Late September sees us back in Corwen as the village’s population swells like it does every year. Family, travelers, and the more sensible Hearthless alike crowd in behind the high, safe walls. We’ve left the goblins of Grubwick some instructions on things to work on improvement in and drawings they can use as inspiration.

“Hopefully the inn doesn’t fall down before we get back,” Milo says. “Or at least if it does, they know how to rebuild it better now. I do hope they come up with some better scaffolding before we actually try to use it over a creek or this is going to be a much more damp affair than I am already anticipating.”

Among those returning to Corwen are Lily (Burdock and Daisy’s sister) and Basil (Meadow’s brother) as well as some teens whose names I don’t remember. (I only remember Basil because when Meadow sees him, she hugs him and yells, “Basil, I made Elite!”)

A few days after everyone is back, the sky turns red and the monster swarms arrive. As always, Aunt Heather does her Divination thing and reports back what types of monsters she has spotted. We (by which I mean all the Corwens) crowd into the hearth to her her announcement.

“I’ve seen at least one Legendary Nature Stag out there,” Aunt Heather says. “They aren’t usually hostile unless you’re harming nature in some way, so you are to do absolutely no woodcutting or similar activities outside the walls this year. There are some two-headed bears around Heroic rank, and a number of animated leaf creatures at Basic and Elite. No climbers or fliers spotted this year, but I will let you all know if that changes.”

Someone makes sure the people staying in the guest house (like Milo) also know what’s out there. We have to be wary in the open areas inside the village at first in case there was something she missed, but after a few days pass and no climbers or fliers have shown up, we’re free to wander around so long as we remain inside the outer walls.

Milo and I spend a good deal of time at the school, reading and practicing our skills. Daisy is here practicing her Wizardry. (Fortunately in a slightly less distracting way than when I was trying to re-learn how to swim.)

I take a moment to read a book about the mechanics of quests. Since I don’t get them, I want to see how they normally work. And after skimming a few books, I find that they’re pretty much what I would have expected. A quest pops up telling you to do something and offering a reward or choice of rewards. They can be failed or declined, but most people consider it unlucky to refuse quests without good reason.

Turns out there’s an entire genre of fiction about people agonizing over whether to do a quest their aether core offered them. It’s also common for a core to offer three options. The class selections are an obvious example, but not the only one. Quest rewards are usually presented as triplets as well. I’m apparently missing out on quite a lot of goodies by not having quests.

It seems they’re experimenting with seeing what happens when they Choose a couple of Ones and not tell what to do all the time. Like we’re a test of free will.

I could spend the entire time reading fiction in the name of “research”, but I have actual subjects I want to study as well. My reading material this season includes [Animal Husbandry]. The bridge project has been going along nicely, and I want to see if they can domesticate those milk bug things.

“You’re interested in animals?” Grandma Laurel asks upon seeing what I’m reading.

“I want to try to make cheese from the secretions of domesticated giant cave maggots,” I explain.

Grandma Laurel stares at me for a long, then throws back her head and laughs heartily. “Oh, you truly are my kin, Drake. I was never much good at lectures, but I wouldn’t mind telling some stories about how I got acquainted with all my various ‘friends’. I’m sure Burdock would be interested as well. And you can meet the kids! Some baby goats spawned on the first and need human socialization.”

That’s how Milo and I get dragged along to see terrifying baby devil-goats already as tall as I am.

“Aren’t they cute?” Burdock says.

The young black goat looks at me with sinister glowing red eyes and bleats in my soul. I whimper and shrink back, curling into a fetal position as the enormous evil creature looms above me.

“Hey!” Grandma Laurel snaps. “No using [Fear Aura] on family members!”

The goat shrinks and becomes tiny and cute again, and lets out a tiny chastised bleat. I warily climb to my feet as the effect fades.

“Sorry about that,” Grandma Laurel says. “It takes a bit to train them.”

“That’s quite alright,” I say. “Any chance we could do that until I develop a resistance to it?”

Milo groans aloud. “He may be a masochist, but that does not sound like a terrible idea, as unpleasant as it might be.”

“Absolutely,” Grandma Laurel says. “Let’s get you three boys some skills unlocked and make these the sweetest devil-kids you ever saw.”

Grandma Laurel is perfectly happy to subject us to a crash course in the care of devil-goats while being continually subjected to a psychic aura of crippling terror. This only makes it the third worst school subject I’ve ever taken.

“This is horrible,” I say after a week of daily training. “All for the sake of some numbers? This was a terrible idea.”

“It’s not just numbers,” Milo says. “It’s for the success of Grubwick. And ourselves. Yourself. Come on. We can do this.”

“Ugh,” I mutter. “We don’t need this. It was a stupid, whimsical idea.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“It was not a bad idea,” Milo says. “You just have to follow through on your ideas. You jump around from topic to topic, pulling yourself in a dozen different directions. And while we do need that, we need to see each one through far enough that we can kickstart development. Come on. This is just another arch we need to build.”

We push through, and after few weeks eventually get that notifications I’ve been waiting for, to my great relief.

Skill acquired: Discipline (Fear Resistance) Skill acquired: Knowledge (Animal Husbandry) Skill acquired: Tending (Livestock) Your Willpower has increased to 17.

I sleep well that night secure in the knowledge that I get out of this barn and do something else for a bit. I am content with one point in each skill for the moment. And thrilled that I finally increased my Willpower.

…

Late November, Milo approaches me in the school reading room, his green face wrinkled in a worried expression.

“I just got a notification informing me that Grubwick is low on food,” Milo says. “It’s… still not a quest, but it might as well be?”

“It’s giving you the choice to see how and whether to help,” I say.

