Scratch had instructed a chalk outline to be drawn in the exact place and position Fleder died.

The human bandit executing these details had worked in rather more artistic detail than necessary.

The scene of crime was a post-modern art exhibit, depicting a boy in his death throes, grasping for life in an abandoned eating deck.

The patrons of the establishment had been ushered outside, and were now being questioned.

"I knoweth not how he died," Liorin said, shooting glances at Will. "He was harassing us and then he just keeled over. 'T must have been the garlic. He- was he really a vampire?"

A few moments later, Albwynn had a different story. "This creature, I hath never seen it in mine life. Our company were long gone from this place at the time of his death."

"Was no fight," the older goblin cook claimed, "fish jumps out of water, slaps man, man dead. Very sad."

-

"So... what did you find out?" Will asked nervously, when Scratch had him sit down in the questioning chair.

"Well, you get bonus points for getting the elves to go along with it, but you have to get your people to get their story straight. Nothing more suspicious to a cop than conflicting testimony, I tell you what."

"But we didn't have time to do that!"

"There never is." Scratch wagged his finger, "the first thing you do after an unplanned icing is you tell people what the story should be. Bam. In three seconds, right after the violence. That way it sticks in their mind."

"Okay.. okay." Will fidgeted.

"Now then... what're we gonna tell the Ravenous Lich?"

"Me?"

"Ah!" Scratch tensed up and floundered onto the floor. "What the fuck!? What the actual fuck!!?" Even in the tensest of battles his goblin body had never experienced a shock like that.

"Speak of the devil, huh? I received your proposal for the ingress and egress policy, and I considered it a too important matter to discuss via mail. And also, I wished to see how Noss is getting on."

"Ah-aha," Scratch clambered back onto his feet, "well then. Let's do things one at a time, if you follow me we can discuss the sea route."

"...I would like to see Noss first."

Ada and Constantine were halfway done filling up the coffin with gravel when the Ravenous Lich showed up at the dockyard.

"Ah!" She tensed up, "it's you!"

"What is the meaning of this?"

She looked at the corpse in the box, at the corpse looming over her, and at the corpse in the box again. "He's still alive!" She said.

Constantine quickly joined her in the deception. "We're just playing a game, Noss is pretending to be dead and we're pretending to bury him."

Ada nodded, "first we're weighing down the coffin and then..." she looked at Scratch gesturing for her to cut it off, "... we're cutting off... his... head?"

"Don't pay attention to them, haha." Scratch laughed nervously, "they're just children. I'm afraid Noss died after a tragic encounter with a swordfish. He-"

"He's not dead." The lich stated resolutely, "but he's not pretending either."

His massive looming body bend over the vampire and the hobgoblins.

He had taken some sort of rat out of his smokey black cape and held it above the open casket.

The rodent gave a short squeal and made a crunching noise.

A thin stream of scarlet blood stood out against the night's sky.

It fell onto the vampire's face and seeped into his mouth.

After a second or so, he opened his eyes.

"Noss, you're alive!" Constantine gasped.

"Great..." Ada grunted.

-

Neither undead asked any questions about the gravel.

Noss cleaned himself up morosely. "So now you know my shame."

"What?" Scratch asked.

"You've unearthed my veakness."

"...What?" He asked more annoyed.

"I believe Noss Fleder has neglected to tell you about his disformity. Noss, that is very irresponsible of you."

Noss looked away, "I just... vanted to be treated like a vampire count for once."

Ritter turned to Scratch. "**You musn't expect Noss to defend you against powerful foes. He can not enter his bloodrise form.**"

"Can not enter- you're always threatening us!" Ada pushed the little vampire.

Noss pushed back. But though he was strong for his size, he was nowhere near a powerful noble.

They ended up slapping at each other's arms a bit, with no real winner.

"Stop it." The lich put a large skeletal hand between them. "You'll know what will happen."

Scratch rubbed his chin. "He can't enter the form... is that what happens instead? When you get agitated you die?"

"Cardiac arrest," Noss said begrudgingly, "I vas born with a heart defect. And since zhe heart is zhe seat of zhe vampiric spirit, I cannot replace it. Vhen zhe heart should grow in size and grant me my true form, it cramps up instead. My body stops functioning, and I go dormant."

"Luckily, any vampire can be revived with a little blood. Usually a plentiful waste product from butchering."

"And it doesn't even have to come from a beautiful woman." Ada said with disdain.

