"Managgia! What happened here!?" Aimone dropped his knapsack stood gawking in the middle of what had just previously been a healthy growing market square.

"Skeletons." Felix answered in an aloof way.

He was sitting on the pristine roof of a one-story home with blackened walls and windows from the magical demonstration the other night.

Out in the streets a number of human residents of the town where sweeping up the skeletal remains that had crashed themselves into every surface.

"Skeletons? You mean you were invaded by undead monsters?"

"Pshaw. That's a good word for it," a resident paused his brooming to say, "the sun's just set and all the stars are eaten up. Next thing we know the streets are aflush with the visages of death. A straaaange ceremony occurred here that night minister, the undead bowed and stood at attention for Harkness' family. It was an eerie mockery of a military exercise! Next thing you know, they destroy themselves. It might haunt me forever."

"Yeah a lich visited," Felix sighed, "but Papa send him away."

As they were talking Bree had come up to them and was snooping into Aimone's knapsack if he had any food.

He barely even noticed. "You must be mistaken, a lich! That would be a world-ending threat, this place would be destroyed with the snap of a finger."

"We weren't destroyed, but we did have to fight a tree." Felix said.

Aimone looked from him to Bree, who was chewing on a leather vest. She nodded in confirmation.

-

Not too much later, after putting his things away, Aimone stormed into the manor, planning to give Lydia Harkness a piece of his mind.

At the dining table he found Lacrima, Barbara, Harkness, two favored colony mothers, and Scratch in deep discussion.

They had a map spread out in front of them.

Scratch looked up. "We should really start locking that door."

"What's the meaning of this?" The Grienician asked exasperated.

"Please wait outside." Lydia asked. "We are in a meeting."

He showed no intention of obeying.

"Actually," Scratch said, as if he had just thought of it, "why don't you join us. You're a minister, I remember appointing you to something..."

"Water." Aimone hissed hatefully, "I've been underground for WEEKS digging sewer tunnels under the river and tannery."

"Good." One of the colony mothers sighed. "I was just saying how I wouldn't be able to go back to normal after using the actual toilet here."

"Then all the tunnels are connected?" Scratch asked.

"Can we return to the topic at hand?" Lacrima demanded.

"Sure, Aimone, if you could get a chair or stool or something from the living room you could join us."

After the back and forth had killed his momentum, Aimone tried to gain it back. "I have some questions for you!"

"Sure sure, grab a seat and join us."

-

When he did finally get a seat the party was bend over the map.

"-as long as this is maintained, their power cannot grow any further." Lacrima explained, putting down a red pencil with which she had circled a point of interest in the witchwood.

"I'll contact my sister," Barbara stated, "we can channel your adventurer requests through another medium."

"I don't think so," Scratch leaned back, "her usual requests are under more scrutiny now. It would raise suspicions with knights on every corner."

Lydia looked right at Aimone, "we have some experienced combatants of our own."

"What's this about?" He wanted to know.

"That would not be a long-term solution," Lacrima sighed, "the fairy mind commits to memory all who have trespassed in her forest before.

Going in a second time after stealing a feybloom would trigger the most grievous reaction right at the onset."

"What about goblins?" One of the mothers suggested. "There's always enough goblins."

"Send in a new generation of goblins every half year?" Scratch clenched the pencil between nose and lip. "That could work."

*Wham!* Aimone slammed he palm on the table. "What nonsense are you discussing? Explain these stories of the undead and fairies."

Lydia stood up threateningly, but Scratch calmed her down. He tapped the map, "take a look. There are four existential threats to our community."

"Aren't you supposed to know this?" The other brood mother quipped. "I thought all defenders were aware. It's kinda scary that you don't."

"Well show me then." Aimone snatched the map from the table and held it up. Three locations were circled in red, one in the witchwood, at the other side of the river, one outside the forested area in the rolling plains, and the last one being Eston, the home of their thieves' guild patrons.

"The fairy queen, she who rules over the witchwood at this time, is intend on our destruction." Lacrima shrieked.

"My father is building another fortress in the plains." Lydia articulated. "He'll renew his assault in a few months."

