Somewhere Someplace

"…And the bubblebee hovered with a glim. 'Well,' she said, 'we may not make honey, but we make bubbles. We may share in that, together.'

But the keeper stood with doubt to this offer. 'What good will bubbles do for us?' he asked with a tough shake.

'Hmm. They can sparkle,' replied the bubblebee. 'And behold that lake before you. We can make it sparkle too, with our bubbles.'

The keeper looked to that fresh lake but still with doubt of the bubblebees' offer. 'I see not still how this does good for us. We came hither for new hope. But we lack the things to make that new hope. That is why we need honey.'

Abruptly intruding then was the bubblebee queen herself, her shiny crown so small but it showed her majesty. 'You mans exchange the things with trinkets and metals, no?' she spoke whilst hovering to the keeper's eye. 'That is whyfor you need honey? To exchange for metals to then give for the needed things?'

'Yes,' replied the keeper. 'With sweet honey, we can obtain many a coin. And with many a coin, we can protect ourselves. Build our hope. This land is ripened but lacks trees for wood which we need; lacks stone for bricks; lacks seeds to grow. We are small, and those we flee are big.'

The bubblebee queen felt humbled by the keeper's words, for it showed he cared much. 'You cherish your kingdom as I do mine,' she said to him. 'All around the world my servants go to collect puddles to make bubbles and sparkles. And in no part have we seen sparkles and bubbles, for we are their makers.'

The keeper was confused by her words, and he did not let her conclude. 'I do not understand. You cannot trade sparkles and bubbles.'

'Oh, but you can,' spoke the bubblebee queen. 'For from that lake, if made to bubble, and then harvested in bottles, you may exchange. Nowhere else have we seen this trade.' The queen then flew off momentarily, collecting a dust from the sparkly flowers. 'And with this nectar, when merged, a sweetest flavor can be made, found nowhere else for these flowers' nectar need our sparkles.'

The keeper tasted the dust in his palm and nearly fell from the sweetness. 'Delicious!' he exclaimed. 'I see! I see! And for what do you demand if you let us this sparkle powder and let us this bubbly water?'

'Nothing,' but replied the bubblebee queen. 'We have a plenty of sparkles and a plenty of bubbles. We will give to you, because we are sweet; as long as you leave us our needed share. Take too much, we will stop, or we will die. And if we die or if we stop, you will have no sparkles and no bubbles. No honey to exchange. You will die.'

'A compact of balance,' said the keeper. His eyes turned to his village who looked to him to accord with the bees. 'I accept this concord. For harmony and new hope.'

And with this compact made between the bubblebees and the mans who flee, a new realm was made, named from-by the sparkles and water that would become renowned."

"…" Eyes both amused and bemused so looked to she who had so read. "Is that…it?"

"Yeah…" Her purplish magenta eyes were still looking at the page. "It concludes right at this line. Mayhap a page is missing, but…I do not know."

"Ah, well…" The glimmery eyes so turned forward and away, mellow and lowly though at least feeling slightly better. "That was supposed to be a children's story?" They returned back to she who had read.

"To merchants probably, maybe… I would not be surprised if they want their kiddies to value…uhm…trade?" She was perhaps struggling to understand what…themes this story had been trying to convey. It was something she had picked up at the manor's library at random. The cover perhaps…looked cute, so she thought this girl would appreciate it.

Gem sunk into her fluffy and warm bedding, the curtains shut amidst a darkened room illuminated only by Miranda's single lamp and stand. "Hm…" This preadolescent began to think. "It…has some sense, I suppose…" She looked at Miranda. "Sparklewater is very…mighty, rightly?"

"Rich, more like." Miranda corrected.

"But, regardless," Gem continued, "it ends with a plea for harmony and balance; that the bubblebees shared their nectar and bubbles out of goodness, as long as the mans respected their share and did not…over…exploit? Yeah. Over-exploit."

