The goblin leader leaned close, his foul breath hot against Riven’s ear. He muttered something low, harsh, and full of disdain, and though Riven couldn’t understand the exact words, he didn’t need a translation to feel the contempt in the goblin’s tone.
“Alright, alright!” Riven snapped, twisting to try and look his captor in the eye. “Let’s be reasonable. You don’t really think you can just waltz in there and take over the dungeon, do you? It’s not that simple. There are… rules! Protocols!”
The goblins holding his shoulders tightened their grip, their expressions unyielding.
Riven glanced at the portal, his mind racing. He was running out of options. He could feel the goblin leader’s impatience growing, and the last thing he wanted was another slap—or worse. His mind spun with ideas, each one discarded as quickly as it came.
But then… a small, desperate plan began to form.
‘Oh my god, this is actually happening’, Riven thought, feeling a reluctant, icy realization sink into his gut. ‘Okay… time for humility.’
He swallowed hard, knowing exactly how much he hated what he was about to do.
“…Sir,” he managed to force out, his voice dripping with revulsion. It felt physically painful to address this lesser creature with respect, as if his very essence rebelled against it. But desperate times…
He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he continued. “I will let you i—”
A sharp slap cracked across his face, snapping his head to the side before he could finish. Riven clenched his jaw, feeling a surge of rage ignite inside him.
‘OH COME ON!’ he screamed internally. ‘It’s like they don’t even want my cooperation!’
He turned back to the goblin leader, his cheek stinging, eyes narrowed with barely contained fury. The room fell silent, just as it had around the firepit, the mob of goblins watching him with wary, challenging eyes. They expected him to capitulate. They thought they’d won. But enough was enough.
“Alright, that’s it,” Riven hissed, his voice low and deadly.
He forced himself to his feet, or at least as much as he could manage with his arms still bound, and straightened, fixing the leader with a withering glare.
“Listen here! You work for me! You don’t stage rebellions! You don’t make demands! I’m the one removing you goblins because you’re scaring off too many adventurers!” His voice rose, filling the chamber, and he saw some of the lesser goblins flinch at the volume. “Don’t act like you’re about to hurt me, because I know you need me to let you into the management floor!”
The leader’s eyes narrowed, but Riven didn’t back down. He leaned forward, practically spitting with fury. “SO LET ME GO NOW OR ELSE!”
Silence fell over the room. The crowd stared at him, stunned by his defiance, and for a fleeting moment, Riven thought he might have actually gotten through to them.
He held his breath, waiting to see if his words had made an impact, if they’d finally understand that this was his dungeon.
The goblin leader stared at him for a long, tense moment. And then, in a display of underwhelming simplicity, the goblin leader simply shrugged.
“Greh,” he grunted.
Riven blinked, and before he could process what that meant, the two goblins who’d been holding his shoulders yanked him off his feet and started dragging him again, pulling him away from the portal room like a sack of potatoes, away from the portal, away from the crowd, deeper into the dim, winding halls of the second floor.
Riven squirmed in their grasp, frustration and confusion warring inside him.
‘What now? Where are they taking me?’ He twisted his head, trying to get a glimpse of where they were headed, but the dungeon’s twisting corridors offered no clues.
As they dragged him along, they passed a few skeletons—his loyal, obedient skeletons—who simply watched him with blank, empty stares, not lifting a single bony finger to help him.
“Really?!” he shouted, glaring at the nearest skeleton as they passed. “You’re just going to stand there? This is fine with you?!”
The skeleton stared back at him, entirely unbothered, its hollow eye sockets devoid of any expression. It looked… vaguely disapproving, if anything, as if Riven being dragged through his own dungeon by a horde of rebellious goblins was something it encountered every day.
‘Gah! Why do my “loyal” servants have to be so stupid!’ Riven seethed. ‘They’re just standing there like this is normal!’
But even the skeletons’ indifference wasn’t his biggest concern. No, what truly worried him was the nagging realization that he had absolutely no idea where these goblins were taking him. The portal was one thing—they’d wanted him to let them into the management floor, sure.
