Rica squeezed his hand as they made their way to the wand store. “Okay, we’re here!” There was an unmistakable lilt of excitement in her voice. “Look! Actual wands. Like in the movies! You can actually see several through the window! I’ll bet the window’s enchanted too. I feel like I’m in an HP novel!” She sighed wistfully, and even Eric couldn’t help grinning, impressed by the warm hues of the wood-lined counters he could see through the shop window, with half a dozen wands of ebony, ivory, and jeweled pieces of wood were on display, each on their own stand, shown to brilliant effect with the sunlight streaming from what must have been ceiling windows or perhaps magic.

Eric just knew he had he pair had dimples on his cheeks the mirror of Rica’s own, so excited they were to get their hands on real fantasy-level magic when they stepped inside.

For just a heartbeat, Eric thought he really had stepped into his favorite fantasy series, seeing a tiny gnome of a man with friendly features, golden spectacles, and a bulbous nose look up from the tome he was reading, a tome Eric’s Arcane Perception screamed as being a magical artifact, with a welcoming smile on his face.

“Welcome to Linus’s Wands. I am your host Linus,” he said, hopping out of his chair and all but disappearing under the counter, until a 3 foot tall gnome waddled his way forward with a beaming smile. “Here to assist with your every arcane ne--”

His voice abruptly broke off, eyes bulging with unshed tears when his great big bulbous nose turned bright pink, his look becoming one of horror.

“GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY STORE!” the suddenly furious looking gnome whose face was blotching withoutrage screamed for all he was worth, Eric momentarily frozen, surprised to be the subject of such vitriol, Rica’s frantic jerking all that had him stumbling out, to the bemused smirks of a couple passing robed and wand-wielding adventurers.

“Idiots. Trying to sneak in where they don’t belong,” smirked one boy, for they were indeed the age of high school freshmen and no older, Eric thought, earning a nod from the youth beside him.

“They’re clearly barbarian types. They have absolutely no business loitering around proper magical artifacts. Shouldn’t even be allowed in this city.”

The first outright sneered under Eric’s cold gaze. “Guildmaster says the gnomes will kick out all the tainted classers very soon, and good riddance. Their properties will be up for a song.”

The second blanched. “Don’t say that out loud, idiot! Look at that scar-faced brute. He’s staring right at us!”

The first one rolled his eyes. “I have a mute-screen up. The idiot can’t hear a thing.” He furrowed his brow. “But you’re right. He doesn’t look the type to take aggravation well. Let’s embrace the better part of valor, shall we?”

And Eric paid the pair of kids no more mind as they hurried away far faster than their breezy carefree contempt had implied, practically at a sprint when Eric smirked at the pair, neither of whom had radiated any kind of potency pinging them as anything above Conscript level 10.

But the momentary distraction did leave him still right in front of the door, the now beet-red gnome practically screaming from the entranceway. “Get out of here, you pustulent sack of necromantic filth! You’ll taint my wands. You’ll taint my wands! The council will here about this!” He said with a furious glare. “They can’t get rid of you fools fast enough, as far as I’m concerned!”

This earned a cold glare from Rica that caused the gnome to yelp. “Savage bitch!”

And now it was Eric catching her hand before it could even finish curling into a fist, and she ended up doing something he feared they’d both regret.

“You’re right, love. Some fools just aren’t worth our time. Let’s go,” he said, to the condescending sniff of the gnome now loudly speculating on their bestial primitive heritage, Eric now dead certain that the bastard was trying to goad Eric into striking without challenge, and he couldn’t leave that neighborhood full of exquisite looking boutique shops and disdainful shopkeepers fast enough.

“Good, you’re leaving! If you take the hint, you’ll leave the city altogether. Your kind is not wanted here!” Hissed one scowling hatchet-faced woman running a flower-stand of all things, the flowers blooming and beautiful and everything she was not.

“Glad to see you got a Profession that actually gives you magic!” Eric said with a bright-eyed grin as he spun around faster than the startled woman could blink, lurching back on clumsy feet and falling on her ass, to the raucous laughter of a handful of Conscript tier adventurers. The florist whimpered, blinking in sudden fear of the predator that had actually turned to address her parting jab.