"Of course not. The world would quickly run out of beautiful women. Or vampires. What quality would such blood even possess that vampires require?"

"I mean we don't question it," Scratch said, "magic is magic. It can't be explained."

"Not so! Magic follows rigid principles. If you are to become a dungeon lord, you must know how it functions. Which brings me to our next order of business."

"Traffic ordinance?"

"Warping circles."

"Father." Lydia greeted him at the town gate.

"You do not call me that." He stated curtly, "nor do you refer to yourself as Harkness. You have been disowned. You may call me constable Harkness."

Her face didn't betray emotion. "Constable Harkness. You are up rather early in the morning."

It was just about dawn, a twilight hid most of the stars, but the sun hadn't come up yet.

"Of course I am. If I am to expose you. I must keep an eye on covert activity."

"So you've been searching incoming wagons."

"For stolen goods." He finished her sentence.

"And forbidden materials." She continued.

"And kidnapped women." He corrected.

"You will not find any."

"We'll see about that."

Their conversations fell quiet as quickly as it had begun.

The constable held up another cart, this one with fired clay pots.

He proceeded to check their contents one by one, holding up traffic.

"This is not the place for that. Come with me." Lydia said.

"Excuse me?"

"Imported goods are kept in the warehouse. Come with me."

He hesitated about calling out her tone. In the end he simply followed as she had demanded.

-

Lydia led the way over the gravel to the warehouses where commercial goods were stored.

"All materials coming in or out of the Promise. Go through here."

He cast his eye around the place.

There where a few larger buildings, with proper walls and large wagon sized doors, but most of the space was occupied by a few freestanding roofs under which little piles of treasure were sheltered from the rain.

By the side there was trampled mud on which unused carts themselves were parked, visibly unsheltered.

There were use trails everywhere, from denizens carrying their belongings back and forth to their houses, which were along the main road.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" He asked.

"It's a small town. One can search the premises in one day. One will find there is no other place to unload cargo wagons."

"This is no town."

She raised one eyebrow. "Is it not? Then what are you a constable of? Exactly?"

He grumbled but didn't have a retort.

Lydia called a goblin over. "Go inform Barbara of this."

The goblin looked between the two of them. "This?"

"The constable wants to inspect the warehouse. Inform Barbara. I will be with him this time."

The goblin nodded and ran off.

"This time?" The constable asked.

"I assume you plan to inspect it in the future? We must also keep an eye on you. When you do so."

He scoffed at the lack of trust.

-

A thorough inspection of the area yielded no smuggled goods, no forbidden items, and no captured peasant girls.

"Where do you keep the steel weapons?" He asked.

"Steel is kept in the basement underneath the mansion. It is exhumed for war purposes only."

"Where did you get it?"

"There is a forge below the surface."

"I shall need to see it."

"...mhm."

He dropped the sack of potatoes he had been inspecting, "I've seen enough. Show me the inside."

"Be sure to leave all objects in the lot you found them in. They are assigned per address."

"I haven't moved your precious *produce*."

A man that had had to starve like she had wouldn't have disdained the peasant work like this.

In order to enter the warehouse, Lydia received a key to the lever tumbler lock on the door.

"Where did you obtain such a device?"

She paused, then quickly swung open the door. "There are many disciplines among the dispossessed."

"You're saying there are bandit locksmiths?"

"Is that so strange?"

The constable went in ahead of her. "I suppose not."

The truth was that many of the smaller, more advanced materials in their town were obtained via the thieves' guild smuggling network, which the constable was not allowed to know about.

"Once you've inspected these goods. Will you report to the king that our community is peaceful?"

He barely looked over his shoulder. "I do not report directly to the king. There are bureaucrats going over this matter. If I find no proof of wrongdoing. That is all I will report."

"If you had been here. You would know how much suffering the goblins had to accept. Just to avoid enraging the people."

The constable punched a crate, "but I was not here. I was in the field. Watching good men and women die."

His anger in turn sparked her anger. She was incensed at the one-sided recounting of events, much more goblins had died than young nobles in their struggle. But no amount of dead goblins could weigh up against his perceived loss.

She breathed deeply and attempted to channel Scratch. "That must have been hard on you." An expression of sympathy, an olive branch.

