As the sun set in the west and the twin moons began to shine, I sat with Keggr and Mug in a section of the upstairs that seemed sturdy enough. True, it was missing a wall—which is how we watched the fading daylight turn to night—and no, it didn’t have much in the way of a roof either, but it was nice. In the distance, I could see the opulence of the castle, but around us in the slums, there were just empty, dilapidated buildings. With renovations begun on my home, would I indirectly lead to gentrification? Would the rats find themselves supplanted by a more affluent class of vermin and be forced to move? These were future problems; right now, I was just enjoying the quiet.

  Mug and Keggr were eating some form of bread that Keggr had produced from one of his grimy pockets. His lack of sight meant he probably didn’t notice the hairs stuck to it, but I definitely did. He ate with a sort of grim focus, taking one bite after another like it was his solemn duty. I would need to find a way to make money quick if I didn’t want my companions to either starve or be forced to rely on Keggr for food. I didn’t know which fate was worse.

  I had Recycled Mug another mattress like the one from the kobold mines and set it up in an area almost completely rat-free. Keggr opted to sleep directly on the hard stone, claiming it felt better for a dwarf than the finest mattress ever made. After we had sat and enjoyed the fruits of our labor for a while, they both retired, leaving me to my thoughts. Being a trashcan, I didn’t have to sleep, and I didn’t have much mana to play around with tonight for experimentation, so I set my sights on my next problem: gold.

  This world seemed to run on basic fantasy logic and systems. Currency was metallic coins backed by the crown: gold, silver, and bronze. 100 bronze to a silver, and 100 silver to a gold. Pretty simple stuff. The complex part was getting it. I guess I could recycle items and sell them, but that ran the risk of flooding markets and leading to devaluation. Same for recycling coins directly; I didn’t want to risk being the number one cause of hyperinflation via Recycled coins.

  My next best idea was the adventurers’ classic: questing. With Mug as the muscle and myself as a support mage, I was sure we could handle most of the low-level threats that were sure to be offered as quests here in Aeternia. While the people here didn’t seem to realize it, everything here seemed relatively gamified. I could probably take Mug to the local watering hole, ask the bartender if they knew anyone that needed some work done, and find myself in a cursed tomb knee deep in mummies or the like hours later.

  I was so locked in thought, I almost didn’t notice the sound of our front door being kicked open. We three were on the second floor, but the intruders downstairs were not going out of their way to be silent. I heard loud, high-pitched chittering and laughter, and the sound of something rhythmically tapping on the stone flooring.

  “Well well, clan-kin, lookit this, lookit this! Good brick-work, solid walls—looking like new Clan Goldtail house-home!” Uh-oh. Sounds like we had someone who was admiring our handiwork and decided they found it worth having. That made sense; in this part of town, even a home with half its walls was a luxury. I waddled gently over to Mug and gently kicked him awake after trying three times. Mug was a deep sleeper, I had come to learn. As I managed to get Mug to his feet, Keggr appeared silently behind me, brows furrowed.

  ‘Hey Keggr, sounds like someone is downstairs and wants our new home. You know anything about Clan Goldtail?’ Keggr scratched his backside, then sniffed his fingers. “Aye, I do. Just a bunch of low-life ratkin. Nothin’ you lot can’t handle.”

  ‘Excuse me, us lot? You live here too!’ Keggr shrugged. “I’m a builder, not a fighter. You an’ the goblin can handle it well enough. He told me you beat a great dragon, after all.”

  ‘It was a lesser fume wyrm! Mug exaggerated! Mug, don’t exaggerate!’ Mug dutifully nodded, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. Well, since Keggr wouldn’t help, this would have to be me and Mug. Well, what was a few ratkin compared to a fume wyrm? I Polymorphed into my mobile form and clanked toward the stairs with Mug behind, making as much noise as possible. Maybe they didn’t know we were up here, and our presence being made known would make them flee? Maybe Clan Goldtail was full of cowards afraid of a genuine confrontation and could only pick on the defenseless and the weak? Okay, sure, we looked defenseless and weak in all likelihood, but it was worth a hope.

  In the end, it was only hope. As we descended the stairs, the voices stopped, and as we rounded the corner, we were greeted by nine different pairs of glowing eyes. The ratkin were between four and five feet tall, with long, snaking tails that dragged behind them and twitched in the darkness. They looked like bipedal rats, only their hands ended in jagged claws and their oversized teeth gleamed in the moonlight streaming in from the lack of roof. They wore a mismatch of Victorian-style clothing; bowler hats, scarves, overcoats, and suspenders—all shoddy and full of holes.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  After a brief staredown, one stepped forward. He wore a large, dented top hat, a peacoat with no sleeves, and carried a large wooden cane with a pointy metallic tip. His ragged ears had cheap jewelry that weighed them down, and his front incisor was gleaming gold. He rapped the cane twice, then pointed it at us.