“Too bad you’re such a weak-willed spiteful bitch that the scent of anything stronger than your own sickly blossoms turns you green with envy. So yeah, enjoy sucking up to your betters, because you’ll never be anything stronger than the scrawny old cunt-vine that you are, save in your lilac-scented dreams.”

Eric squeezed his smirking girl’s hand. “Shall we?”

“Lets.”

And both them kept up their bold smiles for a good block, before exchanging worried glances. “I sure hope that’s not the norm of all the city shopping districts,” Rica whispered.

Eric nodded. “The restaurants and inns clearly can’t get enough of us. But those boutiques...”

Rica sighed. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t go further than boutiques with delicate arcane artifacts and obsessive proprietors.”

Eric furrowed his brow. “And his concerns were bullshit. I know for a fact that arcane wands work just fine, even with specialists oozing so much blood magic that they’re practically a different race.”

Rica smirked. “Why am I not surprised? People will always find a pretext for their hate, but the bottom line is, you irritated that pipsqueek’s big fat probuscus, so Linus the Gnome hated you on sight. End of story.”

Eric sighed. “Yeah, pretty much. A hatred so deep my Social Perception didn’t have a chance to counter. Hell, I didn’t get a single word in edgewise on his tirade.”

“And what the hell was he going on about with a council?”

Eric frowned, eyes taking in way too many people who probably couldn’t care less what they had to say… but he squeezed his girl’s shoulder, just in case.

Instead he said, “If both the bank and the Blue Quarter are as bad as Mage’s Boulevard was here… I think maybe we’ll want to cut our visit short.”

Rica sighed, looking momentarily drained and defeated, before giving a quick nod. “You know what? You’re right. And maybe one of those adventuring guilds can point us in the direction of a trade caravan looking for guards, that might be heading to a city where no one cares if you’re class is… spicy or not.”

Eric grinned. “I totally agree. Who knows? Maybe we’ll end up all the way in California by the time we’re done.”

This earned a mock-groan from his partner. “Here’s to hoping we’re not wandering a thousand miles looking for a home to call our own.” She squeezed his hand, warming his heart with her smile. “Still, I can think of far worse company to do it with.”

Eric flashed a cheeky grin. “I think you just made my day, beautiful. And I believe that oversized steampunk building must be the bank.”

Rica looked up at the massive affair of stone and bronze that was somehow a cross between an Aztec pyramid and a massive steampunk artifact of spinning gears, electromana forcefields, and crackling energy. It looked distinctly out of place, clashing horribly with the colorful cottages and Renaissance style buildings surrounding it, even the most outrageous collection of cogs and bronze gears on other noteworthy buildings they had seen blended far more tastefully with other areas of the city.

But as Eric found out upon entering the lobby after getting the tiniest nods from a pair of bronze skinned humanoid guardians radiating the fearsome potency of Advanced level 30s, clashing was what the sharp toothed little three foot goblins did best. Clashing in attire, favoring as they did various overlapping shades of puce, virulent yellow, and black attire that was both as baggy as a judge’s robe, and revealing in far too much detail the knobbly state of the grey-skinned goblin’s wart covered arms. So too, the sharp-toothed 4 foot tall humanoids with the too-wide shark-toothed smiles clashed in both architecture and design in addition to attire. Wooden desks were smashed against steel counters with plastic cords flowing everywhere. Countless bundles of wires that served absolutely no purpose that Eric could tell were everywhere, though he sensed neither Arcane nor any other energy from them, seeming as popular as rubber tree plants in countless pre-apocalypse offices.

Yet despite the horrible clashing of tasteless attempts at style, the building was undeniably sturdy, Eric’s Master Criminal perks tingling in unexpected ways, making it clear that his chances of pulling off a heist here were slim indeed. Which was awkward as hell, since Eric pretty much had no intention of robbing this, or any other bank, ever again.

It was just that one time, officer, I swear. He smirked at the thought, then winced as the pair of security guards that had happily nodded him through, now flowing behind him like the professionals they clearly were.

“This way, sir,” one of them said, and an alarmed Eric realized he hadn’t been allowed access so much as artfully contained.

Somehow ,Eric wasn’t surprised to catch the knowing smirks of at least half a dozen adventurers waiting in line, no doubt enjoying the unexpected treat of seeing Eric being discretely yet very deliberately escorted, to break up the tedium of the que.

