Higher nobility didn't tend to cultivate their strength much.

Their pedigree was already proven by their heroic bloodline and their potential was so high that it could not be reached within a single lifetime.

So too lord Bynald, duke of Ashenfree, sat slightly pudgy in his lawn chair enjoying high tea while the actual combatants were out on the front line.

"Dearest Patricia," he dictated to the scribe, "my heart sinks more with any passing night that we must spend apart. Do know that I'm following your diet recommendations..." he paused to put more cream on his scone, "to the letter. Do tell Pip, Poe, and Poppy that daddy is thinking about them and-"

"Your lordship!" A scout came panting and huffing up the hill. "Your lordship, grave news!"

"Ah, boy. Your battalion was pushed back was it? It's all within expectations, we'll keep the enemy busy until the count's strike team arrives and-"

"Not pushed back Milord, struck down! The entire front line has been broken and subdued."

A scone dropped to the ground. "What!?"

"And the count's strike team as well."

"WHHAAAT!?"

"And the enemy is a advancing on this position right as we speak!"

"WHH-AAAH!"

The duke had barely even time to react as a dozen quadrupedal siege harnesses trampled the war camp, ploughing the earth with their feet and greatly upending tea time.

-

So it came to be known that the duke of Ashenfree had been captured by the enemy. The first great humiliation for Reddington, and the war had only just begun.

"The storm of the wind kingdom is advancing ever further into our land," the general put it, arranging the peons representing war parties onto the spread out map of the region. "If we do not want to lose these regions to sauerkraut eaters by the end of the war we need a new strategy."

"The situation calls for a greater commitment to the war effort," the war oracle said, "mobilization of peacekeeping knights, re-purposing of civilian infrastructure, certain... sacrifices."

"You're saying the people of Reddington will have to go hungry this winter."

"I am saying that."

A little man at the back the room cleared his throat. "Ahem."

"Who is this?" The oracle asked, but the general gestured for him to be silent.

"The king will not be receptive to such plans." The little man said, "I suggest you come up with something else."

"Alright then..." The general bent over the table again. "If we can somehow sabotage the creation of these advanced siege harnesses, we could take away their advantage. A mission for high nobility, infiltrating into Monshauser and-"

"Ahem."

The general let go of the peon, "what is it now?"

"The king will not approve of a strategy that puts the most loyal of his vassals in unacceptable danger."

"You know the king's mind, do yeh?" The oracle flared up.

The little man did not answer.

"You tell the king this," he said, walking up to him, "you tell him that any kingdom sacrificing security for politics will soon surely have neither. Look at this map! Blurich wasn't always this bloated and large."

"I am merely relaying-"

"Relay this! Either he chooses the people or he chooses the aristocracy, but someone has to bear the cost for this war. As with all wars!"

"If only we had Beatrice Dichtershire on our side," the general said pensively, "she is the most powerful of our number by far."

"The crown prince is a damned fool for breaking off their engagement," the oracle groaned, "and whole the kingdom knows it. It's come to the point that it might actually cause a succession crisis. Especially if we lose this war."

"So there's a lot at stake for the crown."

They both looked at the servant.

"I can not speak for the king," he said, throwing up his hands, "please let the honorable gentlemen devise the strategy they believe is wisest."

"Good." Said the general.

The cavern underneath the promise was a forest for stalagmites, and wooden platform suspended between its peaks provided a snaking and branching pathway between its features.

Between the lion's head, that lead hobgoblins into the underworld, and the cavern port, that led smuggling sloops towards Eston, there was the foundry.

And between the foundry and lion's head stood the warping circle.

An egg-shaped dome planted firmly on the cavern's stony ground, so that the pathway had to slope down to provide access and those exiting it saw themselves surrounded by the ominous shadows of the frozen woods.

But now, those shadows were being cleared out.

A true deforestation of the mineral was taking place as metal wires and burly trolls filed and smashed away at the ancient rock.

Barbara's goblins were making space for a marketplace.

-

Scratch tested the ground with his foot.

The depot Barbara had stamped out of the ground was a series of unwalled, unroofed, floors. Staggered platforms at different elevations, the highest of which was level with the pathway so that traded goods could be ferried in and out of the cavern more easily.