“I can make it back,” Milo says. “Your aunt said the Legendaries probably won’t bother you if you’re just traveling and not gathering resources, and I’m Elite rank now and can do magic.” He pauses. “Our birthday is in a week.”

“Couldn’t Grubwick conjure food?” I ask. “Corwen spawns goats.”

“It would cost essence,” Milo says. “There’s probably a reason why Corwen does it the way it does. It would probably cost a lot of what we’ve built up over this past year. It says it will need to start reabsorbing stone blocks and tools to get the essence back, and if we don’t get them enough food, we lose that inn we just built. Better to get food to them.”

“How can the Hedge Maze afford to hand out so many coins and items?” I wonder.

“Different specializations, and I suspect the Hedge Maze is higher level than Grubwick despite it being kid-friendly,” Anise says. “I can set things on fire but I couldn’t conjure food. Anyway, let’s see about making sure our new green friends don’t go hungry.”

From what Corwen told me once, it used essence to purchase my soul for reincarnation. Grubwick must have done the same with Milo, but as the goblin village was less prosperous, it probably had to save up for a long time to afford his soul. I am choosing not to think too hard about the notion of crystalline aliens buying and selling souls to populate their theme parks. I’m just having fun with my life.

Skill acquired: Discipline (Self-Delusion)

Oh come on. Look, I know I’m essentially a game piece, and I also don’t care! Sheesh, can’t a guy just have fun with his five million and whateverth reincarnation?

Anyway, if I had to guess, I was probably the more expensive game piece. Not to sound arrogant to think I’m better than Milo or something, but because of my knowledge of more advanced technology and familiarity with storytelling tropes.

Corwen has a surplus of two-headed bear meat. We have people able to hunt them, but they don’t.

Meadow and Daisy volunteer to come along. “A party of Elite ranked adventurers should be able to take on a Heroic rank monster if we only have to deal with one of them at a time,” Meadow says.

“It will be a good Deed to get before I go off to the academy,” Daisy adds. “I can get some more experience with Wizardry along the way.”

To carry enough bear-monster meet to feed 700 goblins, we’ll need to use actual carts. Devil-goats are the size of Clydesdales and usable as draft animals, unfortunately. And as Milo and I have just finished our training with them, we’re the ones who have to handle them. Each cart is capable of carrying one of the huge mutant bear corpses. The things are a bit bigger than a grizzly, purple, and have two heads. I’m sure they’re perfectly safe to eat. (Goblins are perfectly willing and able to eat things raw, anyway.)

“Be sure to bring Snookums and Fluffles back safely!” Grandma Laurel says.

When we arrive at the entrance to the In-Between, Milo runs ahead to Grubwick to let them know we’re outside, and they send out a swarm of goblins to come and unload the carts. This results in Grubwick’s first traffic argument.

“We should tell them to walk down the right side of the tunnel,” I say.

“No,” Milo says. “We should tell them to walk down the left side of the tunnel. I was Canadian, and this is my village.”

“Fine,” I say. “I concede the point. We need to teach goblins to read so that I can put up some road signs.”

The goblins stream in and out of the tunnel to cut up the bear-monsters into pieces small enough to carry and hauling them into the tunnels, since we can’t fit the carts through the cave opening. At least Grubwick isn’t too far from the entrance.

When we return to Grubwick, the inn is still standing. It’s a little crooked, but surprisingly charming. The village is littered with disorganized piles of stone blocks, partially constructed walls and buildings, and rickety scaffolding. There were no climbers this year so they were able to practice in the upper area freely.

When we go inside the inn, I can see that the goblins have been busy. Stone tables and chairs surround the hearth at the back of the house. Half of them are sized for humans and half for goblins and small children.

I’ve gotten taller. They haven’t. At least I’m not so much bigger that the goblin chairs are awkward for me yet. Just a few inches, but I’ve got feet to grow before I’m done growing. (By which I mean the unit of distance. I will hopefully not be growing additional limbs. Why am I not just using metric?)

Now that we’re here, Milo speaks with [Elder Witch] Griza and we find out the cause of this sudden famine. Goblins are not so bad with numbers that they don’t know how much food to stockpile to feed their current numbers, and had enough even after trading away a lot of mushrooms to last a normal swarm season.

Their attempts at agriculture had been sabotaged and their food stores were contaminated. The cause? A goblin named Karx.

“Traitor. Heretic,” the other goblins call him.

“You will not have our world, Topsider,” Karx snarls. “The other villages will not bow to the trickery of false incarnates and liars.”

“Karx,” I say more quietly. “Were you given a quest to do this?”

“I don’t need to tell a Topsider anything about my quests,” Karx says.

“Answer the question,” Milo says.

“False incarnate,” Karx spits. “You’re a reincarnated human. You are no goblin. And this dung about stacking rocks only proves that. True goblins don’t stack rocks!”

The goblins of Grubwick are angry, and rightly so. They’re going to torture him to death.

“Stop,” I say, stepping forward.

They pause to look up at me. They’re under no obligation to obey me without Milo’s backup, but they’re smart enough to wait and see what I have to say first.

“What say you, Human Chosen?” says [Elder Witch] Griza. “Would you show this one mercy?”

“I would suggest just killing him,” I say.

“He ought to be punished, that the others may see the cost of treason,” Griza says, and turns to Milo. “What say you, Chosen?”

“The screams might attract monsters,” Milo says. “It’s still swarm season. I suggest a quick beheading and displaying his head on a spear.”

“Very well,” Griza says. “Let this traitor’s end be swift, then.”

We don’t stick around for the execution. Two bear carcasses will feed the village for long enough to rebuild some stockpiles, but we’ll need to hunt some more. Three years in a fantasy world and I’m already fetching bear butts.