The Vice Captain sighed deeply, then shook his head. His gaze returned to the goblins sitting before him.
"That means," he said slowly, "that someone is attempting to frame you. To frame my good, loyal servants."
The goblins froze.
"Do you have any idea who the culprit might be?" the Vice Captain continued. "Anything at all will benefit us."
The goblins answered immediately, panic evident in their voices. "No, sir. We truly don't know. We stay below and work. We rarely leave the sewers. The only times we go outside are during the festival… or when that person orders us to."
The Vice Captain narrowed his eyes slightly. "Is there anyone else down there with you? Another species? Another monster?"
"No, sir," they replied quickly. "It is only our family. It has always been a family business. No outsiders."
He nodded once.
"Well. It's getting late," he said calmly. "Today has been long, at least for me."
The goblins held their breath.
"Return to your work," the Vice Captain continued. "But remember my words carefully. From this moment on, you will answer only to me. You will respond only to me. Because of your loyalty and your years of service, I am promoting you to direct servants of the Vice Captain."
The goblins trembled.
Then they cried.
Joy poured out of them uncontrollably. The weight of thirty to fifty years of obedience, humiliation, and exhaustion finally felt acknowledged. Their sobs echoed through the hall as they smiled again and again, thanking him.
The Vice Captain waved them away. "Go. Resume your duties."
As they were escorted out, he turned to Teddy and the troll.
"You two," he said. "Go with them. Assist them. If anyone from that man's people shows up, arrest them. Do not kill them."
He paused.
"Go."
The orders were carried out immediately.
Two members of the Twelfth Unit followed the goblins into the depths. Two others departed to scout near the forest. Soon, only the Vice Captain and his uncle remained in the hall.
The silence was heavy.
His uncle lowered his head, voice shaking. "I didn't know. I swear, I didn't know."
The Vice Captain smiled faintly.
"Do you know who that person is?" he asked. "I have a guess."
He walked slowly, his steps echoing.
"Thirty to fifty years ago, a commoner rose to prominence. No lineage. No great power. Yet over decades, he became an earl. Then forged connections with dukes. Princes. Princesses."
He stopped behind his uncle.
"He did all of that using our money. Spirit stones refined beneath this city, right under your nose."
The Vice Captain leaned closer.
"You didn't know?" he asked quietly. "That's worse."
"Blue birds," he said softly. "Threads."
Invisible threads suddenly manifested around his uncle, glowing faintly as they wrapped around him. His uncle gasped, terror flooding his face.
"What, what did you do to me?" he stammered.
"Unfortunately," the Vice Captain replied, "even though my mother loved you, you are incompetent. And you cannot be trusted."
He turned away.
"This will tell me if you've communicated with anyone. Or if you've used any power recently."
The Vice Captain's voice hardened.
"Go to your room. Think about your failures. Think about how to improve yourself. Do not use any power for the next few days. I will not tolerate any suspicious behavior."
He glanced back once.
"Leave."
His uncle could not speak. He nodded weakly and left the hall.
The Vice Captain remained alone.
He began training.
Energy gathered around him, drawn from the vastness of the universe itself. The experience from the simulation still lingered within him, changing how he sensed and refined power. His posture remained straight, controlled, but something was off.
He looked calm.
Yet there was tension beneath the surface. Fatigue. Discomfort.
Something bothered him.
Hidden behind a distant column, a small fly clung silently to the stone. Its body barely moved. Its presence was insignificant.
Yet it watched.
Through the column.
Through the wall.
Never once losing sight of the Vice Captain.
Waiting.