“Perp walk,” one kid dressed to the nines like a stereotypical rogue called out, to the snicker of the powerfully built man in a form-fitting chain mail shirt beside him, silvered links as much a fashion statement as it was life-saving protection.

“Idiot thought he could pull something here? What a fool,” the mustachioed man said.

Eric felt a flush coming over his cheeks but said nothing. A single panicked look flashed by Rica and a quick shake of his head. They were in the heart of goblin power, clearly, and the worst thing they could do would be to lash out now, giving what might be enemies, or just innocent employees guilty only of a misunderstanding, all the pretext they needed to kill him in a city where the Innkeeper John had made it all too clear that the goblins called the shots. Goblins who, just from the earlier comments he had heard, clearly had a thing against users of native magics, and Eric was a bloody fool not to avoid this bank like the plague.

But it was too late for regrets now when he found himself led into a steel cage of a room given only the faintest veneer of respectability by the presence of a fine hardwood table, stained and glossed to a fine golden hue, with several chairs clearly made by the same manufacturer on one side of the table, and a pair of plastic chairs that Eric and Rica found themselves plopped into, sans his saber.

And did not at least one of the individuals in that room look at least nominally dispassionate, a pale featured man who looked more like a space-faring Mr. Spock than a fantasy elf, with shallow pointed ears even closer to human norms than the typical member of the Sylvan faction, and a faint icy blue tinge to his skin.

Certainly the man appeared comfortable enough in his sapphire blue uniform, with saber and blaster secured to a belt on his hip, and a badge he was gracious enough to flash Eric and Rica’s way, implying at least a veneer of legal formality.

Beside him were a number of glaring goblins in their standard horrifically clashing robed attire, the smaller one squealing and stomping his tightly bunched fists on the table as if to emphasize his words.

“There he is! A Master Criminal! Ha! The bank warning system didn’t lie! Clearly he’s here to rob our bank, and has been caught in the act!”

The goblin glared at the Vulcanesque man in blue. “I see no justification for any further investigation whatsoever, Agent Caliban. He is clearly guilty as sin, and should have a slave collar fastened this instant!” The goblin’s smile flashed too many serrated teeth. “We’ll get good gold, selling this pretty little human, who is now, as a criminal caught red-handed on our private premises, our property!”

The goblins present all screeched and hooted in agreement, the leftmost goblin nodding animatedly. “Besides. He stinks of magic. Blood magic! Look at that tainted sword he tried to bring in here, no doubt to kill us all with! That foul taint is outside System edicts! No newly indoctrinated savage is permitted that kind of power. He should be purged at once!”

“Eric!” Rica’s eyes widened with terror.

Eric’s heart began to hammer as a fierce, killing urge flooded his form, realizing that once again, he had played the fool. The minute those men had surrounded him, he should have fought back for all he was worth, designating the whole damned city as enemy red. Instead, he had tried to play by the rules, foolishly lured by the veneer of respectability of this horrid, tawdry edifice to commerce and greed, with the same instinctive caution and prudence that served any suspect well in the life he had left behind.

But that life was behind, for all of them. Warped justice serving only the powerful ruled this brave new world. A crucial truth he had forgotten when he could least afford to, and that bit of folly was about to get him killed.

Eric clenched his jaw.

He knew his options were limited, but it was time to pull out all the stops.

If he couldn’t bribe them…

He’d crush them all to death, hurl what would become superheated bars with killing intent, and damn the consequences.

But a heartbeat before he could act, the Vulcanesque agent? Detective? Cleared his throat. “Your assertion that Essence related gifts are a death sentence is entirely false, Lord Gilstork. He’s clearly a recipient of considerable potency. Thus, an adventurer. Thus, a pod survivor. If he were found unworthy of existing as a hybrid blend of System sanctioned and heritage magics, he would have been purged in the pod.”

Lord Gilstork snorted. “Bastard should still be dead, Caliban. He’s a threat to the new world order!”

Caliban snorted. “You have no proof of that assertion, Gilstock, and even your manager’s assertions of premeditated robbery are purely circumstantial.”

“He came in here armed with a Soul-bound artifact! Infused with the Essence of Flame!” The manager shrieked, glaring and actually spitting a glob of stinky snot in Eric’s face.

