The captain of the Roving Mare sat patiently on the comfortable chair in his quarters.

He was whittling a stick of wood.

"You're gonna have to find a new spot next time, Lucky," he told his visitor. "We're setting off to the other realm tomorrow."

The thieves guild associate didn't immediately respond. The use of the nickname put him off balance.

It was the code by which the goblin had called him.

"Maybe there won't be a next time."

"Oh I'm thinking there will."

-

They sat there for twenty more minutes.

The captain in his comfortable chair, the alchemist on his thin mat, enduring the gentle swaying of the tide in silence.

Only then did the envoy from the Promise arrive.

"There there, out from the rain and into the bowels of the ship. Any place to hang my hat?" Scratch sauntered in with pep and confidence, but he had circles under his eyes.

The captain jumped up from his chair when the goblin was followed into the room by a fully grown troll, outfitted in steel and leather. "Arr!"

"Oh Heaven's Mercy!" The alchemist crawled backwards over the wooden floor and against the back of the room.

"Your sailors were just like that," Scratch said, "I must be more imposing than usual."

"I-I think it's because of me." Bree said, as she unbuckled the treasure chest from her person and lowered it to the floor.

"I know honey."

The captain took a deep breath to collect himself and then began to laugh. "A goblin and a troll coming to collect interest! There's a story, for sure."

Scratch nodded. "Lucky Winner, if you could get out of your corner, we can start the talks."

Lucky clutched his satchel with gold. He didn't dare approach them, so he took out some coin and held it up with a trembling hand.

Scratch rolled his eyes and gestured at Bree with a cigarette.

She reached out with her long arm and wrapped her enormous hand around the young man's ankle, dragging him across the room and depositing him back on the mat.

"I see you have our share." The patriarch lit his smoke on a caged flame.

"H-here you go."

"The real share Lucky. You know I don't own that gold, I manage it for the poor mothers of the forest. Would you let anybody steal from your mother?"

"I don't know what you're talking ab-"

"I'm counting the silver you're slipping into your pocket every night too. You owe me eight percent on that as well."

The ship provided the scale to weigh the precious metal. Eventually the young man could shake enough change out of his pocket to satisfy what Scratch believed he was owed.

By that time the rain had stopped and Bree had curled up to take a nap.

Scratch and Lucky Winner had gotten to discussing business.

"Business is going fine, but the gold noses got long fingers, is that the long and short of it?" He asked.

"If you mean that Mac and his branch are trying to get their hands on it... yes." Lucky admitted.

He he had given up on lying, the goblin could see through everything.

"Mac thinks he can shut you down, but you and I both know the poor sods in your barn aren't going to give up on their oblivion so easy, are they?"

Lucky glanced at the troll. "But still... you have to protect me! I'm the only one that can brew the Crimson you know. Mac's goons will definitely kill me if I don't pick his side. Who controls the shadow bandits? Can't you contact them for me? As bodyguards."

"Listen here..." Scratch put the money to the side and put his hands flat on the floor. "There are three degrees of organized crime, right?"

"Huh?"

"The most basic form is called Vice. You're familiar with it. Some gambling, fencing nicked items, selling alcohol without a license... barely even crimes if you ask me. That's our Mac, isn't it?"

Lucky Winner didn't say anything, he waited patiently for the story to lead somewhere.

"Then there's what you do, which I call Disruption. Getting kids hooked on drugs, robbery, human trafficking. These things disrupt the perfect vision of our lords and masters, they get in the way. So more work is needed to defend yourself."

"And the last degree?"

"Sedition. The kinds of crime that require the highest amount of planning. Smuggling military grade weapons, major acts of terrorism, laundering money from hostile foreign powers. That's what the shadow bandits are, that's who their Liege is."

The captain injected himself into the conversation. "The shadow bandits? I've caught a glimpse of those. Dark sorcery. Your little friend is not exaggerating, they're on the side of chaos."

