CHAPTER 44: RAG DOLLS AND RAIDING GOBLINS

The candles in Vexena’s private bedchamber burn low, casting golden, flickering shadows across the obsidian walls. The Demon Queen lay sprawled across a sea of velvet sheets, her breathing uneven, limbs tangled in her bedding. Her usually regal posture nowhere to be found as her body lay twisted in discomfort, her brow furrowed in restless dreams.

Her long white hair tangled across her pillow, and even in the deepest hours of the night, her crimson eyes flutter beneath heavy lids. Sleep... true sleep... had eluded her for years. Since the day Veena had disappeared into the world beyond the Demon Lands, her nights were tormented by silence, doubt, and the ghosts of all the things left unsaid.

Beside her, nestled under a heavy embroidered blanket, lies Virelle. She snores softly, lips puffed out, clutching a ragged doll tightly to her chest.

The toy’s eyes shimmer in the candlelight, two tiny glints of living gold. Maribelle Blackthorn, or what remains of her spirit, trapped inside the cursed ragdoll, turns her stitched head slowly, taking in the room.

She waits. Listens.

Vexena stirs in her sleep, but does not wake. Yet.

The doll carefully untangles itself from Virelle’s grip, inching across the vast bedspread like a determined insect. She hops off the edge, landing with a soft thud on the obsidian floor.

But the room was now tall. The doors, massive. The handle, unreachable.

The ragdoll turns her stitched face up at the handle. Then she scans the room again, spotting a velvet chair nearby. Grunting in effort, she pushed it slowly, scoot by scoot, until it bumps beneath the handle. She climbs, wobbling as she stands on its cushioned surface.

Her cloth fingers brushes the handle...

Click.

The latch shifts open.

But before she could push the door further—

"Eeeeeeeeeee!!"

Virelle looms over her, grinning like a fiend.

"You were moving! I saw you move!" she squeals, eyes wide with delight. "You’re alive! You’re alive!"

She snatches the doll up into her arms with lightning speed, cuddling her like a favorite stuffed animal. "You’re gonna be my best friend forever and ever and ever!"

Vexena jolts upright, hair a chaotic mess. "What is it this time!?"

"I caught Dolly trying to leave!" Virelle cries gleefully.

The doll slumps in her arms. Lifeless again.

Vexena blinks, rubs her eyes, and groans. "I really need to put locks on those enchantments..."

-----------------

Meanwhile, Far from the Demon Lands...

The air is crisp, filled with the scent of turned earth, fresh dew, and ripening grain. The sun had barely reached its peak, casting long golden rays over the gentle hills and lush patchwork of farmland that made up the western Fertile Belt.

The team stands atop a ridge, gazing down at a scattering of people working the fields.

"I thought there’d be more... you know... Youth," Penelo comments, squinting.

Below them, hunched figures move slowly through the rows of crops. Harvesting, tilling, carrying bundles of wheat. It isn’t until they approach that Vuvi realizes all the workers were old women. Their backs bent with age and labor, but their hands never stopped moving.

One of them looks up and gasps.

"Oh heavens! Are you real?" she cries, hobbling toward them. "You... You’re the ones in the stories! With the golden man!"

Vuvi strikes a confident pose. "We are indeed. I’m Vuvela Blackthorn, founder of the, uh, Blackthorn Pleasure Advancement and Distribution Taskforce. And this is The Pleasure Prince. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?"

The woman doesn’t answer.

Instead, she grabs Vuvi’s hand. "You have to come! You must speak with the chief. Now. There’s trouble. Real trouble!"

Penelo blinks. "The horny kind of trouble or the fighting kind?"

The woman’s face wrinkles with concern. "Both!"

The village they enter is small and simple. Mudstone houses with thatched roofs, chicken pens, and abandoned market stalls stand beside The fields around are well-kept, but eerily quiet. Aside from the elderly and a few children, the village seems... empty.

The few men they did see sit together in the shade under trees or slumped on porches. Some smoked pipes filled with strange herbs. Others mumbled into tankards of sour ale. A few muttered prayers under their breath.

Then, one man looked up and locked eyes with Pip.

"It’s him," he whispers. "The golden one. The prophesied shaft."

"The what?" Veena mutters.

"HE’S HERE!" the man suddenly shrieks. "SALVATION HAS ARRIVED!"

A wave of men and old women quickly flood the dusty streets, stumbling toward the team in awe.

"Praise the Vibrator of Virtue!" one old woman sobs.

"Bless the blessed Beeper!" cries another.

Vuvi holds up her hands, trying to calm the crowd. "Okay! We get it! He’s shiny! Now back up before you smother my prototype!"

A chorus of desperate voices rises around them.

"Save our souls!"

"Save our hips!"

"Bring our daughters back!"

Vuvi pauses. "Wait... what do you mean bring your daughters back?"

The crowd falls silent.

One of the older women, a wrinkled matriarch with fierce eyes, steps forward. "They’re gone. All of them. Taken or vanished."

Vuvi frowns. "We’re not adventurers. We don’t rescue people... we pleasure them."

Penelo leans closer to Vuvi. "That... sounded better in your head, didn’t it?"

"Let’s just talk to the chief."

The village chief’s house turns out to be little more than a large hut with a stone floor and colorful rugs.

Inside, the chief lounges like a sultan. Shirt open, belly out, reclining on a mountain of plush cushions. A long, curving pipe balanced between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the rafters.

"Ohhh. Visitors," he drawls without sitting up. "Wonderful. Let me guess. Traveling cabbage sales?"

Vuvi steps forward, arms crossed. "You’re the village chief?"

"Indeed."

"We heard your daughters were missing."

"Oh... right. That." He yawns.

A wooden ladle streaks across the room and smacks him upside the head.

"OW!"

The fierce matriarch from earlier stands with hands on her hips. "You forgot again, you lazy toad!"

The chief rubs his head and sits up. "Fine, fine. Our village was raided a few weeks ago. Goblins. Nasty little pests. No one got hurt, but they took a lot of the food from our granaries."

"And?"

"And our men were too... spiritually preoccupied to chase them down."

"Too lazy, you mean," Vuvi growls.

"Exactly. So," the chief continues, "our bravest women formed a party. Hunters, farmers, two sword-dancers, even the bakery twins. They left to deal with the goblins. That was nine days ago."

Vuvi stares. "You sent your grandmothers to harvest crops, your daughters to fight goblins, and your men to become herb-drunk paperweights?!"

"Well..." the Chief sighs, twirling the hair around his belly button, "When you put it that way... yes."

She turns to the rest of the group. "Let’s go. This is beyond our scope."

"Wait! What about the missing girls?" the chief calls after her. "They could be in danger!"

Veena gives a knowing look. "You’re just going to let them suffer?"

Vuvi spins, pointing a finger. "Don’t guilt-trip me, demon princess."

Penelo steps forward, big watery eyes shimmering. "They’re just like me, probably. Lost. Scared. Maybe never touched."

Then Pip beeps.

Slow.

Drawn-out.

Disappointed.

Vuvi groans.

"Not you too..."

Pip tilts his head. His glow dimming, just a little.

"Ughhh!" Vuvi snarls. "Fine! FINE! We’ll try to help. But if any of those goblins try anything kinky, I’m blowing their nuts off."

The old women cheer.

The chief sighs with relief.

And Pip’s glow brightens once more.