Taking a moment to absorb Brix's comment, Thorian raised an eyebrow. "You're saying that as long as they receive their share, they don't truly care? That seems surprisingly short-sighted."

Brix looked back at the cave entrance, his hand trembling slightly. "The elders and the champions are strong. They don't have to worry about the monsters, even if the weaker goblins die."

Goblin champions, huh. They should be slightly weaker than my unit commanders.

After a brief pause for thought, Thorian realized that the intricacies of goblin culture were completely beyond him. Based on the information he had, he could not have guessed the true desires and needs of the elders and champions.

Struck by a daring idea, Thorian turned back to his goblin friend with a smile. "Brix, I find myself lacking a deep understanding of the subtleties of your culture. As you are the one most familiar with these elders and champions, I hereby appoint you as the liaison for our village's negotiations with them. I trust you won't disappoint me."

As Thorian spoke, Brix's mouth opened wider and wider, eventually reaching its limit. He was stuck in a frozen expression for a few seconds before shaking his head vehemently. "No, master, I cannot do such a thing! This is such an important matter; someone like me could never have the honor to be entrusted with such a task!"

"What honor?" Thorian raised an eyebrow, his voice cool. "This is simply an order. Are you saying that you cannot fulfill it?"

Seeing Thorian's implacable expression, Brix gulped before slowly nodding. "No, I did not mean that. If it's the master's command, I can do anything!"

Thorian's expression softened, and his frown transformed into a smile. "Good, then I expect nothing less than perfection. In your negotiations, you can offer them a position as high as a unit commander. Nothing higher, do you understand?"

"I will make sure to do so, master," Brix nodded, determination in his eyes.

Thus, Brix engaged in conversation with the bulky-looking hobgoblin once more. After a few exchanges, the hobgoblin chief disappeared into the cave to relay Brix's message. The duo waited alongside the slender hobgoblin at the entrance for around ten minutes before the more robust hobgoblin reemerged.

After conferring with Brix for a brief moment, the latter turned to Thorian and announced, "They have accepted our request for a meeting. We may enter now."

With that, the duo made their way into the mouth of the cave. Instead of the muscular hobgoblin, it was the lean chief who guided them inside. As they ventured further, the stark daylight of the outside world gave way to a torchlit tableau of amber and shadow. The flickering flames of the torches danced upon the uneven cave walls, painting a mystical scene that hinted at the unfamiliar world they were about to encounter.

A primitive barricade marked the cave's entrance — thorny undergrowth and stone, goblin logic of defense. The crunch of packed dirt and gravel underfoot echoed alongside distant water drips and the muted chatter of goblins.

The cave's heart opened to a grand chamber, torchlit and shadow-ridden. Crude symbols and figures adorned the nearby walls, etchings of routes and pathways illuminated by clusters of torches. Hints of goblin existence were scattered around — simple sleeping pallets, makeshift weapons, food scraps.

At the center of the chamber, a flat stone sat surrounded by smaller rocks, a raw and makeshift council table. The champions and elders were gathered around it, all focused on Thorian and Brix as they entered.

As the two approached the main gathering, their lanky guide positioned himself to the side, not daring to join them. His spear was held at the ready, prepared for any sudden altercation, while his eyes continuously scanned Thorian and Brix for signs of hostility. The air was thick with tension and anticipation as the important meeting was about to commence.

Thorian paid no heed to the hobgoblin guide. In the grand scheme of things, he was insignificant. Instead, Thorian's eyes roamed curiously over the council leading this amalgamation of tribes.

Stolen story; please report.

Among them were three shamanic elders, their lean frames, tribalistic clothing, and magical auras revealing the nature of their esteemed positions. The champions, by contrast, looked more athletic. Six in number, half were armed with spears, the other half with long swords. They resembled stronger and more muscular versions of the hobgoblin chiefs, but were distinguished by far superior weapons and clothing.