"…balance, huh?" Yet Miranda could only ponder… "Maybe, but if that was the point, it was a poor one. After all, balance would mean that the bubblebees had something to gain as well, but they really did not." she thus said; "Man needs the bubblebees, but…the bubblebees do not need the mans; if the mans perished, they would be fine. That isn't truly harmony."

"Hm…" Gem continued to think, her lips puckered to the side. "That is right, I suppose…" She sighed… "We are overthinking a child's book."

"Hmm?" Miranda suddenly looked at with her a teasing expression. "Look at you, so mature lately… Must be rather difficult to 'grow up' your voice."

"Pfft… I am not doing that!" Gem's voice suddenly lost that…'older' tone. "K-know your place, maid!" She shook her hand with authority, yet it looked silly; she was simply too adorable to be taken seriously.

Miranda could only snicker. "Oh, forgive me, your majesty. Shall I pardon myself with amends by reading another?" She closed that book, putting it aside, and opened the one that had been underneath it.

"No…" Yet Gem turned away; "Thank you for still doing this with me, but…maybe we should… We should…stop this. I just wanted one last time."

"…you said this the previous time." yet Miranda noted; "Always this, little Gem: 'oh, I am too old to be read bed stories!' Only for you to snag me again with those cutie watery eyes…" She sighed. "You are still such a child; no need to pretend otherwise…" Perhaps she should not have said that; the tone was a little off.

"Yeah…" But Gem did not mind, and if anything… "Yeah!" Her posture straightened with determination. "I still only have twelve years on me! Not thirteen! I am still a kid! I should…relish in that while I still can!"

"That's the heart to have…" Miranda donned a tiny affirming smile.

"I shan't think of this again until at least the thirty-third day of Autumn's Sleep!" Gem so declared, maybe too loudly for the hour.

"Yeah…" Miranda…felt weird all of a sudden. Right, Gem's birthday was in a month. She ought not to care, yet she seemingly did… A sinking feeling that was unavoidable despite her believing that it was completely avoidable. She just needed not to care.

"Though, maybe," Gem's sweet glimmery eyes so looked at her, "we can try…difficulter and boringer stories…the next time. These stories are… They are not as interesting anymore. I like them! But, but…"

"You want something a little more…invigorating. I understand perfectly." Miranda replied. "You are growing up… But, remember, you are still a child." And so too was she, truth be told. "Don't push yourself faster than necessary. The world itself shall be doing enough of that."

Gem blew her lips in a gentle brr. "Yeah… I suppose that is right… But things feel like they are changing so fast.." Her posture mellowed and sunk once again; she stared off forwards, in her mind and thoughts. "I do not really remember well, but…it was around this time that Swordstaff started to change." she began to reflect; "Around this age. Twelve… He was a little mean before, but I remember him being, being… I don't know, just not as…whatever he is."

"Yes, that is…what it means to grow…and to age. You change…" Miranda…tried to reply, though she was suddenly even weirder—in a different way. "And he is…something, manifestly."

"Hm…" Gem once again retreated into her thoughts, certainly stretching her burgeoning higher order cognitive functions. "Hey," she turned to Miranda, "uhm… If I may…ask…you, and I know this may not be proper, but…but… Do you…have any…brothers and sisters also?"

Miranda…just stared. "Uh…" She was caught off guard by this sudden inquiry, uncertain how to answer—or whether she should even answer. "Uhm… Well…" However, she sighed and relaxed within… It really did not matter either way, did it? "I suppose…that I do…" she thus answered; "No brothers. Only…sisters."

-||-

It was late night and dark. Hollow moonlight beamed through the many large windows of the hall through which she so walked, her oil-lamp in hand alongside all those books she had gathered. She was making her way back to the library of this manor-estate.

She sighed, feeling so tired even though it was only night—that time she usually felt freshest.

Most truly, what an exhausting girl, that little Gem was. Talking and talking and all of that reading… Yet she hated it for not the right reasons; for it was not the girl, but the guilt. She was supposed to be better than this; or, ironically, she was supposed to be worse than what she truly was.