Scratch looked him in the eye, then he continued his exposition, now addressing both of them. "If there's anything I know, it's power. That's how I know the paramilitary adventurers can't exist in the same place as the mafia without mixing. That's also how I know a major crime ring like the

Liege's doesn't let smaller operations go unregulated. Drug traders take over the speakeasies, terrorists take over the drug trade, that's how it goes."

"So Mac has the blessing of this Liege of shadow bandits when he threatens to burn down the barn..." Lucky winner said.

Scratch shook his head. "Worse, it's his idea. Without Lacrima to balance the scale of power, he figures he can take over the whole town."

"Then nobody can protect me..."

"You move your business to the street corners like I told you from the beginning. Keep stringing Mac along for now, you'll meet a new ally tomorrow, and receive further instructions."

After that they said there goodbyes and the captain of the Roving Mare would have to tell an unfinished story in the southern countries.

The row boat bumped ungraciously against the wooden struts of the underground harbor, waking the goblin up.

He cursed.

It'd been half an hour since the talk with Lucky Winner and two days since he had had a good night's rest.

"S-sorry." Bree apologized to her adoptive father.

He was too groggy to even put her at ease.

They climbed the wooden docks onto the underground trading village as the sun was coming up behind them.

If Scratch hadn't been expected by his lover up on the surface he would have crawled in one of the wooden structures then and there to fall asleep. As it stood he still had a long walk ahead of him.

"You going downside?" He asked Bree.

She nodded. "The trolls... none of them are..."

"Hm?"

"Ah, no, nothing."

They were planning to walk further into the cave, but a small messenger appeared.

One of Barbara's goblins, wearing a bespoke multi-colour uniform with a feathered cap.

"Papa Scratch has to come see the witch."

He passed him by, "yeah maybe tomorrow buddy."

"No you have to." The goblin pulled on his arm, and was almost squished by Bree in return. "You have to," he still insisted.

-

The ancient woman stood outside her mostly decorative house on the harbor, tapping her feet, when the patriarch arrived.

"Can we do this later?" He asked, "you know I've been with the last batch in the forest."

"You would keep a goddess waiting?" She spat.

There fell a silence between them.

"Developed a bit of an ego, have ya?" Scratch quipped.

"Ugh, come with me." She grabbed him by the hair and dragged him inside. "Stay," she told the troll that was about to follow.

Lacrima's abode had gone through an evolution since it had first been established, and it nearly looked like the interior of a real house.

But in the back a significant amount of space was dedicated to a life-size statue of a woman.

The figure was matte gray stone, not locally sourced, generically beautiful in a cowl and holding an orb and a staff.

When Scratch was thrown in front of it, it began to move.

You may bow your head. The statue said.

Next to Scratch, Lacrima was already touching her forehead to the floor.

Before you stands I, the statue continued, Guth, goddess of magic and misstress of the mystic arts. Lacrima, have you brought me the hero we spoke of?

"My goddess! This is Papa Scratch, my servant in-"

Leave us

"Yes."

The witch stood up and walked backwards, out of the small building.

"Never seen her this grovel-y." Scratch stood up and began to inspect the base of the statue.

She is my follower. Her life is dedicated to service of- what are you doing?

"Sorry, just checking. So you're some kind of stone woman?

I am a goddess. This statue is merely based on my appearance, allowing me to inhabit it and speak to my followers.

"Wow."

It's considered a huge honor.

"Yeah, no, wow."

The statue sighed. You are an old soul, are you not?

Scratch blinked. "Yeah... who told you that?"

As a goddess, I am-

"You didn't know my face."

...Benesant told me.

He recoiled.

Be at ease. I do have more pride than to squash her bugs for her.

"What do you want from me exactly?"

Scratch. You are a beast of the earth. A weak, ineffectual subhuman. Vulnerable to the simpelest magic.

With each descriptor his brow furrowed deeper. "Yeah, so what?"

So you will be destroyed by Benesant's kingdoms. Your mistress has prayed for you, and I am considering answering her prayers.

"Who?"

Lacrima. But I can see you have no loyalty towards her, so I will make my blessing conditional on your service.... Scratch!

"Y-yeah?"