But he balked at her insincerity. "Lydia. No matter what you've convinced yourself. You do not live in a town. You live in a den of monsters. These goblins are subhuman abominations. Not townspeople. One get get three copper a head at the adventurer's guild for killing them. You think you can be a citizen again? Look at yourself. Look at the way you live. You've gone truly mad."

She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of losing her temper.

Right now, a cool head and a witty comeback were what was required.

She couldn't immediately think of one.

"Well I... won't be taking advice from some stranger. Who is not my father."

It'd have to do.

-

After the warehouse had been truly cleared of all suspicion, she locked them out and escorted him to the main road.

"I suppose you will want to see the mansion." She said.

"You'll have prepared for that as well." He answered. "I will continue some other time. Having been up all night. I shall take my rest now."

She walked him to the door of his provided housing.

It was Huckabee's former home, and featured a second floor. Which was fancy for a house in the Promise.

It probably seemed pauper to the constable, who was used to having clean water readily available and indoor plumbing.

"The next time you will be escorted by one or more goblins." She told him at the door.

"Hm." He shut it in front of her.

She had been flush with anger all day. Now that they had separated she could calm down.

But she didn't feel relieved. Only miserable, deflated.

For some reason she felt like crying.

"You will no longer allow displays on dark magic on the surface." The lich stated it as much as he asked.

Scratch's basement office was cramped with visitors, but he managed to spread out some visual aids. "Since the beginning we've disguised the dungeon opening as a peaceful community. Now we're upgrading to lawful township, we have some more eyes on us. Constable Harkness now lives at the Promise, and he's eager to find anything to disqualify us."

"A royal territory on top of an active dungeon?" Noss asked.

"It's not unprecedented, cities have been built overtop mana engines before. Though not usually so... deliberately."

"Unfortunately," Scratch said, "this does mean we can't afford any more smoke plumes of death barreling down from the sky. It's a bad look and it invites a lot of difficult questions."

"You von't be able to smuggle forbidden goods with zhe thieves guild either."

"The traffic you see going in and out now is all our internal economy, goods to and from the colonies. For Eston there are warehouses in the favored territories, and we have the sea route... which I was about to suggest for you as well."

"That won't be necessary. Noss?"

The vampire pulled out his own scroll and unfurled it over top Scratch's visuals.

"What's this?"

The image showed a complex circle pattern of sigils and numbers.

"Every warping circle has a unique pattern to it. When a warp spell is cast, it attaches to any warping circle on the same plane and transports the user to that location."

"You want a shortcut into my living room."

"This circle will be for you to travel to my tower and back."

"...aha." That prospect was even more disconcerting somehow.

The lich turned towards the vampire. "Noss, you will be in charge of the construction. Have you selected a location?"

"M-master, I have never created a varping circle before."

"Once must be the first time."

"I do," Scratch said, "want to designate a few things myself."

"I see. If there are no objections..."

Noss' input for the warping circle was minimal.

He oversaw the mosaic of magical crystal that made it possible, but the location and surroundings were Scratch's design.

The place received an isolated spot at the back of the cavern. A dome of enforced concrete and a heavy metal gate that would entrap unannounced visitors.

Some straw en dirt on the outside dressed it up as a little mudhut.

The whole projected oozed mistrust, but the vampire didn't protest. He was in a depressive slump after his humiliation.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"What was that?" Scratch asked.

"I'm sorry I vas zhat... forceful. I didn't vant you to know how veak I really am."

Scratch was already reigniting the stubby end of his blue grass cigar. "Is that the only reason?"

"I vas dumped here. Ritter has decided zhat I am no use to him as a vassal, and left me vith zhe veakest creatures."

He believes he's telling the truth. Cyclophan said.

"He didn't tell you that." Scratch said gently.

"So vhat if he didn't? It's zhe truth. I am a failure. Misshapen." The vampire didn't look at him when he spoke. His eyes were unfocused into the far off distance, and his mind was turned intward to self-pity. "You don't know Ritter, goblin, he condescends. I vas told I am her to 'make friends'."

Scratch laughed, "that does seem unlikely."

He's telling the truth. And I don't have any recollection of the lich lying to him.

Don't be idiotic, Scratch told Cyclophan mentally, what possible scheme could he have that would involve friendship? Plus, he would know we don't actually like him and are only afraid of him.

"I suppose he asked you to write him about your experiences. "Scratch asked.

"Leave me be," the vampire whined, "let me be a failure by myself."

He turned into a bat creature and flew off.

Scratch watched him go, I was wondering when you were going to bring up the other shards.