"Stupid girl… Get married off already." Miranda muttered atop her silent breaths.

Maybe it was that girl's eyes or maybe hair; regardless, within her eyes and within her stare, she could not help but see reflections… It was not that long ago when she herself was just a girl. Naive of the fire.

As she continued her walk through these quiet and empty halls filled with naught but occasional whispers of other night staff, Miranda looked out the windows as she always tended to do, that outline surrounding her purplish magenta irises slightly glimmery. Although the world beyond was darkened from the night besides the moon, she could still discern even if there was nothing to see…

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Though, such were her thoughts until she did see…that thing in the sky afar, moving.

"Manifestly, yet another materializes…"

Another Company 'sky-canoe', as she so called them. This one was amongst many she had been more commonly observing lately. They began appearing sometime after the start of this month—which was, granted, just barely even two weeks ago.

Most truly, indeed, it was said that there were years where nothing happened and weeks where history was made… Where this was said, mother did not know; thus, she did not know… And she did not know which of which could best apply. So much was happening; so much was in the works; so much was moving and turning… Both beyond and in the bulge. Yet none of it here, in this manor-estate.

And there was nothing interesting in this manor-estate anymore.

Indeed, Miranda was feeling…bored lately. She was feeling…emptier and without any drive… Besides one.

Hunger.

It replaced all other desires with its own; for, when in starvation, to devour would become the only purpose left behind… Even though she was not actually 'starving', and this was not truly…'hunger', even if the sensation gnawed at her deep within.

Regardless, it felt as though it was starting to reach a certain point.

The balance between soul and mind; apparently, there was supposed to be a 'balance' or 'harmony'…or 'synchrony'. Yet for her, it felt like a constant battle of domination. She wanted to live and so did it. It was an extension of her thoughts and feelings, her world within; but she too was its vessel to be pulled astring…

Both had a desire to survive, yet it could theoretically persist without her, beyond her; she could not be without it.

Such was how mother had told it, at least.

Always dying or 'decaying' it was, slowly and surely but faster than it could replenish; the closer it reached to the point of no return, the more aggressively maddened it would try to make her, so that she would finally feed it.

But it was picky, because she was picky. And compared to the others, while hers was utterly rotten and…unwieldy, it was not as frequently hungry—because, again, it was picky, preferring one big meal to satiate; patient, much like she herself. So, there maybe was some synchrony… Not that she really knew what that meant, truth be told.

Nevertheless, Miranda continued to eye that sky-canoe as she continued her steady stroll. It was just passing by, passive and indifferent…

Though, still. She hated balloons; she really hated them…

Yet she could not help but keep eyeing it, most especially as that balloon came closer and closer, ultimately passing above this manor wholly.

Perhaps she could not help but wonder… What were the crew of that dumb floating canoe pondering? Did they know that they were passing right above the place where the very prey they had apparently been so hunting was hiding?

They obviously did not, but…

It was just a thought.

Though, speaking of that prey… Miranda had not seen Blossom since their last encounter those some couple weeks ago. She, obviously, knew what happened to that girl—her so-called 'promotion'. But she was nonetheless at least expecting to happen a glimpse here and there… Though, it perhaps made sense, considering that she was avoiding that very someone whom that girl was now perpetually condemned to be affixed.

Nevertheless, gnawing at her within were no doubt so many…questions she so wanted to ask her…

Yet…

No. That was the hunger.

"Dumb bitch, fuck her anyway… How does she get to—Grr! So glad her entire family is dead." And with her thoughts shifting away from that balloon, Miranda was now suddenly upset at Blossom despite not having been feeling anything in particular a few seconds ago. Cursing her name, she could do, but she was not even jealous or envious…

No, actually, she is certainly very envious.
Although, perhaps in a way more predatory…
Frustration with stolen prey.