Use the powers inherited by Benesant's reincarnation, and grant upon my servant Lacrima the lands of fairy. If you do, I shall grant your goblins my blessing, so that they will not fail against the magic of Reddington.

"Powers? What powers?"

There must be something that has brought this kingdom about? Expand it.

"Ummm."

I have spoken!

The goddess uprighted herself and the statue returned to its inanimate state once more.

"Scratch. What happened?" Lacrima burst in to ask.

"I dunno, I'm so sleep deprived.... I was hallucinating seeing a talking statue the whole time."

-

When Scratch returned to the Promise, Youthere was was trapped in a steel cage.

The prison was still under construction. And the cage could be displayed in full view on top of the boarded up well, so there would be no covert escape.

"Is this a new hobby of yours?" The father asked as he walked in on the mother securing the box to the ground.

"He tried to kill you." Lydia said.

"No, actually, he tried to have me kill Second." Scratch said.

"I much prefer being tied up." Youthere said.

"Shut up." They both said.

Scratch sighed. "Listen, we both haven't slept for forty eight hours now. Let's go to bed."

"Don't you think your familiar ought to be punished?"

"You know I don't believe in punishment."

"What if he does it again?"

"Yes master," Youthere grinned, "what if do it again? Perhaps some pain will put me straight..."

"If we think he'll do it again, just kill him." Scratch said.

"What?" Lydia asked.

"W-wait. Master, I served in your war, didn't I?" Youthere sputtered.

Scratch had already taken control of his left hand and it was gripping his face, the nail of the thumb pushing into his eye.

"You did, and now I don't need you anymore."

"HaHAha, you do! There are still battles to be fought!" The demon laughed panickingly.

"Wait, Scratch. You're killing him." Lydia grabbed him.

"I'm not turning my square into a torture palace in the vain hope of changing human nature. We only kept him around for necessity in the first place. He clearly has an agenda."

A trickle of blood began to form around the demon's eye as his own hand was digging into his skull.

"Then first. Find out what his agenda *is*." She pleaded.

Youthere's hand let go, and he sunk to his knees.

"Fine, but some skepticism please. He's strung me along far enough, I got him on as a warrior at first, but he was no good at that. Then he promised to give me power, but that was a poison. Now he's been helping with the colonies, but every time I've followed his advice I ended up having to micro-manage them more and more. There's a hidden cost each time."

Youthere's face was one giant grin. His good and bleeding eye were both hidden under his hair and he looked as untouched as ever. "Master!

My agenda is only to serve evil and wickedness in all its forms, you know this."

His hand rose again.

"No! You misunderstand! That's you! My purpose is to serve *your* wickedness."

"We are not wicked." Lydia insisted, "we are just fighting to survive in-"

"Lyds." Scratch stopped her.

"My master knows the truth," Youthere licked his lips, "we follow an *evil* god to expand the powers of an *evil* race using *evil* methods."

"There's no such thing as good and evil." Scratch said, "these are just narratives invented for the sake of control."

"Come now master~," Youthere said, "you wield the suffering of others like a tool. You place yourself and your needs above them. You are as evil as they come... and I love you for this!"

"And how does this lead to a tiny goblin engineer having to die?"

Youthere's smile dampened a bit. "Your flower of evil has not yet blossomed, your brother's influence is holding you back. Oh master, you must understand, I only wanted you for myself!"

"I changed my mind." Lydia said. "Kill him."

"Flower of evil? What are you talking about?"

"I serve you as a familiar, but other demons serve other masters. Yet, we are all searching for one master, the demon king! Only a being that has sworn of all good and does only evil can unite all demonkind into an unstoppable army of darkness. Scratch, I believe you can become the next demon king and take over the world. You merely have to cast aside your last vestiges of kindness and duty, and embrace evil!"

Youthere held out his arm as if offering to officiate a pledge right then and there.

"Scratch, don't do it!" Lydia exclaimed with uncharacteristic pathos.

Scratch looked annoyed at the both of them. "This is incredibly stupid. Your whole reverse morality persona is insane, and you are insane for believing him."