But now? This felt… different. More ominous.
He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice calm as he addressed one of his captors. “Kind capt—er, gentleman… where exactly are we headed?”
The goblin carrying his upper half turned to look at him, its expression stony, and then pointedly ignored the question.
Riven felt a trickle of sweat slide down the back of his neck.
'Alright, plan B', he thought, turning to the goblin at his feet instead.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Ahem… you there. Would you mind telling me where we’re going?”
This goblin turned to look at him, its face breaking into a wide, unsettling grin, yellowed teeth gleaming in the dim light.
Riven’s stomach dropped. ‘Uh-oh.’
The goblins didn’t say a word as they dragged him onward, but that grin was all the answer he needed. Whatever they had planned, it wasn’t going to be good.
So… he did what felt necessary as he stared up at the dim, cracked ceiling above him.
He began to grovel.
"GOOD SIRS, PLEASE!" he shouted, putting as much desperation as he could into his voice. "Let’s be reasonable! There’s no need for this! I’ll do whatever you want—within reason!"
Out of the corner of his eye, he could've sworn he saw the goblin holding his feet… snicker.
‘Wait… can they actually understand me?’
He tilted his head to look down, meeting the goblin’s gaze. The creature quickly schooled its expression, its face going stony, as if trying to hide the laughter still glinting in its beady eyes.
‘Oh, it was definitely laughing at me!’ Riven thought, indignation flaring up inside him. ‘These little wretches are getting far too bold for their own good!’
But his anger was short-lived, smothered by the sinking realization of where they were taking him. The goblins dragged him down a narrow corridor, twisting and turning through forgotten parts of the dungeon that even he barely recognized.
Finally, they reached a small, dark chamber at the end of a damp, foul-smelling hallway—a room that had clearly been outfitted as a crude prison cell. The goblins swung the heavy iron door open, the metal groaning in protest, and without any ceremony whatsoever, they tossed him inside like a sack of discarded loot.
“Ouch!” he yelped as he hit the ground, landing awkwardly on his shoulder.
The goblins didn’t seem to care. They yanked his feet free of the bindings but kept his wrists firmly tied, clearly intent on limiting his ability to channel magic. Then, with a snide glance, they stepped out of the cell and slammed the door shut, locking him in and positioning themselves just outside as makeshift guards.
Riven slowly sat up, looking around. The cell was, admittedly, a decent job for goblins. The walls were lined with mismatched metal scraps, scavenged from all over the dungeon—reinforced here and there with bones and bits of rusted iron. It seemed almost… planned, as if this crude prison had been cobbled together over days, maybe even longer.
‘Wow… how long were they planning this?’ he wondered, a chill running down his spine.
He knew goblins could be sneaky, sure, but this… this was a level of cunning that he hadn’t expected. The idea of them organizing something like this, going behind his back, constructing a prison cell right under his nose—it was unnerving.
‘What are they even planning to do with me?’ he wondered, his thoughts spiraling. ‘Do goblins… keep prisoners? Are they going to eat me later?’
He shuddered, his hands instinctively going to brush off his robe, though his bound wrists made the action clumsy. He glanced down at the grime on his once-immaculate robes, the dirt now smeared into the fabric, and felt a pang of humiliation.
‘What do goblins even eat?’ he thought, dread pooling in his stomach. ‘Hopefully not… me!’
But then, as he straightened and forced himself to calm down, a new thought surfaced, one that brought a flicker of hope. The goblins had gone to great lengths to bring him here, but if they wanted control of the dungeon, they still needed him. Only the dungeon master could access the Dungeon Management Room, open certain portals, and authorize changes within the dungeon’s structure.
They wouldn’t kill him… they couldn’t kill him. Not if they wanted access to the heart of the dungeon.
‘Alright, Riven’, he thought, steadying himself. ‘They need you. You can use that.’
