Many years passed, and Armand continued to read through the library's content. The amount of faith he collected grew steadily; it seemed that the news of his ‘godhood’ had transferred from the original two individuals to a small group.

  However, it was still far from enough; only a minute portion of his soul had been transformed by the power of faith, a small silvery speck on the surface of his purple-tinged soul.

  “I wonder what realm is associated with purple?” The goblin couldn’t help but consider. He had always wondered where his soul was destined to go to. Nonetheless, he had plenty of time to work on preparatory work for the second phase of his escape-the-dungeon plan.

  This entailed him spending inordinate amounts of time in the workshop. The thing he was creating could have been rudimentary but he felt an artistic duty to make this construct of the utmost quality.

  He was so focused on his work that it slowed his reading efforts significantly as he directed the majority of his attention to his crafting efforts. In the time span he worked on the construct, he could have easily finished the recently expanded libraries’ contents.

  One day, however, he felt it once again. The itch of company, and this time it was a lot of people. The watchers began to move; it was a party of twenty or so. He frowned initially; while he was sure that he could deal with it, he probably wasn’t going to enjoy the process.

  However, the original frown began to soften as he focused in on three of the members of the party in question. Specifically, their equipment. “Ahh, I see.” The goblin smiled as he watched them enter.

  The adventurers slowly walked through the entryway; one in particular was looking at everything, almost savoring the surroundings. They ran their hand across the tables and almost waltzed their way through the room with immense grace.

  The watchers couldn’t get close enough to make out any faces without revealing themselves, so Armand sat on pins and needles waiting to see the outcome.

  The group was keeping pace with the one slowly walking through, almost as if sightseeing. They eventually made it from the entrance and into the hall of the library. The leading figure stopped and surveyed the room, as if taken aback by the new expanse.

  But like the group that visited before, her gaze was redirected to the box. “Knowledge for Knowledge… Interesting.” Speaking in a sharp and feminine voice, she waved to one of the individuals behind her. They in turn brought forth a scroll that was placed into the leader's hand.

  She approaches the box. “My queen! Do not put in; let me do it instead.” Spoke upon another heavily armored individual. She in turn just waved him away as she stepped forth to the box.

  She dropped the scroll within and stepped back. The box unfolded and out popped the librarian. All but three of the adventurers had their grips upon their weapons in preparation to strike.

  “Your gift of knowledge has been accepted; please ask your question.” The librarian asked of the lady.

  “How does vengeance feel?” She said with a small smirk, her hood slipping back. The librarian froze for a second as it finally got a good look at the face.

  “I have heard it is satisfying but I would prefer to hear it from someone who has experienced it.” The normally tinny voice had a noticeable shift, as if someone else was controlling it as its mannerisms changed.

  “So you are here,” The woman smiled as she recognized the speech. “Perhaps I can come tell you.” She further suggested.

  “You and those three over there may enter the restricted section to further our conversation.” The automaton looked back at the rest of the group. “You lot can return to the entrance; there is food, water, and beds. Stay out of the restricted section or face my wrath.”

  She stepped up and over to the door guarded by two sentinels, followed by the three he had pointed out. The other guards looked severely disappointed, but some inevitably tried to follow.

  The leader in turn looked back at them with a piercing glare, clearly icing their intentions as they stood there and she continued through the door; the three others also followed in tow.

  They walked through the restricted sections of the libraries; it too was filled to the brim with books, but the titles were all in demonic, celestial, or primal scripts, or even some other scripts they failed to identify.

  "I wonder if he read through all of these yet," the leader thought to herself. That’s probably not feasible; this is way too many books for a normal person to read. They continued to walk through the massive passageways and eventually came to a hall.

  The hall had several seats, along with walls of books, and at the end a massive leather armchair was seated before a hearth of purple flames, not in the original main room but in a more grandiose one made with the intention of entertaining guests.

  “You have been busy, Armand.” The leader spoke with a sense of familiarity that only one person could have in the entirety of the goblin’s life.

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  “Isolde, I can’t believe you have come back to this dark place, but with you here, it has become much lighter.” The goblin stood up and walked towards the group. “It is also a pleasure to see you again, Gideon, Theoden, and of course, Jomead.”

  “The green-skin has worked harder than most dwarves; quite the hall, it could rival even our greatest creations.” The dwarf spoke up with a booming voice.

  The goblin could feel a change in the trio’s aura; they were sharper, more dangerous, and more experienced. Clearly the new job had brought its benefits and hardships. Perhaps more, as he sensed something going on between Gideon and Isolde. Patience, Armand, there will be plenty of time to inquire about that, the goblin chided himself.

