted the gold and silver coins into distinct stacks on a piece of cloth while demonstratively counting them.

"Thank you, Huckabee." Scratch said politely. He and Dumb were sitting inside the bandit leader's tent to receive a payback on their loan. "You did sell it at a markup, didn't you?"

"Yes, we made a profit." Huckabee responded.

"Good then this wasn't for nothing."

"I thought you wanted us to show power?"

"You wouldn't be showing much power if you weren't demanding anything."

"I suppose that's true."

"What are we going to do with coins?" Dumb whispered into Scratch's ear.

"When we first gave out the loan, I said we would prefer being paid in natura." Scratch said to Huckabee.

"Is that a currency?"

"No. It means food, livestock, tools. Stuff we can use. We don't have many places to spend this money."

"Ah. Well. I mean it's not my place to-"

Harkness burst into the tent. "Your brothers are holding a twelve year old!"

While the others were startled Scratch remained completely calm. "That's right. We're looking to expand our family."

"Did Beatty order you to?" Huckabee asked.

Scratch hesitated. "...yes."

The bandit boss paced up and down the space, then she stopped. "We'll pay you extra to give the girl to us."

Scratch played with his hair. "We don't need money, we need to breed. We're preparing for an extermination campaign."

She tapped her foot and paused to think. "We'll trade you. A better, more mature woman."

"Boss. What're you saying?" Huckabee whispered, not soft enough to hide his voice from the goblins, who were closer to him than his leader.

"We give the thieves' guild loose end to them, we spare a twelve year old from that."

Dumb and Scratch looked at each other.

"Is this someone you're looking to get rid of?" Scratch asked them sceptically.

"Bye, Letta!" Second waved at the girl in a friendly gesture as she was taken away by the bandits. She clung to Dee's leg in fear.

"Amazing." Kicker said feeling the traded woman's thigh. "A girl that doesn't bleed for a woman that does, and all this stuff."

"Your brother is a master negotiator." Scratch boasted. "It all comes down to knowing the value of a life."

"It does?"

"It does. You see, the bandits had let shine through that this person was someone they had to get rid of, to them her life was of low value, while Letta was somebody they felt sympathy for, her life was of high value. That gave me the opportunity to negotiate at an advantage."

"Yeah, but what about our lives?" Dumb questioned him. "They could have killed us for the girl."

"As long as Clyde Beatty exists, our lives have value." Scratch responded.

"And chickens!" Kicker was still excited about the haul. Scratch had returned with almost all the money loaned, a gagged and bound woman named Barbara, a fresh bag of flour, a bottle of wine and two geese.

"Those are geese." Scratch answered. "But it's basically the same animal."

They were happy with the trade, although they hadn't gotten the main thing they had come there looking for.

"We really can't do the healing." Huckabee had said. "We need Stanford to save his breath for if something happens to one of us." So they couldn't get their healer to restore Biter's foot.

But he had made a comment that piqued Scratch's interest when discussing the topic. "Maybe we can get him to try to cultivate some more, who knows, maybe he has a drop of noble blood."

"Cultivate?"

"Yeah. You know. Grow your power? Training your muscles, growing your mana pool, that sort of thing."

"Oh okay. Is there a special trick to that?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it a special trick. You just need to train your body, maybe meditate. It's all about realizing the true potential of your body.

Scratch had rubbed his chin at that. "So cultivation doesn't increase your potential, it realizes it. It's just another word for excercise."

"Well, it's different from just practice. After you reach your potential, you can't cultivate any stronger, but you can still become better at certain skills."

Huckabee had tried to teach Scratch about cultivation regiments but Dee interrupted him. "Guys. Goblins can't cultivate. Rhada protect me. Scratch you are a goblin. You should know that."

"What? Why not?"

"Why not? Uh... ask the boss. I think they're born at maximum potential or something? They have nowhere to grow."

It annoyed Scratch that he had to piece together the mechanics of the world in such a fragmented way. But at least he had access to another piece of information Cyclophan had kept from him. If Dee was even really telling the truth.

Lydia rested her head in her arms. She was alone now.

Dealing with the goblins was starting to become frustrating. They were so human, and then in unexpected ways suddenly not.

Their relationship with the thieves of Eston had gone through an irreversible change, she had let herself be swayed by Scratch's words and accepted the position of rival to their only partner. Now, instead of killing them, she had given him an enemy of the thieves' guild, who was supposed to die with her secrets.

Clyde Beatty probably didn't exist. The goblins had no leverage. Yet she couldn't bring herself to make them her enemy.

Was it because they were unique? Or did she have some other reason?

She slapped her own cheek to punish herself for the thought she just had. If she was jealous of Barbara, who would now live a life without dignity, she really did deserve what had happened to her.

It was hard. Being in charge of other people was hard. Making sense of her own feelings was hard. Being alive was hard.

She steeled herself. Self-pity was the last thing her subordinates needed of her.

Divinity

Every living creature possesses a certain level of potential, also known as divinity. No magic or medicine is currently known of that can alter the innate potential of an entity, although the extent to which one fulfills their potential can be subject to change.

The variation in potential among a species can vary, with humans having the biggest differences, reflected by the castes of nobility. A regular human possesses an amount divinity that ranks them equal to monsters with a threat level E, while the royal families of the overworld possess divinity equal to S level monsters. On the other hand, elves are usually more divine, with a level of divinity corresponding to threat level D, but only very rarely more. Divinity does not always equal combat prowess, the elves, who possess divinity equal to that of a knight, find their power expressed into longevity and youth, more so than physical strength and magic.

The process of growing one's power to fulfill their own potential is called cultivation. Adventurers live their lives cultivating, by fighting increasingly strong monsters and facing increasingly dire threats, in order to achieve the highest possible rank, reflecting their divinity.