Eric’s blood pounded in his skull. The tension in the room was so thick it could explode in a heartbeat. And the way the pair of goblins had gone absolutely still… as if just waiting for him to make the move that would damn him, told him all he needed to know.

As for Agent Caliban? The brooding sci-fi elf gazed at him as if simply curious to see if he’d play the fool.

Willpower check made!

Eric flashed an icy smile. “You have deliberately splattered me with your mucous, which I believe any microscope or detect germ or foulness spell will find multiple colonies of highly virulent bacteria in an act of contempt clearly intended to goad.” Eric grinned right at Agent Caliban. “I do believe germ warfare counts as an act of assault, necessitating the immediate removal of this… manager from Freetown. Don’t you?”

The pair of goblins immediately screeched their outrage.

And Eric suddenly didn’t feel quite so alone when the agent’s hard smile matched his own.

“No, that’s preposterous! This Master criminal is a clear threat to this institution, this city, falling under goblin jourisdiction, and must be exiled at once! More so, he should be exiled in chains!” Lord Gilstork flashed a toothy, malicious smile. “After all, no need to spend precious tax credits trying and sentencing a homeless vagrant who just happened to enter our city on a whim. No need for you to trouble yourself with this little internal incident any further, Agent Caliban. My men and I will… escort him outside. Personally.”

“Yeah, I’d like to pass on that,” Eric quickly said, Social Perception ringing like mad in his head. “Because if Agent Caliban can’t read the room well enough to know you have every intention of killing me out of vindictive spite for showing you two up at your own game after you threatened to slave collar me after I committed absolutely no crime, then he isn’t half the brilliant five start agent of justice and fairness that I’m somehow absolutely certain that he is.”

Agent Caliban flashed a cool smile. But all he said was, “I have your permission to proceed with standard spells, gentlemen?” The pair of goblins quickly nodded with shark-toothed smile while the agent’s eyes locked intimately with his own. “Can you tell us why you came to the bank today, Mr. Silver?”

Eric’s blood ran cold.

They knew.

Clearly, they knew.

And Eric was somehow dead certain that either the orcs or goblins or CSA agents were waiting in the wings to snatch him up as soon as the opportunity presented itself, probably with a fat blob of credits and a future alliance in the wings. No doubt assholes like these goblins and the CSA, both eager to collar people, would get along famously with the orcs, assuming they weren’t all allies already.

Racing thoughts Eric quickly reigned in, he answered by nodding towards his tactical backpack, also stripped from his frame, back when he thought calm compliance was his best move.

“Actually, I came to see about making a deposit.”

Caliban furrowed his brow, and Eric found himself lost by beautiful grey eyes that sparkled like jewels. “Let me make sure I understand. The sole reason you entered this bank today was to make a deposit?”

Social Perception check made!

Willpower check deliberately (conditionally) failed!

Eric’s eyes widened, quickly nodding, terrified he’d somehow disappoint the soothing voice putting his anxieties instantly at ease. He knew everything would be all right. All he had to do was tell the truth, and it would most certainly set him free. “Yes. I mean… no, not precisely.”

The pair of goblins snorted. “See? Guilty as sin!”

Eric desperately shook his head. “No! I was going to see about the possibility of making a deposit! But after my beloved and I were treated so poorly at Linus’s Wands, with multiple boutiques nearby making it clear that native magic practitioners weren’t wanted anywhere in the city...”

“Of course not!” Lord Gilstork screamed. “You abominations are anomalies! How can we expect to control you fools and squeeze every last drop of wealth from this pathetic shell of a world with wildcard assholes like you wrecking everything for the true chosen scions of this System?”

Caliban didn’t look at all surprised by the outburst. Rica snorted.

Eric deliberately paid it no mind, embracing the tingling state the agent so wanted to induce in him. “My girl and I had feared a hostile reception, but we were hoping that the bank would be a far more fair and honorable institution, not blinded by shortsighted pettiness and vindictive hate like a handful of boutiques. But clearly, we were mistaken.”

He flashed an apologetic smile. “I can say with all my heart that I regret ever entering this building, and that I have absolutely no plans to rob it or any other bank, for that matter, and wish only to leave, unmolested, with my girl and my property intact.”

