As I trudged across the nasty liquid that threatened to submerge my feet, I found myself beginning to develop a genuine dislike for the goblin species. I did not like them. No, I did not like them at all. They were so gross. Why do goblins live like this? I wondered. Why do they always go for the filthiest, most stagnant means of living? I just couldn’t comprehend it. Why are they like this? Why would anybody be like this?

  Well, it’s not as though I could be expected to understand the unique mentality of a hopeless species of cavern-dwelling mutants that willingly rejected sunlight and sanitation. In fact, if I was truly fortunate, I’d never found out. The burden of such knowledge could prove costly.

  It sure was tough being kind to such deranged people.

  Before I took my leave of Andy’s house, I instructed the goblins to gather whatever belonged to them and clear out after first cleaning up after themselves. The lead goblin didn’t take my decision very well.

  “How can you do that to us?” he asked. “If we leave us here, we won’t have any place to go!”

  “Well, that’s the idea, isn’t it?” I said to him. “You were trespassing to begin with.”

  “Please! Don’t be so heartless,” he pleaded. “We’ll be quiet! We’ll be good! I swear we will. The awful humans of this home will have no complaints to give!”

  “I highly doubt that,” I replied. “Look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you have no intention of harming this family. If you can convince me of that, I’ll allow you to stay.”

  “I swear!” promised the goblin. “Upon the opulent essence of my father’s exposed internal organs, those precious humans who own this dwelling need never fear our wrath.”

  I laughed at him in genuine amusement.

  “I’ll give you guts for being a determined liar,” I said as I patted his shoulder. “But it’s a no.”

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  The fact that he’d seen how easily I could tear his little clan apart but still made the effort to trick me was…kind of impressive. At the very least, the little beast was doing his best to look after his people.

  With that now settled, the goblins were removed from the residence. But I wasn’t completely cold-hearted about things. A short while later, I informed them of my plan.

  “What do you mean you’re going to resolve things for us?” the lead Goblin said untrustfully.

  “I’m going to do exactly what I said,” I repeated patiently. “I’ll go take a look at your cavern. If they’re as dangerous as you claim, I’ll clear them out for you. As soon as tonight your clans might be able to return home and stop bothering everyone else. Sounds like a good deal, right?”

  You’d really do this for us?” the goblin asked incredulously, like he couldn’t believe that anyone would be willing to help him out. In response, I bowed towards him. “I’m a resolver, my little friend. The only requirement of my profession is that I find a fair solution for everyone involved in a case. Plus, it gives me an excuse to kill something for the right reasons. Like a proper hero, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Of course, of course! You, you are clearly... a very, very kind person,” he stammered. “A most generous one, in any case.”

  Was that a hint of reluctance in the way he spoke?

  Nah, couldn’t be.

  Thus began my journey to the hidden goblin cavern. I had to admit I wasn’t very impressed by it. It was, well, as I mentioned earlier, disgusting. Not cool in the slightest. If I had to compare the trip to anything, it would be the slopes of Mount Everest. Not for the incredible view or the stark beauty of nature in such an extreme environment, but because of all the litter the climbers left behind in their wake. It was a nasty place.

  I suppose that was just the goblins way of staying on brand.

  Perhaps I’m coming across as being overly critical. As a vampire I very well understand the appeal of living far beneath the surface of the Earth. It’s a romantic idea with a lot of charm, right? In my old world, we had dozens of wonderful necropolises built throughout the world for the vampire nation to reside in. Splendid cities of endless night where our kin could escape from the exhausting pretense of humanity and be themselves without fear of discovery. Each of the four lords had one built exclusively for us, as did our mother, Crusica.

  Naturally, hers was the most splendid of all. The Silver Garden, despite being located far beneath the surface, it seemed bathed in eternal moonlight. Goodness, when was the last time I’d been to that grand the old place? Not for quite some time. Not since she’d been taken out by the cultivators during our failed invasion of their territory.

  You couldn’t really blame them for their ruthless reprisal though, could you? Mother had gotten it into her head to wipe out humanity and had committed every resource she possessed to that end. I never really did learn what gotten into her. Well, hopefully I never would, considering what an utter archfiend she’d become towards the end of her life. It was best not to think about her.

  Best not to think too deeply about dear old dead Mommy.

  After all, what if she somehow heard me?

  Some things you just don’t risk.

  It was funny though, reminiscing about growing up in her necropolis now had me thinking of Claire, of all people. Now that was a name that took me back! I think she may have been the first friend I ever made in my life. As I recall, she was the first person who had ever deliberately been nice to me, without any attempting to get closer for ulterior purposes. She was the first truly good person I had ever known.

  What had become of her again?

  Oh, shoot, that was one of those horrific landmine memories I'm always trying to avoid unearthing.

  Mom didn’t like me hanging out with ghosts. She considered them lesser beings. “They are mere phantasms,” she said dismissively to me one cold evening before she banished poor Claire from our presence and commanded me never to summon her back again. “Scruffy little parasites that can’t even interact with the world around them. Unworthy playmates for a child of my line.”