The thing held up. Though crooked, the goblins had made enough mistakes to make a sturdy construct by now.

And besides, his weight was too little to shake the heavy planks anyway.

"Come down then!" Barbara screamed at him from below.

He sighed, and began clambering down the rope net that served as a ladder, which was rather undignified.

-

"This is the second trade hub!" She said, yelling over the sound of industry. "My contacts will be able to exit from the egg and trade wares here, on the lower platform."

"I thought you would only let them see the circle." Scratch said.

"Huh!?"

"The circle! You want to let them out of the egg!?" He yelled.

She nodded wildly, translating high volume speech into highly animated gestures for some reason. "We need the space to spread out wares and such! But we're not letting them out of this clearing!

We can take away the ramp, make it a citizen only entrance through the platform!"

Scratch tapped his foot on the heavy planks.

Reasoning it was better to ask for forgiveness than for permission, Barbara had expanded his permission to use the circle into a mandate to lay claim to its entire surrounding area.

"You haven't rifled through the inventory, did you?" She asked, "just kidding. The chests are empty, we've only a few whisk cards in there."

"World memories? You're planning to blackmail people?"

Barbara grinned, "I knew you'd catch on to their real use. Most people would ask if I'm trying to draft a deck for the game, but world memories are unfalsifiable, undeniable records. Information brokers will pay a heavy price for the right whisk card."

Scratch raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know there was a game."

"Yeah. Anyway, I'd like some small pulleys for traders to move things around more easily, you know. Maybe Second can design an elevator..."

-

Barbara proceeded to show him how the product would move, and what spaces would be reserved for what purpose.

"No treasure chest." He suddenly said.

She straightened. "What?"

"Treasure chest! I don't want you trading gold here, make them exchange it for our currency before they come in."

"Scratch! That's for the broodmothers in the forest. I do get to keep gold. If anything I should be able to break the count's laws even more down here."

"Well you can't. Not in the cavern."

"Why not!?"

He looked at her with none of the bemused condescension he normally had. Only a dark, piercing gaze. "Because I don't want you to. I'm officially throttling you Barbara, this is as ambitious as you get."

"What!? You said that you'd give me the guild business, you-"

She stopped herself from whining about promises and fairness like a child, but she did pout.

"This is the final word on it."

For the first time in a while, Scratch had denied her a freedom.

The ability to freely exchange for precious metals had given her power on the surface that he didn't dare give her in the underground.

If she had to go through his exchange, he would have the power to cut her off at a moment's notice.

The smuggler's efforts to keep up in growth with the moneylender were dashed rather curtly. She wasn't a partner, but a subordinate after all.

While gold was banned from the cavern, it accumulated to no end in the basement.

Cash flows from five different cities flowed through the Promise bank. Interest and equity payments, deposits, and down payments for various smuggled goods.

"That is called buyer's credit, by the way," Scratch told Lydia, as she was absentmindedly flicking at his documents.

She had summoned magical lights in his office and was sat on her knees, resting her arms and face on his desk as a way of spending time.

"It's good not just because we can put the profits to work earlier, but also 'cause we don't have ta guess what they want to buy and can pay for. Less risk."

"Say..." she said.

"Normally in such a case, as a trade-off, it's the buyers that run the risk of paying a supplier that can't deliver. But I think we have the negotiating power to-"

"Say." She said a bit louder. "Did you order for those bandits to be crucified near Hiffield?"

He put his hand on her cheek. "Don't worry baby. They were trying to run away with borrowed money, so I had to make an example out of them. By going high-intensity the first time, I'm preventing future abuses, okay? So it should be a one-time thing."

He returned to his work, satisfied that he had sussed away the nascent pangs of conscience of a criminal's girlfriend.

"Then you are okay with it."

"Hmm? With what?"

"Criminal sentencing."

"Oh no." He grasped at his forehead realizing his mistake.

They had had this conversation before.

She moved to stand behind him and massaged his shoulders. "Scratch."

"Lydia...

"There are more injustices going on within our bandit cities than just theft of the bank."