"He's pulled some strings in Eston too," Barbara moaned, "associates of ours are losing influence."

"So we're devising a comprehensive strategy of sorts," Scratch concluded, "a plan of attack for each problem."

"Impossibile! There are fairies in the witchwood?" Aimone still had the map in front of his face.

"If we want to maintain Lacrima's regular schedule of stealing the feybloom, we might need a permanent colony nearby, as a base of operations so to speak." Scratch looked at the favored brood mothers.

They avoided his eyes. They were only just benefiting from increasingly advanced infrastructure and didn't feel like moving their brood over to a fresh border.

"Hhm, that's not necessary..." Aimone mumbled while studying the map. "You can travel back and forth in a day now."

"What was that?"

He put the map down to show them and traced a path with his fingers. "I was just out in the territories. They're making the goblins lay gravel roads for trade. You could walk from here to there in a day, supply it like a fortress."

"That would work." Lydia nodded. "You are surprisingly competent."

"Surprisingly? I've served in wars you know. Managgia!"

"When it comes to fighting captain Harkness and his forces, you are prepared?" Lacrima asked.

"The goblin nation is more populous and strong than it was last war, and that is multiplied each month." The brood mothers boasted.

"The trouble is. He will anticipate that." Lydia bit her thumb. "If the war effort recruits powerful adventurers that would pose a problem."

"Barbara and I have a meeting with some Eston-...-ians soon." Scratch reported, unsure of the proper nomenclature. "We're there for guild business, but perhaps some rumors about adventurers will float our way."

Their meeting was interrupted by two colony goblins walking up to Scratch and pulling his sleeve.

"What's this? More of them? Who else wants to join our top secret meeting? I'm afraid we're out of chairs so please sit on the floor."

"The mih-rohr." One of the goblins said. "Came to see the mih-rohr."

Half a dozen or so were waiting in the doorway with less nerve to approach him.

"Upstairs, walk around and you'll find it. Just don't disturb Second any more."

Aimone watched them run off with both eyebrows raised.

"We have a mirror. They really like it." Scratch shrugged.

Aimone put his hand over the map. "You mentioned a fourth threat. What is it?"

"Didn't you see the mess the town's in?" Scratch asked.

"Of course I saw it!" He half shouted.

"That was the Ravenous Lich." Lydia explained.

"The... Ravenous... Lich...?" Aimone stammered.

"It is common for magic users of a certain caliber to first introduce themselves with a feat of their highest magic," Lacrima sighed, "such necromancy is so far beyond me that I can scarcely understand it. He truly is fearsome."

"If a creature like that conquers us..." one of the brood mothers audibly gulped, "there would be no mercy or servitude. He would drain everything that we are and animate our bodies to be his servants!"

"He is conniving at least," Scratch added, "in his very first meeting he tried to trick us into becoming his slaves."

"What are you saying!?" Aimone yelled exasperated. "The ravenous lich!? One of the contenders for the title of demon king!? You might as well made enemies with an actual god!"

Scratch smiled cryptically.

The days thereafter the mirror had become a popular attraction in the estate.

There was something wondrous about seeing a whole world from that thin window that captivated the goblins. Additionally, there was no opportunity elsewhere to know precisely what they looked like. The idea had caught on that you should see yourself at least once.

They had to put the mirror in the entrance way, to make it more accessible.

The third day after they had done so, a true mob of more than two dozen goblins from near and far had gathered in front of it.

Constantine the hobgoblin was there at that time, pushing aside pilgrims all the way from the outer colonies, in their furs and feathers, and holding a book in front of the mirror.

He then put the book down and lifted up the mirror. To the great consternation of those around him.

But he did not do anything untoward with the priceless object, only put it down again on the longer side.

He opened the book towards the mirror again, and was greatly displeased by what he saw.

"Why does the mirror only change left to right?" He shouted into the living room.

"I'm deaf to loud noises!" Scratch yelled back. "I can only hear you if you talk normally!"

"Why-" He jumped over the goblins, who were now summarily occupied with saving the sacred object from its disgraceful position, and entered the house proper. "Why does the mirror only change things left to right? Why doesn't it change top to bottom?"