If he could convince them to loosen his bindings, even slightly, he might be able to wriggle free. Or, perhaps, he could bargain his way out by pretending to help them reach the management floor, only to betray them at the last minute. There were ways he could turn this to his advantage… as long as he played it right.
But then another thought crept in, one that made his stomach twist with dread.
‘If I try to escape… and fail…’ He shuddered. ‘That would probably hurt a lot.’
He’d already been beaten down, humiliated, slapped across the face more times than he could count—all unrightfully, too!
A demon of his stature shouldn’t ever find himself in this situation. And if he tried to escape and they caught him in the act… well, he doubted they’d be gentle about it.
Riven slumped against the wall, feeling the cold, hard surface press against his back. It was unsightly, this situation he found himself in. Undignified. The mighty apprentice of Sorvax the Terrible, captured and imprisoned by his own goblins. He could practically feel Sorvax’s ghost sneering at him, whispering in his ear, mocking him for his failure.
“Ugh,” he muttered, frustration boiling over. He clenched his fists, the bindings digging into his wrists. Think, Riven. There has to be a way out of this.
‘You’re a demon, damn it! You’re supposed to be cunning.’
He glanced at the door, where his goblin guards were stationed just out of sight. They weren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed. Perhaps he could convince them to do something foolish, get them to slip up somehow. A little manipulation here, a little deceit there…
Taking a deep breath, he called out in his most pitiful voice, hoping to play on whatever shred of goblin sympathy might exist.
“Good sirs!” he said, letting a bit of desperation creep into his tone. “I… I seem to be in a bit of a predicament here. Perhaps we could discuss this like reasonable beings?”
Silence.
He could practically feel the goblins ignoring him.
“Please,” he continued, putting a slight quiver in his voice, as though he were genuinely afraid.
“I… I realize now that I may have underestimated you. Clearly, you’re very… resourceful. Capable. Perhaps there’s something we can negotiate?”
Still nothing.
He sighed, pressing his forehead against the cool stone wall.
‘Fine. If begging won’t work, I’ll have to try something else.’
Summoning up every bit of pride he had left, he shifted from pleading to a tone of weary resignation. “Alright,” he said, loud enough for them to hear.
“You win. You got me. I can’t help but be impressed. I mean, look at this cell you’ve made! Truly impressive craftsmanship.” He rolled his eyes as he said it, but kept the sarcasm out of his voice.
There was a pause, and then he heard the faintest sound—a snicker. One of the goblins, clearly pleased with the compliment, let out a quiet chuckle.
Riven’s mind whirred. ‘Alright, maybe flattery’s the way to go.’
“Yes, yes! It’s really quite something,” he continued, leaning into it now. “The walls, the metalwork—honestly, I would have never expected goblins to accomplish something like this! You’ve proven yourselves to be… quite ingenious.” He forced the word out, though it felt like swallowing glass.
Another snicker. He could hear them shuffling outside, a faint murmur of voices as they conferred with one another.
‘Perfect.’ He smirked, his mind racing. If he could just get them in here, just close enough to his bindings, he might be able to—
The door swung open suddenly, and Riven scrambled to look as innocent as possible, blinking at the two goblins who entered. They were grinning now, clearly pleased with themselves, but he also saw the glint of caution in their eyes. They weren’t completely falling for his act, not yet.
“Good sirs,” he said, adopting a tone of humility he hadn’t used in a bit. “I would like to… formally apologize. It was wrong of me to dismiss your… capabilities. I see now that I’ve been blind to your talents.”
The goblins exchanged glances, and he saw their expressions soften slightly. Just a little more…
“Perhaps… you could show me how you crafted this cell? I would love to learn from such skilled artisans,” he said, forcing the words through gritted teeth and hoping they didn’t notice the strain in his voice.
One goblin stepped forward, holding a rusty dagger, its grin widening. “Greh…?” it asked, its tone mocking.
Riven swallowed, his pulse quickening. ‘Uh-oh.’