"Mother is mocking me… I feel it…" Miranda sighed, able to feel mother's presence yet it seemed looser. "I am being…extremely unpleasant." Unpleasant, more awkward, and increasingly more unnatural… Such was how she felt of her conduct as of late.

She had not any the idea as to why she was shifting in this way… Though, it began ever since Blossom's…change. Perhaps it was the separation or…what they were certainly doing. Or perhaps it was just because of the blightful hunger… Or maybe it was just because she wanted this to be finally over with, so that she could leave this manor for good.

"I am so tired…" Or, indeed, perhaps she was simply just…so very tired.

Though, truly, where was the difference here? It all seemed to circle back to each other.

"I do hope she is alright, Pinky…" These mumbling words, at least, were ringing true for a serpent's tongue… She was worried about that girl, despite everything that was to be done and…was going to be done.

Indeed, come sooner than not would be that day where Blossom was going to discover; where all things would be revealed… And Miranda knew it was going to be an unpleasant exchange. Which was why the faster this ended, the better for her… The less hurt awaited.

Though, really, maybe she would not feel anything.

Looking away from the windows, Miranda focused on the way forward, trying not to ponder too much… the things to come. All she wanted to do was simply return these books to that library… Yet she remained trapped in her mind; abruptly being reflected upon within…was that unexpected inquiry by little Gem.

"Sisters, mh?" Miranda muttered with a sigh, yet again looking out through the many large windows… "I wonder what they've been up to…" She wondered, indeed. "Especially mother's favorite…"

Ah. What conveniently perfect words to blurt…
To signal a momentary transition…
Or, cross merger, really.

A cave system; one small and simple, but more than enough.

Goblins and orcs had long utilized such caverns as not only dens, but also as lairs to lure adventurers and would-be militias. Indeed, conventionally, they would struggle greatly in fighting them in the open; thus, they always preferred to fight them where they knew they would have the advantage and through nefarious trickery.

Cave goblins went through great efforts to modify their chosen caverns to be the perfect environments for ambushes. Their preferred caverns tended to have troublesome paths difficult to navigate; linear and with plenty of false ways and dead ends; with pockets in the walls and even floors in which goblins could easily hide, out from which they could suddenly pop. Exact tactics and approaches varied, but goblin cavern dens were, indeed, generally traps for the naive and overconfident.

However, if something or someone did manage to break through, these very advantages could quickly become…disadvantages; the goblins would not have anywhere wide or spacious to which to turn and run. For there were only two ways to go, forward and back; they themselves could be easily trapped.

And, indeed, these goblins certainly felt trapped. Many were choking; many were burning; so many were screaming; so many were running, though to where, even for them it was confusing in the panic.

When they had heard the United Company had stormed into their den, they were hoping for an easy ambush. What they were not anticipating was that these were not ordinary infantry, but hardened shocktroopers; they were not expecting the gas that choked, reddened, and squeezed; and they were especially not anticipating the fire.

That terrible blueish fire.

It burned so hot from what they assumed had to be enchantment by alchemy or sorcery, and worst of all…it stuck to everything; even the cavern rock and stone, these flames stuck even if they did not spread; even if the flames were short to last, they burned so horribly.

The goblins struggled to readapt their plan, unable to even see the heavy fire siphoneers and their terrible firethrowers who were marching on through in a line supported by storm infantry who, with repeating rifles and blunderbusses, shot anything that survived the blinding flames.

Fire! Fire! Fire! Such screams and shouts were hurled by the goblins far enough behind. Javelins were thrown and shots were fired, yet the fire siphoneers shrugged them off as if nearly bullet proof. Although these goblins had managed escaped the flames, they too were not safe. For whilst the flames terribly burned and mulched, there was also that terrible gas…

Anti-goblin gas, to be precise; relatively harmless for almost everyone else. Contact with this strange gas caused immediate inflammation, eye irritation, and anaphylaxis for most kinds of goblins and even some orcs, being not even a special chemical compound or toxic element as much as a vapory concentrate of a certain flower to which the majority were genetically allergic.