  I remember Claire staring at me wordlessly with tears in her eyes just before her banishment. I remember her trying to say my name one last time before mother crooked her finger and sent her away to some terrible place I could never follow. I especially remember the look of helpless terror on her face as she was thrown away.

  But what haunted me even more was learning that Claire was just one of thousands of voiceless beings haunting the silver garden—remnants of my mother’s voracious appetite. They were the reason it was called the silver garden to begin with…the pale light that emanated from their ghostly forms was what illuminated the place.

  An entire city brightened by the light of thousands of dead young girls.

  So, that was the first time I was nearly driven insane by the realization of how evil my mother truly was. There were dozens of other examples I’d encounter later in life, but as the lads like to say, you never quite forget your first time, do you?

  __

  After hours of traveling, I finally reached the goblin cavern. And once there, I was surprised to see that it was infested with the undead. Not true vampires like me, nor thralls or ghouls, but zombies of all things! Can you even imagine? Seeing these relics moving around was like discovering an abandoned garage filled with CRT televisions! How classic in their tastes could someone possibly be? It was specific to the point of hipsterism.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Ah, but there weren’t just the doddering groaners lurching around and putting in a performance. There was another variety entirely, doing nothing at all except hanging in place in perfect stillness. Burning without being consumed by flame.

  Nothing unnerving about that at all.

  Yes, there they were, bodies burning in unnatural blue spectral fire, hanging from the branches of the many trees below. Had the goblins mentioned anything about there being an orchid? Or was this a later edition, something the zombies brought with them? But why would these mindless beasts bring a bunch of trees with them? Even if they possessed a spark of human intelligence, what did they gain from this sort of sacrificial display?

  What purpose guided their movements?

  Oh. Oh! Duh! The necromancer! This was the lair of the necromancer! I’d inadvertently discovered it myself! I mean, I hadn’t meant to. I would even go so far as to say I had zero intention of involving myself with this mystery ever again.

  And yet here I was…

  Life sure can be funny at times, eh?

  Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. I turned towards and discovered one of the burning zombies staring at me. Its face was covered in a large white clot and over the area where its face would be a bizarre configuration painted to resemble an incomplete triangle beneath a bloody red circle. I had no idea what it symbolized, but I could smell ritualistic magic emanating from it.

  “Why are you here?” the zombie asked in a dust-dry voice.

  I stared at it, bewildered. Zombies weren’t exactly known for being able to form complete sentences. Sure, there were varieties that transcended their usual limitations. But liches and barrow wights were extremely rare. More importantly, liches tended to float through the air, refusing to profane their feet with contact with the base soil that mere mortals strode on. Weird flex, but hey, if it made them happy then who was I to judge?

  No, this zombie was intelligent enough to speak, but it was still weak enough to have to crawl on the ground. Interesting.

  “I asked why you were here,” it repeated.

  “Hey, I’m just taking a tour, seeing the sights. Anything wrong with that?” I asked.

  “Petty sarcasm ill befits your situation,” sneered the abomination.

  “What about regular sarcasm?” I wondered.

  “I warn you,” said the zombie. “If you continue playing games with me, you’ll suffer for it greatly.”

  “Well, thank you for being forthright then. That’s good to know,” I replied.

  Except it wasn’t good to know, was it? In fact, it sounded a bit like a threat. I hate being threatened and feeling threatened, and just threats in general, really. They put me on edge, which is not somewhere you want a person like me to be. I’ve been accused before of being reactionary and I’ve never once tried to duck that charge.

  Around us, other zombies soon appeared, each speaking with the same voice.

  “Oh, I think I see now,” I said after taking a moment to process things. “You’re a single consciousness dominating the group. Not a horde of intelligent zombies, but rather one intelligence controlling a horde. I take it I’m speaking with a necromancer?”

  “You are,” said another of the zombies. “And you’re so calm about it too! Practically relaxed. I don’t know if I feel admiration for your cool nerves or irritation at your presumptive boldness.”

  “You can do two things at once,” I suggested.

  “That’s certainly true,” the voice agreed. “So, why are you here?”

  “Well, now that I have a moment of your attention, I feel obligated to ask if you were the one who slew the Regent’s grandson?”

  “You’ve beheld my work?” the voice asked proudly. “How wonderful. You must be a part of the initial investigation. Are you with the government?”

  “Hardly,” I scoffed. “My name is Kyler Velos, and you’ve gotten me involved in some very nasty business.”

  “My apologies, then,” the voice said jovially. “I was hired to dispose of the regent’s heir and to get you involved with the investigation. I would have preferred to have left it at killing the boy, but money makes so many things possible, doesn’t it?”

  “It does,” I agreed. “Leaving it on the table would have been silly. But you should have investigated me further before taking up the challenge.”

  “I suspect you’re right. You have a considerable amount of the old power within you.”

  “I do, don’t I?” I replied. “Your eyes are very observant.”

  “What are you?” the necromancer asked. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anything like you before.”

  “Telling you wouldn’t be half as fun as showing you,” I teased.

  “Take him,” the necromancer ordered its puppets. “Subdue him by whatever means are necessary. Try to leave him intact enough for a thorough examination.”