Scratch licked his finger and turned the page of his booklet. "It doesn't."

"Yes it does! Ada showed me." He held up the torn and smudged novel that the siblings collectively owned. "If you hold a book in the text is backwards. Everything is right to left!"

"It's not right to left, it's front to back." Scratch reiterated without looking up.

Constantine huffed indignantly. "If it's not changed left to right, why are the words backwards."

Scratch sighed, then he looked at him and smiled. "Well let me look."

He put his own reading down and took his son back to the mirror.

"Excuse me, coming through."

For him the mass of goblins was considerably more difficult to push through.

"The great mirror is tired, let's give him some rest."

When he had said that a mutter of apologies went out and the goblins began moving it from its standing position back into a lying position.

It still took a few minutes for father and son to get exclusive access to their own piece of furniture.

"Look," Constantine stated once they had it, "if I hold it up like this the text is backwards."

"Hold it, you're rushing way ahead," Scratch laughed, "give me the book."

Constantine reluctantly handed over the object.

"Now let's see here. I'm holding the left side with my left hand and the right side with my right hand, right?"

"Uhm..."

Scratch smiled at him through the mirror. "My left hand is at the start of the sentence, "A great many-" and my right hand is here by the word "tragedy." As he mentioned each hand he lifted its index finger and wiggled it. "This one is left, this one is right, just like in the mirror."

Constantine frowned. "Yeah... but if you show the text in the mirror."

"First we have to turn the text to the mirror, right? How do I that, I could cross my arms..." He suited the action to the word and flipped the book over.

Constantine yelled in vindication. "See! The A is on the right and tragedy is on the left! Not just the words are changed, the letters too."

"Calm down." Scratch laughed, "did the mirror change it over or did I? I crossed my arms didn't I? Left. Right." He once again wiggled his index fingers successively.

"But that's... uh..."

Scratch turned the letters towards the two of them again. "The mirror shows the other side of the book, so if we want to see this side of it, we have to turn it around. You can turn left to right, but you can also turn..." he flipped it upside down, putting his elbows in an awkward position and obscuring his own vision with the back of the book. "top to bottom. Does it look right to left now?"

Constantine stared at the letters in awe. "No... it's changed. It's left to right but upside down!"

"Well there you go." He handed the book back. "You get it now?"

"It's changed front to back... but- and to see the front we turn it around. Right to left, top to bottom, either way!"

"Yeah, you got it." Scratch patted his side in affirmation. "What time is it? Actually, it's a good thing you got me standing, I need to be somewhere."

Below the manor and the goblin tunnels they had once used for living was the wolf den.

In recent days the cave exposing the underground river had been expanded using spellpaper and lit up using sunstone.

The light giving material had been chipped off from the ceiling of the underworld by daring goblins on precarious ladders and given a spot on the wooden floored underground.

Where the wolves slept in cushioned indentations in the floor, the sunstone was caged in timber receptacles sticking upward. The light level was variable, the small wooden panels making up the exterior of its cage were interlocked in such a way the turning one folded all others with it.

Stroking such a lamp would open or close it like a flower, narrowing or widening the beams of light.

The warg wolves were now more comfortable spending extended amounts of time in the space, no longer cramped together in absolute darkness. Its increased dimensions curved around in a wonky half-circle and connected to the basement tunnels at multiple places.

On his way to the drip stone cavern Scratch could stop by and speak with Wendy in a relaxed environment, making note of the fact that she was no longer the only wind wolf there, and seeing the chicks of cockatrices and dark geese roost in the now multiplied bird coops.

Despite Cyclophan's complaining, his dungeon was most certainly growing in power.

-

The forge caverns hadn't improved that much. Not in light levels and not by dimensions.

When Scratch arrived at the dockyards the sun had just gone down and the place was being light up by torches.

There were others there already and he joined their conversation in Barbara's current home.

"It's still some time," she told him, before continuing her story on thieves' guild leaders to Lydia Harkness.