"Master, I know that I can convince you of the power of evil. Just give me one more chance."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because the knights of Reddington wield the power of good, and they aim to destroy you, even now. I have seen the inside of your mind, you believe the power of money controls everything, but I know the strength of their conviction. Only I can stop them."

"You think think conviction trumps resources?" Scratch scoffed. "I suppose they'll take back Eston by wanting it really badly."

"You do not control Eston yet..." the demon teased.

"How about you stay in there and I show it to you?" Scratch said, "in three months I'll put an end to this whole situation, and I'll do it my way."

"If that happens, I vow that I will be the first demon to abandon the path of evil and follow the path of money," Youthere said playfully solemnly.

"But in the meantime, I will be here to provide an escape. A path to a greater evil."

Scratch held up three fingers. "Three months." Then he turned around to go inside.

"We let him live?" Lydia asked.

"He can't do any more harm in there."

-

There was so much to think about and very little brainpower to do it with, once they were upstairs Scratch basically crawled into the linen.

"Scratchie, you don't really follow an evil god, do you?" Lydia asked while undressing.

"No, no... it's more like we have an agreement."

She looked troubled by his answer, but they were both too tired to talk. She joined him and they soon drifted into unconsciousness.

It seemed to him that he had barely closed his eyes when suddenly the gentle sounds of nature where snuffed out by an ominous wind.

Outside the window it seemed the inky black smoke of the Ravenous Lich had once again encircled the mansion, and the man himself stood imposingly in the courtyard.

"You stay here, I'll go talk to him," Scratch told Lydia, and she was tired enough to obey. If not asleep already.

Minutes later the small goblin was outside in a hastily tied robe, walking up to the towering lich.

"Yeah, you want something?"

"And I did make so sure to arrive in daylight this time..." Ritter waved a wax sealed letter about, "... I received your correspondence."

"No you didn't, I send that thing out yesterday."

The lich cocked his head. "Yes? Oh I see, my familiar is quite a bit faster than the average bird you see."

"Master, please," Youthere pleaded from his cage, "the Ravenous Lich is a dark sorcerer of unimaginable power. Do not presume his limits, or he might devour you for your insolence."

Ritter waved his hands. "It's quite alright. It is the contents of your letter that disturb me, you say this 'Liege' has mentioned the second segment. Are you certain that was the wording he used? There can be no misunderstanding?"

"Yes, I mean no, no misunderstanding." Scratch rubbed his eyes, it was easy to forget how tall the cow skull stood, taller than any man.

Standing in front of him now, he seemed as real as the goddess had. "What do you want?"

"If you are under assault from enemies that know what the wyrm segments are, I am afraid I must take a more personal interest in this dungeon.

I shall begin by leading an army of the dead unto Eston, so all shall know the second segment is under my protection."

"Sure... wait no!" Suddenly he was wide awake. "No you can't do that. We have allies there."

"You have enemies too."

"Not for long. The liege isn't in Eston, okay? I'm not even sure it's one guy. It's this big... multi-city conglomerate. You necro-bomb Eston you just give the suits a reason do to his dirty work for him."

"You still believe you can secure secure this region without attracting further aggression."

"I do, yes. Yes. Yes I do."

The lich played with the ring piercing his horn, "why should I trust you?"

"I mean... what skin do you have in the game?"

"What sk- Hahaha!" The monster's laugh sounded unnatural, like a low fidelity speaker. "Indeed! You have one year Papa Scratch."

"One year for what?"

"One year to find and eliminate this 'Liege' character. If you cannot do that, I'm afraid I must take the defense of your realm unto myself. And that will involve 'necrobamming' the surrounding lands, to my regret."

He bowed and evaporated into smoke.

Within seconds the dark magic surged away into the clouds, and any proof that he had ever been there was gone.

Scratch blinked. "But what's a wyrm segment?"

Youthere raised his shoulders and threw up his hands.

-

The next morning Will walked in on Scratch staring intently at his hand during breakfast.

"What's going on?"