  I then heard the battle cries of dozens of angry undead as they all surged as one in my direction. A roaring tide of primal violence that had only me in its sights.

  In response, I quickly reached into my inventory and withdrew Spiteful, my trusty cursed blade which hated everyone and everything. The sword didn’t have a will of its own, of course. That was just my imagination at play, but it did have a kind of balefulness to it—sort of generalized hostility toward existence itself that is difficult to describe without having first seen it in action.

  Spiteful was a weapon that wanted to be a weapon. It felt no conflict over its existence. It didn’t want to be a real little boy like some narcissistic puppet, it just wanted to slash people open and spill their innards out. You know, like swords do. Viewed through that lens, Spiteful had a very good sense of itself. There were people in the world who could learn a lesson about self-acceptance from this vicious bastard of a bastard sword.

  So, with Spiteful in my hand, I made quick work of the approaching undead horde. And because Spiteful was infused with my personal brand of destructive blood magic, once they were struck, they were destroyed.

  The zombies did not rise again.

  Soon, the field was flowered with their corpses. Horrid and glorious—the sight of such splendid carnage caused my heart to rejoice. If there’s any sensation more blissful than killing your enemies before they can kill you first, I truly hope I never discover it. My figurative spirit can only contain so much joy.

  “Peace. Pieces,” I murmured, pleased once more with my capacity for making the right decisions on the fly and committing to them.

  When I turned to finish the remnants of the creatures left standing, I was surprised to see that the chief zombie, who I’d interacted with the most, hadn’t taken a single step toward. Instead, he stood there, staring at me in bewilderment.

  “Well, that was a little unsettling to watch,” he said.

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” I said cheerfully.

  “How are you still alive?” it asked.

  “Well, alive is a relative phrase, isn’t it?” I said to him.

  “I suppose it is,” said the creature thoughtfully. “Well, I still managed to procure some interesting information for when we next meet. I guess that’s something, isn’t it?”

  “And is that a necessity” I asked. “That we meet again, that is.”

  “You’re willing to let me depart in peace?” the necromancer asked in surprise.

  “Establishing a pecking order is expected of players on our level. Now that we have one, holding a grudge would be beneath me,” I said. “If you come after me ever again, I’ll hunt you down without mercy and show you the true extremes of existence. But if you’re willing to acknowledge my superiority, then leave this place and never return, and that will be the end of it.”

  “Oh, that’s tough. That’s definitely tough,” the necromancer admitted. “My head says yes, but my heart demands vengeance.”

  “Well, here’s the moment where you learn if you’re meant to be a true survivor, or if you’re just another also-ran in a profession filled with failures,” I said.

  “Well said,” said the necromancer.

  Before me, the remaining zombie dropped to one knee. “I yield.”

  “Sensible,” I said, pleased by its rational decision making. Be off then. If we ever meet again, let’s do so under more civil circumstances.”

  “No offense,” replied the necromancer. “But it’s my sincere hope never to encounter anything like you ever again.”

  “A wish that’s unlikely to come true if you remain on your path,” I said chidingly. “That magic that you’ve gotten caught up in... it’s a wicked thing. And one day the price you’ll pay for wielding it will be higher than you can ever imagine.

  “A wicked thing?” snorted the voice. “Necromancy is my path to the truth at the center of all things.”

  “There really are some things mortal minds were never meant to know.”

  “Now you just sound like my mom,” the necromancer said dismissively.

  “To hell with you then,” I said irritably. “Just trying to share a little wisdom was all.”

  “It’s my nature to question everything,” the creature responded. “Always.”

  “Well, now it’s your turn to answer a question before you depart,” I said. “Why were you planting a field of Gallow flames in this cavern?”

  In response, the necromancer shrugged. “I have no idea. I was just following instructions. Is that what these are called, then? Gallow flames?”

  “You didn’t even know that much?” I said with a raised brow. “You really are an amateur, aren’t you?”

  “I was just asking,” the necromancer sulked. “No need to be condescending.”

  “And now you know. So, take your newly gained knowledge and depart. If you’re as smart as you think you are, then you’ll still be sane the next time we speak.”

  With that having been said, the presence animating the zombie’s mind departed, leaving it confused. It looked around the cavern, staring in bewilderment at its surroundings before I dispatched it with my sword.

  “Well, I suppose that’s the end of that,” I said to myself as I caught my breath and leaned against a nearby wall.

  The goblins should be pleased with my results. I even had new information to share with Cross.

  So, far, being a Resolver had proven its value as my profession of choice. Ha! Showed what Rachel knew. I couldn’t wait to brag to her about my recent adventures. She’d be so jealous.

  As I gleefully imagined her annoyed expressions, I heard a voice shout at me from behind.

  “Stop! Don’t move! I said don’t move!”

  Armored figures bearing heraldry and automatic weaponry charged fearlessly into the place. Before long, these soldiers, wearing the crest of the Kingdom and the personal sigil of the Regent’s house, were everywhere.

  Oh boy.

  At the center of the storm of warriors, striding with the confidence of a pack of lionesses, were three women in powerful-looking relic armor. I recognized them at once.

  The Valkyries had arrived.