It was a more decorated place among the shacks of the underground docks, sporting a real carpet and non-functional balustrade. Although most of it was still a single large room, there was a doorway to a small walled off section in the back.

Their somewhat one-sided conversation was interrupted by one of Barbara's goblins. "The sloop is ready..." he reported hastily before running off.

He likely had no understanding of the importance of his task and performed it with the same languid routine he performed all others.

It wasn't policy for Barbara's goblins to understand how or why to do things, just to do them.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Lydia asked Scratch once they were standing outside.

"Of course I do, I relish the opportunity to meet new people." Scratch smiled and caressed her cheek. (For which she had to bend over considerably.)

"I fear they will not want to meet you."

"You worry too much!"

They rubbed their noses together, making Barbara scoff in contempt.

"I beg of you to take me along, master!" Youthere insisted not for the first time, tugging on his long sleeve. "I must smell the sin and weakness of mankind once more. I can help you destroy them!"

"We're not taking an entourage!" Barbara responded, not for the first time, "it's a tiny sloop, for discrete meetings."

"Then let me go in your stead," the demon almost drooled at the thought, "I am your familiar! You can take hold of my body and senses at any time. My appearance is more human-like than yours after all."

Scratch sighed and pulled away his sleeve. "That's discounting the diplomatic disaster that's everything about you. None of this has anything to do with destroying anybody, so keep quiet and don't remind me of how much I don't need you."

So it transpired that the only things leaving the underground docks by water that evening where Scratch, Barbara, and a chest filled with gold half Scratch's size.

Once the small sail had caught wind they slid smoothly over the water and out of the warm flicker of the torches, into the cold night.

-

During the long and silent way there Barbara kept eyeing the cargo. "It makes me anxious to carry so much wealth in such a small boat. We could lose it."

"Gold has that effect," Scratch mused sleepily. "When I first got here, the goblins were deathly afraid of having gold around. They said it would attract humans. I guess they were right."

"So what's our plan after this?" Barbara inquired. "We can't keep it up forever you know. What do we do when the bitches see through your 'paper money' scheme and come asking for their gold back?"

He looked at her, there was a slight pity in his eyes. "We give it back to them Barbs."

She let go of the tiller for a second. "But we just took it."

"Did you think that was the master plan? All of this to embezzle some scraps the girls got together selling pig hides?"

"Oh yeah!? Want to tell me what we're doing sailing away with it!?" She raised her voice defensively.

"We've been keeping an account of the purchases by the colonies over the past two months, haven't we?"

"Yeah?"

"And the results?"

"uhm-"

He answered for her. "About two-thirds of the gold pile never moves. When Annebeth sells her linen at your market square, she exchanges all the gold for my pieces of paper. And when she buys spices she exchanges the paper again to pay you. The gold goes back and forth, and the same few coins can be used for Annebeth's business, and Denise's, and whoever else's. That leaves 600 hundred of them just sitting there."

He patted the chest. It contained exactly 600 gold coins.

"So because they're forced to use your paper, we can keep two thirds of it for ourselves..." she nodded understandingly.

"Not forever, circumstances might change. If the colonies need more things and have less to sell, they might need access to our 600 again."

"Scratch... what exactly are we here to do with this money?"

Scratch idly watched his hand wade through the water. "A few months ago I had banking explained to me."

"Yeah? It's something for adventurers, or other kinds of travelers. But they don't hand out paper, they keep accounts."

"You know about it?"

Barbara was a bit annoyed at his question. "Of course I do. There's a bank office at every decently sized city, with the sunflower mark, you can deposit or withdraw money. It's a bank."

"Yeah..." he shook the water off his hand, "except that's not what a bank is."

"What are you talking about? Yes it is."

"No i-"

"I'm not letting some wild creature tell me anything about what a bank is. I know what a bank is."

He laughed. "Of course you wouldn't."

It fell silent between them.

Scratch stared peacefully at them moon, while Barbara became increasingly antsy.

"Just tell me."

"Storing money is only the first step. Once you have it, you need to use it."

Barbara was still resistant. "Spending other people's money is our business. But not of a bank, they keep it safe."