Thorian's contemplation was interrupted as he felt a sudden stop beside him. Turning, he saw Brix freezing up momentarily, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

"Take the lead," Thorian commanded softly, placing his hand on Brix's shoulder, a reassuring gesture to both comfort his subordinate and hide his emotion from the council. "You are the master here now. You are the master of negotiation — behave as such."

Taking a small breath to steady his nerves, Brix stepped forward, leaving Thorian behind him, and immediately launched into his speech. Even though Thorian could not understand the words, he appreciated the tone and volume. The young goblin shaman apprentice was commanding the room with his voice. It was just loud enough to be properly heard but not so much that it seemed like compensation for a lack of confidence.

Observing his subordinate's demeanor, Thorian nodded to himself with a smile, his thoughts affirming, Good. Speak your mind loud and clear, Brix; you have me at your back.

The discussion began on a fairly hostile note, with some of the champions scoffing and taunting the young Brix. But the shaman apprentice did not let their jeers deter him. He held steadfast, countering their derision with confident and well-chosen words.

Thorian, having already granted Brix full freedom to negotiate as he saw fit, found that there was little for him to do. He simply stood at the back, a silent pillar of support, as he watched the whole scene unfold, his eyes reflecting both pride and anticipation. The initial animosity in the room gradually began to ease, giving way to serious discussion as Brix continued to demonstrate his unexpected poise and conviction.

As the negotiations wore on, Thorian's eyes continued to scan the members of the goblin council. Their faces reflected a mixture of emotions: confusion, fear, hostility—all of which Thorian had anticipated.

However, as his gaze moved from one goblin to the next, it lingered on a specific elder. The elder shaman was smiling at Thorian, his eyes shining with a mysterious golden light. Thorian's mind raced. Mana eyes? No, perhaps eyes of truth? he pondered, momentarily distracted. He then glanced at Brix, who was fully engaged in the negotiation, and thought, I must ask him about that elder later. I need to know his patron deity.

Unwilling to interrupt his subordinate during this crucial task, Thorian kept his thoughts to himself and adopted a more laid-back stance. The discussion continued between Brix and the champions, with the elders occasionally interjecting their thoughts. Of the three elders, two maintained fairly neutral expressions while speaking. Only the shaman with the golden eyes engaged with Brix, his demeanor gentle, his soft smile reminiscent of a grandfather's affectionate regard for a favored grandson.

Minutes quickly passed, and the negotiations reached a fevered pitch. As the champions conferred among themselves, Brix turned to Thorian, his voice hushed and urgent.

"Master, I have negotiated the terms of our deal with them. They seem intrigued by our ability to develop strong soldiers quickly, but they are skeptical of my claims." Brix stammered, his voice dropping to a near-whisper as he continued, "They wish to verify the validity of my statements by assessing your strength."

"Oh, so they want to test me?" Thorian raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Sure, how do they plan to do that? And what do we stand to gain in return?"

Seeing that Thorian was not offended, Brix took a deep breath, visibly relieved. "They propose a duel with one of the goblin champions. Should you win, master, one of their three tribes will submit to us. We would gain the allegiance of one shaman elder, two champions, half a dozen hobgoblins, and a hundred or so regular goblins."

"Quite an impressive outcome for a first negotiation," Thorian nodded, patting Brix on the shoulder, his face reflecting both satisfaction and pride. "I'm impressed by what you've accomplished, Brix. This progress is more than I had anticipated."

His words were measured, but the warmth in Thorian's eyes conveyed a genuine respect for his subordinate's efforts.

Brix laughed and scratched the back of his head in jubilation, his face glowing with modesty. "Ah, master, I don't deserve such praise. I was just doing my job."

Thorian's smile widened slightly, his eyes flicking back to the smiling elder shaman. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment before Thorian turned his attention back to Brix. "There's one thing I wanted to ask. That shaman with the golden eyes, are you familiar with his patron deity?"

"Oh, Elder Omn?" Brix paused to regard the shaman in question. "Yes, I am very familiar with him. The goddess he follows is the goddess of knowledge: Shora."

Shora, huh, Thorian thought, scratching his chin with an intrigued smile. Interesting…