"I have a string tied around my pinky. Must have tied it yesterday."

"Yeah?"

"That means I have something that I needed to do. But yesterday's a blur, I don't remember anything."

"What we need to do is get that elf girl to talk back to me."

"Did you remember her name?"

Will slapped the table. "That's a good idea!"

"Sorry for the wait, here's your guild card."

"It was about ti- I mean thank you very much milady." Sebastian Tanner gave the guild woman a polite smile through his disdain for her inferior blood.

She must have detected a hint of his hidden sentiments, because she quickly turned her back to him and left him at his table.

"Pull it together Tanner, a baron's son should know how to make connections," he whispered to himself while reading his card.

Rank C. At least his birth allowed him to skip the pointless grind of having to prove himself. But he still had a long way to go compared to more martially focused houses.

"Hey!" A random stranger bumped into him and looked at his card, "are you new? What class did you get? Duelist, huh? Wha- rank C? You're a baron?"

"Don't touch me you filthy peasant." Sebastian shoved him off.

He went back to thinking to himself as he left the guild house. *I should make sure to get on the adventurers' good side.*

-

After leaving the adventurers' guild he walked in a straight path to Katia's hidden black market shop.

She opened up a little window in her door and immediately recognized him. "Lord Tanner? What's your business here?"

He corrected her, "a baron's son isn't a lord. I am not addressed that way except by subversive that want to mock my status."

"I know that."

"Hrm..." he grumbled, "you're gonna let me in?"

"Tell me your business."

"I'm here to *buy* something. You think I'd do that pretender's dirty work?"

A latch was unlocked and she opened the door.

He couldn't help but notice a scar on her neck. Some sort of magical energy had taken a bite out of her.

"Now then," he stepped into the small back ally shop, "what do you have for a rank C duelist?"

She snickered, "You? An adventurer? The Roving Mare not paying as much as it used to? Or is the Tanner house doing even worse than I thought?"

His eyes shot daggers at her, "Be serious. You're part of the Thieves' Guild. You must have heard the secrets spread 'round. Dichtershire is going to be instigate a proving this summer. I need to be prepared."

"And you think becoming an *adventurer* is the way to do that."

"Why not? I will be able to practice my combat, and make friends with the footfolk that will be supporting the candidates. I'll be sure to distinguish myself."

She took him in from head to toe, clearly not impressed.

"Or would you prefer one of Linel's favorites gets the title?" He said.

That convinced her. She held up two fingers, "wait right here, I've got just the thing."

She was gone for only a few seconds and came back with a shiny steel epee.

"Cursed goblin steel." She said.

His eyebrows went up. "From the very creatures we're supposed to eradicate."

She nodded. "If you become Baron of the Eston area, you can reclaim the forges for our side."

"Anything special about it?"

"Well it's steel, which means it's basically indestructible with this thickness. Adventurers aren't actually supposed to carry steel you know, it's a superior weapon that's used in actual warfare."

He agreed absentmindedly, "and beyond that?"

"A curse of weakness. Once you get a stab in, you force your enemy to the ground, no matter where you hit."

"Perfect. I'll take it."

He deposited an oversized sack of gold on her counter and she began to greedily rake in currency.

"Don't show it off inside the city," she insisted, "we don't want certain people catching a glimpse of it."

"I won't, I won't," he said dismissively. He would break this promise in less then a week.

Weapon Grade

Members of the adventurers' guild are licensed to purchase and carry any equipment approved for their class.

However, rare and special weapons may carry additional requirements.

Any weapon with steel components is automatically given the grade Steel. Steel weapons may only be used by members of the military and adventurers of rank B and above.

Magical weapons deemed of sufficient power by a royally sanctioned trader are given the Mythril grade. Mythril weapons may only be wielded by adventurers of rank A and above.

There is one more grade above mythril. This includes only divinely crafted weapons of legend, which are used to slay demon kings. The Miracle grade.

The Sword of Light, Staff of Infinity, and the Burning Eye are all Miracle grade weapons, and may only be wielded by a rank S adventurer, should they appear.