"I don't want to write laws. It's against everything I stand for. The cities are there to make us a profit, they don't need to conform to our arbitrary sense of good taste."

"However, in the long term, your plan is to make the criminal circuit a viable alternative to peasantry under the lords for everybody, isn't it?"

"...in the long term."

She brought her face to his and smelled his neck. "Then the least we can do is to make it that bit more attractive, is it not? We can make it safe to walk the streets, have a home, manage a business..."

He perked up at those words, but then shook her off.

He got up and stood facing the far wall. "Let's say we do that. We extend some protections for members to all associates of the thieves' guild. How would we enforce that? You think whoever we're paying to wring necks isn't going to liberally abuse that position? They don't have an honor system like the knights do Lyds, they're too smart."

"We'll send our own people."

He turned around and looked at her like she was mad. "Our own people? The kids!?"

"Hobgoblins and werewolves. You don't doubt their ability."

"It's not about ability. Lyds... if they're out there cracking skulls, before you know it-"

"Don't worry-"

"Before you know it they get mixed with an adventurer or a knight or whatever and the war is back on."

"Don't worry baby." She put her hand on his cheek. "I'll take care of it."

He touched her hand. "You're really keen on this, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Fine." He sighed. "As long as you don't get too anal about it and are willing to take a bribe now and then... you have my blessing. Go set up your secret policing task force I suppose."

"Shadow bandits," she said, "the Liege had them in Eston when it was still under the four leaders, we'll have them all over. It's how thieves' guilds operate in the shadows. As a Harkness, I was trained to know their methods, I should be able to replicate them."

She became animated explaining her plans, and the wolf-like energy that she had inherited from Wendy broke loose into an excited rambling.

When she came to outlining secret hideout strategies and hidden patrols, she was no longer looking at him, but at an ideal fantasy somewhere in the imagined distance.

He could only look at her wistfully. She was too smart for him.

While the basement had grown a veiny tumor of magical devices, and the devil altar had become a closely guarded ritual site, Lacrima's hut at the underground harbor was still the dungeon's center of witchcraft.

The inside of the building was lined with books, talismans, and ritual tools.

That, and a life-sized statue of Guth, goddess of Magic and the Moon. A generically beautiful depiction of a woman in a cowl with an orb and staff.

When the witch's devotion was great enough, the statue would speak to her.

Lacrima, it said, the time approaches. You must complete your works within the woods.

"My goddess!" The old woman bowed deeply. "Your will be done. I am making sure of it."

Beware yourself Lacrima, remember that a goddess is not to be placated but followed. Why do you still make your home at this water, when your purpose is in the forest? Your deeds do not follow the urgency of your words.

The witch stared wordlessly at the floor, her jaws clenched.

Now remember that you have brought a tribe of goblins to me to be my children. Where is their devotion? They should have moved into the domain by now as well, to aid with the great work.

"My goddess, it's Scratch. I cannot control-"

Silence! Look within yourself for solutions, not excuses. You must- The statue raised its head slightly, Ah, your little helper is here now.

Lacrima looked behind her, but it wasn't Scratch but Noss Fleder that had entered the hut.

"Vann of zhe tvelve." He whispered, with at least as much awe as disdain.

Come closer, child of the night. Guth said. All shapeshifters are my children.

Lacrima panicked slightly, "My goddess, he his a dark sorcerer, but-"

Then he is a student of magic, just as you are.

"My goddess!"

You have sworn off the worship of light for me Lacrima, it is only for the sake of Benesant's order that the witches of the four realms suppress forbidden magic. I relieve you of that duty. Fleder, she gestured towards him, and his master are among the black mass that spread my gifts. In a way, they are my servants as well.

"Is it true!?" Noss stepped forwards, "is it true zhat my master Ritter does not serve the kishin then?"

The statue tilted her head at him, which could be interpreted as anything.

Lacrima stood up. "I shall wield whatever I can then. Not just the magic of fairy, but the dark sorcery of the lich's apprentice, and the dungeoncraft of the baronet."

No Lacrima, time is running out, you must wield more than just magic. The god tree must be found before the season changes, see to it.