The bank manager went livid with fury. “No! No, that’s not how it’s supposed to go! He’s supposed to lash out when I blow snot on him! Everything depends on him surrendering to his rage!”

Agent Caliban raised a curious brow. “And why would that be, Sir Snickles?”

But Lord Gilstock had paled, shaking his head as if in a dream, gazing at the agent with furious horror. “You tricked us. You tricked us! Snickles, shut your damn mouth!”

But Snickles had already built a head of steam, exploding forth with his furious confession. “Because this fool Eric Silver is worth a million credit bounty with the Confederate states! All we have to do is prod this idiot until he reacts, and we can laugh at his confused blobby face while he gets carted off for an execution and we’re getting rich taking out more of these disgusting native bastards, and good riddence to all of them!” Snickles said, rubbing his scaly little hands with positive glee, while Lord Gilstock looked on the verge of fainting.

“I see,” Agent Caliban said. “And was anyone else involved in this plot?”

Snickles nodded frantically, “Oh yes, Lord Agent. First there was—“

The interrogation room door abruptly slammed open, revealing a trio of furious-looking elder goblins in the most gaudy robes yet, glaring hatred at Agent Caliban the equal to the furious snarls they shot Eric’s way.

“That will be all!” Roared the tallest. “The bank will not press charges. The interrogation is over! You two, get the pair of humans out of here, now! As for you, Agent Caliban...” The elder seethed as Caliban leaned back with a cool smile. “Your services will no longer be required.”

Caliban’s grin widened. “You do recall the penalty fee for denying Blue Corp representation at this bank, yes?”

The goblin clenched his leathery fists and roared. “How dare you use your foul, unauthorized spells as any pretext to break our lawfully purchased stranglehold on this pissant planet!”

Eric couldn’t help flashing a grin. “You know, I distinctly recall the agent quite clearly asking his fellow interrogators if he had permission to cast all standard spells. I’m guessing that truth spells on interrogators is also standard, or at least it is anywhere but on so-called pissant planets, to assure a modicum of judicial integrity. Permission was clearly given, and that, sir, means consent. It’s not Caliban’s fault that the pair of gentlemen confessed to premeditated conspiracy and multiple crimes, including false imprisonment, kidnapping, and selling guests of Freetown to hostile foreign entities.” Eric flashed the trio of blanching-goblins a particularly vindictive grin. “And I do believe, if we let our dear Sir Snickles prattle on as he so dearly wishes to do, all sorts of juicy skeletons will be popping out of your metaphoric closets. Or… robes, perhaps?”

The ancient goblin trembled with fury. “You… This was all a setup! You’re working for the Blue. You’re clearly working for those blue bastards!”

Eric shared glances with Agent Caliban. “I’m happy to swear before any impartial third party that I’ve never even seen this man before I was forced into this interrogation chamber.” He flashed a fake, sympathetic smile. “But I understand you not wanting to concede even an ounce of your clan’s control over this bank.

Social Perception skillcheck made!

A dozen things, including the way the two sub-managers smirked at the lead’s distended robes, all three of them glaring contempt for the two crestfallen goblins that had fallen under the agent’s spells, all five of them glaring at Eric with absolute loathing.

It surprised him, how clearly he could now visualize the social dynamic that would cultivate such petty vindictive hate within any humanoid collective. And it was suddenly so obvious, the schemes, backbiting, and shark eat shark mentality that made up their spite-filled culture, where a quick perusal of his linguistic interface correlated the goblin word for marriage with personal slave, and where employees and underlings were seen as tools to be used, and bosses as obstacles to overcome. Thus, Eric knew just what to say, to crack through the veneer of cold hard glares being sent his way.

“No doubt your higher-ups will burn candles in your honor while you’re spending your last days in a cold dark mine somewhere, taking the fall for all their conniving schemes, as is fitting of lower tier employees of any organization. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Eric shook his head in mock concern, eyes locked upon the obvious head manager. “And I can see how tight those robes fit you. How… bloated you look compared to your companions.”