I didn't know about the segments clustering together. The time of fracturing was a confusing time for all of us, we weren't really aware of what was happening.

It seems bizarre to me that shattering a person can result in tons of smaller people. Aren't you stronger now? As a group? I mean each of you can have his own champion, right?

Gods are different from people in many crucial ways. And no, we're not stronger. Evil gods can starve, you know. The major gods can't.

"What?" Why not?

I would disappear if deceit and trickery were to disappear from this plane. If truth and honesty would disappear, Benesant would be greatly weakened, but she would still have her aspects of light, self-lessness and bravery. And she would be able to reintroduce truth to the world.

Scratch laughed, you don't have to worry about that happening.

You may think lies are eternal, but my enemies don't. Only a few of us minor gods are truly immortal, including the lich's master, Pinchin. He's the god of death and undeath. As long as there's life, there'll be death. It makes sense that he would want to merge.

You don't?

Weaker gods are deathly afraid of the merge. We're afraid the stronger personalities will dominate and we'll disappear. Only the most powerful like Kishin and Manshuu strive for it. Ritter knew that when he said it's the ambition of "all kishin". He lied.

Scratch nodded. Thank you for telling me, I'm happy we're on the same page. This merging business is definitely bad news.

So you won't claim the other shards?

Maybe not. Or... hmmm. He would probably just send someone else to do it.

Claim them and defend them?

We might just have to leak their existence somehow.

He was still mulling it over in bed after sundown.

But he was distracted by Lydia hugging him tighter than usual.

"You alright?" He tried to wrestle an arm free, but she was too strong.

"Is the display in place?" She asked.

"Yeah, we've got the blacksmith in place in case they have questions about steel."

"Good. We can't let them win."

"Yeah, good."

"Good."

The were silent for a while and she traced a finger over his chest, avoiding looking in his eyes.

"Your dad seems like a real pain in the ass." Scratch said eventually.

She laughed and the tension lifted.

"I know. I never expected him to approve. Of all of this. But still..."

"Still?"

She loosed her grip a bit and a freed up a hand to brush her hair.

"I wasn't that old when I was exiled." She said. "And I suppose I had been spoiled up till then. So I didn't really know how to take care of myself."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean general stuff. You know. Cooking for myself. Keeping my quarters clean. It was hard for me."

She looked at him apprehensively, expecting him to judge or disdain her, but he didn't, so she went on.

"I would retreat into fantasy. I would always imagine that... I'd see my parents again. And things would be like they were before."

"Do you still do that?"

"No! Not for years. I haven't for years..."

Her eyes were tearing up now.

"But today. It was like teen me popped up inside me. Saying 'daddy take me back', 'daddy take care of me'. I'm sorry. I'm being stupid."

"No," he wiped her tears with his thumb. "It's not stupid to have emotions. Irrational things pop up inside all of us from time to time. Just remember that your emotions aren't who you are, and that you will persist and they will pass. Right?"

She grinned. "Right."

"Come here." He hugged her back.

"Hey Scratch."

"Yeah?"

"Can I call you daddy sometimes?"

"Absolutely the fuck not."

-

They had almost fallen asleep in each other's arms when a loud noise shook the house.

"Glowings beasts!" A villager yelled out.

"It's the fairy creatures again." Scratch groaned, "let the dogs take care of it."

But the noises of alarm continued.

Lydia was already up. When she opened the window a mantis in the shape of a man hovered in front of it.

Day Goblin

Family: Abhuman

Power Level: E to D

On the east coast of Eston lives a tribe of abhumans with an appearance akin to that of goblins. Goblin slaying is forbidden in this region due to possible confusion between monster and abhuman.

A day goblin can be recognized by the following features: Their skin, though sickly coloured, is mostly free of blemishes, scars and pustules. Their speech is coherent. And they tend to be dressed in skins and cloth.

The tribe currently enjoys a recognized territorial status according to the Reddington crown, but is not given the privilige of citizenry. As such, day goblins do not have the right to freely travel across the realm and can not be found in adventuring guilds like other abhumans.

Despite this, day goblins possess a few unique skills, such as the ability to talk to warg wolves, and the fearless trait, which they share with monstrous goblins and which makes them immune to spells and effects that cause fear.

Handing in day goblin ears in order to receive goblin slaying rewards is illegal and will result in a fine and blacklisting from the adventurers' guild.