"But... how can I convince Scratch to willingly-"

See to it! If you are to receive my eternal reward.

"Yes, my goddess." She bowed again.

The statue retreated and returned to lifeless rock.

"Noss," Lacrima said on a conspiratorial tone, "will you work with me over Scratch? Will you keep my secrets?"

"Vhat is zhis about?"

"If you and your master are within the goddess' flock, then you can earn her favor as well. Scratch, however, only thinks of his own power. Shameful as I am to admit it to the goddess, I can no longer control him. So we must go behind his back."

"Vhat do you vant me to do?"

"You will keep it a secret?"

"Of course."

Scratch was dulling his cutlery against his plate that evening.

Lydia was out managing shadow banditry and he was in a foul mood, so the eating utensils paid the price.

"Women, hah." He scoffed.

Quiet watch him silently over his plate. The table was almost empty, save for the three of them.

"You have it figured out Quiet," Scratch said, "don't bother with them. Can't be controlled."

"Who're you trying to control?" Quiet asked.

"Who? Well nobody. Barbara. You know your brother's building her a whole contraption for her new marketplace, like he's her minion or something. I never said he had to do that."

"But we want the mothers to manage businesses, don't we? You did say that."

Yeah... I guess yeah. But Barbara has enough- You know Lydia just had to start up a whole police force? Chip of the old block- don't tell her I said that- as if we don't have enough enemies from the outside, we have to pick fights amongst ourselves?"

"Oh I am quite pleased with the beauty's ambition." Youthere didn't eat food, so he stood leaned over the table sucking up their tension with his greedy eyes. "Inevitably, matters regarding punishment will come to you for judgment. It is an opportunity for you, master, to develop the proper bloodthirst of a demon king. I was quite disappointed to see you delegate the details of the mortgage scammers' torture, and I'm happy to know there will be future opportunities."

"Shut up." Scratch grunted annoyed.

"Are you angry, Scratch?" Quiet asked.

"No, I'm not angry, I just..." he put down his cutlery to think. "I'm just all the more frustrated about all these chicks running around with their own agendas. I don't want to have to keep track of it anymore."

"And you still refuse to enforce an aligning ideology into your subjects," Youthere said. "As a demon of temptation that is pleasing to me, as they will not become as vulnerable to redeeming forces, but as a servant of a tyrant I must question your dedication to absolute control."

"Absolute control?" Scratch frowned.

"Do you not wish to rule with an iron fist?"

"I thought you knew me by now. Tight ships just have more places to leak from, tell him Quiet."

"The Promise is an institution for the aligning of incentive," Quiet said eloquently, stunning Youthere with his suddenly elevated presence, "for the ideal state of society is that of stable equilibrium. One that, even after an upset, will return to its present state on its own accord. In other words, those in power must be most benefited by the status quo."

"The exact words of the text." Scratch returned to his food. "I have given up on controlling thoughts, I no longer believe there is such a thing. We're managing on incentives here."

"But we are managing, aren't we, Scratch?" Quiet asked. "What women can't you control?"

Scratch murmured. "It's not really Lydia. It's... the witch. She's hiding something from me, and now she's got Noss to go along with it too."

"I would be remiss..." Youthere said, "if I didn't at least attempt to sway you back towards the path of manipulation, which you have walked before."

"...Can you teach me?" Quiet asked.

"What for?"

"I have a girl I like."

Scratch threw down his cutlery.

Blood Moon

The blood moon is the most powerful whisk card discovered to date. It is currently held in the Blurich royal treasury and is valued at close to a million gold pieces.

The world memory it depicts is an ancient event from before recorded history. Its image is that of an owl's silhouette against a blood-red full moon.

Due to its special properties in the game of whisk, it is part of the kaiser's undefeatable whisk deck and has the potential to cause great calamity under the Greater Whisk spell.

There have been five instances of rare card hunters attempting to steal the blood moon, and one instance of a would-be burglar touching it without knowing its status. All offenders to date have been executed.

The blood moon is an item of great value and a weapon of great power, for it to fall in the wrong hands would be a major emergency for the entire continent.