  “Well, perhaps we should begin at the beginning.” The goblin was smiling ear to ear as he directed his guests to sit at the table. Once seated, he snapped his fingers and the table filled with some of his best creations, and of course some classics just for Isolde. “Please dig in; I know getting to my dungeon can be quite the task and you all are probably starving.”

  They didn’t need to ask twice; the dwarf in particular dug into it with ferociousness and also uncorked several bottles and downed them in one quick draught. “Dwarven ale!” he exclaimed in excitement as he grabbed another bottle, “and Dwarven wine!” Jomead practically squealed in glee.

  “Only the best for my family and friends.” The goblin said with a smile, Isolde was carefully picking from the many dishes available.

  “While I appreciate the more nostalgic dishes.” She took a bite of the food that was properly spiced, and he could see her uncontrollably grin in satisfaction.

  “I have done a lot of research and a lot of practice.” He said the smile hadn’t left his face since their arrival, so much so that his cheeks ached. “Now, I believe I am due a story.”

  “I guess so.” She had put it off long enough, not due to not wanting to share but rather because she wasn’t sure where to start. So she told the tale, the tale of a teen who carefully navigated her way out of the forest of death.

  After escaping, she went to the burned-down tavern that was her childhood home; the bastards didn’t even bother burying her parents. After using the shovel to give them a resting place, she used it to unearth her father’s legacy. The blade was specially forged for her and she would quench it in their blood.

  She began by searching for each of the old members of her parent’s party. Many of whom had risen to powerful positions within the nation. However, as she began to infiltrate the ranks of her first target, who happened to be a general in the army. Something unexpected happened.

  The same band of mercenaries had come to assassinate him. She fought her hardest to save the one she originally blamed, but he was severely injured. As he lay dying, the once hero, now old man, confessed what the group had found.

  The group’s greatest accomplishment was braving the labyrinth of kings. A dungeon that supplied many of the magic beast materials the capital city relied on, and within its depths they found a key.

  They had to flee quickly after they recovered the key, having had to battle a dragon to acquire it. Once they left, however, they couldn’t decide on what to do, so along with splitting the dragon’s horde, they split the key into seven parts, one going to each of the original party members.

  Why was the key important? She asked the dying general; after all, her parents were murdered for said key. Well, it opened a secret path within the dungeon that led to the trail of rulers. Should one pass the trial, they would be the rightful ruler of the kingdom.

  After his final statement, the general quickly passed to the next life. But as the other members of the military flooded in, they mistook Isolde as not the attempted savior but rather the assassin.

  She fought for her life to get out of there and would have been caught if she had not run into a certain party of three. The four went on the run as they hunted down the remainder of her parent’s party.

  Many of them chose more mundane jobs for their retirement, much like her mother and father. One opened a series of successful restaurants in the capital, similarly one opened a smithing shop, and another funded an entertainment arena. It turned out, however, that none of them were the ones responsible for the deaths.

  Each of the main members received a piece of the key, but there were several other people in the party. People who were not founding members but rather logistics and support.

  One of those people had become the head councilman on the council of elders of the nation. Since the last appointed king had died long ago, the council held all the power.

  However, this person wanted more; he wanted to be king, but without providence, he could never claim control over the nation and establish his oligarchy.

  So he sought the key pieces and he had collected them all by the sword and now he was delving into the labyrinth. So Isolde and the rest followed him and the mercenaries into the dungeon.

  When Isolde found him, he had left the mercenaries he hired to rot, a final betrayal before she brought final judgement as she severed his head from his thin neck.

  After that they were left with a choice: leave the job complete or use the key as it was intended. They fought their way through the hordes of monsters and found the Trial of Kings. Within it they were each put through a series of tests that gauged their morality, leadership, and grit. Isolde passed and was graced by the Grand Mother, just like Armand.

  “After which, I was crowned queen of the Nation of Forests.” She finished off her tale; the goblin had greatly enjoyed the process and was deeply engrossed in the story.

  “That was quite the tale, one that I am hoping to achieve myself.” The goblin smiled, happy for her but feeling pressed to achieve his own vengeance.

  “You will; we could just go kill the bastard for you.” Gideon could not help but blurt after getting deep into his cups.

  “That won’t do,” Armand replied, “this is my task. But there may be a way for you all to help.” They looked at him expectantly. “I can’t quite follow that up so let’s call it for today and we can discuss this on the morrow.” He stood up and waved to the side. “Some rooms are ready for you, and no sharing.” He said as he stared at the two of them in particular, as Isodle and Gidoen both blushed in embarrassment.