"We're not going to spend this money," Scratch explained, "we're going to invest it. Ah, speak of the devil. "

The boat almost bumped into the meeting place.

The Roving Mare was a mighty vessel. Not fast or battle ready, but large. A flat broad ship that could carry a true mountain of grain.

Every spring it would set out from Eston's shore and circle around the southern sea, trading eastern spices in Grienice and Blurich for advanced contraptions and precious magic jewels.

The captain had seen his share of the world, though born and raised in Dichtershire, he had no more loyalty to the Reddington crown than any roving bandit.

That's why he allowed the thieves' guild of Eston to conduct their shady deals on the deck of the Roving Mare, while it was anchored at the bank in front of the harbor, only just outside the view of the city officials' prying eyes.

-

"Well well well." The captain thundered merrily as he lifted the cache of gold out of the sloop before any of the living occupants. "What's to keep us from welcoming this little lady on the ship and sending off her chaperones, ey?"

His deckhand gave a sycophantic little laugh and the much larger captain shoved him for his lack of authenticity.

"Rather steep for a broker's fee, isn't it?" A childlike voice rang out. A goblin was pouring itself through the gaps in the taffrail. "Someone like me could never ask a fellow man to follow his honor. The lady can defend herself, I assure you sir, she bites."

The seaman laughed so merrily that he had to hold his belly and put the treasure down. "I've seen talking monsters before, but none that speak of honor like you do. That pleases, me. Another tall tale for the women of port Monteque to never believe! Hahaha!"

A small army of sailors stood there to laugh along and share in the merriment, alongside a much less joyous outsider in a green cowl.

Scratch stood speechless for a moment. At the other side of the ship he could see Eston for the first time.

It was a surprisingly developed town, with tall stone buildings and wide roads. Even now during the knight it was abuzz with light and activity.

Strangely enough, the wall around the city was perfectly circular, with a chicaning river right through the middle. The harbor on the river delta was therefore a bit outside of the city proper.

-

"Hey!" Barbara yelled out from below. "Am I gonna get some help here or what? Be gentlemen whydon'tya!"

Her ship was tied up and her person elevated out by two young and swift workmen.

She blushed a bit being handled so easily by the much younger males.

"Look at her, rather elegant looking for a goblin, isn't she?" The captain quipped.

"That's subjective." Scratch answered.

"Can we please just get to business?" The stranger in the green cowl pleaded.

"Of course we can," Scratch stuck out his hand, "they call me Scratch, nice to meet you."

"Nobody here needs to know my name." The green cloak grumbled.

Barbara laughed, "I know your name-"

"Well don't say it." He insisted.

"Then we'll call you Lucky Winner." Scratch decided, "you had something to show us?"

"Yeah, with the captain, captain?"

Still holding the chest under his arm the large men led them to the enclosed living space.

Splayed out on a little mat were a number of neatly tied herbs and powder boxes, as well as four glass bottles.

The captain pouted. "That's what we were waiting on? What am I looking at?"

"These are alchemical components." Barbara explained. "You see P- this guy is the alchemist's apprentice, so he can steal from the supply room and sell it to the guild."

"These are the potions I can make for the guild," Lucky added, "Barbara. You told me you could make me an associate, but then you disappeared."

"If you're going to be anonymous I'm going to be anonymous," she said, "call me Patron Lady."

"Too late," Scratch laughed, picking up one of the bottles, "you're already Barbara."

"You want to buy it?" Lucky asked.

"Tell me what it is first."

"It's mana toxin, disrupts magical abilities. The stronger your opponent the better it works, you can just throw it."

"Meh... cheap?"

"Silver piece. But it's cheap for what you get."

Scratch put it down again. "Tell me about the others."

"Yeah... sleeping draught, metal rot, those are for breaking in or out of places. And this stuff is bitter crimson, since there's a lot of former bandits in Eston."

The group nodded.

"... You're not going to qualify that last bit at all are ya?" Scratch asked.

"Bitter crimson is a bad medicine," Barbara explained, "bandits in dangerous zones use it to keep fighting even near death. But once you start taking it you can't stop."

"It's addictive?"

"It's just that your body becomes dependent on it."