Indeed, the United Central Company's strategy in dealing with goblin caverns had been refined throughout the last decade… A tactic that was dangerously stupid yet also stupidly effective: gas them out and burn everything on the way. Firethrowers burned the walls and floor, denying the goblins any space to spring out; in fact, their own ambush pockets tended to trap them to the flames. The supporting shock infantry, likewise, threw grenades of anti-goblin gas that flushed them out to be shot or burned.

Most Company casualties in these operations tended to be from accidents, such as the volatile nature of their fire siphons or the occasional unreliability of their grenades, firearms, and other equipment. Yet miraculously, this detachment of Company storm infantry rapidly moved with minimal causalities—injuries exclusively. They cleared out this cave, reaching the goblin's proper den which they proceeded to ransack and burn.

They triumphed, this being only one amongst many such vanquished dens.

"Agh!" The goblin general was frustrated. "Another den, I received word. In such short time, that perfidious corporation has enacted such pressure…" he snarled almost, before shifting his goblin eyes. "I understand this plan and the logic, but still! We are sacrificing… You know how long it took us to establish ourselves here?! All those bases!"

"Yes, and they are now useless. We have no need for them." The cloaked figure who so wore that strange triangular mask was unapologetic. "We are giving the Company a false sense of victory, as explained. The easier this seems for them, the more arrogant and complacent they become."

"I just do not like these losses! We evacuated those dens, yes. But to still leave so many behind, just to be killed… It is a waste." The goblin general, while having been following along, was nevertheless extremely uneased.

"If the dens were empty, it would be suspicious. As tragic as it is, we must leave enough behind for them to kill and salvage." she replied. "They need to trust what they are being given."

"I understand that, but… How do I know you are not tricking us?" The goblin general so pointed his sharp finger. "You could be funneling us into a trap, with all of these movements and changes… You claim to have spies on the surface who are giving the Company these locations… How do we know you are not planning on betraying us!"

"You don't." she simply stated. "All you have are my words, and I have given you them. And so far things are moving as we have specified. You can see that."

"I may see that, but my goblins may not! They grow uneasy!" the goblin general so squeaked; "All you have had us do is…contract and pull back into the deeper underways. You said during your showful entrance that you wanted our spearhead and her bronze golem for your kidnapping but have yet to specify any dates… We see not the direction this goes."

"You should know patience well enough, Fallen; there is a right time and a wrong time. We are waiting and playing along with the Company." she replied; "They know they are fighting you; they do not understand what we are; that we are here; that we have strings on them too."

"We do not understand what you are either, your 'cult' and your 'Great Watcher'. That is the distrust, vampire. You are servants of something we do not understand, with an agenda that is only aligned with ours by convenience." The goblin general was blunt. "And understand I have not surrendered leadership to you. This is my army, and I was ordained their general."

"And everything I have said were suggestions, not orders. You are not obligated to follow, do, or even have us around." she stated, simple and plain; "But you understand perfectly the convenience of what we offer; what you have witnessed."

The goblin general growled a little, though ultimately looked away. "Your custodian thingy… It can reveal maps, points, and things to target… But you have not given us anything since your arrival." He returned his sight. "When do we, ourselves, strike. That is what I ask; that is what will prove that you are actually helping us."

"Soon." she so replied; "You may not trust me, but you can believe my words. But for now, keep sending the word to abandon your outer bases with any surface connections and withdraw into your deeper territories, leaving behind only a necessary amount. We need an account of what you will have left: warriors, arms, inventory, supplies. Everything of yours is far too scattered and dispersed, weakening you by thinning and stretching." Ariel's mask-obscured eyes looked into him. "If you want to win this, you must reorganize yourselves. That is why we are here. To help you and restructure you into something…proper."

Proxies on our behalf.
Dependent on our offerings.