Eric couldn’t quite hold back his glee when the elder goblin blanched, glaring daggers of true hate Eric’s way while the pair behind him snickered. “No doubt your superiors will encourage you to make the most of your soon-to-be gloriously transformed physique, where you never have to worry about excess bloating ever again! Once you’re moved to your new position: A one way trip to a life of hard labor until your decrepit muscles give out in exhaustion. On the plus side, you’ll be losing weight like no one’s business! Burning so many unwanted calories while you spend your final nights shivering on cold stone floors in the dark. And all the while, your betters will no doubt be laughing and drinking and feasting in celebration of all your hard efforts on their behalf.”

All the goblins exchanged horrified looks at that.

“They’d take our shares and laugh in our faces!” A panicked Gilstock sobbed. “If we’re so stupid as to get caught, our families will be stripped of all wealth and prestige. Our children will get nothing! They’d be collard and neutered and declared unfit for anything save trash duty!” sobbed the goblin still at least partially under the effects of Agent Caliban’s spel, while the trio of elder bank managers blanched in horror at Gilstock’s confession.

The lead manager cleared his throat. “Clearly, there have been a number of misunderstandings this day, and we feel a duty… no, a spiritual obligation to make amends.”

He flashed a simpering smile that just made Eric wince, sensing the seething anger just underneath. “Sadly, this misunderstanding allows for the unfortunate possibility of our glorious bank with its months-long history of service to be unfairly smeared and tarnished.” He turned to his fellows. “I am sure we can agree that mild concessions granted here are far less harmful to the bank’s continued success that the risk to our reputation that would otherwise occur.”

The other managers nodded their immediate consent.

Eric’s grin matched Caliban’s own… sensing favors exchanged and a clean slate.

But still, Eric had one last move to make on this treacherous board.

“And I assume that also means that aggrieved parties have the specific right to bank with whichever non Goblin affiliated third party they choose?”

Eric smiled at the wide-eyed looks of outrage this earned him.

“Because honestly, wouldn’t you be thrilled to never have to deal with me and my ‘native magics’ ever again? It saves you all countless headaches, with absolutely everyone looking to see if you’ll misstep with the human again. Specifically granting this native a free charter to bank with whatever institution he likes means you all get to look wise, magnanimous, and ethically beyond reproach. Wouldn’t you all agree?”

Three hard-eyed stares met his own.

Eric’s grin grew.

“And in return, I promise not to report what could be arguably called a biological weapons grade assault with a contagious series of pathogens on a member of the native population that was carried out right here in the depths of this fine institution!”

The three managers turned to glare daggers of hate on a trembling Sir Snickles every bit as intently as they had upon Eric and Agent Caliban.

The shaking goblin immediately prostrated himself. “Forgive Sir Snickles! He did only what he was commanded to do, like a good slave! I mean… employee.”

“Snickles? You’re fired!” Roared the elder, before glaring daggers of hate Eric’s way. “And as a token of our magnanimity, we will even go so far as to grant this pustulent pack of filth free charter to bank anywhere but here, so long as this farce of an interrogation is never spoken of again!”

The goblin practically seethed at Eric’s growing smile. “But your are forbidden to make use of any resources our clan controls, filth!” The goblin roared, curling his lip in a sharp-toothed sneer. “And that includes every single shop catering to mages or adventurers. And we’ll make it clear that any guild in this city that takes you on will have their accounts summarily closed!”

And the manager was so petty as to actually spit on Eric himself, which he ignored with a mocking smile that made the goblin grind his teeth all the louder, before storming out the door, along with every other goblin present.

Rica turned to gaze at him in speechless disbelief.

He winked and grinned while cleaning off the goblins’ final desperate attempts to goad him into playing the fool. “Wow. Felt just like getting an account with BoA, didn’t it?”

She just shook her head. “At least now we know where we really stand with these...” Eric winced, pressing a cautionary finger to her lips. She winced. “People.”

Eric nodded in incomplete agreement, not even caring about potential trade opportunities lost.

Because it was already clear that no one directly associated with the goblins was going to trade with him regardless, so he lost absolutely nothing, only gaining a sharp appreciation for just how malicious, capricious, and vindictive those little shits were, despising humans every bit as much as the orcs, only using a more legal modality to profit as much as possible from them before grinding them to dust under their heels.

All in all, Eric counted the day a win, with a clearer than ever understanding of who his enemies truly were.

Pretty much every non human on the board.

Save perhaps the elves. But even so, he dare not ever return to Gilton again. As for the Blue Faction… that remained to be seen.