The Castle of Shadows was no longer a place of brooding majesty.
It was a lemon. A giant, stone lemon screaming at the sun.
Aris stood in the courtyard, shielding his eyes. The morning light hit the freshly painted "Sun-Box" keep and reflected with blinding intensity. The "Night Shift" goblins had been thorough. They hadn't missed a spot.
"It burns," Aris muttered, squinting. "It actually burns."
"It's certainly... distinct," Kaelen mused. The Hero was leaning against a neon-yellow pillar, using the reflective surface to check his teeth. "It says, 'We have conquered the darkness, and replaced it with a migraine.' It takes a bold leader to commit to this level of tacky, Aris."
"It brings out my desire to commit arson," Elowen growled. The Fire Mage was standing nearby, her hands twitching. "Aris, just one fireball. I can scorch it back to black. It will smell like burnt toast for a year, but it's better than this."
"No fire," Aris sighed, rubbing his temples. "We just got the walls sealed."
Garrick was sitting on the edge of the battlements, legs dangling over the side. He wasn't floating or acting out; he was just watching the scene with a lazy, predatory grin.
"You're all missing the big picture," Garrick called down, his voice smooth. "This isn't just ugly. It's a tactical weapon. Any army marching on us will be blinded before they reach the drawbridge. We have weaponized bad taste. It's genius, really."
Aris glanced at the rain barrel near the gate. It vibrated slightly. Thal was definitely in there.
"Thal disagrees," Aris noted.
"Thal has no sense of humor," Garrick shrugged, flicking a pebble at the barrel. "Come out, Shadow Boy. Embrace the citrus."
The barrel did not move, but the temperature around it dropped ten degrees.
Aris walked past them and into the main camp. The yellow paint was annoying, yes. But as he walked deeper into the mass of four thousand sleeping goblins, he realized the paint was the least of his worries.
He stopped. He sniffed the air.
It smelled like wet dog, rotten mushrooms, and something much, much worse.
He looked down. A goblin was brushing his teeth with a stick dipped in mud. Another was washing his face in the same puddle that a third goblin was currently using as a toilet.
Aris froze. His stomach did a hard flip.
"Oh god," Aris whispered, covering his mouth.
He didn't need to be a doctor to know what happens when you mix four thousand people, stagnant water, and zero plumbing.
"Fascinating ecosystem, isn't it?"
Valerius stepped out from behind a tent. She wasn't manic; she was focused. She held a vial of the puddle water up to the light, swirling it with a critical eye.
"A closed-loop contamination cycle," Valerius noted, her voice clinical and cold. "We aren't just drinking waste, Aris. We are cultivating a hyper-accelerated bacterial broth. Based on the goblin metabolic rate and the volume of the moat, the water toxicity will reach lethal levels in... forty-eight hours."
She looked at Aris, her face serious.
"This is a biological time bomb. If you don't secure a sterile water source, your army will be dead of dysentery by Tuesday. And I don't have enough beds for four thousand patients."
Aris swallowed hard. "Eve! Get the soap! We have a crisis!"
Aris called an emergency meeting in the Great Hall. The walls here were also yellow, giving the war council a sickly, jaundiced lighting.
"Status report," Aris said, slapping a piece of paper onto the table. It was a crude drawing of a toilet. "Does anyone know what this is?"
Kaelen picked up the paper with two fingers, as if it were contaminated.
"It looks like a soup bowl," Kaelen guessed. "For a very unloved child."
"It is a Latrine," Aris said gravely. "A flushing latrine. Currently, our army is doing their business in the moat. The same moat we use to wash our clothes."
Garrick, who was leaning back in his chair balancing a dagger on his finger, let out a low whistle.
"So that explains the flavor of the coffee this morning," Garrick smirked. "I thought it had a certain... earthy kick."
"It's not funny, Garrick," Aris snapped. "We are living in a petri dish. We need infrastructure. We need plumbing."
He turned to Krakka, who was sitting at the end of the table, wearing a yellow sash to match the castle.
"Krakka," Aris said. "Your boys are tinkerers. You built the siege engines. Can you build a system to move water?"
Krakka blinked. "Move water?"
"Pipes," Aris explained. "Clean water in. Dirty water out. Can you build it?"
Krakka puffed out his chest. His mechanical claw whirred.
"Boss," Krakka scoffed. "We are Goblins! We build machines that smash! We build machines that burn! Moving water is easy! It is just... wet pushing!"
"Are you sure?" Aris asked, skeptical. "It needs to be precise. If it leaks..."
"Goblin Tech never leaks!" Krakka declared. "We use Spin-Logic! If water spin fast, it get dizzy and go away! Give us three hours!"