He put some of his fingers and rubbed them together, it had a strong rancid smell.

"This is some kind of amphetamine at least... you making speed?"

Lucky Winner shook his head, "it won't make you any faster, but it grants a bit of energy and numbs the pain."

Scratch nodded. "But not just anybody can make this."

"No, it's not just the pla- the ingredients, you need to know alchemical tools as well."

"I think you're using safrole to make the solvent, isn't that right?"

The seller was taken aback. "H-how do you know that?"

"Listen here," the goblin cleaned his hands, "you can dilute this stuff, it doesn't need to be industrial strength. Dress it up nice, make it smell and taste good, and you get yourself mass market appeal."

"Mass mark- aren't you here to buy potions?"

Scratch shook his head. "Not at all, we're here to buy you. Captain would you please move your foot from our chest?"

-

With the opening of the gold chest the identity of the third shipmate was revealed.

Inside was a stretched tenebrous shadow, the end of its darkness extending outwards into curved daggers at the edges of the lid.

"A mimic!" The captain said.

"I did say she would bite." Scratch quipped.

"That's... gold!" Lucky Winner gasped.

"Ay," the captain answered, "70 gold pieces or thereabouts, judging by the weight. It's why I said I was so tempted."

"What a useless party trick," Barbara inhaled through her nose, "and it's 87 gold pieces."

"I do think some 'o these have some of the edges scraped," he insisted, "my sense of gold never lies."

"This is what's called seed capital," Scratch claimed. "It's why we call you Lucky Winner."

"I... I could never pay this back." The young man in the green cloak was clearly tempted, he hadn't begun dealing with the thieves' guild purely for the excitement, he needed money.

"Don't worry, we'll make sure that you can." The goblin said.

"I... I don't understand."

"My friend..." he took him by the hand and to the starboard side, where Eston was visible, "you and I are going to be building a business empire.

Forget about pilfering dried twigs from your master's closet, we've got supply routes. Tell me the ingredients you need. In... let's say two months... some very good friends of mine will be there to deliver. I want you to use this money to pay them."

"Okay...? Why don't you pay them?"

Scratch breathed out, a bit exasperated. "This isn't going to be a one-time thing. Listen to me, do you have any friends your age...? "

Scratch continued outlining the drug trade to the hapless young criminal as Barbara and the captain stood off by the side.

"Might be too young for a job like this..." the seaman mumbled.

"The boy or the goblin?" Barbara asked.

"Not the goblin, of course not."

-

On their way back the wind had gone down and Barbara had to row.

"You could have just.. hahah," she panted, "said that you wanted to be a loan shark."

"Big difference between a loan and an investment," Scratch said, enjoying his lack of physical exertion, "big difference."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Equity dividends grow alongside the enterprise, that small seed is going to bear fruit one day."

She stopped for a bit to rest. "You really think the little underground potion shop is going to get big?"

"He's got everything going for him. Connections, no competition, starter capital. It just comes down to his character."

She picked the oars back up again. "If it was me I'd have taken the money and skipped town."

He pressed his lips together and looked at her.

Just his eyes made her feel slightly ashamed and she avoided them to continue rowing.

"I wasn't even sure the captain would let him leave with all that in his pocket." She said.

"He knows a repeat gig when he sees one."

"Nay, the Roving Mare sets sail next week, at the start of spring. They'll be gone for ten months."

"Spring starts next week?"

"Yes," she panted, "that's also when the culling is called again."

Bitter Crimson

An illegal item carried by thieves and bandits in Reddington. It can be recognized by a transparent colour with red flakes and a powerful smell of cat piss.

Although adventurers have the rights to the possessions of outlaws when they are slain, they are obligated to destroy Bitter Crimson where it is found and can not carry it into town.

Drinking Bitter Crimson stimulates the imbiber, allowing them to ignore pain and fatigue and inducing a sense of euphoria. However, using the substances alters the body to become dependent on it, so that long periods without it cause listlessness and irritability.

Dependence on Bitter Crimson requires a Greater Miracle to be cured. A feat usually only achieved by arch-bishops and saints.