  “Begging your pardon-excuse, but this house-home is property of Clan Goldtail. Be mighty obliged-glad if goblin and walking trashcan could leave. Got to decorate, got to move in.” The ratkin behind him laughed, a snickering, throaty laugh that did not sound at all scared of us.

  ‘Mug, something tells me they are gonna respect me even less than they respect you. You handle the speaking. Remember, I’ve got your back no matter what.’ Mug gulped but stepped forward in front of me and drew himself to his full height, which was now approximately four-foot-ten.

  “Clan Goldtail! This property is, actually, according to the king, property of my master here, the Lugenhelm, protector of the House of Freise and slayer of dragons! This is probably a misunderstanding, but my master, in his infinite wisdom and kindness, says that it’s okay—you guys can just clear out and we’ll, um, forget about the whole thing.” His voice was nervous, but I noticed there was a little more determination in his inflection than usual. The Goldtails did not notice, however, and just laughed more.

  “Oh! Excuse-forgive us! Didn’t know we were talking to royalty! But unfortunately, law-rules is law-rules! Clan Goldtail holding the title-deed! That makes this ours!” His tail twitched, and two ratkin stepped out of the darkness behind him. They both towered over him, and I could see their bulging muscles even in the darkness. Mug gulped but spoke again, his voice only quivering slightly.

  “You are correct! The law is the law! As of this morning, the king himself ordered that any building in this outer district could be claimed by the Lugenhelm, by royal decree! If you do not believe us, then we can take this directly to the king in the morning and get this settled! Until then, we ask that you please leave! Please! Sorry!” Mug’s tiny chest was puffed out, but his knees were shaking. Well, at least he sounded good.

  Gold Tooth the ratkin sniggered, then stepped backwards while pointing his cane at Mug. “Yes-right! Law-rules is law-rules! We got a royal decree-demand from king too! Says as of ten minutes ago, any building we want is ours! Even got a title-deed! Boys, show him our title-deeds!” Both rats produced heavy, rusted cleavers from behind their backs, blades notched and suspiciously stained. The other ratkin behind him began to advance, drawing small knives and clubs as they did so.

  “Now, we can settle this here-now! No king needed! Our title-deed versus yours! Oh yes-good! Good day for Clan Goldtail! New house-home and goblin-stew! Good day! See these intruder-squatters out, boys! Eat good and sleep good tonight!” With that, they began to advance, raising their crude weapons gleefully.

  I have to take a second to describe Mug here. When I first saw him, he was three-foot-nothing, wearing rags and tripping over his own legs and just all around pathetic-looking. Floppy ears, a squashed-in nose, limbs like noodles, and a chest that looked concave. Even his color was a sickly, uncertain green. He was scared and uncertain about everything, but mostly about himself. But that had been before we had fought a fume wyrm, defied Prince Edvald, and spent the day repairing a home. Now, he was four and a half feet. His arms seemed sinewy rather than emaciated, and his chest had the slightest of bulges. His ears seemed less droopy and more pointed, and his back seemed to have strength in it. His color was now closer to a forest green, deep and full.

  Basically, Mug looked less like an accident and more like a real person. Right now, he was shaking, but I realized that it wasn’t from fear; it was anger. This was probably the first time in his life he had a real home. I hadn’t asked him what his life was like before the prince, but I knew that his time with Edvald had been painful, humiliating, and demeaning. With me, it was dangerous, sure, but he was given respect and pants without holes. Right now, these ratkin were threatening to take that from him, and while to anyone else he looked like a goblin—and thus easy pickings—I knew from Void’s assessment that he was actually an orc.

  In essence, some small fry were threatening an apex predator with eviction.

  “You will not take our home, sir! If you do not leave, I will… I’ll fight you!” Gold Tooth paused, then laughed uproariously, the rest of his crew following along. It sounded funny, but somehow I didn’t think it was.

  ‘Alright Mug, looks like they’re not listening. Like I said, I’ll back anything you do. So what’s the play?’ Mug didn’t even have to think. He grabbed a broken table leg and launched himself at the nearest of the two big ratkin with a howl, clobbering it twice in the chest and then once over the head before they knew what was happening. I internally sighed, then rocked myself forward, falling onto one of the smaller lurking ones with all my weight. It made a satisfying crunch and squeal as I landed and rocked myself back onto my legs.

  Well, no one ever said homeownership was without its perils.