Krakka ran out of the room, shouting orders.
"BOYS! THE BOSS WANTS A POOP-TUBE! GET THE HAMMERS!"
Aris looked at his team.
"I give it twenty minutes," Garrick said, checking his nails. "Before it detonates."
"I have faith," Kaelen smiled. "I give it thirty."
"I can verify," Thal's voice drifted from the only shadow in the room, "that water does not, in fact, get dizzy."
Three hours later.
The courtyard had been transformed into a labyrinth of rusted scrap metal, hollowed-out logs, and leather hoses. It looked less like a sewer system and more like a rollercoaster designed by a drunk wizard.
Krakka stood proudly next to a massive contraption in the center. It was a wooden tower topped with a giant funnel. A complex web of pipes ran from the funnel down to the moat.
"Behold!" Krakka shouted. "The Turbolush 3000!"
"It looks... aggressive," Kaelen noted, keeping a safe distance. "Why does the water tank have a spike on it?"
"For grip!" Krakka explained. "Now... observe! We use Big-Push!"
Krakka grabbed a giant lever made from a sword hilt.
"Lever drops the Crush-Rock!" Krakka yelled. "Rock hits water skin. Water runs away from rock! Fast water! Whoosh!"
"Wait," Aris stepped back, hiding behind Kaelen. "You're using impact trauma to flush?"
"Yes! Science!" Krakka pulled the lever.
CLUNK. HISSSSSS.
The machine groaned. A massive boulder inside the tower dropped onto a leather bladder filled with water.
The pressure didn't just build; it spiked. The pipes started to shake violently. The duct tape screamed.
"It's whistling," Elowen said, eyes lighting up. "That is the sound of imminent structural failure. I love that sound."
"Hold onto your hats," Garrick murmured, looking amused.
KA-BOOM.
The main pipe didn't just burst. It detonated.
A geyser of mud, water, and sludge shot fifty feet into the air. It arced beautifully over the courtyard and splattered against the newly painted yellow wall.
Kaelen didn't flinch. He simply whipped out a silk umbrella from somewhere and opened it with a snap, shielding himself and Aris from the rain of sludge.
"My coat," Kaelen sighed. "I just had it cleaned."
Valerius, however, ran toward the sludge rain, holding open jars. "Samples! Look at the velocity! If we could weaponize this dispersal method, we could infect an entire city in minutes!"
The machine fell apart. A wheel rolled past Aris's foot.
Krakka stood covered in mud. He looked at the wreckage. He looked at Aris.
"We... need more tape," Krakka whispered.
Aris didn't scream. He didn't rage. He just slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, staring at the sky.
"No, Krakka," Aris said softly. "Tape won't fix this. You guys are brilliant at destruction. But you don't know order."
He looked at the mess.
"You're trying to bully the water," Aris murmured. "We need someone who understands how to ask it nicely. Someone who builds things that don't wiggle."
Aris looked at Krakka.
"Krakka, be honest. Is there anyone in this world—anyone at all—who actually builds good pipes? Someone who doesn't use... 'Spin-Logic'?"
Krakka looked offended. He kicked a piece of scrap metal.
"There are... the Snobs," Krakka grumbled.
"The Snobs?"
"The Hard Shell Men," Krakka spat on the ground. "They live in the Acid Lakes to the South. They think they are better than us because their walls are straight."
"Straight walls," Aris repeated. It sounded like a dream.
"Yes," Krakka complained. "They measure everything! 'Oh, look at me, I am a Crab, I use a measuring stick!' They take ten years to build a hut because they argue about the... the Shapes! They are boring, Boss! They have no soul! No explosion!"
Aris's eyes lit up.
"They argue about shapes?" Aris asked. "They measure things?"
"Yes! They are obsessed with... lines being flat!" Krakka said it like an insult.
"Precision," Aris breathed.
He looked at the wreckage of the Turbolush 3000. He looked at Valerius, who was happily petting a jar of sludge.
"Kaelen," Aris said, standing up and brushing the dirt off his pants. "Pack the bags."
"Target acquisition?" Kaelen asked, closing his umbrella.
"Recruitment," Aris said. "We are going to hire some real builders. I don't care if they are boring. I want boring. I want the most boring, mathematical pipes in existence."
"Goblins provide the energy," Thal's whisper was barely audible. "We need the blueprint."
"Exactly," Aris said. "We have the madness. Now we need the method. We're going to see the Crabs."
"They hate us, Boss," Krakka warned. "They pinch. And they say we are 'Soft'. They only talk to things that are Hard."
"Then we'll have to show them," Aris said, clutching his briefcase. "That we are harder than we look."